"Remember, it's a sin to kill a mockingbird."

2011!

2012-01-02T01:05:00.005+01:00

A fun and self-serving annual tradition that I think is only shared with Sarah, Rachel and myself since I'm pretty sure no one reads my blog. Maybe because I do not write in it? Plausibly. Maybe someday I'll be a regular blogger. Maybe.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before? (became a marathoner.)2; asked a girl to marry me; exchanged meaningful eye contact with Hillary Clinton; lived in DC; gave a wedding toast; went to a naked strip club in Canada; lived as a bro for a weekend.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? every year i vainly attempt to be more awesome. and i think it's safe to say that every year i achieve this goal.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no.

4. Did anyone close to you die? nope.

4a. Talk to me about weddings? Well, this gets interesting: Marianne (my best friend!) and Scott; Kay (Sarah's best friend!) and Jon; and Nicolas and Allison. Sarah and I were active participants in ALL of these weddings. We're pretty big deals. So are all of these newlyweds.

5. What countries did you visit? Texas, which is actually a Republic and so therefore counts. And Canada, which is actually more American than Texas.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011? a salary and dental benefits. that doesn't seem like too much to ask for. and a beautiful wedding dress that is, no doubt, exorbitantly expensive. But, oh, so lovely.

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? I always find this question, more than the rest to be overwhelming. Like, lots of things happened this year. But here is a [brief] rundown: Martha's birthday dinner and the following morning the Manhattan half, followed by a day with Gretchen and a game with Hal. Kate's birthday dinner where I believe that Sarah, Colleen, Kate, and I managed to drink 5 v. strong beverages and were, predictably, very drunk. But so celebratory. The weekend that Trisha came and we went to the AMNH and I was in a suit and felt like one of those real New Yorkers who just wears $400 suits because it's no big deal. The following night when we met Gretchen and her [reprehensible] girlfriend at what Gretchen said, "oh? this is a gay bar?" The day that Jamie (my professor) convinced me to skip a different professor's class to go to a bar with him, and I agreed only on the condition that he send an excuse to the professor whose class I had so casually disregarded. He kept his word and the note was quite hilarious. Running the DC Marathon with Colleen, who beat me by about an hour. Then proceeding to drop my phone in the toilet because my legs couldn't move (a true, but strange turn of events). Going to Marianne's bachelorette party, as a surprise guest because I felt so guilty for going (school/money) and then realizing that I didn't fucking care about said things (school/money) and so went and surprised Marianne, who cried. And we were happy. And we talked until 7 in the morning about everything, though we remember very little of anything we said. I bet it was juicy, too. The day during finals that Jamie and Anne Marie and I played Jamie's Day Off in Manhattan and had great fun. Our trip to California. I should have been less cranky when the weather was so miserable and there were no whales. The yurt was still so cool. So romantic. And California so lovely. Our wine touring. Its perfection. That grass. The time that Zander, Marianne, and I went to J vineyards and despite the fact that Marianne and I truthfully looked hideous, they waived the high tasting fee because it was her wedding day. Marianne's wedding. My hilariously successful speech, which began by my insulting the entire audience: first liberals, then conservatives; and then bringing them joy, tears, and great laughter all at once. Rachel's going away dinner, but specifically how Sarah and Jimmy and I walked to the restaurant whilst holding a to-go coffee cup filled with sidecar because Kathy said, "oh, I know! I have the perfect thing -- you take this to go and we'll meet you down there." Moving to DC. NYS FINALLY, FINALLY getting their act together. NYS Senate, I genuinely didn't know that you knew how to do the right thing. I was, am, and will always be pleased. Mr. Saland, you are invited to our wedding. Seriously. Making meaningful eye contact with HRC. That time that I drove from DC to Stuyvesant with no air conditioning and arrived, looking as if I had been run over multiple times, to announce that Maureen & Chip's luxury car lacked a "snowflake" button. Laughter. Much laughter. However, I was vindicated the following day when they realized it was actually broken. They fixed it for me before I drove back down. Thank god. Our incredibly lovely week on Fire Island. Simple (or complicated?) syrup. Bridge. Sarah's birthday weekend complete with Hurricane Irene, which was fun, but perhaps less fun at times when tempers were higher than expected. Kay's bachelorette weekend (day), Nicolas's bachelor event. My life as a bro. How incredibly strong and agile strippers are. Kay's wedding and the snow, the lack of power, the no eating/showering/pooping in the house rule really complicated the morning a bit. Otherwise, lovely. Jimmy's birthday party, who was kind enough to have it downstate to accommodate for the Marathon the following (actual birthday) day. The NYC Marathon. To everyone who donated/came/wore "Team Brianna" tee-shirts: thank you. It was, indeed, the most amazing thing I've ever done. And hardest. Nicolas's wedding. Jason and I putting pictures of ourselves going to the bathroom on his phone. Brotime! Peter's birthday party. Sushi Sleepover. Those incredibly gorgeous shoes I found that Susie told me I would be a fool (a fool!) to leave the store without. She was right. They are beautiful.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Running the NYC Marathon and raising $3,747.26 for pancreatic cancer in Scott's honor.

9. What was your biggest failure? I never fail. Don't be stupid.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I'm a marathoner now. I laugh at disease: you'll never catch me, you'll just bounce off of my superior core.

11. What was the best thing you bought? I mostly buy textbooks, beautiful dresses, and transportation tickets. That seems to have stayed the same. But deciding to go to Texas? My best idea of the year, perhaps. No, for sure. It was my best and most spontaneous decision.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Plenty of people's: mine, my families', Gretchen's, Aly's specifically.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Eh? I don't really know. I haven't been appalled and/or depressed about anything other than the state of the economy and subsequently the state of my employment future, which isn't any one's fault, but I certainly could point some superfluous fingers.

14. Where did most of your money go? to support shamelessly selfish adventures and/or fashion. and to our friends' weddings extravaganzas.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? California trip! Hillary and the Department of State. NYS Senate.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010? Tik Tok. Why? Oh, right because Zander and I danced to it at Marianne's wedding. Applause? You betcha.

17. Compared to this time last year, you are: built with much, much stronger quads.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? had fun. had more adventures. spent time in the mountains.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? law school. i have never hated anything more than i hate law school.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? Woke up with Lauren (who I had informed I would be playing dead until 7am) and then slowly poured coffee while Lauren & Peter anxiously waited for us to be coffeed (part of the morning deal). Then drove to Stuyvesant and had Christmas "morning" with Sarah's family, which was incredibly sweet, even if mostly offensive to Martha. Then had a lovely dinner.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010? yes

23. How many one-night stands? no.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Friday Night Lights. If you, hypothetical reader, have not seen this, stop reading this and watch it.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Not that I can think of, which is probably because I don't actively, or passively, hate anyone -- just parts of certain people. In Katie Henry's case, at least 99% of her.

26. What was the best book you read? A Prayer for Owen Meany.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Spotify. Thanks Jimmy.

28. What did you want and get? A perfect summer job. To finish the NYC marathon. 4(!) law school friends. Ok, so one was my professor and another looks and acts very similarly to Scott in a way that is sometimes alarming. So I didn't say that these aren't weird choices. And that girl said yes.

29. What did you want and not get? Something that I recognize in retrospect, and with some sadness, wasn't meant for me anyway.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? NOT the rape movie. No. HP 7 pt. 2? Eh. Weak entry. I don't know. I don't really care about movies. But I do care about the new Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were ya? I believe that my morning began with a sweaty run in the very humid Rock Creek Park, then probably Chip made us omelets, then we went to the National Zoo (pandas are lazy), then Colleen hosted a party for me on her pool roof, which was both incredibly nice and very fun. Then the next day, Ro got Sarah and me a tour of the West Wing, which was AMAZING. AMAZING. I stepped in the spot where a blowjob nearly brought down a presidency and learned that the Press Secretary's door, not Leo McGarry's is off of the oval office. And saw TR's purple heart. This, being in DC, working at State reminded that all I want, all I've ever wanted, is to work in politics.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Less law school. Less bullshitting in classes I didn't care about. Less time at the United Nations working for a country that is as liberal as Michele Bachmann.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011? My coworker at State described my [work] wardrobe once as, "simply perfect. beautiful and perfect."

34. What kept you sane? Sarah & Idgie. Marianne. Gretchen. Aly. Who kept my alcohol tolerance up? Jamie. Chip. Marianne & Zander.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Always Hillary. And Stephen Colbert.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? New York State's passage of gay marriage. And literally, any other issue, since I lived in DC for 3 months which meant that I thought/read/talked about politics 85% of the time. But especially over bottles of wine at dinner with my roommates, who strongly believe that House Republicans were destroying America. They're a lot smarter than me, so I generally agree with them about everything.

37. Who did you miss? Scott. He would have been so happy I ran the marathon. So proud. And he liked Sarah so much, he would be so happy about upcoming wedding plans.

38. Who was the best new person you met? Jamie (professor), Ingrid, Julien (State friends), Jason (without his spiking his lemonade at summer camp, Nicolas may still be a straight edge dweeb -- now, he's a just a dweeb), Braden, Sarah W. (actual law school friends).

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011: That if you have good instincts, you should generally follow them. And if you have bad instincts, you should follow mine. And that some people deserve more credit than they receive. And that iPads are really fucking cool.

The Best of All of Us

2011-07-19T05:53:00.015+02:00

Born in North Tonawanda, raised in Fulton, Scott had the makings of a true New Yorker. Wise. Diplomatic. Thoughtful. Ok, so maybe he was simply what New Yorkers think they are, but are actually not at all. He loved reading presidential biographies and most family vacations included a tour to one of their houses. Mount Vernon. Monticello. He loved knowing the inner workings of immensely successful statesmen. And dorky historical facts. He also really liked Yo Yo Ma, which I’m sure had nothing to do with Lynn’s influence over his musical taste.

Scott loved the following things to no end: hosting feeding events at the house; excursions in nature; hard work and commitment; his family. If Aly, Lauren, Peter and me have taken away anything it is that we should approach every task, every challenge with courage, dedication, ferocity, and humor. As a first grader, Lauren came home with a spelling list. Scott balked at how Lauren constructed simple vocabulary sentences. He suggested she try a new list of his creation. He helped her make a new sentence much more complex than its predecessor: The Troubadour caused a disturbance with his proclamation of a zero gravity machine in use by an astronaut while on vacation.

Fiercely proud of and loyal to us, Scott almost never missed mine or Aly’s swim meets, Lauren’s dance recitals, Aly or Peter’s basketball games. My path to law school and various governmental positions and Aly’s through high school and a trip to China were paved with his encouragement and well wishes. And a few snarky, “are you sure that you can handle that?” lines of questioning. He was an exceptionally good present giver, a role that none of us will ever be able to fully grow into. Sorry Lynn.

He studied biology in college and loved nature. Any time we spent outside was great. As a family was better. He would fill rolls of film on his fancy camera with pictures of birds or alligators with a few of Lauren or Peter dispersed in between. He would rally us to agree that to enjoy a vacation was to be outside: kayaking, cycling, hiking, or stalking [occasionally dangerous] wild animals.

He naturally played host in any scenario. He enjoyed spending hours on a new recipe only to feed everyone around him, finish, and then retreat back to the living room generously remarking, “na, I made that for you, I’ll eat later.” He and Lynn designed an increasingly complicated vegetable garden each year that required maps and diagrams to manage. He and Lauren perfected the art of homemade ravioli and pasta.

Unfailingly kind, he never turned down an opportunity to help out those around him: neighbors,friends, family nearby or far away. Few days passed where he did not go out of his way to help someone in some task, some chore around the house, or simply to offer a ride around town. But perhaps most importantly, he never ceased to value the greatest in every one around him.

To say that we are better off because Scott lived is to dramatically water down the effect he had on not only us, but every one who knew him. He was humble and wise and realistic. He was supportive and determinative and he wanted the best for us. As a family we are stronger and better and will ultimately be more successful because we have grown up understanding our loftiest goals are within our grasps; within our immediate potential. He instilled the best of him in all of us. And we keep calm and carry on. Better than before, because if for no other reason, because it is what he would want.

FORGOT TWO!

2011-01-21T06:41:00.004+01:00

1. Canoe Trip. Or in better, more descriptive words: the adventure(s) of 5 brave souls who portage (pronounced: por-TA-je) miles across untamed wilderness of the mountainous New York State. Yes. We made it out alive. Yes, the wild turkey (drink, not animal) helped. We laughed, I do not think anyone cried, though it is possible. Actually I just remember a moment when I cried: when I fell into the tent onto Becca and roll-slid into Rachel. Tears of untamed laughter fit for an untamed world. Oh I remember the second time there were tears: when Matt, so close to death enduring the ride of his life from stoned strangers cursed Sarah for leaving the keys in his car, wept. And, the world shed tears for 24 straight hours from the heavens. Sometimes sideways. The world was sad. But not us, no: we had trail mix. And beavers who always made it interesting.

2. I MASTERED THE MONKEY BARS! Now, what Nicolas? I tink you outta find a new Achilles Heel of my soul.

2010!

2011-01-21T05:27:00.003+01:00

A fun and self-serving annual tradition.

1. What did you do in 2010 that you'd never done before? "worked" for two (wow) government agencies; pitched a "softball" to the DEC Commissioner; lived with my girlfriend's parents (fact).

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? yes. last year i resoluted (a thing?) to be more awesome. (too easy, wish it was harder) this year, i resolute to be cooler. SO FAR, Sarah has called me cool. like, not even in jest. for serious. Kate + Colleen agreed: it counted.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Suzanne!

4. Did anyone close to you die? phew. NO!

5. What countries did you visit? Real 'Merica. Which is different from Manhattan.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 201o? straight As; a blonde sister for Idgie; a "job" that pays me in money and not travel coffee mugs.

7. What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? honestly, i have no memory of Jan/Feb/March. This is sort of weird and alarming. OH! thought of something: walking in Fort Tryon Park with Cori in a snow storm, taking lovely pictures and then drinking a lot of whiskey. And then taking more pictures. And having a snowball fight. But seriously, that's all I have for three months. April? Winning moot court even thought i OBVIOUSLY had no idea how one purchases a gun and offended, likely, every gun lovin' mofo with my answer of "like, at a rally, or something?" and Lynn/Lauren/Peter coming! Lynn, on Sarah's recital in our room: "huh, I would have played those pieces in a different order." (snob) Lauren at the zoo: "It just upsets me that people treat gorillas like they're animals when they are really just people with fur." Right on, sister. May? DC trip for Carol's birthday/nerd fest. God, the nerdomania of the trip was really peak. Cities and Knights; the Library of Congress; the National Archives; OH MY! MARIANNE! ah. how we got served so many free shots and beers at the bar. It was just like in college, only we didn't have to take our [awesomely perky] breasts out to show our gratitude. Moving into HollowHead. I have to imagine Drunken Ladies were served, because it was a night. And drunken ladies were served ALL nights. Our bizarrely busy summer with shockingly little free time because apparently Sarah and I are way popular. Yeah. We is. You wanna come up? Becca? See you soon. Claire? Great. Ditto. Gretchen? Elaina? We won't wait up. July is the best month of all. Every year. Bring your own pool toys. OH GOD! I almost forgot! Winning beer pong. Suck it, Ben. You thought you were gonna win fo' sho. Wrong. Martha and Kathy came close. OH! I thought of something else from January. Erin drinking [a lot] of beer out of a boot and turning 30. She rules. August? Meh. More swimming. More luxuriating everywhere. Mostly in the pool on a whale. Sarah's birthday. The all encompassing perfect day of champagne birthday-land. Mandy + Brendan's wedding. Speaking of perfection! To-go candy? Top that, Nicolas. BAM! its out there. Lynn's housewarming party, that for a fleeting [and wonderfully vindicating] moment turned, uh, sour. September? I guess I already started that. EPA. I walked into a glass door. Yes. Only after I waved to a portrait of Joe Biden. Maybe this is why I get paid in coffee mugs, not dollars. October? This is getting boring. Oh! Elaina's birthday dinner. That was really nice. And, delicious. Wow, whoever cooked that meal is like, seriously, talented and should consider quitting all other endeavours to be a cook. Too much? That weekend were Sarah and I almost entirely cheese. And drank almost entirely wine. And the weekend that Kay was here and we hung out in the lovely outdoors with Claire and Gretchen, while Idgie awkwardly sat all over the place as Gretchen unleashed to us her new life as a lesbian. I'll let that sink in. Surprised? Really? She had a mullet in high school, put the pieces together. Though, I'm pretty sure this was November. It was. Because I had a paper due. Nicolas + Allison + Jen comig to NYC! Way fun. Thanksgiving? What is better? Only July 4th. Celebrities. December? Susie's birthday, I think takes the cake for most awesome celebration. Kathy, in her hometown glory, was in the rarest of rare forms, which like experiencing the Aurora Borealis, words fail to accurately detail the awesomeness of what we witnessed.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? qualifying for the People's Marathon? though, in truth, I call it that because it is so incredibly easy to qualify for. Striking out a very old frail lady who worked at DEC. Recycle Girl takes it easy on NO ONE.

9. What was your biggest failure? fail? pssssht. Like i could fail at anything.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? only if being contagiously awesome is an illness. which it isn't. so no.

