And so it is just like you said it would be

My friends and I know this really odd (but nice) family. One day, the father and mother started consulting about who the father should marry if the mother were to die (so far as I know, she remains in excellent health). They agreed on a nice, intelligent single woman we all know well. Creepy? A little. I think they thought they were just being practical, not to mention charitable to this poor, single soul.
I'm afraid it won't be long before I make it on somebody's list like that. I received a "promise ring" made out of Kleenex tonight from my 19-year-old fake boyfriend. It was touching. Psych. No, I shouldn't complain, even though he keeps pointing out that I'm "almost 30." Since when is 25 almost 30, anyway?
I'm having a hard time coming off of this sabbatical. I finally feel like I'm ready to get back in the game, but I have a sneaking suspicion that two of the guys I'm most interested are interested in someone else... namely one another. Ah. What can you do?

Mama Mia!

Last night I saw "Mama Mia!" at Popejoy Hall. The inner-critic in me feels compelled to give you my thoughts.
On a scale of 1-10, I give it a 6.5. It really disappoints me to say it, too, because I was hoping it would be the smash everyone says it is. Sadly, it came up short on so many counts.
My biggest problems with the show? There were three major things:
1- I felt like it was quite a stretch to make all that Abba music come together in one fluid story.
2- Some really awful staging. There was a lot of "dramatic standing" happening. People would start to run off the stage in a fit of rage or anger, but then they'd come back, and it just didn't work for me. There was no compelling reason for the actors to come back. It was like the director wanted some movement, but the way it came across didn't make sense.
3- Some horrible accents. Two of the three fathers are supposed to have accents (British and Australian) but they were some of the worst I'd ever heard. I've heard High School kids nail an accent better. It drove me crazy.
Still, it wasn't a complete lost cause. A lot of the music was enjoyable, and all the actors sang well. In the grand tradition of supporting actors, the two actresses playing the mother's sidekicks really stole the show. They were worth the fifty bucks all by themselves.
I'm not sure what Goethe would say about the level of accomplishment, but I say this was barely above break-even for me.

Some nice news

So remember how a little more than a week ago I had my Hastings anti-porn campaign? Really, all it amounted to was talking to that clerk, and then emailing the corporate offices. Good news! I got an email the other day from a regional manager who assures me measures are being taken to get the smut out of the general section. Of course it would be better if it were out of the store entirely, but I'm no dummy. Working for a media company for a couple years taught me much, including what a HUGE business that is. But I'm happy to say they're moving the magazines to areas on top shelves behind other titles so they're not just out for the children to see, and they're moving the products they sell and rent to a more private area. It's a little victory, but a victory nonetheless.

A rose by any other name

Once someone asked me why I refer to the boys I date by nicknames, and I really couldn't give them a good reason. Since college, I've just always done it. It seems like a convenience thing, mostly. I move in lots of different circles, and to avoid confusion saying I went out with David C. (not to be confused with David R. who I'd dated a semester before), it was just easier to refer to them as "Evil David" (David R.) and "Brick-Stupid David" (David C.).
Lest anyone think I'm a big meanie, I'd like to point out that those two particular nicknames (which eventually became interchangeable, thus somewhat ruining my example) were assigned to these particular Davids by my good friend Sean. Sean is actually the inspiration for this musing, as Saturday brought me the happy opportunity to catch up with Sean on the phone. We spent a good ten minutes revisiting some of our favorite names not only for my old flames, but for his and our other friends' as well. Some of my particular favorites--
* The Dancing Sisters-- our friend Eddie was a musician and would play little shows from time to time. There were these two girls (who were in fact sisters) who'd do this Woodstock-inspired dancing at every concert (I should point out that they were good friends with a guy we affectionately referred to as "Dancing Joseph" who Sean claims he sees every time he closes his eyes). Eddie dated one of them, but neither Sean nor I can remember which one.
* Data. This one is particularly offensive, so watch out. Sean and Eddie and I had got on some kind of a Goonies kick because Sean was dressing up as Chunk for Halloween (a priceless costume, I assure you). Eddie ended up dressing up as Mikey, and I was supposed to get to be Andie. Somehow that year I ended up as Scarlett O'Hara and ruined the joke a bit, but we were really entrenched in this stage because Sean started dating this cute Asian girl. No idea what her real name was because she conveniently became "Data." Dating Data only lasted about a week for Sean, unfortunately.
* Another Eddie favorite (and someone Sean and I never got to meet) was a girl from Kentucky we started out calling "KFC" but she ended up as "The Colonel." Tell me you're not laughing at this, because I find it hysterical!
In my own day, I've gone out with "the guy with the cape," "The R.A.," "Big Red," "Conan O'Brien" (not the real one, of course, but a dead ringer), "The White Knight," two midgets (I never said this was going to be P.C.), a couple of gay guys and a Catholic priest (ok, ok, he was in the seminary). I've blissfully kissed "Chevron" and told me my friends all about "Hot Mike." Most recently I've fended off the Cowboy, and got a little bruised up by the football player who deserved the "brick-stupid" title more than any David I've ever seen. But Omni Pro Bono, right?
Today, Eddie is married to Andrea (oddly they have the same nickname, "E") and Sean is married to "Other Rachel." I'm still planning on farming out nicknames to at least 29 other fellas before I tie the knot, so I'll keep you posted. I'm still hoping "Cute-guy-who-makes-me-lose-my-train-of-thought" asks me out, but last night was was working it with "Hammerhead Shark."

On the home front

Well, the 'rents are in Hawaii, so I'm manning the business, and all the business of life. This morning I woke up early to go to the warehouse for a paperwork-exchange, and promptly stepped in some dog vomit on my rug. My poor little dog isn't taking the separation too from my mom and dad too well. I think she feels I'm a poor consolation prize. Yesterday I did 13 hours of paperwork. I'm not complaining, just again amazed at how much my mom in particular does to keep everything running around this joint!

