I Ain't No Baby Mama

Almost every young, sexually active woman I know is on some form of birth control (except for my teenage mom sister, but that's a completely different story.) I was having dinner with three such young women the other night, and somehow the conversation turned to birth control. Who's on what, who's tried what- it sort of felt like we were one of those informational articles you read in Glamour or Cosmo every six months. One of my friends, who would possibly actually kill me if I revealed her connection to this story, told us this, about the first time she went on the Pill...

I wasn't on the Pill for very long before I switched to the Nuva Ring. It was too many hormones, it totally messed me up. I'd take my pill, then for the next hour, I would be unbelievably horny. So horny, that I'd want to jump every man I saw! And you guys know that's very unlike me. I'd actually have to go to the back room and take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Then, I'd get really, really nauseous. Like, doubled over. That pill messed with me, man.

My Doppleganger

I think I have a Doppelganger. Or, at least, there is someone walking around Portland who looks like me. A lot like me.

Josh and I were at Rosie's the other night. It's sort of our go-to neighborhood bar/burger place of choice. The woman who was waiting on us, presumably Rosie herself, came over and asked me if I wanted a Woodchuck. I politely declined, and instead ordered a Hooker Brown. There might have been once last fall that I ordered a Woodchuck, maybe. Figuring it was just a mistake, since we are frequent enough customers she MIGHT THINK she knew what my order was, I let it go. Until she came back for our food order and asked me if I was going to have the buffalo chicken fingers with ranch dressing. I sincerely hate ranch. She had be mixed up with someone else.

Then, two nights ago, I was at Shay's, and the same thing happened. The waitress asked me if I wanted a Malibu. I looked at her like, what the heck is a Malibu and why would I want it? And she quickly realized her mistake and said she mistook me for someone else who looked exactly like me.

My coworker was also out the other night and came back to work Monday morning and said, "I saw this girl in the Old Port who looked exactly like Amanda! She had the same purple tights and everything! But then I looked a little bit closer and realized she WASN'T Amanda." Which was correct, because Josh and I were at Norm's that night, where I was covering my face with buffalo wings.

So, I don't know what all of this means, other than sometime, I might be out, and see someone who looks exactly like me. Which might be weird. Although I think it might be weirder when you see someone wearing the same jacket or with the same coat... because that's obvious. On more than one occasion people have told me that I bear some resemblance to Larry David' wife on Curb Your Enthusiasm, but at least I'll never have to run into her at the Downtown Lounge.

See also the Andrew WK song, "I Want Your Face."

Fantasy Baseball

So, there have been some exciting changes in my life in the last seven days, although I've only mentioned one.

I joined a fantasy baseball league. No joking. My friend Maggie invited me to join, and all I could think was, why not? Since then, I've been thinking a lot about building my team. Which players I want (the good, likable ones), like that pitcher on the Cleveland Indians who completely held it together in a game against the Yankees last year- the field was inexplicably swarmed with these bugs- and the bugs were all up in the pitcher's business. But this guy stayed completely composed the whole time. There were these little bugs on his face and he threw strikes. And the ones I don't want (The Yankees), even if A-Rod is the number one draft pick in fantasy baseball. So, this should be pretty entertaining. I was explaining who my short stop choice was to a man I'd never met at a mutual friend's party on Friday, to which he told a friend via text message, who offered me a date if I was ever in LA (no, not Lewiston/Auburn.) I'm excited for my draft pick!

The other piece of really good news is that my job now offers a dental plan! Yay! Goodbye, cavities. The even better news, the man who took over my childhood dentist's practice, his son, moved the practice to Portland!

My New Baby

I adopted a cat on Friday. She's pretty much totally awesome, very curious, really likes to rub up against my legs, and even fell asleep on my lap! It's only been two days! We're calling her Baby, (Dirty Dancing... "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!") At the Animal Refuge League, I had to fill out a survey about the qualities I am looking for in a cat. The last line was a fill in the blank. It said: The most important thing is that my cat ______. I said, loves me. And I think she does!