11. What was the best thing you bought? i might have to repeat last year's answer and say beautiful dresses. because they're beautiful. and i look great in them.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Lynn. She sold a house, bought a house, paid off a mortgage, lost some weight, gained some friends in a new neighborhood, joined a garden club, all while raising two incredibly great kids. No one can beat that.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? I'm gonna have to go with Sarah Palin -- that no good inauthentic bumblin' bimbo really gets my goat. You wanna call this blood libel you crazy lunatic hypocrite who is barely literate, let alone qualified to run anything other than your family in the ground (or crystal meth lab)? You go right on ahead. Imma gonna call it an exercise of my First Amendment rights - you know, that part of the Constitution your witch friend thinks isn't actually the Constitution because it comes "after," of which you have only bothered to "read" 2 sentences of, whilst skipped two key words. You're a jerk.

14. Where did most of your money go? What money? Do you mean coffee cups?

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My birthday! The summer! Drunken Ladies, everyday. Marianne! Sarah's birthday. Urban Race! The midterm elections! uh, just kidding.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010? Ke$ha. All of it. Also. Music by the Glee. Pretty much all of the stellar music I ran to. And run to. Dance a thon.

17. Compared to this time last year, you are: Lawyered.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Hung out with friends.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Read less bullshit about people murdering each other. Oh, did I hate your crim class, dick? YEAH I DID.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I woke up in the new house with Lynn, Lauren and Peter. AND THEN i ran for 8 miles. AND THEN i drove to Stuyvesant JUST IN TIME for cocktail hour. I am never late for cocktail hour. AND THEN i opened some pressies. AND THEN we had an awesome, awesome dinner and drinks. AND THEN Kathy and I sang "baby, its cold outside." Frankly, I had higher expectations of the duet.

22. Did you fall in love in 2010? yes

23. How many one-night stands? Just 365. With my girlfriend. Wicked hot. We did it.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Modern Family. Please. West Wing. I will never stop watching.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Na.

26. What was the best book you read? Moby Dick. Then Tom Jones

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? that you can buy music from Russia for CHEAP.

28. What did you want and get? A great summer. Date nights. Heart to hearts with Gretchen.

29. What did you want and not get? Didn't I answer this already? Straight A's. A puppy. Money.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? The movie with the Hat Guy. I love Hat Guy.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were ya? 27. Sarah and I threw a birthday party at her parents' house because they were going to be out of town. Then they didn't go out of town, so I invited them. They had fun. AND the party was a smashing success. Also, I wore 3 dresses throughout the day. That was sort of great.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? More free time.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010? Manhattan-esque. BAM. its out there, now. I.am.stylish.

34. What kept you sane? Sarah! Idgie. Gretchen & Elaina. Lynn. Peter & Lauren. Marianne. Cori. Kathy. No, seriously. Kathy and I go deep.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Hillary Clinton. Still.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? All of 'em. Ask me how many papers I read. Same answer.

37. Who did you miss? Scott above all else. He would have really enjoyed the tale of Recycle Girl. Also about my tales at EPA. Friends that are far away.

38. Who was the best new person you met? Lisa, Nate.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010: Being awesome is really time consuming. So is law school. And working for coffee mugs.

A New Attitude.

2010-01-24T16:47:00.002+01:00

This semester, i've changed my approach. I have goals.

1. Make 1 more friend. (Friend count will grow to 2.)
2. Like 1 more class. (I will like 2 classes.)
3. Be cooler. (And be funnier. Happier. More Awesome. More like old self.)
4. Fall more in love with the semi-colon. (hard not to.)
5. Less death. (Even 2 would be welcome, as it is, less than 3.)

These seem to me, totally realistic goals. But I think like my homework, I might already be behind.

In my legal writing/crim class we were instructed to answer a questionnaire about ourselves. For those of you who don't know, and have only guessed, I LOVE answering questions about myself in this forum. Full disclosure. I happily await an interesting question. So, one of the question/statements is: "please list significant writing accomplishments." I write verbatim:

Grad school. (Master's Thesis, very boring, very long.) Federal Grant Applications. Memos to important people (members of the NYS Assembly, the Speaker, etc.). A funny and wildly popular blog.

Cool? Maybe only compared to really uncool things; Glenn Beck? Also, another example of my what I fear may be incessant blundering in this class:

Our professor is a quiet mumbler. I really struggle with this because it means that i always have to listen and can't take my beloved several minute open eye nap that I have grown accustomed to. Also, he seems to be in denial that names can have three syllables. I am Bren-na. It's hard for my to force a reaction to Bren-na because it's all wrong.

Professor: Bren-na, can you start us off.
Me: (heard absolutely nothing, was engaged in open-eye nap): I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't hear you.

What he heard: I'm sorry Professor, I didn't read.

And immediately I received that well known law professor survey of disgust as he proceeded to the next student. This is off to a great start, I thought. Seconds after class ended, the dude in front of me said, "Dude, you gotta go tell him you said 'hear,' not 'read'" Oh Christ. I do? I did.

Me: Hi, Professor. I'm here to reclaim my honor. I said that I hadn't heard you, that I hadn't read.
(awkward pause)
Professor: Really?
Me: Yeah. I'll give you plenty of reasons, I'm sure, to create a poor image of me as a student, but I was prepared this time.
(and another.)
Me: Anyway, I'm sorry for the confusion.
(yet again.)
And the awkward silence was interrupted by an outburst of what can only be described as a deep belly laughter I was wholly unprepared for. He told me, while gasping for air as he was laughing so hard and through what sort of resembled tears, to have a nice weekend. I sort of waved and quickly scampered out of the room.

I immediately regretted, deeply, that I had told him I author a funny and wildly popular blog.

Other example of my better attitude plan backfiring is that I hung out with a new friend. This is exciting. She's southern. (from what I think is called, Real America.) She's fun. She and her girlfriend and I went to dinner and were met by Gretchen and Gretchen's friend (Theresa). I thought what would be a fun comedic treat for a southerner? Answer: Gretchen. Gretchen talked at length of her new allergy to peanuts and how I and most of her friends, have all accidentally almost killed her and what her life will be like now without peanut butter. Or nutella. (i realize nutella is hazelnuts, but she's allergic to those also.) I told her it's all downhill from here and we'd all really understand if you know, she thought it time and did something drastic.

New Southern friend sent me a text message after dinner: Tonight was refreshing! Thanks for the invitation!! I adore Gretchen- by far the strangest person I've met yet. Love it!!

And I thought, I'll never undervalue Southern Hospitality again. Strangest such a sweet way of describing her.

In other news, I realized that the turtle I had named and said hello to (often aloud) on a daily basis in the park was actually a tire in the river; in a moment of friendliness gone wrong, I panicked and gave the incorrect directions to a lost stranger; and I fell down a muddy hill on campus and smelled like Earth in class.

I'm going to need to adjust my "be cooler" goal. And by adjust I mean, abandon it. Sarah's right, I might never be cool.

2009? Good riddance.

2010-01-02T01:16:00.003+01:00

A fun and self-serving annual tradition.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before? went to law school, lived in manhattan, gave a stranger correct subway directions! twice! probably some other stuff.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? all 47. check.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? just people on facebook. they talk about babies a LOT.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Scott. Gramma Annie. Grandpa Al.

5. What countries did you visit? Nope. But i DID get a passport!

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? a cure for cancer. Ha, good luck with that one, doctors. But seriously. and a black suit.

7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? a sexy NYE party with a sexy lady and a puppy who stares; Aunt Carol & Aunt Jill coming to visit!!; watching the inauguration on tv and being so mad mad mad mad mad that i wasn't there in the freezing cold crowd; lots of reading; freaking out about not having a job; AND THEN!: job; job celebration with sarah + rachel; state badge to open secret passageways; taking naps in sleeping bag under my desk; the time when i first met Deborah [Glick] and she sang (off key) "happy birthday" to Chris Maitland; the first time that i met Speaker Silver and his incredible hilarity; budget; getting super drunk with every employee of the Assembly after budget passed; higher education; sitting around long long tables that constantly shook with new emails arriving to blackberrys; jen & i texting back and forth about bad hair cuts of the dudes in the room to fit in; me to my boss on him stating that Harry Potter was poorly written: "you are so wrong. you have never been more wrong. you will never be more wrong than you are right now!"; the food carts; washington d.c.; whiskey sours, onion dip + Maureen's brilliance of knowing, literally, every answer; the Holocaust Museum; the Portrait Gallery; Chip being hilarious generally; sarah being super cute and taking cute pictures of cherry blossoms and me; the time that Martha/Ben lost Idgie and i was on the floor watching a debate on some bill i had helped write/edit; food carts. lesbian food cart. greek food cart. yum. yum. yum.; watching gay marriage Assembly debate; giving Deborah a nice big hug; shaking Danny O'Donnell's hand and trying really super hard not to ask about his sister who i was shamefully and completely obsessed with as a weird teenager; session dinner party with Deborah & co.; the tour that i gave Martha/Jimmy/Sarah/Hal of the Capitol; the time that Jen threw my flip flop in the elevator and hit the down button and i had to wait for that exact cart to reappear; the website that allowed us to make a picture of what Suzanne's and Speaker Silver's baby would look like; the time when Nicolas admitted that he thought airplanes were sexy ladies to him and that he would like to have intercourse with one - details shaky; "family dinners" at 10pm at the conference table; playing spades and bananagrams and poker and harry potter uno a LOT at work in the middle of the night; Nicolas in his very angry voice: "blue 3" to the question of, "what's your last card, Nicolas, tell me. The howler says you must."; watching the West Wing in the middle of the night in my cubicle to learn, better, politic procedure; so many obnoxious lobbyists that we all hated; ugh, nypirg; i could go on because that job was fun and i liked it a lot but i'll stop now; 4th of july party- easily my favorite holiday this year: kathy + martha drunkenly singing whilst waving sparklers patriotically; rachel/matt vs. me/jimmy beer pong game that literally never ended; being way too drunk- oops!; my birthday- michelle obama bobbles; corn risotto made by girlfriend; never finding an apartment and looking forever; going to party at kay's with gretchen who was ridiculous the entire time; mario (our broker): "che ate my horse, blanco."; moving and being so hot.hot.hot.hot.hot.hot; and drinking excessively with gretchen; the camping trip that almost happened but then was stormed out (boo); orientation- "you will meet your spouse here!" me: absolutely not."; getting awful awful news always in my monday civil procedure class, there would be a voicemail left in an ominous tone and i would go to the same bench in the middle of the campus and sit and absorb whatever was being given to me by the person on the other end: first lynn telling me of scott's cancer; then grandma's somewhat sudden death; then grandpa's 7 days later; only making one friend; then sort of two more, but only partially; sarah's "surprise" birthday party which was fun and delicious; going to fulton for halloween, taking lauren + peter trick-or-treating, saying bye to scott who casually said, "when are you coming back?""christmas!""well study hard and drive safe, we'll see you soon." even though we both knew he was lying and how sad and awful and guilty i felt walking down the stairs when i walked out of their bedroom knowing that i should have stayed, should have talked more, should have hugged longer but we're not that sort of family; going to columbia/brown football game with sarah, rachel and matt; sunday dinner parties at Kathy's; eating and laughing and hating school with Cori; then drinking with Cori; playing nerd games with Cori; getting a phone call from Aly at 2:26am and thinking for a moment, "if i don't answer this, does the news have to be mine or can i postpone it?"; laying in bed awake, staring at the ceiling and then calling Lynn; not sleeping and deciding that to do torts was the best use of time right then; December 2, December 3, December 4, December 5.; the funeral; peter: "mom, what's in the box?" lynn: "daddy's in the box." peter: "he doesn't fit in that box" lynn: "uh, brianna, sarah, please help"; peter's birthday party; gaetano; stupid finals that i tried to care about but really didn't at all; semester over!; home.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? going to class everyday, every class when it was absolutely the thing i wanted to do the least.

9. What was your biggest failure? failure is not an option. No, i don't know, nothing comes to mind. However, i haven't gotten grades yet, so maybe contracts.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Nope and Nope.

11. What was the best thing you bought? beautiful dresses to make me feel pretty and more cheerful.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Lynn, hands down. No contest. She continues to amaze me. Also, Sarah and her family, whose generosity and kindness i am consistently overwhelmed by. Also, all of the people that sent me very nice emails and letters and cards. They were appreciated and needed.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Norine's. per usual. More this year. Given the drugging and Annie and reprehensible parenting decisions she continues to make with regard to her 17 year old son. Also, NYS Senate. Most especially Pedro Espada and Hiram Monserrate. Those guys are jerks.

14. Where did most of your money go? Anthropologie and JCrew. Oh, right and the money that i borrowed went to tuition.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Tricky because while i am someone who is easily and commonly excited about things, i have been pretty cranky lately. Maybe being done with school, i think that i was really really really excited about that. Oh! And the beautiful yellow dress Martha bought for me for Christmas.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009? The new Regina Spektor album. Also I listened to Yo Yo Ma obsessively while studying and sad.

17. Compared to this time last year, you are: More full of the knowledge of the 7 types of chicken. And industry standard for the sale of horse meat. 1/6 of the way to being able to sue your mom. Sadder.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Smiled. And belly laughed.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Reading of contracts. Also my general tolerance of people hit an all-time low, so I'm hoping that readjusts back to normalcy, as President Harding would say improperly.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I woke up to find that Theodore the Elf had brought presents to us and opened them with Lynn, Aly, Lauren and Peter. Just us. the smallest morning of all time. Very weird. it wasn't my favorite. Then i drove for 5 hours to see the enormous holiday celebration that is the Gevlin tradition. It was nice. I put on a party dress. I opened SO many presents. But i was also pretty sad. Though, talking to Kate and Colleen about law school was pretty fun. Nerdy. But fun.

22. Did you fall in love in 2009? yes

23. How many one-night stands? 3. I was lonely in New York.

24. What was your favorite TV program? West Wing. Always. I watched a lot of that. Also, Blue Planet. Save the Whales.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Not really. I am angry with Norine, which is something that hasn't specifically happened since i was 12, but she's a miserable waste and always will be.

26. What was the best book you read? The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Yep.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? uh, i'm bad at music. getting better, all the time.

28. What did you want and get? an apartment in New York City with a nice girlfriend and a nice roommate.

29. What did you want and not get? A happy ending.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? It's Complicated was super fun.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were ya? 26. Read: old. It was nice, Sarah and I went to Hudson and had awesome Baba Louie's pizza lunch and then went to Martha & Jimmy's and went swimming and I floated on a nice floatie while talking on the phone to Lynn. then we drove in this crazy, crazy thunderstorm to acquire a Michelle Obama bobblehead, then out to a delicious dinner with lovely company.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? The obvious. For people in law school to be less lame.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009? My best impersonation of Rachel Gevlin.

34. What kept you sane? Sarah. Lynn. Lauren and Peter. Martha and Jimmy and Rachel and Kathy and Craig. Elaina and Gretchen. Cori. Nicolas and Jen and Suzanne.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Hillary Clinton. I love her. And think she makes a swell Secretary of State. also, i think that Nancy Pelosi doesn't deserve the bad publicity she gets. Nor does David Paterson. oh! and i fancy Barbara Boxer. so much.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Oh god, the NYS Senate. So disgraceful. So backwards. The NYS Senate is a pimple on the ass of progress.

37. Who did you miss? Scott. Annie. Friends I had no time for. Family that is far away.

38. Who was the best new person you met? Nicolas and Jen and Suzanne. Sheldon Silver. Deborah Glick. Cori.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009: Yesterday was a blue moon. The first full moon in the month was December 2. I think that the lesson is probably that people as fantastic, as perfectly lovely, as genuine and spectacular as Scott was, come around only as often as a blue moon.

All in a day's work.

2009-11-13T23:50:00.002+01:00

During one of my daily rides home on the bus, a girl aged 10 years and 6 months began talking to me. Small things, in declarative statements, such as: "i am 10.5 years old," "lots of people don't pay to ride this bus," "i am hungry." I smiled and laughed at her because she was pretty cute for a 10.5 year old. Then her tone changed and she got serious:

girl: Are you a Catholic?
me: Uh, not really, but my parents are.
girl: Are you a Christian?
me (seeing where this is going): Well it doesn't really matter, because you are, aren't you?
girl: Yes. I used to be a Catholic, but I like being a Christian more, no offense, because I can praise Jesus much more often.
me: Sounds logical.
girl: At my school, a Christian school, we don't celebrate Halloween.
me: oh? What do you do instead?
girl: well, we put on these plays about girls that want to kill themselves and take drugs and are raped and then, right before they die, are saved by Jesus because they became Christians. Lots of people cried. It was very emotional. And lots of people became Christians that day, we saved a lot of souls.
me: All in a day's work?
girl sort of just stares at me.

And then our bus arrives and we part our separate ways.

Now if you're wondering what she is talking about, its a growing phenomenon called "Hell House." i first heard about Hell Houses on This American Life's Halloween podcast (which i highly recommend!) and i have this say about them: oh.my.god.oh.my.god.oh.my.god.

they.are.terrifying. And apparently, right here in the Big Apple.

The "L" in "1L" probably stands for ludicrous.

2009-11-06T05:13:00.004+01:00

First, an announcement: this post is for Nicolas. I'm sorry for being a bad blogger. Also, for no longer being your co-worker. And as you're about to read, you were right.

Next, a preface: I want to acknowledge Sarah's correct intuition which is to say had this fall gone differently, I probably would have a slightly better attitude regarding my place as a born-again student. Instead, as many of you know, both of my grandparents passed away in October and my dad/uncle (for the purposes of the context of his place in my life, we'll call him dad) was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in September and most likely won't be here to watch Aly graduate from high school in June, Peter ascend from kindergarten, Lauren from third grade or me from my first year of law school. To that I say, "fuck you world!" followed by my sour-puss face and overall poor attitude.