The superlative brotherhood

The other night, I had the happiest thing happen to me. I went to the gym for a good muscle-building session. OK, ok. But I went to the gym and had a great workout. Love the Main Street Muscle and Fitness! But aside from the iron-pumping and treadmill-walking, I had another happy surprise. I ran into two guys from my high school graduating class, and I loved it!
One was my old pal Rudy. The man is notorious for many reasons, but I'll always remember and appreciate him helping me get my Crown Victoria out of the mud when we skipped out early on a drunken brawl of a party. I was never much for the party scene, and Rudy could have stayed longer, but he helped me out. I see him from time to time when we end up at the gym at the same time, but we're generally on different schedules. In fact, I don't think I'd seen him since before my last European jaunt, back in October, so a chat was long overdue.
The other happy surprise was Alex, an old chum from ninth grade on. Alex was a super nice kid in school-- very smart (I remember him getting an award for a superb presentation on the praying mantis in Mr. Cole's Bio class), very athletic, and very handsome. I was the secret president of his fan club back in the day.
Anyway, we all took about 15 minutes to shoot the breeze and catch up, and it was positively energizing. For that quarter of an hour, I stood between two boys I wasn't ever super-tight with, but we had some kind of fellowship. Maybe it was this weird link of Senior Superlatives. I stood between the boy Most Likely to Live to Be 100 (Alex) and the boy voted Most Likely to Succeed (the only reason I remember is because I was their female counterpart-- tangentially speaking, I don't remember who was voted my male counterpart for "Most Likely To Discover A Cure For Cancer" but I do remember the Smartest [Josh Jolly and Josette Arvizu] and the Most Likely to Become A Famous Actor/Actress [Justin Cook and Melanie Maez] and those Most Likely to Need A Liver Transplant by 30 [though I'll not name them here]). So far, these guys aren't disappointing us. It strikes me that I like spending time with remarkable people. It makes me work to be better.
In totally unrelated news, I did something today that wasn't necessarily remarkable, but I would call it a little gutsy. Maybe in High School I would have (and should have) been voted "Most Prudish" but I feel good about this one. I was in Hastings with Ma and Pa, and let me tell you-- the place is appalling. And I'm not talking about the lackluster service or selection. No, basically the local media stop is a regular porn dealership. Not only are the "adult" magazines out on the racks (on the bottom shelf, right at toddler eye-level), but also, the Playgirl calendars were by all the registers! Who knows what else was there? I certainly didn't do much digging to find out.
So, even though it was scary, I did ask my cashier what the deal was and if the store had considered some kind of roped off area for their smutty content (don't worry, I was nicer about it than that), but she just said that's where the employees are told to put stuff. There's also a HUGE selection of adult DVDs in the movie section, I might add, right by the new releases. Ick! Anyway, it looks like I'm going to have to start my letter-writing campaign to the higher-ups, but I feel good trying to do something about this. I like the idea of being someone who can affect change.
OK. That's all. I'm happy.

A disturbing (hypothetical) proposition

So Saturday afternoon I took a little jaunt to my local Lowe's Hardware Store to check out light fixtures, fireplace mantels, and other house stuff. After literally hours of looking, I bought a mirror for above the fireplace, and some stuff to mount it with. Oh well. I have time.
While I was there, though, I ran into some of the extended fam, which was a joy-- truly. I saw my cousins Aaron and Jason, Jason's wife Jill, and the boys' mother, Patti (Patti is married to my dad's first cousin, so that makes Aaron and Jason my second cousins, once removed, right? Oh, who cares. The family is a local dynasty of sorts, and we're all close enough that we refer to one another as cousins-- it's like a Dukes of Hazzard/Dallas alternate universe). Anyway, it was great to see them, and all but while Aaron popped off to the loos, Patti started telling me how much she wishes her son was married (Aaron is two years older than I am) and then she said, "Hey, YOU TWO could get married! It would be legal, and you wouldn't even have to change your last name!" OK, ok. I know she was just kidding, but seriously! Can't you be a single, 25-year-old Mormon woman and be happy? I really am. Sheesh! Now my family thinks incest is an option. Just kidding.
And on a totally unrelated note, I nominate Conway Twitty's "I Can Tell You've Never Been This Far Before" for WORST SONG EVER. Ew, ew, ew.

This year I'm getting married and having a daughter named Jemima

I did it. I finally got out of the house. It was to go to Wal-Mart, but it was wonderful. Being cooped up just isn't good for a person.
Actually, I went out to a couple parties last night but I wouldn't call it a banner New Year's Eve. Oh, how I long for the days of my youth, when each year I'd go to the church dance and float around for the first two weeks in January because Grant Farnsworth had kissed me on the cheek (one year he got brave and I think he was going for the lips, but he only got about half my mouth). Last night, I got tired and worried and was home at about five minutes to midnight, so I got to see RYAN SEACREST kiss Christina Aguilera (sp?) on the cheek. Not quite the same thing, but there you go. I guess I could have kissed Billy, this kid who used to jones for my little sis, but being the fiercely independent woman I am, I figured it was much better to not start 2007 with an act of desperation. (No offense to Billy Bones, of course).
Of course, there is something else I'm a little worried about. My sweet little dog, Molly, bit me on the foot today. Twice, actually. Once on each foot. I hope it isn't an omen.
No, seriously, I'm approaching this year with the same naive enthusiasm of every January 1. I love it. I don't necessarily have a big list of "resolutions" but I'm working on the same goals as ever. And I like that added burst of energy we get in working towards important things right about now. I'm ready to accomplish the big stuff. And I hope you all are, and do, too.