The Day I Broke My Veggie Edge

In a recent post, I mentioned how delicious the hangar steak was at the Blue Spoon. A former coworker called me out, "Amanda, you eat meat now!?" I used to work at Austin's Fine Wine and Foods, where I dealt with some pretty gross, bloody, stinky meat. I'd slice the roast beef and there would be blood everywhere. I'd heat the corned beef and sauerkraut sandwiches with thousand island dressing on pumpernickel bread and want to DIE it smelled so bad. Now, I eat steak, burgers, bacon, bacon burgers, chicken on the bone, pork chops, buffalo wings, hot dogs...
(Abby, by the way, if you're reading this, Scott totally was sleeping with Missy and now Tim is my neighbor.)

For a while, it was back and forth, until deciding yes, I will be a vegetarian, (who occasionally ate fish for protein.) I only relapsed once in those years, at Mandy's birthday party. I was drinking, and must've been eye-balling Emily's chicken fingers because she offered me a bite, and I took it! But overall, I was proud of myself for resisting the temptation, and there are some delicious meat-free meals to be had out there, and a lot of scarily similar meat-tasting products. The whole thing went downhill once Josh came along. He himself is a former vegetarian, and he was meat-free for a lot longer than I was. Although I can't exactly remember the first meal we shared "out," I think it might have been when he got his first story aired on national radio. We went to Sebago Brewing Company and he ordered himself a Grey Goose martini and a burger. The first of MANY burgers I'd watch him eat. My mouth would water each and every time. Finally, one night I was on the phone with my carnivorous friend Andrea. I was planning on mac and cheese for dinner, supplemented with green peas. She says, "Nono, hot dogs in mac and cheese." That was it. I replied, "That sounds delicious... screw it. If I want a hot dog, I'm going to have a hot dog. I gotta go. I'm calling Josh and we're going to get a burger.
" That was it. We went to the Great Lost Bear, who I heard had one of the best burgers in town. (Their wings are awesome, too.) The bacon I ordered with breakfast the next weekend didn't sit quite so well in my stomach. Maybe it was my body telling me I wasn't getting enough protein, maybe it was peer pressure, but the rest is history.

Didn't You Know?

You know how there are things that you just wonder? Like, how they get the caps on the toothpaste and whatnot? I've been wondering whose job it is to shovel out the fire hydrants after a storm... is it the fire department, the dept of transportation, the plow people? It's the fire department. This weekend I saw out my window a firetruck drive by really, really slow. I squinted like George Castanza and realized it was two firefighters riding on the back, jumping off to shovel.

There was also this four foot, white haired old woman who I'd seen on numerous occasions, to my horror, leave the coffeeshop without paying. Then I saw her go in the law office next door. Ohhhh., I thought, they have an agreement!

And then there was the time that I said that I wanted to know who the Portland Valentine Bandit was. Someone told me. But I didn't really want to know... I just wanted to express how much curiosity it provokes. Who could possibly paper the city with taped-on red hearts? I'll give you a hint- they are probably on the clock when they do it at 3am. And yes, it's a they.

I know who does the Portland PSST blog too.

***

My mailman died of a heart attack while shoveling snow last night. I walked in this morning and asked, Why the long faces? He was a fifty-something, four foot nine little man full of piss and vinegar, as my mom would say. Once, I think he accidentally on purpose fell on me, but an otherwise harmless man who had pet names for all the girls. He walked around all day delivering letters, and seemed to have more energy than... most anyone else I know. I just can't believe that I razzed him for the last time. Life is so unpredictable.

The Blue Spoon

Josh and I just went to the Blue Spoon, a restaurant that we walk by every day.