But had none of that happened, I might still be telling you why I'm not sure I belong in law school.

First, in 3 days of orientation we walked away with three principles fully imprinted into our brains:

1. Your future spouse was in the room where we all sat every day.
2. No matter how hard we try, we will never say anything intelligent in class.
3. "Champs de Ble a Vetheuil" by Claude Monet belongs to Edith Marks Baldinger.

I have one friend. We view all other classmates as either future spouses or people that we will label by nickname. (see: the sniffler, forest girl, faux hawk kid, bad bangs girl, gavel girl, etc...)

But the overwhelming majority of people are serious. Ludicrously serious. No one, not even us is spouse hunting.

A story: While in the library, I was reading a book. A casebook. And was proceeding in my normal fashion of (highlight-write in margin-highlight)repeat. Only, my highlighter was running out of ink and so to get it to highlight, I had to apply more force than one normally does. The result was a squeaky highlighter noise. This went on for twenty minutes before the girl sitting across from me at the table, shut her book forcibly and returned to the table with earplugs and shoved them in her ears glaring at me with hatred.

I stared back dumbfounded.

Another: Our contracts professor likes to pass around very random pictures of the characters, places and tidbits in the cases we read. It's nice. And possibly the only thing that makes contracts interesting. One day, I happened to sit at the end of a row. I needed to pass down a picture of a floating bridge in Vermont to the row in front of me, only they were unresponsive to shoulder taps and muffled whispers. So, I set the picture at the end of my desk and decided I'd wait for a 10 second pause to pass the picture down. Only, forest girl (a girl who wears homemade wrist guards, a floor-length trenchcoat, no bra and tight shirts, fake red hair and carries at all times no less than 10 differently colored highlighters. she also, by reputation, updates her facebook status during class to say things like, "it's pretty awesome being smarter than my professor." she isn't. but she does think that people receiving welfare shouldn't be allowed to have discretion of how to spend money.) disagreed with this approach so strongly that she slammed her book shut, marched over to my desk, ripped the picture off of my desk, knocking over my things, stormed back to her desk, sat, in a huff and of course, turned to glare at me with hatred.

I giggled. Inside head giggle.

There are a lot of these sorts of stories. There are also signs I'm not like them. Because I'm not serious enough. Or, often, serious at all.

Every morning, mostly in class, I eat an apple. For three reasons: 1. Breakfast is the most important meal. 2. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. (this is effective and inexpensive health insurance. and my tactic against the swine flu war.) 3. I read somewhere they help keep you awake.

I get these apples, for the most part, from the Farmer's Market near our house. They're perfectly juicy, giant and organic. And every morning, I stare at the apple as if saying to it, "i love you very much and i'm sorry to have to eat you, but..." and then I move in slowly and take a giant perfect bite filling my mouth completely with juicy tart apple.

On one such of these mornings in torts, class had just begun. Professor Ben-Asher had just instructed us to open our books to the beginning of the Actual/Proximate Cause chapter. While this was happening, I was moving in on my apple. And I slowly sunk my teeth in, filling my entire mouth with organic delicious apple when I barely hear over my loud chewing:

"Ms. Bailey, could you please tell us the difference between actual and proximate cause?"

I couldn't. Because I only tried to read this on the train on my way to class but fell asleep. And because, maybe more importantly, my mouth was completely full. And then in a split second, I remembered that it didn't matter because even if I did know the answer, I wasn't going to sound intelligent because that was a guiding principle from orientation. So I talked. And it sounded like this:

"Whewh, awoowah..."

The class laughed. She let me know I could finish chewing. I said, while swishing around the apple in my mouth, that time was of the essence and proceeded to answer her. Incorrectly.

Fortunately, every one only remembers the apple, not that I mistakenly confused the terms.

There are more of these stories, too. But it's late. And Nicolas will be happy I've done something with this website. And even happier to know that he was right. Law school is nuts. Ludicrously nuts.

Dear Mr. President, ...

2009-05-16T23:06:00.002+02:00

I have always really, really enjoyed emailing/writing/calling elected officials. In fact the "White House" is programmed as a contact in my cell phone (as are Senators Schumer and Gillibrand) for those moments during the Bush years when i sought these conversations:

Comment Line: White House Comment Line
me: Hello.
Comment Line: Name and State of Residence, Please.
me: Brianna Bailey, New York
Comment Line: Comment Subject?
me: General. Overall.
Comment Line: Comment?
me: Please let the President know that i think every decision he is making is morally corrupt.
Comment Line: Ok, let me read that back to you: "Please let the President know that i think every decision he is making is morally corrupt," is that it?
me: Yes. That's it.
Comment Line: Thank you for calling. The President appreciates your thoughts.

Really? Somehow I doubt that he appreciated that message several times a year from me.

In elementary school, i really like writing US Senators letters. I kept a collection of mass produced, stamped-signed responses, wondering if maybe s/he had licked the envelope.

Highly unlikely.

In high school for the 2000 election, I carved a pumpkin that said "Vote Hillary." (this pumpkin would later suffer the fate of being thrown off a bridge by one of my adversaries.)

I really like politics. And am currently working on perfecting an impersonation of Sheldon Silver.

I also really like our current President. For obvious reasons. In that he's super cute and I wish we were friends. Obviously. And also, I think his response to the enormous political wasteland he inherited has very much earned the accolades it has received. But I couldn't help but be annoyed by his failure to intervene in the dismissal of Arabic translator, Lt. Dan Choi. I mean, come on. While I still have the White House Comment Line programmed in my phone, I thought perhaps an email is a more efficient way of telling someone, "really? i mean, really?"

So, i sent this letter:

Dear Mr. President,

I consider myself to be, and have been, an avid supporter of your candidacy and now administration. (In fact, on election night we threw a party complete with blue-frosted cupcakes and blue champagne!) But I feel compelled to express my sincere disappointment with your decision not to intervene in the dismissal of Lt. Dan Choi. As a gay American I have shared your message of hope and our collective transition to a stronger, better America and have become accustomed to expect your perseverance, wisdom and swift action. In your candidacy you spoke passionately against discriminatory legislation affecting the lives of gay Americans (Don't Ask, Don't Tell; DOMA) and yet in the face of opportunity, your administration is failing to act. I have no doubt that I will continue to support you and your administration as you endeavor to cure the ailing foundations of our society, however, I wholeheartedly implore you to intervene in the case of Lt. Dan Choi and every case that treats LGBT Americans as lesser citizens.

Respectfully,
Brianna Bailey

And i have to say that it is actually much harder to articulate a complaint against someone who really, has descended from Heaven. And who i wish attended my dinner parties.

While i obviously expect nothing to come of this, i ironically found myself missing the unprompted prior Comment Line calls informing the previous President of his immoral character.

Weird the things we miss in light of social progress.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

2009-05-07T22:23:00.002+02:00

Like all goofy, awkward, talkative children, i talked a lot about the future. Mostly in terms of, what i would be when i grew up.

These answers ranged from: Astronaut, Actress, Painter, Mathmagician, Cardiologist, President, Math Teacher, Judge, Private Detective and once a Stand-Up Comedian.

Most of these career ambitions died a timely death: i was pretty bad at painting, mathmagicians apparently do not exist, and pursuing acting seemed, for lack of a better word, silly.

But others, i ran experiments before ruling them out.

When i was about 10, there was a dead mouse in the basement. It had been there for a day or two and was transitioning out of rigor mortis to just plain dead. i bent down and carefully examined the creature. It had no visible wounds, no sign of struggle and there were no fluids around its small, furry body. i was curious about how it died. It then occurred to me that maybe cardiologists were the ones that determine causes of death. AND maybe this was my first mission. to discover the cause of death of this mouse.

the next day, i gathered supplies from around the house: latex gloves, face mask (as seen most recently in Mexico City), scalpel, pins and a tiny flashlight. i went to work.

the result was entirely inconclusive. i was able to locate the mouse's heart, which i felt proud about. but other than that, entirely able to locate anything else and more importantly, solve the mystery of how it died in the first place.

Cardiologist: Out.

When i was approximately 8, i lived in an apartment complex in North Syracuse. At this stage in my life, i thought it would be most excellent to gather clues, make a report and solve puzzles. i sat in my room thinking about what evidence i could collect unknowingly of the people around me. i then glanced into the parking lot and realized my mission was clear.

i grabbed a notebook and a pen from my room and began walking up and down rows of cars marking in my notebook their license plate number if their car was due, or overdue, for an annual inspection. remarkably, i estimated that over half of the cars were being illegally driven. WOW. (!!) so, after making my rounds, i went back to my apartment and phoned the local police of this traffic and vehicular abomination. Sadly, they did not take me seriously and kindly told me that maybe, only maybe, they'd look into it.

Private Detective: Out.

as a ripening 11 year old beginning the early stages of awkward puberty onset, i was convinced that my future was going to lead me to stages telling jokes. i concluded, for an 11 year old, that my story telling abilities and punch line deliveries were supreme. So, for a family picnic, i begged Annie (my grandmother) if i could read a routine that i had prepared. What she didn't know was that i had practiced this routine for weeks and picked out the outfit i was wearing specifically for this event. She allowed me to stand, during lunch, on a stage i had concocted and "tell my jokes." I was so excited.

but when i started, no one looked up. and when i got to the punch lines, no one laughed. and when i finished, no one noticed.

Stand Up Comedian: Out.

Which, fast-forwarding to present day leaves me with the following choices based on my childhood analysis of my life goals: Astronaut, President, Math Teacher or Judge.

tough choice.

Little Kids and Wiggly Dogs

2009-04-14T15:55:00.005+02:00

There are two things in life that do and will always bring me unequivocal glee: little kids and wiggly dogs.

in high school i was a seasoned babysitter and also worked at a daycare for 2 years at the YMCA. Last summer, i spent my days + one night per week lounging on the shores of one [sometimes unappealing] waterfront.

there were a number of instances where the wit of these small people amazed and amused me. my personal favorite:

there was a bee infestation on the very popular floating dock. what i should have done was at dusk swim (or boat) out to aforementioned dock and spray bee home, ridding the dock of the stinging insects. however, this could only happen during the overnight, which for various reasons (thunderstorm/contamination/thunderstorm/contamination/thunderstorm) was consistently off-limits. so, the bees remained. all summer. children were stung at such a high rate that the demand for ice packs rendered our ice pack supply empty by the end of the 1st period. the only way to get ice packs was to radio to fuji: "atticus to fuji." "this is fuji." "need more ice." "geh. already?" "yes." "i'll come down in a while." "screaming children." "i'm LEAVING NOW, i'm LEAVING NOW!" and then we'd wait. me and screaming children. but once, two children were stung at the same time. one child screamed bloody murder for as long as she could without taking a breath. (seriously. her lung capacity was impressive. had she not been crying so hard, i would have liked to talk to her about it.) the other, calmly, swam over assisting the screaming child.

screaming child: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHA!
me: ok. i see you're in pain, can i call fuji for you for an ice pack?
screaming child: AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAAAAA!
me: well, honestly, the best thing you can do is get back into the water, the coolness of the water will help the swelling go down as well as make it hurt less
screaming child, while walking away: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!

me: atticus to fuji
fuji: this is fuji
me: ice pack
fuji: ugh, really? again?
me: let me let you listen to something: (screaming child in background.)
fuji: eesh. alright. bringing one.

i then notice that the other little girl is standing next to me who had earlier assisted the screaming one.

me: oh, i'm sorry, did you need something?
calm girl: well i got stung, too.
me: are you alright, do you want me to ask fuji to bring two ice packs?
calm girl thinks for a moment, then responds: no, that's ok. i study Tae Kwon-Do and we're taught to embrace physical pain.

calm girl jumps back into water.

i am extremely lucky (for a myriad of reasons, many of which are self-evident) to have been adopted by my aunt and uncle, resulting in my collection of little siblings. 3 to be exact. their current ages are: 17 (in two weeks), 8 and 5. of them, aly (17) and lauren (8) are some what reserved, introverted and are otherwise quiet, good kids. but not peter. peter inherited my loquaciousness, loudness and i might add, hilarity.

two or three years ago, i was babysitting all 3 siblings for the weekend as my parents were out of town for their wedding anniversary. so, aly and i thought it would be nice to go to k-mart and pick out a card for them and then go to the grocery store and make them a cake for their return. and ice cream sundaes for the night they weren't there. this was a multi-purposeful plan, it included something to do both now and later.

so, we go to k-mart and i tell lauren + peter that we're going to get mommy + daddy a card for their anniversary. this is a surprise, so try not to tell them when they call later. aly and i escort them to the card aisle. something i wasn't clear enough about was that i meant one card from all of us. after a few moments, lauren (who can read) hands me the most religious card that the store sells (we're not religious) and with pride says, "i think this one really describes mommy and daddy's marriage." ok. then peter (who can not read) hands me a card and says with pride, "this one is for daddy. i like the picture." the picture he was referencing was a hologram that first shows a woman on a bed talking to her assumed husband with clothes on and then shows the same picture, only without either person wearing clothes. aly and i laughed and peter got defensive, "i just think daddy will like that picture." ok. so as aly is picking out a sensible card, i don't notice that peter is still searching for the perfect card for mom. aly finds a card to which i quickly agree based entirely on its lack of religious overtones and nudity. we begin walking away when peter runs up to me and says, "and bray-na, this is for mommy!" it was a bright green card with a woman on the front and brightly colored lettering that said something like, "i'm so happy to be married to you..." and in the differently, but also brightly colored inside it said, "and even happier later in bed." i looked at peter. peter said, "bray-na. those are mommy's favorite colors." they weren't. but alright.

so we left. with 4 cards for 1 occasion.

on our next stop, we went to the grocery store. in the dairy aisle, peter sat in the little-kid-sitting section of the cart. aly, lauren and i selected the desired type of whipped cream, hot fudge and other sundae toppings. when all of a sudden i notice that this strange and very hairy man say, "booga, booga, booga" to peter and then walk away. i looked at peter curiously, and peter said, "bray-na that man was weird. and i told him he looked weird. and that is how he talked."

it was hard to use this as a learning experience that its impolite to tell people they're weird when they just said to you, "booga, booga, booga." but i tried.

(this is me/aly/lauren/peter)

in sum, little kids are awesome. so are wiggly dogs. for self-explanatory reasons.

I can admit when I'm wrong... or just dumb.

2009-04-06T16:17:00.002+02:00

I consider myself to be smart. One of those. You know, smart people. In fact, once at a conference in Duluth, Minnesota, the speaker was presenting on gender stereotypes and the fact that despite making a myriad of advancements in equalizing men and women, she asserted that we, as women, were unlikely of acknowledging, publicly, our intelligence. She said, "in fact, i bet if i ask 'who in here thinks that they are smarter than 80% of people' that no one would raise their hand." pause. no hands. more pause. i raised my hand.

The following day in the conference the same speaker mentioned that we should spend some time at Lake Superior, as it is the largest freshwater lake in the world. I corrected her: Lake Superior is the largest freshwater lake in the world by measurement of surface area and third by volume. Lakes Baikal and Tanganyika, respectively, are larger. (in my excitement of my 4 days in Duluth, i did a lot of prior research). She immediately rescinded her claim and accepted my correction. She then ridiculed me for being, probably, pretty annoying. Fair enough.

These things aside, i have held a number of ego-damaging incorrect "facts" that, until faced with the blatant inaccuracy in my statements, i would have gone on believing, perhaps, forever. I have also dismally failed at carrying out what ought to have been simple tasks.

As a result, in high school, my parents often called me "Idiot Savant," a nickname i preferred to "Pubie-Head," another at-home nickname they gave me.

Also in high school, i completed a set list of weekly chores that were mere acts of justification in order for me to receive allowance without it acting as a hand-out. Once lynn really wanted me to scrub the sink. She bought special sink-cleanser, special gloves and of course, a special scrubber. She talked to me at length about her vision of the sink post-special cleaning. I focused. "ok! i accept your mission," i said. And so after coming home from school-swim practice the following day, i got down to work. i scrubbed the sink for nearly an hour. i stood back to admire my work. it shone like never before.

Now, our sink was a split sink complete with one-side garbage disposal and rotating faucet. In my mind, i had long since decided that the garbage-disposal side of the sink wasn't a sink- it was something else. It existed in some existential plane between garbage and sink, but belonging to neither. The previous day as lynn bombarded me with instructions and her sink dreams, it never occurred to me that her plan included the whole sink. As in, that she thought of both sides as parts of the sink. So, upon her arrival, i immediately presented my work: 1/2 of the sink twinkled while the other rested in its same state of dingy silver.

lynn (confused): uh, well, you're only half done...
me (taken aback): huh? no, you said clean the sink.
lynn (more confused): the sink includes both halves, its still one sink. its all part of the sink
me (defeated): so, you don't think of that other side as the side that exists on an existential plane between being a garbage and sink, but belonging to neither?
lynn: what the hell is wrong with you? clean the other side.