I wanted to order a second round of everything I ordered- so I could make love to it. Usually, fancy dinners are reserved for times when someone else is footing the bill. But we went for it. I wore a low cut dress and actually put make up on. And it was so worth it. I got the hanger steak with rosemary broiled potato rounds. Josh got the big order of mussels in a white wine/garlic broth, then atlantic salmon with broccoli raab and an apple/celery puree. We shared entrees. And then shared the most delicious bittersweet chocolate thing.

I've had fancy meals before. I've had delicious meals before. But I can't remember being so thoroughly satisfied, ever. It was so good!

I am, by the way, digesting, in bed, and streaming this show called Cashmere Mafia, while writing (it's a show that's trying, and not exactly succeeding, to fill the void left by Sex and the City when it went off the air.) Josh is lying on the couch reading the most recent issue of the New Yorker.

Walk-a-thon

I don't generally talk about the actual work that I do about my job, here in my blogosphere. It's much funnier to explain why I couldn't figure out how to properly lock the bathroom door.

I help Jerry's Kids. Seriously.

In 2008 at the Muscular Dystrophy Association, the Maine chapter will raise over a million dollars. Seriously. Something like 76% of that money goes back to the families we serve. My job is to do mailings, pay the bills, answer the phone, etc. And it does get monotonous, even though my team of coworkers is as good of a team as anyone could ask for (not just saying that because one or two of you might be reading this.)

This weekend I was supposed to attend a fundraising event that we were having in Bangor. Barack and Hillary would be there (in Bangor, not at our fundraiser.) My coworker and I would go out to a movie, we'd have dinner together, and then I would go my OWN hotel room with my own bed with my own television. I was really excited... but we cancelled the event due to inclimate weather. Barack and Hillary are still going to be there. Honestly though, I was a little bummed. There were going to be families that we serve in attendance, and there is nothing that makes me more gung-ho to do my work than hanging out with a family who is excited about one of our events. It sorf of, you know, makes all the mundane stuff worth it.

The Greater Portland Metro

My neighbor rode home with me on the bus the other day, and it was a relief. He is the kind of person who knows everyone, and is extremely easy to talk to, friendly.

There is also a new guy on the bus. A normal, non-smelly guy, who could be the only person on the bus more normal than my. I heard him talking to some one else at the bus stop about this crazy ridiculous person he saw the other day! It was the man who shows up every once in a while dressed as Uncle Sam. I think I went through the same shock last year when I found the man on the bus dressed as Uncle Sam... until I realized that at tax season, which is now, his job is to stand outside Liberty Tax.

Other people on the bus... I try and decode who they are and where they're going, based on their dress and where they get off. What their jobs could be and which places are close enough from the stop to possibly be their jobs or wherever they're going.

The Misadventures Continue

In addition to people not respecting my personal space while in line, one of my other biggest pet peeves is bathroom doors with no locks. Because it is just about the worst, most embarassing thing ever for someone to walk in on you while you're in the bathroom. There is no lock on the door to the bathroom in the house I grew up in, so everytime we had guests I was completely paranoid that someone would just barge in. So I always run the water, in hopes that the person on the other side of the door will hear it.

At my office, a few people have been walked in on, myself included. The worst is always when that person gets in far enough to make eye contact. I'm particularly paranoid that same person will walk in on me again, because to begin with, we don't have the best relationship. I go to the Men's room, because there are no men in the office and it's like, three steps closer to my desk than the ladie's room. I recently realized that the button to lock the door will automatically unlock if it's locked before the door is closed. It's some kind of safety feature, so you don't get locked out. But until I realized that, I'd get in the door and lock it immediately. The door would close, then unlock itself, unbeknownst to me. With my pants around my ankles, just about ready to go, I'd squint at the door to make sure that it was locked. There is really no way of telling if the button is in from that distance, so I would hobble over to the door, re-lock it, then silently curse myself for forgetting to lock the door again. This whole hobble thing probably went on at least once a day for the last six months or so. Just thought you should know.