When sarah and i started dating, i tried to impress her. all the time. Particularly in the stages where we weren't quite girlfriends, but also not just friends. I often failed and am amazed, upon reflection of exchanged emails, that she continued to be interested in me. But once, i tried in a flirtatious effort to describe "us:"

me (flirting): well, we're more than plutonic friends, i mean, obviously.
sarah (mocking): uh, what friends?
me (still flirting): plutonic. you know, far out? like pluto?
sarah (laughing): uh, what?
me (explaining): like pluto, as in the furthest-now-dwarf planet. we're far out friends, but like more than friends. better.
sarah: do you maybe mean platonic? as in derived from Plato?
me: noooo? no. i mean plutonic. as in derived from Pluto.

as it turns out, pluto was not what i wanted.

Like all children who attended elementary in the US, i played Oregon Trail. My family often died of cholera, Indian raids, famine, dysentery or snakebite. Once my family made it to Oregon. Years later, in AP American History, we re-visited the Oregon Trail, this time in a historical context.

I became enraged that we made a video game about the forced relocation of the Cherokee Indians.

Recently, the subject of the Oregon Trail came up in conversation while at the Palis. As did an argument about who came first Andrew Jackson or Martin VanBuren (Andrew Jackson, obviously). Which lead into Jackson's forced relocation of many American Indians. Visiting the States that night was Peter's girlfriend, Lisa, who has aside from one year, has lived her entire life in the Netherlands and knows not much of American domestic policies. Particularly those that occurred in the 1830s. So i explained to her that first, our President made the Indians relocate. Next, we made this terribly offensive, albeit fun to play, video game showcasing the entire escapade as a lovely jaunt for while families and void of the mass murder that was a result of the forced relocation.

Sarah overheard and amidst my passionate explanation of the video game/death/trail, laughed and informed me and Lisa, the already-very-confused-foreigner, that the Oregon Trail and the Trail of Tears, where in truth, different trails.

History: 1; Brianna: 0.

So, the moral of the story that if ever you find yourself in a conference where some asshole asserts that they're smarter than 80% of the room, you should rest comfortably knowing that the other 20% of the time, its probable they're making fools of themselves.

My Political Future?

2009-04-01T16:59:00.002+02:00

Last night something exciting happened. Shelly Silver thanked, on the floor, program & counsel. And some other people, but notably program & counsel. (That's me!) He thanked us because after a grueling nearly 9 hours of session, the budget passed. And he was thankful. We were all thankful.

To celebrate, we [nearly] all went out. (sans Nicolas. He went home. Lame.) In doing so, i was dared to do a number of things, all of which i did:

1. ask strange bald man with giant beard if he plans to audition for ZZ Top with giant beard/bald head combo (he does not. he calls it his "budget beard" and grows it every year. intense.)

2. encourage one WAM leader to dance to the "thong song" and dance along (she had dumps like a truck, truck, truck, thighs like what, what, what, baby move your butt, butt, butt, ooooh, uh, think to sing it again... he had moves)

3. high-five the republican losers. (they have a surprising amount of strength behind their slap)

4. remind said republican losers that they are, in fact, the losers.

this one was more complicated. After my many hour conversation with this particular republican staffer, and his purchase of carbombs for us, i realized that despite being on the losing team, the sinking ship, he seemed to be taking his defeat in stride. there were no tears, no surprising upsets, just anticipated shifts to the middle. hm. and to think i was looking for a fight.

so after hours of relentless banter, i began to question my own political agenda. Do i really care about abortion rights? Its not like i'm ever going to be accidentally knocked up. Do i really care about gun control? Its not like additional statute would affect the guns i currently or will ever own. Do i really care about [hypothetical] global warming? Speaking of losers, Al Gore may be on a bitter rampage. Do i really care about gay marriage? Eh, sort of. But this guy seemed to be for it. (and also, until gay marriage is adopted, it means that during lunch conversations entirely based upon heterosexual marriage timelines- "you've been dating for 2 years, and you HAVEN'T asked her to marry you yet?!?!?!"- i get to use the, "oh marriage? yeah that doesn't apply to me" line and evade all social timeline-related implications of my [now long-term] relationship)

i laid down my opinions. balancing budgets should never be this difficult. economic crisis, schmisis- who can't operated excel in a way that results in the numbers to be the same at the bottom? i admitted that after my off-the-ground-running legislative career, i was already questioning the morality of albany politics. i admitted that for a time i was a republican. accidentally.

i looked at my new friend and realized that the boundary between us was imagined, not real. that we were all on the same page. trying to spend tax payer's dollars responsibly. this new friend is in the upper echelon of republican leadership. has the ears of all of those who are routinely quoted on fox news. he claimed to own many cars, tweed blazers and membership to both county and yacht clubs.

he had me at yacht clubs. he offered me a job. a much-better paying, more important, more fun and interesting, filled with unnecessary and un-operative words in the title job.

i accepted.

and my first day is today, April Fool's Day, 2009.

Brianna the [not] Plumber.

2009-03-24T04:25:00.003+01:00

I have approximately 5 fears regarding either death or the drastic alteration of life that they would essentially be death.

in no particular order:

5. Being placed into witness protection. i could never, ever keep a secret that big. especially if my life depended on it.
4. The wheels of my car spontaneously falling off. while driving.
3. My car spontaneously exploding. (like, for example, in Michael Clayton. wow. exactly the sort of spontaneous explosion i plan on avoiding)
2. The [extreme] religious right.
1. Dying due to a burst blood vessel, aneurysm and/or other prolonged blood/air loss due to "pushing" too hard during a bowel movement.

Seriously.

When I was 8-10, my dad encountered the Darwin Awards for the first time. He appreciated my humor, even then, and shared his findings with me. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with said award, essentially they're handed out for ironic and often hilarious ways in which people die. This particular award year showcased a number of feces/gas related deaths: there was the guy who released so much methane while sleeping that he suffocated himself, the guy who attempted to re-eat the corn and subsequently died of e coli and finally, the guy who "pushed" too hard, ruptured a major artery and died. Right there. On the toilet with his pants at his ankles.

This image haunted me as a child. (It still does.) At that moment, in 1991, i made an internal pact. That i would always, always, always WAIT to poop in order to minimize necessary pushing and hopefully, someday, as a result save my life.

There were several consequences to this policy. Most directly, apparently, this tactic actually backfires. By that i mean, wow, waiting, bad news. Every time.

In high school my parents mocked me for the consistency of which i was able to effectively and completely render a toilet temporarily useless because it would be clogged. So clogged. This began a chain reaction of sorts. First, i must never poop anywhere else. For obvious clogging fear coupled with fear of death. (Week vacations became awkward. Sometimes painful.) Second, i must always have located a plunger nearby if in the event, pooping become inevitable. This took care of .5 of my fear. Third, this is a private fear and cannot be shared with others.

High school was manageable. College was tricky.

Post-college was when i began loosening my third principle of my inner policy. The secrecy. I admitted this fear, in part, on a road trip to Canada with Camp SALID (SALID = suck at life? i don't!). I was immediately egged on by the Julias and Gaetano to "just do it. poop immediately when you get to diana's! just do it. just get it out!"

So i did. I took a deep breath. And i pooped before i was ready. The result? The plumber had to be called and the toilet was completely inoperable for nearly 24 hours. Uh, sorry guys. Use the bidet?

Back to square one.

Not only did i revert back into secrecy about my fear of death-by-defecation, BUT, also reverted back to only going in a toilet i knew. It was like 1991 all over again. Re-mapping the rules. Re-arranging social plans to accommodate the moment that would require me to go RIGHT then. No messing with that moment, any longer.

So pooping outside of my house, now completely off limits. I can not be subject to such extreme embarrassment again. Obviously this meant that under no circumstances i was going to poop in an office where i worked. But one day i broke down. It went something like this:

i'm sitting in my office and realize my discomfort. i need to poop. i take a large deep breath. i talk myself through it. i can do it. i'm pretty well respected in the office. i can poop here. it's fine. so i go to dude's bathroom. where people also poop. and poop. predictably, it's gargantuan. not only did it not flush. it didn't move. it's like it was made out of solid rock. so instinctively, i invoke external pep talking. "this is okay. this is the bathroom that everyone poops in, there must be a plunger. you have a master's degree. you can get through this. you can do anything. anything you put your mind to. you're amazing." (my external pep-talks are much more frequent that, uh, i'd like to admit. this is an accurate portrayal of one while panicked) but, i look. there is no plunger. i devise a plan: to sneak to chick's bathroom, inconspicuously, take plunger i think may be there, bring it back to dudes bathroom and plunge away. i peer around the door, wishing i had inferred glasses so i could place all of the people in the building and feel better about them not witnessing this event. i sneak into chicks bathroom, steal plunger, practically sprint back to dudes bathroom and fix the problem, fearing that this may explode and won't that be awkward to explain why there is poop water everywhere.

Everything went down fine. Slowly, but fine.

But, despite the onset of panic, the genuine fear that i experienced, this was a productive learning experience. It taught me that i have nothing to fear but fear itself. Or at least, i only have one fear. Dying. And that if i do die while going #2, i won't be around to be mortified, so at least there's that. This was a day where i attained growth. Maturity. A diminishing fear.

I still envision my life's conclusion while on a porcelain bowl. And i wonder who will find me. I wonder what my cause of death will read. "Ruptured artery?" "Pooping?" I sometimes find myself waiting for the bright light and that sweet voice of an angel with an outstretched hand coaxing me to trust her, take her hand and come willingly with her. Then she'd say, "this happens to 10,000 people each year. You're not alone." And i'd say, dreamily, "yeah, what was i so worried about my whole life?"

But the harsh reality is that after nearly two decades of prep work to not die while pooping, if an angel took my hand and whisked me away while sitting with my pants around my ankles, i would have. And i would be the latest addition to the Darwin Awards because i became the exact thing i tried to avoid.

Life is harsh, but irony harsher.

G-Chat. Is Life.

2009-03-13T20:07:00.005+01:00

G-Chat is essentially AIM resurrected, new and improved and available without download. SO, everyone, everywhere at their respective office(s) can be on. And chat. ALL day.

I'm pretty sure that without gchat in my life for a day, I'll feel like I did when my parents used to punish me in high school by prohibiting that one glorious hour of dial-up America Online I was allotted per day for the purposes of: relentlessly flirting, necessary trash-talking + back stabbing, the continuation of the conversation stopped short by the sounding bell, being wholeheartedly un-politically correct, gathering pertinent and interesting social information, keeping up on current events, ridiculing good friends, senseless chatter and impersonalizing what ought to be, otherwise, a personal and meaningful conversation.

Below, witness some necessary trash talking:

Marianne and I discussing an unnamed, though obvious, previously bad dating decision current aesthetics.

Marianne: lol
is it that bad?
me: she's quite possibly the ugliest fucker i've ever seen
so bad
Marianne: ok
me: and then i'd like to hear your reaction
seriously, what a terrible period in my life
Marianne: omg
what is up with that bleached thing on her head?
me: i think that might be her hair?
Marianne: did you read the heroes section on her profile?
hahahah
me: i couldn't
i was dry heaving at the rest of it too much
what did it say
Marianne: it lists all of her friends

Next, ridiculing a friend. The set-up: Elaina is actively searching for a new apartment. I stumble onto a listing on craigslist where a dude is offering up another room in his apartment and send it to her as a suggestion. The catch? The possible candidate must send a full body picture, flirt unabashedly with him and agree to walk around in the house only wearing underwear.

me: i started looking because on the radio this morning
they read this HILARIOUS craigslist ad
that an old lady had written and was renting her bathroom
and that her bathroom is big enough for a blow up mattress, but she asks that when she need to use the bathroom, that the person and the mattress be out of it
Elaina: HAAAAAAAAAAAH
me: furthermore, that the person be confined to the bathroom because she didn't want a stranger walking around her living room
anyway, i wanted to send THAT to you
Elaina: well thanks
maybe i'll respond to the ad
the sick part is
me: with a body picture?
Elaina: i'd probably like that living arrangement better than my current situation
seriously.
he's probably cooler.

And some senseless chatter on changing the language on your facebook setting to "pirate":

Benny: grand!
i like me hearties!
you are fun people!
me: me like you as much as me rum!
Benny: hhaahah this facebook thing is constantly hilarious
me: oh my god, i know
i had to look things up earlier
because i couldn't decide if something meant that they were or weren't dating
Benny: yeah!! i know! does "marooned" mean single?
me: yes!
according to google, it means to be left on an island alone
Benny: hahahah! single!

And last but not least, current events + un-politically correct.

Following the Vice Presidential Debate:

[dred] Sarah: i was looking for a palin quote on your "away message" :(
me: how is everyone operating under an invisibility cloak?
yeah, its coming
[dred] Sarah: lol
me: i've been searching for a good one
[dred] Sarah: you're such a dork
i love it
good
me: i made a great palin button last night after the debate
it says:
"what's the difference between me and sarah palin? lipstick."
[dred] Sarah: lol THAT"S AMAZING!!

And following the media's poor portrayal of egregious celebrity domestic violence:

me: well his publicist tried to blame her the first time for alleging that she slept around and gave him an STI
anne: stop it. that i totally missed
me: which is, you know, the only way to justify beating someone up...
anne: you have to be kidding me
right
me: yeah totally ridiculous
anne: a slap for the clap
should be their new duet
me: hahahahahah
it should
i think its a great idea
a punch over lunch
anne: what terribleness
me: well, at least oj is finally in jail
anne: hahaha totally
sti? you get knocked in the eye
that's the remix
me: hahahahaha
anne: that shit is outrageous
me: std? don't fuck with me
anne: what is wrong with us?
me: we're the awesomest
right now i'm trying to rhyme something with herpes
aside from slurpees
anne: hahhaha
me: give me a wart, i'll make your face contort
give me aids and i'll slice you with blades because i'm the jack of all trades
anne: hahahhahahahahahahahaha
dude, we should write for him

uh? i also get a lot of work done. in between managing gchats, obviously.

The Amazing Adventures of Atticus and Fuji.

2009-02-28T17:41:00.003+01:00

Camp safety at a local girl scout camp is primarily maintained by the team work of two staff members: the Health Director and the Waterfront Director. But what if these two people are the least serious people working at said camp?

Well then obviously they create a team. A paramount, tenacious, superb team. Team Safety.

Team Safety was unveiled to the camp every flag ceremony. Introduced as, "this is your gateway to achieving a safer camp experience. Team Safety is here to assist you. Fun can be safe."

Team Safety did things such as deliver medicine and food to the needy in torrential rainstorms, communicate in code, remove colossal amounts of geese waste from the waterfront and temporarily lift running bans in order to participate in a Team Safety scavenger hunt.

Team Safety, at flag, on a daily basis taught the children at Camp how to escape from potentially life threatening animal attacks. For example:

Alligator: RUN IN ZIG ZAGS!
Bear: SPIT IN ITS MOUTH!
Rhino: STAND IN A PENCIL, THEY CAN'T SEE STRAIGHT AHEAD. THEY WILL BECOME DISORIENTATED.
Dinosaur: WAKE UP! YOU'RE DREAMING! THEY'RE EXTINCT!

Team Safety also spoke in walkie-talkie codes. "Team Safety would like to remind every one to wear sunscreen" over the walkies was code for "Something hilarious just happened and I can't wait to tell you the story." (this of course, the most popular code used)

Once Team Safety encouraged all the girls at camp to yell "HI TEAM SAFETY!" when they saw either Atticus or Fuji. This was an error in judgement. It turned out to be pretty distracting to hear "HI TEAM SAFTEY" upwards of 200 times per day.

However, a few times Team Safety really lived up to its name and came to the rescue. The second (or third?) week of camp, the weekly overnight was taken hostage by a brutal and never-ending thunderstorm. This posed several problems. The obvious: wet campers, wet counselors, danger. Also, the possibility of sinking the rowboats. As the storm rolled in and the thunder and lightening began, removing the metal rowboats from the pond was a Team Safety "not-an-option." So there they stayed, filling with several inches of rainwater per hour. Also filling with water: the pond. Only this water was drain run-off and so contained every microorganism one would never opt to swim in.

When morning came, it was still raining. But the thunder and lightening had long since subsided. So, Team Safety exchanged a knowing nod and headed down to the Waterfront to discover one rowboat hovering just below the surface of the brown water and the other barely above. We surveyed our options and possible tools. One broken bucket. One almost broken bucket. We stripped down to our bathing suits and walked into the water to quickly sink in the muck as we were up to our waists in brown, run-off, not-really swimable water. And we began. Together, our rescue efforts were flawless. In seemingly no time we recovered the sunken and almost sunken boats and had dragged them to their final resting place on shore. We high fived. A successful mission.

Team Safety was known to veto inappropriate and unsafe staff footwear. Team Safety had a safety superhero costume that consisted of an ace bandage sash and underwear outside of pants. Team Safety made safety fun. And fun safe.

Basically, Team Safety was legendary.

Happy V-Day.

2009-02-13T18:23:00.004+01:00

({})

i love vaginas. i love women. i do not see them as seperate things.

For 4 years, V-Day was not a reference to Valentine's Day in my life. Or, at least, not in the everyday sense. V-Day instead was a reference to a global movement to end violence against women and girls. V-Day was founded on Valentine's Day in 1998 because of all days in a year, Valentine's Day has the highest rate of sexual assault for any 24 hour period. So, they're related.

I will admit that i too house a number of issues with Vagina Monologues. How all of the empowering monologues are told by white women and the traumatic rape scenes told by women of color. How the official script comes with notes directing you to cast these parts as such. (which i ignored.) How you're only allowed to select 2 out of 6 of the optional monologues. (which i also ignored.) How the play is the SAME play every year.

These things aside, my participation in V-Day was in fact the most fulfilling i did in college. With one exception, all of my co-directors were or remain my best friends. I first had a surprise triple orgasm on stage in a red satin bra-underwear set with assless chaps, a vest and a cowboy hat and the following year after dressed as Hillary Clinton. We raised over $60,000 in 4 years for local anti-violence agencies. We got lots of standing ovations.

One year we constructed a 6.5 foot tall vagina, named Gladys Siegelman. She was made of velvet material and lace. She was deep red and pink and purple. She had a hole for you to put your head (for pictures). She was the prettiest vagina there ever was. However, campus administration disagreed. They saw Gladys as fire hazard. They tried to make us remove Gladys from the campus center. We refused. Would you make a 6.5 student leave because s/he's a fire hazard? Well would you? We didn't think so. Tensions mounted. Lines were drawn.

Fortunately, before the school could officially force Gladys into exile, the show had come and gone so she left the campus center with us. But they wanted closure. So i was part of a "free speech for student bodies" hearing. On my first day of testimony, i was entirely unprepared for the 20+ professor panel who would eventually cast the verdict on Gladys's future. Within the next week, they arrived at a decision. All future (wo)man-made vaginas MUST be less than 48 inches high. Case closed.

Luckily for me, and unlike many other Vag-Mon performances, i never had to deal with protesters. Or really anything, aside from once a mentally disabled audience member kept laughing very, very loudly at the rape scenes and disrupting the cast. They made me address the situation. My analysis: he seemed to be enjoying himself, he just had the timing of his laughter wrong.

Every year, i gave a similar speech at the first rehearsal. That we're together to raise awareness and provoke the participation in ending violence against women and girls. And that because of my work with Vag-Mons, countless women have come up to me and said things that have started with, "i've never told anyone this and i don't know where to go..." and by openly aligning yourself with an activist movement, you are likely to be some one's secret keeper of the violence inflicted upon them. Take that role seriously. Fight against misogynistic slogans on campus and in your community because ending violence against women means diminishing the acceptance of everyday sexism. Which, is diminishing.

Mostly i said these things not to enlist an army of self-righteousness, but primarily as a means to combat apathy.

I also started each season with listing the accomplishments of both V-Day, the worldwide organization and we, the Albany branch, have enjoyed. About the success and all the vagina paraphernalia created as a result of the Monologues (i myself have been given a vagina pouch and wind up-bouncing pussy). The money raised globally and where it went, etc. This was more of a motivational tactic to get the cast to skip less rehearsals.

But it was meaningful to be part of a global movement. One directed at lessening one of the most tragic parts of nearly all societies. To witness the impact that you made. There are only 2 or 3 other instances where i felt similarly that lives were made better because of me and every time the euphoria is unwavering. And i guess all along i wanted and still want everyone to experience that for themselves.

Go Further. Believe Deeper. Be Bolder. Speak Louder.
We Will Win.

The Next 25.

2009-02-10T16:05:00.005+01:00

I haven't stopped thinking about other facts about myself since composing the first 25. So, here are the next. Enjoy.

1. Around the age of 11, i decided that i should have a theme song at all times. The song itself can change, with maturity and general mood, but it would serve as the "in my head" song. Some examples: "I am Woman" by Helen Reddy, "32 Flavors" by Ani DiFranco, "I'm the Greatest Star" by Barbra Streisand, "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks and recently, "Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake

2. In high school, i was very concerned about having bad breath. So, to squelch this fear, i stapled in my agenda behind the front cover a tiny little ziplock bag one would get from a new shirt holding extra buttons. And in this bag, every day i put 4 altoids. And i would "eat" 2 either 2nd or 3rd period and the other two 6th or 7th (out of 9.) I found that if you put two altoids in your mouth and kept them in your cheek pocket, one on each side, you could house them for up to 2 hours. I used to have private challenges of how long i could go. 2 hours and 8 minutes of guaranteed, fresh, minty breath.

3. From grades 8-10 i was OB-SE-SS-ED with Rosie O'Donnell. There is an embarrassingly large collection of laminated pictures/cut-outs/koosh balls that fling/listerine/figurines from this period of my life. So much it makes me want to die thinking of the sheer volume of things i collected. And still live in my parent's attic because i refuse to revisit this part of my life.

4. I thought my Rosie obsession was mostly private. It was not. Not even a little. Once my Aunt Danise said to me, "You know, Rosie's probably gay. And that's ok with me. It ought to be ok with you. You should still love her." I was so offended. "She is NOT!" And i stormed out of the room. Only 4 years later did i understand what she was really saying.

5. I have sustained 3 quasi-serious injuries in my life:

while swimming in some sprint exercise, i miscalculated the edge of the pool and as i was doing a flip turn, my heel landed on the metal edge. it was excruciating.
while rollerblading in 7th grade with Trisha Hutchins and her sister Crystal, we went down a GIANT hill. and half way through, i panicked. and as a result, fell on my face and leg. my hands were strangely free of injury.
in 1988, after watching Mary Poppins for the first time, i walked around the house to locate the biggest umbrella we owned. I climbed to the top of the porch roof (a second story roof) and jumped, anticipating that i would fly. I did not. But i did sprain my ankle

6. Junior year of high school was the height of my desire to be Jewish. In addition to observing Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah, i also ate Kosher for a year.

7. As a small child, ages 7-10, i had a fairly large collection of Maple Town People. With them, i developed, maintained and built upon a pretty complicated story line for the city of Maple Town that they lived in. For example, Foxy, the single mom was often not invited to the dinner parties of the Rabbit families. Though Foxy did flirt with the sheriff on a regular basis, she just wasn't his type. He didn't want kids.

8. I wish that i was taller. So that i could attain my true life goal: to be a J Crew model. And then keep all the clothes.

9. I know that Starbucks employs children in foreign countries, drives out small businesses and charges obscene pricing for things unnecessarily, but i just am a happier person when drinking a soy caramel macchiato than without.

10. In college/grad school, i directed Vagina Monologues for 4 years. It was the most cult-esc/rewarding/addictive/often ridiculous/sometimes self-righteous thing i've ever done. It was 96.4% really wonderful.

11. The BEST thing that happened as a result: meeting and hanging out with Jane Fonda for a day. Whenever Jane Fonda comes up in conversation, i compulsively say, "we're friends. and i LOVE her." Also, whenever Ted Turner comes up in conversation i compulsively say, "he severely abused my friend. i HATE him."

12. Looking back, i find the age 17-20.8 year old version of myself to be by far the most irritating. For about a hundred reasons.

13. For nearly two years, i ate freegan. Which was that all food i purchased had to be vegan and food that i was given could contain dairy components.

14. Once i called the Albany Police because upon returning home from Christmas Break to our apartment, which has been vacant for 2+ weeks, i walked into my bedroom to find a GIANT cat. So giant, i thought it was a bobcat, rabid, pregnant and about to kill me. It was apparently the upstairs neighbor's. But i was terrified. And shrieked a LOT. Unsurprisingly, the police were unresponsive to my fears.

15. When in situations i deem unhealthy, to retain what little sanity i have, i typically stage a series of private and small revolts to make me laugh. For instance, while at Unity House i made a small drawing of myself, dacey and milinda in boxes in current day and then in 20 years. There were no words on it so there would have been no way to decipher what the picture meant but when frustrated, i would turn my head, giggle and feel better.

16. In late middle school/early high school i created my own language made of mostly greek letters to write in my diary with so that "undesirables" could not learn how much i hated them. (e.g. Norine.) i continued to write in my diary/journal in my secret language through college, again so "undesirables" could not learn my true feelings. The only person i've given the code to is Jenny. Sarah figured it out on her own. (annoying.) Sometimes during meetings or class in present day (or hypothetical present day), i often write about people who i think are funny/weird/annoying/cute in secret language. It makes studying my notes more interesting.

17. I've made out with approximately 180 people.

18. As a result, my friends made me devise any standards because obviously i lacked them. So, i adopted these rules for dating/making out with anyone in the future. Of the 5 rules, i am willing to compromise on any one (except for the last) but unwilling to compromise on more than one, because it just wouldn't work:

You must be a lady.
You cannot be a registered Republican*
Under no circumstances can your boss and my boss be the same person
You cannot have an ex that will in any way dislike me or seek to make my life unpleasant
Rainbow tattoos are not allowed. Ever. No one should be that proud.

* uh, unless accidentally.

19. While nervously/awkwardly talking on our first date, i admitted these rules to Sarah and then felt extremely weird. And nuts. It was a bad presentation.

20. Something i am looking forward to in life more than anything is being a member of AARP. I literally can't wait. Also, am now more than half-way there.

21. In high school, my ex-boyfriend/prom date wrote a blog about how much he hated me. It was really popular. The ENTIRE school read it. I was mortified. He even used the "c" word. Later, he and his friend smashed my "vote for Hillary" pumpkin. We're friends again now, but i often remind him of what a jerk he was and hope that he has learned to not be so angry when people don't want to go out with them. Clearly, it wasn't him. I just wasn't into dudes.

22. In AP Calc, i once made lots of money from my classmates for filling out their quizzes while we all served in-school suspension for senior skip day. My teacher, Mr. Dutell, was pleased with my entrepreneurship and said that he was happy someone was profiting off of the laziness of my classmates. (He disliked pretty much everyone aside from me, Elaina, Trisha and perhaps one or two other people) Later, I wasn't allowed to take the final because he claimed i would destroy the curve and too many people would fail.

23. I feel much more strongly attached to my middle name, LeClair, than my last name. LeClair is Norine's maiden name, but more importantly, the name of many of my favorite family members. Or was the name of them when we were introduced.

24. I drove cross-country with my friends, one of whom was moving to California. She wanted to stop in Florida, despite my objections that, among other things, it was not on the way. But, she was stubborn, so we stopped in Florida. At a gas station in the panhandle. And the proceeded to Los Angeles. The weirdest/most terrifying things i saw were the following:

An extreme amount of blood in giant spots over a stretch of 5 miles while driving down a foggy coastal highway in a Carolina
A billboard in Mississippi that said nothing other than "God Bless George W."
The home of Britney and Jamie Spears.
A small dust tornado that passed directly in front of the car
A small sign on a Texan road that was white with black lettering that said, "goodbye."

25. The two funniest things that Lynn, my aunt/mom, claims to have witnessed in her life thus far are: once when i was doing step aerobics with a tape unaware of her watching and my senior year tap dance solo to the tune of "Second Hand Rose." One of her biggest life regrets is not video taping either of these events.

"Tell your partner to keep her clothes on."

2009-02-03T19:37:00.003+01:00

At least twice a day, people are generally naked. For some of us, perhaps that number is higher.

I am prone to taking my clothes off. At times for cheering audiences (as seen in "The Vagina Monologues" in the monologue, "The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy" where i was a sex worker who only worked for women and loved to hear them moan. In my finest performance of this monologue, i dressed up as Hillary Clinton. I started with a mask and powersuit and ended in my underwear.), other times for curious onlookers and then some times for startled old people.

Some of my bar related naked adventures have gone like this:

Julia and i, after sharing a bottle of wine for dinner, went to Lark Tavern to meet some friends. Among them, Anne, a friend who consistently encourages me to take me shirt off. I often oblige. There Anne predictably prompted me to flash her, which i did repeatedly. Eventually one of the bartenders called Julia, who seemed more rational than i must have to come over:

bartender: tell your partner to keep her clothes on.
julia: my partner?
bartender: that one. (points to me)
julia: (taken aback) oooooh, no. if she was my partner, i wouldn't let her sit on that girl's lap and just make out and flash that other girl. puh-lease.

A different Anne night we (Anne, Jenny, Amanda, me and potentially someone else) sat in the window seat of a restaurant on a busy street. Anne and i were sitting with our backs to the window and she got the idea that if she were to knock on the window, the passerby would turn and would be surprised and delighted if i were to flash them immediately. Were they ever. Sometimes i got a smile and a cheer, sometimes a dirty look and once two thumbs up. Way up.

Other Anne adventures include breaking into the Lincoln Park pool by climbing the fence around approximately 4am and swimming naked with 5 or 6 other people. This was my idea, having done it previously that summer.

Though, admittedly, not all of my public displays of nudity have been premeditated.

Once in my freshman year of college, after taking a shower i stopped to talk to my across the hall neighbors while still in my towel. I talked to them for 6-8 minutes and then turned around to walk to my room. Only after i pivoted and took my first step, i realized that my leg did not make contact with the piece of towel that would have been necessary to cover my beneath-the-bathing-suit-area. I turned back around to reveal my face.

me: uh, was i accidentally showing you guys my vagina that entire time?
lynne and holly (very awkwardly and laughing): yes.
me: eesh. i'm really sorry about that. uh, well, thanks for the talk.

Sarah and i went to the island of Culebra for vacation nearly two years ago. (a side note: for anyone interested in vacation bliss, go here. it's perfect in every way.) During our entire stay, our superb house rental was bombarded with the noise of constructing a nearby home. Not to say that this impeded upon the most perfect vacation ever, because it didn't. But it was always there. They didn't even take a siesta. That's how hard they worked. Anyway, so one morning, after taking a shower upstairs, i was feeling particularly at peace and so walked onto the porch, naked, to observe the ocean. And in doing so i closed my eyes, took in the salty air, the warm sun, and listened to the waves crash down below. About 90 seconds later i realized that was all i heard. The waves. "Huh, that's weird," i thought, "they never stop working." I exited my temporary nirvana to turn to look at the house being built and to my horror realized that they had stopped working to stare at me. With no other option, i waved hello. They waved back. Then i went into the house.

This past summer, Sarah and i went on canoe trip in South Maine and New Hampshire. Aside from the prevailing mosquito infestation, this too, was a fun and wholesome adventure. However, due to the mosquito problem we were limited to existing on the beach and never, ever going into the forest. This was mostly fine. One of the days that we were packing up and preparing to proceed down the Saco River, i had to pee. Sarah wasn't around, so i felt no need to go anywhere in hiding to relieve myself. I quickly peered down the river to see if other canoes were coming and saw none. So, i dropped my pants and proceeded to pee on the beach, facing the forest. Never in my life do i recall a time that i have peed slower than this or taken my time nearly as much. I slowly pulled up my pants, while stretching until i was clothed again. I let out a sigh of relief, turned around to face the river and continue getting ready to leave. Only i stopped. And nearly collapsed. Not 50 feet away was a passing canoe. And in this passing canoe were the 3 oldest people i'd ever seen in my entire life. Holding binoculars aimed at where my naked butt had been just moments ago.

Worse was hours later when Sarah and i caught up to them and passed them on the river. And as they were watching the world from behind binoculars, they said, "oooh, a bird. do you see that bird? it is a bird? flies. has wings. must be a bird."

i could easily envision their earlier remarks, "ooooh a butt. do you see that butt? it is a butt? can sit. has two cheeks. must be a butt."

Now i think twice before getting undressed.

Well she had it coming, right Marianne?

2009-01-30T16:02:00.003+01:00

Marianne was everything anyone would ever want from a roommate. Funny, smart, appreciates being lazy and drinking a lot and above all, is very loyal.

Some of my favorite things to do with Marianne were to read Harry Potter in our underwear while drinking hot chocolate with the heat turned up extremely high in the middle of winter and then convince ourselves that together, we owned the 4 nicest breasts in the world. (fact.)

But our #1 favorite activity was to purchase the cheapest and biggest loaf of bread we could find. We then put one slice on every car windshield in the parking lot closest to my bedroom window. Then we ran into the dorm and watched as people sauntered up to their cars, picked up the slice of bread with their forefinger and thumb, carefully examined the bread and then quickly discarded it out of disgust and sheer confusion. We would watch this phenomenon for hours. Sometimes we would get cursed at: "don't you dare put that fucking bread on my car. i've seen you. i know who you are." Still, our spirits could not be broken. We knew we had to create this anthropological study of how one reacts to bread when out of its natural habitat. And then endlessly laugh.

The second year of college, Marianne and i lived in fully-furnished dorm rooms with 3 other girls. One of the girls, Jamie, thoroughly disliked me. We were roommates freshman year and for the most part got along fine, but something over the summer convinced her i was evil. Despite the apartment being fully furnished, therefore not needing furniture, Jamie assigned us all to "buy" something to complete the apartment. Marianne and i were assigned throw pillows. She bought one. I bought none. My refusal to participate due to being a poor college student and it simply being nonsensical was akin to the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. Jamie declared war on me. I declared back. Marianne was forced to declare war on Jamie out of a predetermined allegiance to me. The other two roommates declared war on both of us out of an inexplicable and also predetermined allegiance to Jamie. It was war.

Jamie would often write me "hate notes" and slip them under my door, which was consistently locked. They said things such as, "i hate you." "Why were you born?" "Dyke." She wasn't very smart. And certainly not a good writer. I collected these notes and hung them on my wall, arranging them in a way that i found to be particularly aesthetically pleasing. On nights when i had an exam in the following morning, Jamie would bounce a volleyball against my wall for endless hours to prohibit me from sleeping. She would also tie my towels in knots while they were drying so they quickly became moldy. Jamie once removed mine and Marianne's shelves from within the shower.

Her attacks against me were outlandish, not well planned, silly in nature and always overt. Marianne and i adopted complete opposite tactics. We would enter her room while she wasn't there and remove the ink cartridges from one or two of her pens. Maybe once a week. Marianne tampered with her shampoo, compromising its cleansing nature. Sometimes I would leave my vibrator on, while i wasn't home against her wall. The effect was that while i was gone, her room would fill with a bizarre and ambiguously located jackhammer type sound. Once a week or so, we would break the lightbulb in her lamp by shaking it. Then we would replace the lightbulb. Later Jamie we would hear her exclaim, "this one broke already? dammmmit!" We did this so regularly that Jamie eventually threw out her lamp because she had determined it was dysfunctional.