I can't believe I have no comments about the Netflix thing. How did that movie get back to my house?? In addition to watching and enjoying Best in Show today, I made cupcakes. According to People Magazine, cupcakes were a hot fad in 2007. I hope they are wrong about that, because I'd like cupcakes to be readily available forever. In this batch, I used half frosting from a can, half Fluff, plus a cherry. The results? Well, I'm going to finish my beer before I try it.

My Queue

The weirdest thing happened. We have Netflix and it's great... Josh and I enjoy democratically updating our queue, trying to compromise when rating movies. Movies come to our door, we put them in the mail, and another comes back. Until last Thursday, when everything changed.

During Christmas Movie Madness, we were going through movies like hotcakes, or more accurately, cupcakes. Somehow, since the beginning of our subscription, two movies had been sent back, but never received. The first time I thought, how strange! The second time, I thought, am I doing something wrong? And when I realized that Netflix hadn't received yet a third movie, the Charlie Brown Christmas, I really worried. If we reported another movie missing, again, it was going to look very suspicious. It was suspicious.

Last Thursday, Charlie Brown showed up in our mailbox, with no red envelope. Just the movie, in the sleeve, in our box. But how? Was someone stealing, watching, then returning our movies? Was it our neighbors? Was it purposeful? Something isn't right here.

I told Josh that we needed to stop leaving the movies for the letter carrier to pick up when he drops off the mail, that we need to start putting them in the blue USPS receptacle. But that didn't work. Saturday, on our way to Rivalries, I had two movies in my bag. One was Joyeux Noel, the other Easy Rider. We hadn't actually watched either. For anyone who doesn't have first hand experience, the packaging you receive the disc functions also as the return packaging. To return a movie, you tear off the front, which has your name and address, slip the disc in, and it seals. Josh tore off the front and sealed both of the movies. I put them in a mailbox across the street from the Asylum. There, I thought, try and take my movies now.

I suppose one could argue that what happened next is possible. Maybe I was distracted, or tipsier than I thought, and maybe one of them fell to the ground, or wasn't sealed properly or my name and address was still on it. I asked Josh three times if something could have gone awry when we were sending those movies back, and he said absolutely not, he is totally, completely positive. He was there, he sealed the envelope himself.

Joyeux Noel arrived in our mailbox yesterday. It was in an opened, but the front had not been torn off, rather, just taped closed. Now, how did it become reunited with the portion that has my mailing address? Did someone commit a Federal offense to take our movies? Is someone screwing with us?

More updates to come.

Who is this?

Last night, after eating delicious homemade pizza with Darcy and Heather, watching King of Kong and developing a crush on Steve Weibe, I reluctantly accompanied Josh to Rivalries, for the Patriots vs. Jacksonville. It was ridiculously packed, I mean, you could not turn around without bumping into the people surrounding you on all sides. If two years ago, you told me that I would have been at Rivalries, watching football, on that very night, I would have never believed you. Rivalries, for those who have not been there, is a dude bar. The front of house staff is entirely female, there are a million TVs, and the only girls who are there, except of course yours truly, are the kind of girls who wear pointy heels with their pink Manny Ramirez t-shirts, with the exception of the occasional over 40 married couples. Plus, I don't know anything about football. I can't even name more than one player on the Patriots, and the only reason I know that one is because he's dating Gisele!

Anyway, it used to be unlikely that I'd ever be there at that time. So I tried to think of someone who would appreciate the humor. My friend Gerry, who engineered the biggest tampon in existence, first taught me about Chuck Klosterman and has a nice smile, was a customer turned friend a few years ago. When I still thought of myself as "cool." Gerry, among other things, like the local music scene, drinking, and sports. We could not have been more different. He seemed to be the perfect person to be given the opportunity to make fun of me, so I sent him a text message that read: "Just wanted to let you know that I'm at Rivalries, and it's a klusterfuck." He responded, "Who is this?"