Eventually, one night my covert tactics went awry. I went out for what i remember to be a fairly fun night the night before the start of Christmas Break and our respective 6 week departures. I woke up in the morning, alone with my door locked in my bed. I was fully dressed waist-up: contacts, barrettes, jewelry, 3 shirts and completely naked waist down. Hm. Provocative. I put on pants and walked to the bathroom where i found, much to my surprise my pants, underwear, socks and boots perfectly assembled as if i had jumped out of them. Strangely they were all sopping wet. Hm. The plot thickens. I smelled this ensemble. Nothing fishy. It was really snowy outside, did i fall? Probably.

I get ready to leave and on the way home receive a phone call from Jamie's roommate, who was on the other side of the war, but still friendly to me. (Also, who i went out with the night before.) After some small talk, she arrives at the point of her phone call:

Jamie's Roommate: So, did you pee on Jamie's bed?
Me: What? Uh, no? I was with you all night.
Jamie's Roommate: Well, its just that there was a lot of pee on her bed, apparently, this morning and she thinks it was you.
Me (i hadn't factored this as a possible explanation for the wet pants/underwear/socks/boots i had discovered earlier in the bathroom): Huh. (pause.) Was it the rabbit?

*Jamie insisted on having a rabbit that she never cared for and was constantly urinating and defecating everywhere throughout the apartment*

Jamie's Roommate: No, there was too much of it.
Me: Uh, huh. Weird. I genuinely know nothing about this. (another, more awkward pause) Uh, sorry?

Marianne and i elected to move out the first day of the following semester because once you pee on someone's bed, i would imagine that the rules of warfare change dramatically to include a range of previously taboo activities.

It was mostly fun while it lasted.

Drunk Girl

2009-01-29T02:59:00.000+01:00

I'm not sure if it was my infuriatingly early high school curfew. Or if it was my assumption that college meant you were to "let loose." Whatever the cause, the effect was that somewhere in my head, i immediately embraced the role of "Drunk Girl" when i went to college. You know, that girl who is always drunk, super annoying and you sort of want to punch in the face all the time. And you could, because she'd never remember.

The first month of my first year of my first semester was marked by many black outs, random injuries, copious amounts of unexpected sneers from passersby, extraordinarily poor judgment and only a few memories.

Not only did i not make any of my [current] collection of college friends, but Marianne (who lived next door) and Alex found me to be a distasteful, loud and obnoxious addition to our dormitory. The following year when Jenny and i [re]met she said, "oh yeah, i met you the first month of school. You were the drunkest girl i'd ever seen in my whole life." (i don't recall this apparent shared cab ride home, but i believe her.) Only dred-Sarah thought that underneath the alcoholic stench i was awesome.

These two stories really exemplify Drunk Girl:

1. First week of school. We (my then-friends) and i are at a frat party. Yes, a frat party. A basement-with-an-incredibly-low-piped-ceiling that forced you to duck every other step in order to avoid head trauma. I'm having a great time. Drinking lots and lots of jungle juice. (jungle juice can be defined as a vat of a typically red liquid often kept in a plastic pool. The contents of jungle juice include but are not limited to: koolaid, vodka, urine, sprite, 151, grain alcohol and sweat.) I was on probably my 7th or 8th cup of this party miracle when one of my friends that i had come with ran up to me. She took my shoulders and very seriously told me we needed to leave RIGHT now.

me: but i'm having, like, such a good time. and like, look at all my friends.
(waves to the crowd. no one waves back, because, well, i don't actually know anyone.)
friend: no, seriously we have to leave right now
me: ok, but like, let me finish this, like, alright?
friend: NO. there is going to be an explosion. FIRE. we MUST leave NOW.

i'll stop to interject for a moment. i am terrified of fire. and specifically being in something that spontaneously explodes. it's one of my top 5 biggest fears.

to continue:

me (takes the full cup of jungle juice and throws it in the crowded basement, spraying it everywhere): WELL LET US GO RIGHT NOW!

so i take off in a full sprint for the door. only, due to my state of inebriation i miscalculate the location of the doorway. and smash, full speed, into the actual door instead of the doorway. and i lay there, momentarily, in a bloody heap. i then pull it together and crawl up the basement stairs to the alleyway muttering to myself that "i'm from a small town." "i'm afraid of fire." "i'm not ready to die."

shortly thereafter, my friends realize i'm no longer part of their caravan and so come searching for me. and they find me, hunched over a fence, continuing to banter on about being from a small town, not wanting to die, and a little sad that my favorite pants were soaked in blood.

2. Sometime in early October (maybe?) Elaina came to visit. This excited me for many reasons. But partially because it meant that i got to introduce her to Drunk Girl. Or, the new and depreciated me. So we went to a bar downtown. This particular bar is notorious for the ladies' bathroom consistently being home to up to 6 inches of urine and other repugnant liquids on the floor. Strangely, this local story fascinated me. So when i took Elaina to this particular bar, i prepped her for what she'd see. And told her to be ready for it. And later on in the night, after ingesting an incredible amount of alcohol i, again, became entranced by this anomaly. While Elaina and i went to the bathroom together i exclaimed, "Elaina! There's so much piss on this floor that i can swim the backstroke in it! Watch!"

And then i did. Or at least, tried.

Probably the true stories of Drunk Girl are best told by the unfortunate witnesses. After all, my selective memory of these events is largely comprised of compilations of things told me in days following. Overall, perhaps not my finest hour. Though, not my worst.

That honor is given to the moment i decided to secretly grow and care for a rat tail.

What comes around, goes around Ginny and Erin.

2009-01-22T20:44:00.000+01:00

If i were asked, "What nine months would you say that you were the ugliest, most unpopular and made, overall, the worst fashion decisions?" i would reply with certainty: September 1995 - June 1996. Also known as 7th grade.

When recently cleaning out some of my "storage" occupying space at my parent's house, i uncovered my 7th grade yearbook and subsequently took an un-glorious march down memory lane. Or shame lane to give it proper homage as a character building exercise i endured for 9 months.

It's truly hard to know where to begin.

For the record, in no way do i mean to imply that my 7th grade experience was any more awkward, heinous, un-cool or scarring that any one else's. It's just that this is all i know.

Seventh grade, in the Fulton City School District is the 1st of 2 years of Junior High School. It is a transition to carrying more books on a regular basis, functional lockers, one teacher per subject and the implementation of a strict social hierarchy. In 7th grade there was also a number of school-wide assemblies, where we were packed into the gymnasium and forced to listen to the presenter of the hour. What was great was the cancellation of class. What was not great was typically the assembly.

Once we all listened to a presentation on "self-esteem." Why is self -esteem important? What does it mean to have self-esteem? Who has self-esteem? To demonstrate this, the presenter called ten students down at random to come before the entire class. (In 7th grade, our class was somewhere in the 500-student range. Prior to pregnancy/drug/felony drop-out rates really began to claim our classmates.) I was picked.

I was wearing a denim-plaid-flannel button down shirt, tapered shone-washed jeans, incredibly frizzy and badly cut hair, glasses that took up most of my face and let's not forget i was pretty chubby.

"What does self-esteem mean to you?" I was asked. And think i replied something about "having the strength to not kill yourself" which is all i wanted to do at the very moment and the only reason i wasn't MUST have been because i possessed some magical self-esteem that this man was talking about.

What made this worse was that we were forced to dance in unison. And then that picture, of us dancing, surfaced in the Valley News, for all of Fulton to bear witness to just days later.

But at least for a short while i felt armed with self-esteem. I thought about it as if i was saved from the devil by jesus in an evangelical church. I would get brutally ridiculed, close my eyes and think, "i was given the power of self-esteem, i can endure this, i will survive," drowning out the rest of the world.

The second time i was chosen in an assembly came later in the year. This time in front of 7th AND 8th graders, who all exuded intimidation so strongly, i avoided eye contact at all costs. This assembly was not about self-esteem. It was about dancing.

Presenter: "Everyone here knows the dip dance, right? [sung] 'I put my hand upon your hip, when i dip, you dip, we dip' I'm going to call down some volunteers." He picked. Me and some others.

So there i was. Again. With undoubtably the same stone-washed tapered pants, certainly the same entire-face-encompassing glasses and bad sense of hair. My shirt was perhaps a marvin the martian flannel instead this time. But still button down. And i was just as awkward. And so, against my better judgement, i dipped while the entire school looked on.

There are two other things that really define 7th grade for me:

1. The fact that for nearly 1/2 of it, Trisha Hutchins and Krissy Heppell hated me. And had a notebook, which meant they were REALLY friends. And they wrote a LOT about me. About hating me. I knew it. Then in the spring, when Trisha and i were friends again, i stayed at her house one night and she fell asleep before i did and there was her and Krissy's notebook. Lying in front of me, taunting me to read its "Trisha and Krissy's eyes only" pages. And so i did. And predictably was hurt at Trisha saying things like, "Right now, on the radio Ironic is playing. Brianna likes this song. And i hope she doesn't know that it's number 1 again on the hot 9-at-9. In fact, i hope she isn't even listening to the radio because i am. And i don't want to do anything that she does."

So, i went to the bathroom and got shaving cream. And put in on her face. And she woke up and at first was appalled and then laughed. This began a long-standing ritual that the first person to fall asleep at any sleep-over from this moment will be subject to shaving cream. But she didn't know that i was mad and seeking revenge.

2. I was on the red team. And the green team had lunch during our science class. Which meant that every day at exactly half-way through the period the green team would walk by our class room door and class would pause due to the noise. At some point in the middle of the year, during my what i commonly refer to as my least popular moment of my life, Ginny St.Onge and Erin Walker got the idea that yelling "Brianna is a dyke" as they walked my science room everyday was funny.

Well it wasn't. (But you might have been on to something.)

7th grade was the first year that we obtained as many yearbook signatures as we could. They are perhaps the most poorly written collection of sentiment and yet sometimes, the most revealing:

"Brianna- Hi, Bye. - Gretchen"

"Bre, Wicked cool year. Liked it when we weren't talking. But that was all before so put it behind us. C-ya. luv ya Trisha"

"Brianna, bye." (no name.)

"Bite me- Ted"

"Brianna, your gay who do you luv? Well g-fly gay-bait! LYLAS Sarah [McCann]"

I think maybe Sarah said it the best.

Tales of an [Accidental] Log Cabin Republican.

2009-01-21T19:16:00.000+01:00

On the morning of Super Tuesday, i sat in my [Unity House] office making buttons with what would soon be stolen merchandise. Buttons that said: "Super Tuesday= Stupendous Democracy" "A chick or a black dude? How can you go wrong?" "This Tuesday is really SUPER", etc.

I had a lot of enthusiasm for this democratic day in February. Moments after work, i triumphantly marched to my polling place, The Senior Citizens Center (double awesome) on Delaware Ave.

Worker: Name?

Me (with pride): Brianna Bailey

Worker: Party?

Me (with a tone as if to say, uh, what else is there?): Democrat.

Then they sent me to what they thought was the table that had my registration information. Only that table did not. So i was sent to a different table. And to still no avail, i was sent to the third and last table. ("This is it!" I thought.) Only it wasn't it. The last table tried to send me a table that i had already visited.

I was confused. And annoyed. And dressed in Super Tuesday flare.

Finally, a man comes and herds me to what felt like the "voter registration reject table."

Man: Now are you sure you're registered?

Me: Yes. Totally sure. I love voting.

Man: And as a Democrat?

Me: Yes, don't let this red shirt fool you.

Man: When was the last time you voted?

Me: In 2004, sigh, for Kerry.

And he looks me up and down, not entirely satisfied with my story. And hands me an absentee ballot to which i vigorously complete and in doing so, vote. Then i leave, feeling completely unfulfilled because when you live in New York, which is decidedly NEVER a swing state, this might have been, literally, the only chance to vote for someone without knowing who would win. And i was pretty sure my absentee ballot didn't count.

Days later i receive a facebook wall-post from a girl who was living in my old apartment. The apartment that i was supposedly registered to vote at. All she said was:

"Republican, ay?"

Oh.My.God.

Apparently, in 2003, when re-registering as a response to moving, my arm convulsed to the word "republican" and subsequently the pencil in my hand marked it.

The silver lining of this is that up until this point, i lacked a good answer for "most embarrassing moment." And was deservingly harassed at a Gev-Rob family dinner when Martha nearly asked me to leave out of revulsion.

In an effort to correct this terrible error, i re-registered at the Columbia County Fair. And even had Sarah look over the form to avoid possible replication of the initial mistake. The correct party was checked.

About 3 weeks later i received in the mail the voter registration card with your polling place information on it. It said, "Albany. Ward: 6. District:6. Party: Republican."

WHAT?!?!?!?!

I couldn't believe that it either happened again OR they just weren't letting people leave the party. So i called Albany County Board of Elections.

Me: Ok, so apparently, in 2003, i made an error. I have tried and failed to correct this error.

Worker: What was the error?

Me: Registering for a Republican. I re-registered a month ago and switched my party.

Worker: We have no record of that.

Me: Well, you must because it went to the correct address.

Worker: No, sorry ma'am. We have no record of you as a Democrat.

Me (getting really frustrated as this went on for quite some time): It just that not only have i never voted for with the Republican party because i find their policies and agendas to be offensive, bigoted, regressive and sometimes evil, but i never will. And i have made an effort to not be affiliated with the Republican Party and am just confused why it's impossible to get out.

Worker (pause): Well, I'm a Republican. And i don't find their policies or agendas to be evil.

Me (another pause): Huh, sorry about that.

After that the conversation petered out. And was super awkward.

BUT two days ago i got something in the mail. Something that said "Party: Democrat."

Problem Solved. My short-lived-accidental Republican Days, it's safe to say, are securely behind me. Sorry for offending you Mr. Albany County Board of Election man.

The Year of Brian.

2009-01-16T18:54:00.001+01:00

My most humiliating year of pre-college education is a tie. 2nd and 7th grades.

For second grade, i was assigned Mrs. Chesbro at Fairgrieve Elementary. (Currently attended by Lauren and next year, Peter.)

Several things went wrong this year. The biggest and most noteworthy was that i didn't just want to be a boy, i made in inner declaration that i was a boy. In order to fulfill my newly acquired gender role, i had to adopt and implement several new policies immediately:

1. Must pee standing up.

2. Can not be seen wearing a "bathing suit;" will swim only in shorts.

3. Try at all costs to not use the "girls" bathroom.

4. Try at all costs to not walk in the "girls" line.

5. Play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles obsessively.

6. Disfigure any and all Barbie dolls that enter my premises.

7. Cut my hair off.

8. From this day forth, I shall be known as Brian. Not Brianna.

As predicted, not all of these policies were successful. For a seven year old, i think i did a phenomenally good job of cutting my own hair. Choppy. Super short. Boy-like. But, alas, i was quickly herded to an actual hairdresser to correct the apparent "abomination" i had created on top of my head.

Swimming in my shorts, though, this went more as i had planned. I remember at the time living at 216 South Third Street in Fulton, NY and looking at myself in the mirror in my bedroom with just my yellow and white-stripped swimming trunks on. Thinking, "yeah, Brian, you look good. So boy-like." We (my ENTIRE extended family. Even out-of-towners: Jill and Pat. Carol and Bob. Lynn and Scott I. Or just Lynn. I don't remember. Scott I was pretty insignificant as far as uncles go.) were on our way to a giant family gathering for my great-grandma Weske. Where, as luck might have it, there was a swimming pool. And i thought i'd really get to try out my boy swimming trunks.

So we got there. And i announced that i was going to go put my bathing suit on. I had secretly not packed a bathing suit. Only my yellow and white stripped trunks. I emerged wearing them, ran to the pool, then proceeded to cannon-ball into the deep end.

Norine was mortified. I was in my glory. Success!

Fairgrieve Elementary, on the other hand, was as not willing to embrace my sudden change in gender identity. I constantly peed on toilet seats because the only way i could master the art of standing up was to stand on the seat. As in, my feet were on the seat and then i would squat. You are envisioning this disaster correctly.

Mrs. Chesbro forced, as many elementary school teachers do and did, us to walk in boy-girl lines. So she would call "girls, please line up." And then wait for the girls. And moments later announce that it was the boy's turn. Every time, without fail, i pretended to be "finishing" something at my desk, causing my delay and subsequent lining up with the boys. I thought this method was foolproof.

In reality, i think its fair to say that after performing this particular task anywhere from 2-5 times per day, it was pretty transparent what i was actually doing.

The other, mortifyingly embarrassing hair decision that i made in my transition was that i would grow a rat tail. BUT something inside me [correctly] insisted that no one else shall know about this. and so i kept it carefully and tightly pinned under the rest of my hair.

During this time of my life i conducted several experiments in an effort to determine the true difference between boys and girls. My most vivid memory of these was during class one day, i cut a small piece of my hair and laid it on my desk. In order to complete the experiment, i needed a sample of girl hair. Luckily, Elaina, with her very long and pretty hair sat directly in front of me. A-ha! I internally proclaimed. And i inched up, i quietly and carefully removed a small amount of Elaina's hair. Sadly, the results were entirely inconclusive. All i learned was that Elaina's hair was straighter and the color was nearly indistinguishable from the sample from my head. But i already knew those things just by sitting behind and staring at the back of her head for so long.

I did manage to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles obsessively. And nothing else. My most prized possession of this year was the electronic pizza thrower, which launched plastic pizza disks up to 20 feet. And i had it. (translation: Brian was super cool.)

This year wasn't all glorious. Once, while standing on the bathroom seat, i overheard girls in the bathroom talking about me. "Uh, what's with that Brianna girl? Does she like really think she's a boy?" They didn't know i was there because my feet were on the toilet seat, not the floor. Another time my rat tail came unpinned from my head and the boys i was playing with mercilessly ridiculed me. I cut it off immediately when i got home. My secret was out.

Not long after this event, and the conclusion of second grade, i grew weary of the constant mental up-keep of being Brian. And i pretty much constantly was peeing on my feet. So, i retired Brian. And announced in my room to Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael and Michelangelo that the "na" was back. For good.

GRYFFINDOR!

2009-01-14T21:14:00.000+01:00

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

(The Sorting Hat. HP 1.)

Uh, brave? Yeah. That's me. Chivalrous? I'm practically a knight.

When Sarah and i started dating, we began talking one day about which house we'd be in. She proclaimed she'd be in Ravenclaw. (she's a dead-ringer for a Ravenclaw.) And then she continued to say that i would probably be in Hufflepuff. Um, what? Hufflepuff? The house of the leftovers? The only house that in 5,000 pages who's common room isn't described in detail?

I went home and seriously contemplated if i ought to break up with Sarah. Aside from being offended, maybe, i thought she clearly wasn't taking "us" seriously. Because i thought that no one in their right mind would want to have a long-term, meaningful realtionship with a "left over." I was convinced this was code for her settling for me.

I've had to call 911 three times in my life. [So far.] I find that they really highlight my bravery and chivalry.

The first was in 2001. I had just returned from my dentist's office after having my first, second, third and fourth fillings. (It was a bad year for dental hygiene.) As a result of this invasion of my gums and teeth, my mouth, tongue, lips and half of my face were completely numb. It was excruciatingly hard to speak. And drink water. And do, really anything, that one takes advantage of being easy all other times in life. When i arrived home my parents were in a strange frenzy. (my parents are two of the most laid back people i know. sometimes i try to rile them to no avail.) i asked what was going on. I learned that the man living in the house next to us had killed himself about a week ago and was discovered as the smell of his decomposing corpse lingered to our house. (totally gross, i know. i'm sorry.) Anyway, so my parents assigned me to call 911, AND to make sure that 911 knew not to walk across the lawn because they had just spent a lot of money on fertilizer, insecticides, etc. in anticipation of the growing season and didn't want gurneys wheeled over it.

Alright. So i called. It went something like this:

911 operator: 911, please state your emergency.
Me: uuuuulll-ooo. dh-a mmm-y-nnn n-e-scccchhhhh-t d-oooooo-r kwwwww-iiiii-ll-ed hhhwwww-iiii-mmm-sssccchhhellllpppphhhh.
911 operator: Is this a prank?
Me: Nwwwwoooooooo! twwwww-a DWEN-tttwwwwist. I wwwwww-iiiiii-ve at 502 bb-wwww-oooad-wwwway.
911 operator: I'll send someone.
Me: aaa-wwwww-l-so pppp-wwww-eee-a-ssche do not www-aa-lk on the wwww-aaa-www-nnn we ju-wssss-t put d-w-ooo-wn in-swwee-ct-i-ssswww-iii-d-eessss.
911 opeator: Thanks for your call.

(moments later.)

Lynn: Are they on their way?
Me: I tttt-wwww-i-nk scwwww-o
Lynn: Did they understand about the lawn?
Me: I dwwww-oooo-n't k-wwwww-ow. I twwwww-r-ied.

The second time I had to call 911 is boring. So i'll skip that.

But the 3rd time went something like this:

I was working for the NYS Coalition Against Domestic Violence. And i had just purchased a car. Not a car that i cared about or really even wanted, but i needed a ride home from Fulton and so saw car buying as my best option. We were in the conference room and all of a sudden someone comes in and asks, "who has a silver-sort-of-newish car?" And i was silent for a moment. Then i remembered that I had one of those! "Me! Me!", i cried. "Well, your bumper is in the middle of the road." I was confused. So i said, "uh, well I didn't leave it there." The response said, "right. someone hit it."

Aw man.

So i ventured outside and saw that true to the story, there was my bumper, in the exact middle of the road. And there was my car, lacking exactly one bumper. Then i found a note on the windshield and read at it. "I'm sorry that I hit your bumper and popped your tire. Signed, the Culligan Man." He left the note on carbon copy paper so i would have a white, yellow and pink copy. My co-workers and i thought that in situations like these, you report accidents. Right? But did anyone know the number? No. I'll just call 911.

911 operator: 911, please state your emergency.
Me: I guess I'm calling to report an accident. Someone hit my car while it was parked.
911 operator: Do you know who?
Me: The Culligan Man.
911 operator: Who?
Me: You know, (impersonates commercial jingle) "Hey, Culligan Man."
911 operator: Oh. Maybe this isn't an emergency. You should call your local police.

In summation, i think it's fair to say i can and have demonstrated bravery worthy of Godric Gryffindor's house. Also, i'd be super good at quidditch if it were real. With my cat-like reflexes and bullet-like speed. So there, Sarah.

*author's note: Sarah has both privately and officially rescinded her initial declaration of my belonging in Hufflepuff. A wrong was righted.

Question: What is something Brianna is unequivocally dreadful at?

2009-01-13T17:57:00.000+01:00

Answer: Customer Service.

I worked at Houlihans, located across the hall from Regal 18 in Crossgates mall, for 3 years. (Nearly. 2.8 years) My second-longest employment relationship. Only i wasn't very good.

Houlihan's is a sports bar/restaurant. It is a steakhouse. It lives in the mall. And in almost every way one can fathom, the antithesis of my being.

The general manager was a very fat, not always nice man. Who had a remarkable lisp. And liked blue cheese a LOT. And called every one Dogg.

"Hey Dogg, sss-ch-an you put s-c-hhhh-ome more blue -sssss-ccccc-hhhhhh-ee-s-cccc-hhhh-e on that ssss-ccccc-handwich for me? Shhhhhlanks Dogg."

Lots of times we would all practice our impersonations. Sometimes a very quiet and seemingly subdued server would introduce a dead on impression much to the merriment and glee of the rest of the staff.

Rule One of Serving: Greeting and Engaging the Table. This wasn't my strong suit. Sometimes it went like this:

Customer: You guys have a lot of martini specials, which ones are good?

Me: I'm 19. So, uh, i don't know?

Customer: Oh. Well how are the ribs? I've heard good things about the ribs here.

Me: I'm a vegetarian.

Customer: Alright, well what is good here?

Me: Water. With hint of lemon. It's pretty thirst quenching.

During my tenure there, G.W. waged war on Iraq, forgot about Afghanistan and was [re-] elected. For those of you who followed social sentiments, we also [apparently] hated the French. There was a small, but very opinionated subset of America that declared "french fries" from this day forth would be known as "freedom fries."

The Houlihan's clientele really latched on to this. I launched an internal hullabaloo against the stupidity of such clientele. And against Rule Two of Serving: The Customer is Always Right.

Customer: I'd like the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich with Freedom Fries, please.

Me: Oh, we're fresh out of Freedom Fries. We ran out yesterday while running a special called "lady liberty." They sold like hotcakes.

Customer: Huh. You're totally out?

Me: Yeah, all we have left are french fries. Imported from France.

Customer: Yeah, i don't know that i can eat those.

Me: It's probably for the best.

Or, one of my favorite interactions:

Lady Customer: I think i'll have a dry vodka martini with Van Gogh.

Me: ok.

Lady Customer: No, Grey Goose.

Me: ok.

Lady Customer: No, dammit, that's French too. I just don't want to support them. I mean, what have they ever done for us?

Me: Well, for starters, they were critical in our defeat of the British in the Revolutionary War. They also gave us the Statue of Liberty. I think we might still owe them.

Lady Customer: Whatever.

She complained about me. I complained back about her. The customer is always wrong.

The only reason i lasted as long as i did was because for the latter 2 years i worked support staff nearly exclusively which meant that i just had to work hard and not talk to customers. It was the best of both worlds. Mostly because in my time as playing server, i had accrued more complaints about me than pretty every one else. Combined.

It was written in the stars that i would eventually get fired from such an establishment. Which i did. Alex, one of my best friends from college, also worked there. Some days we would play pranks on one other as a sort of subterfuge against management and also implement survival tactics of making such a depressing and demoralizing job fun. One day Alex put pickle juice in my water. A common fact about me is that i think pickles are the Anti-Christ. My worst nightmare is being ravenous in a room with nothing other than pickles. I don't even like removing them from my plate because it would mean i'd have pickle juice on my fingers. So anyway, putting pickle juice in my water is a personal attack. I retaliated. And the game escalated to new heights. Heights unknown to Houlihan's. (and apparently, unwanted as it turned out.) I went to the schedule. The schedule was designed so that each day was represented by one full sheet of paper. Day and night shifts. If you worked a lot, your name could appear up to 12 times in the binder. Alex and i both worked a lot. So next to each of Alex's names, i wrote "smells" or "is dumb" or "is stupid", etc. When Alex saw this, he proceeded to write next to all of my names. Only he wrote things like, "has the clap", "has HIV", "has sex with horses", "likes small children", etc.

After what i believed to be much debate, we were both terminated. We still celebrate every December 23rd and toast ourselves for involuntarily leaving what we agree to be the worst job we've ever had.

Idgie and Me.

2009-01-11T19:56:00.001+01:00

When Sarah wanted a dog, i was nervous. I didn't want a dog. I didn't not want a dog. But i didn't actively want a dog. But she really wanted one. So i internally panicked. Sometimes externally. Mostly internally.

When i told people that "we" got a puppy reactions ranged from:

"Dear god. The poor animal." (Elaina.)
"OMG!!!! so cute so cute so cute!! can't wait to meet in real life and snuggle!!!" (Jenny.)
"Are you even nice to it?" (steff.)
"Can I be the grandmother?" (Pat.)
"You know what they say. Dogs look like their owners! She is very cute and I can imagine her with red hair and dangly earrings. LOL." (Diane Ryan)

It's not that i ever hated dogs. I just wasn't a "dog person." Or really, understood what a "dog person" was. Or looked like. But really, it's because i've been terrified of dogs pretty much my entire life. 1. My uncle's dog, Dutchess, who was a German Shepherd, attacked me on a regular basis. And once, while playing in the snow (i was approximately 12 years old) ate my really awesome white snow boats while on my feet, that up until that moment were doing a really kick-ass job of keeping my feet and shins warm and dry. 2. (circa 1990) While riding my bike really, really fast down a country road on my way to collect tadpoles, a dog out of nowhere ran at me and fiercely barked and tried to run me over and i panicked. And then cried. My dad [still, to this day] insists that this dog was only "playing." I told my dad that if that's how dogs played, then i was not interested. He laughed. I regained composure and continued my tadpole collecting mission much more seriously than it had begun.

But then one Monday late afternoon we rode to Canajoharie to a place with lots of tiny english shepherd-poodle puppies. We went to this particular place because as i had been online searching for Sarah, this place only listed a phone option as a way to contact them. So i did. And the woman was super friendly, super obsessed with her dog (the father) and the puppies. She reminded me of Martha, which meant that i liked her. And told Sarah, "yeah, but, she's so friendly. And we got along and everything." So we went. And picked Idgie because she was a. female, b. one of the smaller ones, c. had very pretty coloring(s) and d. sat on top of an overturned metal water basin looking out at the world. And we agreed, "yup. she's the one."

In the following weeks, i was terrified of Idgie. Not because i thought she'd be aggressive or attack me, but because she was always so serious. And never smiled. I would stare [back] at her and ask, "Are you comfortable? Can i get you anything?" "Do you like the food we picked out for you?" "Are you eating enough? Are you hungry? I can get you more to eat if that's the case." "Do you have enough toys?" "Are you warm enough? I can give you a blanket." And she wouldn't answer. Or acknowledge that i was talking to her. Did she even like me?

I didn't (and still don't, really) understand dog training. I tried asking Idgie for advice. "Do you know how to sit? How do i help you sit?" Sarah got pretty frustrated with my inability to do anything other than awkwardly ask Idgie full sentence questions because the only interaction with small things that i was accustomed to was children, who as a general rule, you shouldn't talk down to. So why talk down to Idgie?

Apparently everyone agrees, i was totally wrong. Rules don't cross apply to children and puppies.

Since then, i like to think i've gotten pretty good at Idgie. And i'm confident that she likes me. I let her sleep on [my side only of] the bed. If i sleep on my back and extend one leg, while bending the other foot into my knee (imagine a laying down simple tree) she sleeps in my leg nook. i share my spoonfuls of peanut butter with her, and she seems to be really grateful i'm so thoughtful to share such a delicacy. i give her raw vegetables in her bowl when i'm cooking (she prefers carrots and cabbage above the rest). i send her postcards when we go away and she stays behind because dogs aren't allowed at all places in the world (weird). i made her an "Obama for President 2008" kerchief on Election Day because she seemed to know something exciting was happening. i rub her belly and adhere to her strong belief and subsequent policy that her giant clit is private by staying away from it.

Basically, we're best friends.

The Office. Went on location to Troy, NY.

2009-01-10T19:14:00.000+01:00

Recently, Sarah and I have been watching a LOT of the office (like maybe, an entire season in one long Sunday afternoon). I can't call myself a long-term fan of the show. In fact, one might even say that this is new for me. The reason is not because I failed to appreciate the awkward antics of one Michael Scott, but because I felt as if I lived the office and so therefore couldn't be entertained by it. However, that is no longer the case. But, I can't help but find myself lost in thought of how much more enjoyable work at Unity House would have been if there were a camera crew, opening credits and a theme song.

So in lieu of that, I'm going to tell some stories that, I think, were particularly funny and typically led to Julia and I compulsively calling one another (I was at "the office" and she was at "shelter") and saying, "uh, see you online?" which was code for "dude. get on gchat. we must talk where big brother can not monitor our communication."

Every year Unity House Domestic Violence program organized a "staff day." Which is pretty standard for an office of all (but one) women working for the better good. And getting paid for the better worse. Staff days in my experience typically began with some sort "feel good" talk about why we make a great team and our clients are the heroes, etc. Then we always end up on a boat. I'm not really sure what the inclination was to always anchor off land, but it's just the way things were. Anyway, this particular year (also known as my last staff day) Milinda (the director: picture a larger, female Michael Scott) wanted to play a sort of Big Brother game during our "feel good" talk. So about two days prior to the big day we all got an email instructing us that we "had to" fill out an attached survey that "must" be sent back to her by the next day. Below is a sampling of some of the questions:

#1. Are you: Republican Democrat Independent

#2. Are you: Pro-Choice Pro-Life Somewhere in between

#3. Do you believe in a higher power? Yes No

#4. Do you believe in President Bush? Yes No

#13. Have you ever doubted yourself? Yes No

#19. What are 3 causes of poverty? 1. 2. 3.

#23. Is Gossip productive in an office setting? Yes No

#24. Do you believe you are the subject of gossip? Yes No

#25. Do you believe you have actively participated in gossip? Yes No

#26. Do you believe you have inactively participated in gossip? Yes No

#27. Do you believe you have made attempts to stop gossip? Yes No

#32. Define gossip- where does it stem from? (short answer)

#33. How does gossip impact you in your job? (short answer)

Now, several things. First, I found it ironic that Milinda, the attorney, wasted no time in forcing us to answer the 3 questions you're not allowed to ask your employees in the first three questions. Nicely done. Were you sick for that whole ethics thing in law school? Secondly, wow with the gossip theme. Paranoid much?

Her reasoning for this exercise was in order for her to say things like, "only 15% of the office is pro-choice." But really I think it was safe to say that "only 2.5% of staff answered this honestly or at all." We all called our real attorneys.

Something else that Unity House Domestic Violence program did annually was host a domestic violence awareness event. For the past several years, its been a softball tournament. This meant several things. That, we, the Domestic Violence Services had to have a team and that we were terrible at softball. So we had to practice. I played softball for probably 12 years of my life, so I was pretty good. Out of practice, but still pretty good. And fast.

The following Wednesday after a weekend practice session I was at a monthly finance meeting. One of my favorite meetings because I don't need a calculator to understand what budget deficit meant. Unlike some people. Anyway, these meetings were great because it meant that Brian (the finance director who was/is incredibly awesome) and Pat (the grants director, commonly referred to as my favorite person ever) were both there. So I started harassing Brian about how we really needed a boy on our extremely pathetic softball team and even though he was kicked off of his little league team, he could probably do better than, uh, most of our stepford-assembled showing. And Brian said, "well, I would be the fastest for sure." And I said, "I don't know, Brian. I could beat you." And the banter continued. Until eventually, he said, "Alright. Let's go. We're going to race on the sidewalks of 2nd Ave here in Troy, barefoot because I have dress shoes on and you're wearing flip flops." "Challenge accepted."

So we went downstairs and outside. Took our shoes off. Reared like bulls and waited for "go!" We raced.

He killed me.