So much for my self deprecating humor that night.

Olestra

I am a bargain-loving, surplus, salvage, thrift store shopper. So while on a short break from work to CVS, the closest place to grab a soda or other carbonated beverage, I noticed there were some Pringles on sale. As I might have mentioned before, around 3:00 I hit what we call "The Three O'clock Slump," which is a point in my day where I have to force myself to not lay my head down on my desk and doze, let alone get anything done. Great way to break the slump: salty snack. So I buy the Pringles, which are only $.99, an awesome deal, and promptly devour half the can that afternoon. I probably would have done so even if they weren't the low-fat kind. The low fat part was sort of an added bonus.

Until the Monday Morning Meeting the next Monday, and I'm informed, I ate half a can of Pringles made with OLESTRA, which causes anal leakage! Anal Leakage! I couldn't believe it, but then also couldn't stop thinking about my bowl movement for the rest of the day. Like, I just farted. Could something have leaked? How can I tell? Do I feel it? ...What a nightmare.

And if you love talking about bowel movements, go to the poopreport.com, where you can learn, among other things, what it actually means if your poop floats.

Lifetime Supply

Today Josh and I played one of our favorite games, tentatively titled, Throw Amanda Off the Bed. This is a game in which he tries to throw me off the bed, and I resist for as long as I possibly can, until it looks like I will fall and crack my head open, then I grab a hold of him for dear life, hoping either my weight or the momentum will bring him down with me. I think maybe we should get out more.

He also asked me today if I could have a lifetime supply of something, what would it be. Answering this question, in my opinion, is sort of like answering If money wasn't a factor and you could do anything for the rest of your life, what would it be? The first thing that pops into your head- that's it! Though he refused to actually answer for himself (the joy of life is right up there with money, doesn't count) he seemed disappointed when I said, "John Freida hair products." In my vision, the lifetime supply works like a coupon- if I was using a coupon to buy John Freida hair products, the coupon would say, buy one get one, or 50% off any product. Buying hair products is almost on the same level as going to the dentist... I know that it's for my own good, but I really, really don't want to. Hair is very important one's self-esteem, and now that long hair is back in full swing, it needs to be tamed, styled and cared for. The demand will only stop if I die, shave my head or get old and lose my hair. My runner up choice was navel oranges. The lifetime supply should be something you want, but isn't a necessity.

HAP-py New Year!

Last night Josh, Mandy and I went to a party. Every time I walk to a New Year's Eve party, inevitable I'll feel like I'm in the movie 200 Cigarettes. Once there, we drank from a keg and a large dog barked angrily at me twice. The dance party mix was lackluster, the band's drummer was out of town, but at the stroke of midnight, I was just where I wanted to be.

Now, a brief reflection on the past year:

Josh and I moved in to this huge, cheap, drafty Howard Street apartment, and we like it.

My boss had a nervous breakdown, there was turmoil in the office, I thought I was going to get canned... but everything is back on track.

Had my first ever Spring Break with Darcy. WOOOO!

Traveled to Chicago for the first time, loved it. Especially that bean thing. Stayed in the fanciest hotel ever, and the girl at the front desk asked me, "Is that a Thursday tattoo?"

Almost fell into a blogging scam.

Learned to cook like my life depends on it.

Went on my first work-related overnighter.

Discovered the joys of Harpoon Winter Warmer and making Margaritas at home.

No closer to getting my car back on the road, but someone got flashed on the bus. Reason enough for me to not give up hope.

New York with Josh and his family for Thanksgiving- a weekend I'll never forget.

Heather moved to the East End and we spend all of our time not venturing further than Washington Avenue.


Anything else? Showed Andrea the time of her life when she was thinking of moving here. Laura moved to Bloomington. My nephew started walking and now actually laughs instead of squawking like a duck. Oh, and them Red Sox.