Another time, days after I had handed in my very strongly written letter of resignation, Milinda came to my office to cry and apologize and be a little creepy. I didn't say much. Or, stop talking to Sarah and Julia on gchat as it was happening. She left. And on her way back from the bathroom, after wiping her tears, popped her head in my doorway with a wide and uncharacteristic smile on her face. I waited for her to speak. She did, with great emphasis, "do you know that Claudette sells toys?" I immediately knew what she was talking about. I wasn't ready to admit it to myself that I going to have to listen to her talk about sex toys of any kind. So I said, "uh, what?" And she bowed her head and whispered, "you know, like, tooooyyyssss." And I, bored of this, said dryly, "do you mean like dildos?" And she reacted with glee, "YES!" as I just nodded. And then she continued to say with an incredible amount of enthusiasm for someone who was crying moments ago, "wouldn't it be fun if we all went to a party?" And I just said, "uh, no. That wouldn't be fun for me." To which, she mistakenly thought I meant "doesn't apply to me", which I didn't. I meant fun. It would not have been fun. And she, retaining the same strange level of excitement, said, "but lesbians can use them too!!!!" Then left.

Right, I know.

Boss' Day is total bullshit. And was never an observed holiday at Unity House of Troy, much to Milinda's chagrin. One year, in an effort to help cease the tension that was a result of us ignoring this day (again), we organized a brownie pot-luck. This meant that Fun Committee (which I was the Founding President and later Chancellor of) assigned selected office members to purchase: brownies, fudge, ice cream, sprinkles, whipped cream, peanut butter, etc. We "toasted" to "bosses" but were secretly toasting to our creativity of gluttonous snacking on office time. And in the end, brownie pot luck left us feeling obese, satisfied and wishing that there were one more succulent, sweet last bite to devour.

That's what she said.

Annnnnd SPRINT!

2009-01-06T18:37:00.001+01:00

Spinning. One of my favorite parts of my unemployed-and-largely-uneventful-[current]-life.

At the Albany Jewish Community Center, my gym, i like to consider myself one of the members of Eileen's spinning class.

Now, let me set the stage. The class is Monday/Wednesday at 9:30am for 60-65 minutes. It's also by FAR the most popular spinning class.

My appreciation for this crowd began long ago. In 9th grade, i went with my friend Jenny Mott to visit her grandmother in Syosset, Long Island. We arrived on (i think) a Saturday and i quickly became infatuated with the Tuesday-night bingo crowd. Jenny's grandmother described the hostility of seat-saving/seat-stealing, competition for winning(s), and the number of dirty looks you can anticipate if you're the one to yell "Bingo!" with such vivacity and detail that i knew i had to see for myself. We went. She was totally right, these [other] grandparents cursed, tripped each other with canes, glared with fiery hatred, were all way passed retired and active members of AARP (so lucky.) and under no circumstances welcomed [young, enthusiastic] newcomers.

The 9:30 spinning class is eerily reminiscent of this crowd. On my first day, i was nervous, carefully watched where i stepped and avoided [several] dirty looks. i got there 24 minutes early, began reading a book and slowly moved my in the pedals waiting for class to start. (If you're any later that 24 minutes early, forget it, go home, there won't be a bike for you.) There was a bitter murmur of "there aren't enough bikes when new people come." i shrank in my bike. and looked really awkward doing it.

Since then, i'm in like Flint. i have made 2 friends. 3 if you count the friend of a friend. (which, uh, i do. life is a popularity contest, don't let anyone fool you.) Jeanette sits in the front row with me and her friend (also mine by proxy), Mary. Jeanette once out of the blue asked me if i was an only child. I answered "yes" with trepidation and looked at her quizzically. she said, "well, its just that i'm the youngest of 4 and its really easy for me to pick out eldest children. they exude leadership and independence. and i thought you were. and i'm right." it was sweet. Jeanette, also, notice(s) that i bring a different book every class. She thinks i'm really smart and a really, really quick reader. What she doesn't realize is that i don't have anything else to do and so read a lot. I don't correct her.

My other friend's name is Ruffle. Yup. She is one of the old Jewish ladies who wears a full-length jean skirt, a wool hat and minimally 2 long sleeved shirts to a class that i, in a tank top and short-shorts, get really, really sweaty. She grunts a lot. And sometimes whines. I like to think of her as an experiment of how much water weight can someone lose in 60-65 minutes.

One, Jeanette and Ruffle interacted. It went like this:

Ruffle: Oh, I don't think that we've met yet.
Jeanette: You might be right. I'm Jeanette and this is my friend, Mary. Do you know Brianna?
me (internally): She's going to say her name is Ruffle, I hope you're ready for it. Don't laugh.
Ruffle (pats me on the back.): Oh, sure I know Brianna, we're friends. Well I'm Ruffle (which, i learned isn't actually Ruffle, but is Ra-ch(chul)-ul, and difficult to say/spell not having a Hebrew background) and its really nice to meet you.

Ruffle sits, under one of the three fans. Eileen enters the room. Ruffle first asks something about her bike. Then moments later asks Eileen to turn down the music. THEN asks Eileen if she can turn the fan off.

Jeanette, loudly, says, "Waa, Waa, Waa."

Totally slammed her new friend. And because the music was really loud and the room was really dark, I laughed out loud. And hoped Jeanette heard me.

2008.

2009-01-05T21:00:00.001+01:00

YES! somewhere to put this.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before? The first thing that comes to mind is quit a job that I hated prior to getting fired from said job. But there has got to be a better answer to that. Hm. Owning a dog! (the cutest dog, like, ever)

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year? These things are silly.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No, but strangely I know an alarming number of pregnant people.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No ma'am

5. What countries did you visit? Just the one I am sitting in. (2009 WILL be the year I get a passport, goddammit!)

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? Financial security for a length of time. Scholastic success. A 5-minute mile.

(that last part is a lie. I hate running.)

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Brining in the new year with a list of things to do: "yell huzzah"; group hug; Chinese firedrill/getting suspended for complete bullshit and scapegoat reasons/quitting unity house with the best resignation letter ever written/being part of buying melissa toys with sam/my going away party: me: "uh, well, I might know where the bathroom key is"; karla: "yeah I figured that you did. You brat." Me: "also, the button maker. Is in my trunk. I'll make you a button that says, 'this was made with stolen property.'"; karla: "promise?"/falling out of the chair, hours later at café 217. Uh, whoops./freetime.freetime.freetime./severance package/reading.reading.reading./martha's birthday dinner: playing scategories: animal: (think of the most esoteric, random, never heard of animal) Martha: "said esoteric animal worth 4 points!" hal: "oh, I had that, too. Cross it off."/ pi-yo./valentine's day at Mexican radio. The best place on earth./snowy mountain, the hardest hike of my life with larri+susan/kiwah with family/aly: "let's ride our bikes on that [island type thing]" me: (not picking up the sarcasm) "ok!" I ride off. And fall into the ocean. With bike. Fully dressed./party with Julia and my "new best friend". Uh, what was her name?/me: have you ever had your heart broken?" Julia: "yes, let me tell you about it." Only I fell asleep while she was talking/correspondence/writing+exchanging emails with people not normally on email radar/ Rachel coming home and bringing fancy Italian gifts AND croissants/ spring hiking and sometimes finding a summit, other times, missing it completely/cape cod with janet+beth/travel sized love nest saves the day!/idgie.idgie.idgie./ sarah moving in (!!)/ peter upon seeing idgie's toy flip flop: "bray-na where are ed-gie's other three shoes?"/peter calling me from downstairs, predictably every time I go home, "bray-na. it's peter. Just wonderin' when you're going to be up. Ok. Bye."/pre camp: me: "what? You're not single anymore? Horseshit." Mandy: "nope."/jumping into pond study. Perhaps the most disgusting and hilarious thing to ever happen./giant storm 1/ camper: "the pond is the color of my dads' coffee"/giant storm 2/ scuttle: "huh, look at those rapids rush to the pond." Me: "fuck off. I'm unemployed AGAIN."/ the best (and biggest) birthday circle of all time. That belonged to me./ my birthday party, generally/beefy/the time that we thought that someone had broken into camp into the maintenance shed and were legitimately scared we were about to be raped or pummeled/float+boat/fuji+darla+meg+me+trebuchet+golfcart/team safety.team safety.team safety.team safety./team safety secret initiation/
darla+benny+fuji+mouse+anansi+scuttle+tsnumai+pisces+surf+dory+opal+
red+huxtable+theta/ saco river/fuck you mosquitos/sarah's birthday, generally (and specifically how pretty she looked when she woke up)/sarah: "now, here come the rapids, so I just want to have a state of the union about them before we go over them." Me: "yeah, yeah." Rapids: gurgle, gurgle. (but we're not EVEN class 1)/uh, the time that I so casually went pee on the beach and slowly pulled up my pants, to be greeted by the 3 oldest people I'd ever seen in my entire life who just were staring at my butt. So, so, awkward./new york to say goodbye to apartment/ the MET for the first time./ losing sarah in said MET. Internal me: "oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Ok, she'll be here. No? here. No? here. No? I might die. Oh no." seeing sarah. What seems like hours later. External me: "oh, hey. What's up? I'm just, you know, enjoying some art."/the Olympics/back to unemployment/reading.reading.reading./eating+drinking+ perfection at benny's lake house/ walkie talkie truth-or-dare/not finding a job/panic/sarah being perfect/idgie.idgie.idgie/late October-anniversary concert celebration/ the ELECTION/new york again. Plans with MY friends as a result of perceived uninvitation. Was wrong about that uninvite./ Gretchen: 'god is that KH?" me: "yeah, I think that it might be." Gretchen: "alright, if she talks to us, I'm going to tell her that we're dating." Me: "alright." Gretchen: "I can't do it, Flint. I can't talk to her." Me: "yeah, I mean aside from lying about us being a couple, I don't have anything to say, either."/uh, god, getting lost. Me: "I'm in front of a park." Sarah: "where are you?" me: "113th street. In front of a park" sarah: "yeah, its just there isn't a park there." Me (now crying): "no there IS a park. RIGHT here. I'll send you a picture of it."/Kathy+craig's house. Sarah so, so, so angry in their wedding album. Also, unrelated but enclosed in the same album, so, so, so awkward./thanksgiving. So much food. So much alcohol. So much fun./pace letter (!!)/seeing Lauren DeRitter + much high school gossip/Gaetano. um. and webite. soon to be./bennignton shopping trip/almost job-offer(s)/Christmas/bananagrams/lauren: "dear santa, I've been very good this year in hopes that you give me what I've asked for. I've left a pen and pencil for you to write back with." Letter: "dear lauren, hello, my name is Theodore. I am an elf. Due to the population explosion, 'watching' has been outsourced, so I have been assigned to you…

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Quitting a job that I wasn't excited about. Reading 78.6 books for pleasure. Going to the gym/pool a LOT. Rekindling friendships that inexplicably teetered off. Naming myself chairperson of the Jill/Carol/Brianna rendezvous. Owning a dog and being sort of good at it. Stealing a button maker. And then making really awesome buttons.

9. What was your biggest failure? The economy? Bad planning? I don't know. Not being nice enough.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? No. And it's a good thing because I really haven't had health insurance for much of this year.

11. What was the best thing you bought? An iMac. Yeah.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? This question implies that not everyone deserves celebration, which I think is untrue. BUT if I were to be selfish and just talk about the people that made me the happiest, well then. Sarah. (obviously.) Family. (mostly.) + Sarah's family. (obvious extension.) Elaina. (best friend.) etc, etc.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Maureen Dowd's. The Radical Right. Milinda Reed's. The California Majority's. Eliot Spitzer's.

14. Where did most of your money go? Well, there wasn't really that much to begin with this year. Refer to question 1.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Barack Obama. Pace Law. The State Senate. (maybe.) Waterfront Director.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008? I don't know. Rihanna songs. Re: spinning.

17. Compared to this time last year, you are: Poorer. Buffer. Happier. Much, much happier.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Went to free things in Albany. Museum, corning tower, etc.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Being bitter. Freaking out about specifically money.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? The morning was at my parent's and the afternoon-night was at the Gev-Rob's. I genuinely think it was the most perfect Christmas of my life.

22. Did you fall in love in 2008? yes

23. How many one-night stands? Zero.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Its tough. BUT Saturday night live. Then: 30 Rock, Battlestar Galatica.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Na, that's a wasted emotion and wasted energy.

26. What was the best book you read? Well considering about 80% of my time was spend reading, that's tough. It's between: a Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Jane Eyre, Chicken with Plums, Tales of Beetle the Bard, Geek Love, The House of the Spirits, Gone with the Wind, On Beauty, The Great Gatsby. Yeah, I can't pick. Next year.

Worst Book(s)? The Twilight Series: 1. 1 human + 1 vampire will never equal a warewolf baby; 2. Vampires DIE in the sunlight, not sparkle like diamonds.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Horse Feathers.

28. What did you want and get? Sarah Gevlin. Everyday.

29. What did you want and not get? A job with health insurance.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Benjamin button? I'm bad at movies.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were ya? I was 25. The day began with the best (and biggest) ever birthday circle, at one Camp ISD. Then, the best part of the day was about 200 girls saying in high-pitched voices, "Happy Birthday Atticus!" Then Sarah cooked me a super good meal and showered me with lovely gifts. It was great.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? A job last month. But really, it was a pretty great year.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? That I still don't' have any. Fashion sense, that is. And that I still, indescribably love J.Crew.

34. What kept you sane? Sarah. Idgie. Though, some (maybe, even most) might argue that I'm really not super sane, so it doesn't say much for either of them.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Barack Obama. Tina Fey. Hillary Clinton. (at times.)

36. What political issue stirred you the most? Uh, how about the election? Primaries? Super Tuesday? (oh god. I was a republican. I totally forgot. How upsetting. and embarrassing.)

37. Who did you miss? Elaina, Jenny, Marianne, Zander, Gretchen, Lauren, [not-hot-dred]Sarah, Julia, Aunt Jill, Aly/Lauren/Peter

38. Who was the best new person you met? Idgie!!!! Benny!!! (literally I think that I only met about 5 people. What with no job or no school, meeting people was quite difficult.)

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008: Getting stuck is for super glue. Not people.

My Blogging Cherry.

2009-01-05T20:40:00.000+01:00

i couldn't think of anything better to do today. literally. also today is one of those days where everything, for no good reason slightly-moderately irritates me. spinning canceled on account of the weather. (presumably.) the inability to tag more than 10 people to one note on facebook, despite wanting to tag so many more so that i could put MY 2008 survey on the internet(s). everyone else at their jobs for the first time in [this] new year.

must be nice.

but then i got a letter in the mail. (i.love.snail.mail.) and then jenny posted on my wall. and i clicked "wall-to-wall" to write back and scrolled down out of curiosity and read the first entry that i wrote to her. and laughed, out loud, for only idgie to hear once i remembered the what i had referenced. that "left leg" was making fun of jamy stammelitis for the time that she claimed she suffered from a burst aneurysm (medically impossible) and had required immediate brain surgery, only when she returned from (suppossed near fatal) surgery, her hair remained in tact on her head and the only evidence she had encountered any medical professional was a small bandage on her left leg and crutches she carried, not used. (what is it with people lying about brain surgery anyway?) so, in her honor, a day or so later, i limped on my right leg, as to not use the left, up to a podium at the end-of-the-school-year women's studies event/ceremony/etc much to the chagrin of her [one] friend (kira) and hilarity to my [many] friends (jenny, amanda, jess mac, anne, danielle) and apologized saying, "oh, its just that my head sort of hurts," while rubbing my left leg.

much laughter. one dirty look. totally worth it.

idgie just did something funny. she hates going to the bathroom in the snow. and i mean, to be fair, who can blame her? anyway, after carefully walking around 2-3 small snowbanks and falling through once, she instead of squatting in a walking path where there is less snow, threw herself on top of a snowbank (two legs over each side of the summit of said bank) and just peed there. then fell over and shook it off while walking back up the stairs as if to say, "yeah, what? you try."

i've spent nearly all of my spare mental time for the past month or so thinking of cartoons to draw so that when gaetano returns from puerto rico, he can have many things in which to make a website for me. i've come up with some good ideas. not as many as i would prefer.

idgie peeing over a snow bank, let me tell you, is certainly one of them.

earlier i googled "elaina heagerty" because it was her gmail status. and i thought, "yeah, i do want to google elaina." i found her linkin page, her facebook page and various community activities i already knew about. the only thing i learned was that her name, unlike mine, is original. lucky.

one of [attainable] goals is life is to appear when i google "brianna bailey." BUT, as i just learned (as in right now) there is now a Brianna Bailey, born April 20, 1995, who has an IMDb biography, but strangely only lists her height (4'7"). Clever.

Maybe we have (or had) the same life goal and she beat me to it.

what i like about having a summer birthday maybe third most (after ice cream cake and pool parties, respectively) is the ability to [re]evaluate my life on a semi-annual basis. for example, "oh, hey 2009. what do i think so far? pretty good. the economy is sort of putting a damper on my career, but um, other than that, things are pretty awesome. thanks for asking." or, "oh, hey 25. yeah, waterfront director. a glorified lifeguard? yeah, totally. maybe a step back, BUT an enthusiastic reversal. i'll work on, uh, life goals for NEXT birthday."

currently: working on life goals. eating macaroni and cheese. (cheesy perfection.) reading great expectations. and drawing birthday cartoons.

Speaking of, hey other Brianna Bailey (born April 20, 1995 and 4'7") do YOU have a boulevard yet? Yeah, i didn't think so. If we [also] share that life goal, i'll beat you to it if only because i'm older than you.