Pedestrian Crosswalk Rage

I was attempting to cross the road the other day, a busy, four lane high speed traffic road, at an intersection with a crosswalk but no traffic light. I waited patiently, in broad daylight at the crosswalk, as far out into the road as I could venture without getting nailed. Three lanes of traffic stopped for me to proceed, careful to not block the intersection. I looked both ways, then again. A car was approaching in the last lane that was not stopped. The vehicle was not an eighteen wheeler, and the roads bore no trace of snow, ice or anything that would compromise my safety. There was plenty of time to brake by the time I got there, so I went. Said car was not happy to be interrupted on his highspeed journey to wherever the hell he was going, so he honked. Angrily.

This was absolutely enraging. It was my turn. I had the right of way. "HEY!" I yelled and pointed, now completely stopped in front of the car. "Pedestrians have the right of way!" The driver probably couldn't hear me, on account of the windows being up. So he honked again. Angrily.

I did what any self-respecting green-friendly pedestrian would do- I looked into his eyes and flipped him off.

Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year

Christmas wasn't horrible! I laughed, listened, and smiled. My family didn't make me want to gouge my eyes out- my sister said it best when she declared that she might not dread next year. Maybe it was the multitude of movies, maybe it was the Muppet Christmas Carol, maybe it was my conscience, maybe it was the documentary, maybe it was Josh... but I didn't come home feeling empty.

These are big shoes for New Year's to fill.

O Tennenbaum

This is the Christmas tree that Josh and I cut down from the woods outside of Laura's parent's house. I think it's really something.

Christmas Movie Madness

Every year, for a few years now, I've been less than psyched that Christmas is coming. It's a holiday that lost it's magic for me along with my innocence, especially when I called my childhood best friend and she said she was dreading it, too. She was always the type of girl who had her own little tree- she had Christmas socks and plush Grinch toys. Forget the Advent calendar, at her house, the countdown started 24 hours after Halloween.

But now I'm an adult. I don't believe in Santa Claus, I don't make a wishlist. Instead, I fret over my checking account balance and hate receiving gifts because I'm always disappointed. I have to have two Christmases because my parents are divorced, unlike the first 15 year of my joyous, innocent little life. I try to brainstorm how to make a conversation with the family I haven't seen since last year. My bank statement indicates that last January I over drafted more than once. You're welcome, Bank of America. Even my first ever Eve of the Eve party ended poorly. Christmas is even worse when you're hung over.

This year things are different. I'm forcing myself to get in the holiday spirit, whether I like it or not. I'm literally watching as many Christmas movies as I possibly can, i.e. Christmas Movie Madness. I need to remember the joy of giving and selflessness, that this is a season of love and kindness not stress and sadness.

So far, I've seen You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch, Love Actually, Die Hard, Miracle on 34th Street and White Christmas. I'll let you know how it goes.

New York, New York!

I'm making sausage apple stuffing, in the oven, to bring to my mom's house tomorrow, where we will enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner much quieter than the one I had last week at Josh's family's friend's house.

There, Josh beat me at Taboo and I got hella pissed when he gloated. His ninety-something year old grandma told me about how she recently misunderstood her new granddaughter-in-law, and was under the impression that she spent five grand on a new picture frame. My name was mistaken twice, first Ingrid then Amy. I had the most delicious sweet potatoes ever, plus there was a twelve layer cake.

New York is a strange place. It's somehow both the greatest and worst place ever. I'm glad to know that in such a stress and anxiety ridden place there can still be kindness. Josh and I were sort of yelled at twice for walking, but then neither of us had exact change for the bus, but the driver let us on anyway. The food was excellent, but everywhere we went I felt underdressed. Even in the Peruvian place. Williamsburg seems like a very surreal place, with a lot of cool shit, but I'd rather relish in the quest of finding cool shit than have it handed to me on an expensive platter.

I'm thankful that New York exists, and is not too far away. I'm also thankful for being able to live in Portland and feel like I'm part of a community.