Deb Battles the Universe: An Update

I have made previous mention of my battle with the Anti-Deb Forces in the Universe (ADFITU) regarding my New Year's resolutions. Although it has not yet been a full month, I must write to tell you all how the ADFITU have stepped up their campaign to get me. (When we last kept score, it was tied at 2-2.)


A few months ago, I witnessed a car accident. I wrote a witness report, mostly because the cars crashed directly in front of my car, and I couldn't move, anyway. I had forgotten all about it, until I received, via certified mail:


A subpoena. Really. I've been subpoenaed to testify, in front of a jury, about this little fender-bender that happened several months ago. Score: ADFITU 3, Deb 2.


It's not as if I really mind testifying, it just seems so silly. It really was quite a minor accident, both cars drove away on their own, and no one was hurt. I have no idea why anyone is taking this little matter to trial. The most logical conclusion I can come to is the ADFITU are out to get me. Well played.

Then, two days ago, my beloved Macbook refused to start. When I say "beloved," I mean it. My feelings for this computer border on the inappropriate. Anyway, when I try to start it up, I get the grey screen with the apple, it thinks for about two minutes, then it shuts down. I have nothing backed up, of course, because my computer isn't five months old yet, and I was going to get around to it. Silly me! I'll be taking it in this weekend, but I suspect that my $300 worth of music from iTunes and the 50,000 words worth of novel I had written will be gone. ADFITU 4, Deb 2

However, perhaps I can rescue a silver lining from this particular cloud? Maybe I can learn some lessons from this. I had, perhaps, become too dependent on my computer, often staying up late at night to write, missing sleep that I desperately need. I had reached a sticking place in my novel; perhaps losing all the work I had done is what I needed. I can go back and start over, keeping the things I like, but allowing the characters to take a new direction...I'll give myself half a point. ADFITU 4, Deb 2.5.

Even the subpoena can be a good thing. I'll get to miss work and not get docked for it. ADFITU 4, Deb 3.5.

What the ADFITU didn't anticipate was my exciting nomination to a very exclusive club: the North American Fishing Club. These people have obviously been watching me for years, as shown by this paragraph:



"Well, it's no secret among your friends and family that you are an outstanding fisherman. As someone who is passionately devoted to your pastime, you're exactly the kind of person our club is looking for."



It goes on to say things like, "Only serious anglers are nominated." Also, "It's not for fair weather fisherman." I certainly am not one of those.



Take that, ADFITU! Someone obviously appreciates me! What makes this letter all the more impressive is that, technically speaking, I'm not really a fisherman, in that I'm female and don't fish at all, but that is obviously beside the point. Having (of course) accepted membership in this club, I have brought the score between myself and the ADFITU to 4-4.5. I feel much, much better.

Chapped II: The Peeling

My lips have recovered from their abnormal bout of chappedness, but here, for you, is a rundown of all of the products I tried in my attempt to not only regain my former lips, but perhaps improve them, making them more like this:

And less like this:

1. Vaseline. Many of you recommended the vaseline method, which seems to be as follows:

A. Purchase a giant tub of Vaseline

B. Smear

C. Repeat

This had somewhat mixed results; I decided to look further.

2. Neutrogena Intense Overnight Lip Repair. This is a tiny pot of extremely dense lip moisturizers that caused all of my chapped skin to become very moist and easy to peel off. The new lips thus revealed are now pretty close to normal.

3. Lip Venom. This isn't for chapping, it's for making your lips puffy and "bee-stung". I have very small, pale lips, and am always looking for a non-surgical way to make them stand out a bit more from the rest of my face. Lip Venom is extremely thick, and sits on the lips for a long time. It tastes of cinnamon and tingles a whole lot, and grows very sticky after a while. Sadly, I didn't notice any swelling, but Sven's lips were much pinker after he kissed me.

4. Another "natural" lip plumper that is so repulsive I won't even mention it. Suffice to say, it was even stickier and smelled like feet.

5. Nivea Lip Moisturizer. I wanted to try this one because in the commercial, the woman who wears it gets to make out with a handsome stranger while cool hipster music plays in the background. That didn't happen for me, so I am now considering a lawsuit against Nivea and the advertising agency responsible.

6. The Walgreen's Pharmacy Grab Bag. This is what I get when I ask Sven to pick me up "something for" any condition I have. He invariably returns home with anywhere from three to eighteen products that all come reasonably close to treating the condition I requested. Taking his philosophy in mind, I picked out several random tubes at Walgreens and smeared them on my lips in random order. Several smelled good.

So, for the lip update: Condition pale and thin...in other words, back to normal.

PS: Kristina, I'm thinking of you and your family.

Chapped!

Don't ask me how it happened, but I have chapped lips. I live in one of the wettest places imaginable, and my lips are dry and chapped. And I don't mean "chapped" as in sexy, swollen, and red:
I mean chapped like this:

Chapped lips bother me. They are, for me, the Waxy Yellow Buildup of facial skin ailments.

Remember Waxy Yellow Buildup? That was in the second category of that school of 1970's advertising that I call "Sell Through Self-Esteem Slaughter." Category one had the products you needed to get your man. These were the days when you had to have the following in order to get a husband:

• White teeth (toothpaste)
• Fresh breath (mouthwash, mints)
• Moist, inviting lips (Chapstick)
• Dry clothing (dress shields)
• Complete lack of body odor (deodorants)
• Invisible panty lines (Underalls)

To keep your husband, you had to maintain everything from category one, but heaven help you if you didn't ward off category two:

• Waxy yellow buildup on your kitchen or bathroom floor
• Incorrectly brewed, weak coffee
• Ring-around-the-collar or some other repulsive laundry condition
• Absence of "freshness."

You just knew, back in the 1970's, that a man coming home to a dirty floor, weak coffee, dingy laundry, or expired wife would be out the door immediately. Of course, they told us the way to keep that same man happy was to harp on his lack of fresh breath or white teeth in front of company. They also said you should criticize your girlfriends by boldly yanking up the collars of their husbands' shirts to check for the telltale signs of laundry deficiency.

I was a child, but I remember those commercials vividly. Of course, today's commercials are far more explicit, blatantly using words like "absorbent," even in the dinner hour. I suppose I'm grateful the 1970's commercial style was long gone by the time these subjects became acceptable ad fodder...but wouldn't something like this be great?

Pam: Would anyone like a second cup?

Jim: I would!

Rose (voice over): Jim never has a second cup at home.

Pam: Anyone else?

Rose: Yes, please. Give me a second cup of the world's best coffee. (Exaggerated sip) Oh, my, what amazing coffee. So much better than mine.

Jim: Rose, cool it.

Rose: No, you cool it. You cool it.

Pam: Maybe I should...

Rose: No, you stay. I'll go. You two can have all the coffee you want. (Slams door.)

Brought to you by the American Tea Lover's Association.

And now, I've gotten so sidetracked that I've forgotten all about my chapped lips. My next entry will bring you the plethora of products I'm currently employing to return my lips to their normal moist state. While I'm at it, I'm going to attack my kitchen floor...

Behind

I have to confess: I'm old.

Not in years, perhaps, though I am rapidly approaching my last birthday that can be considered "early" thirties.  However, in our new, 67-is-the-new-44 society, 34 just isn't old.  I mean, look at Jennifer Aniston.

No, don't!  She's naked!  I think you get my point, however.  Jennifer is 40, or close enough to it that they call her 40, and she looks good enough that people pay money to look at her naked.  I have no doubt that Jennifer knows about cool pop culture things, too, which is why she has a cute hipster musician boyfriend in his 20's.

I know what you're thinking.  "Deb," you're thinking, "what are you talking about?  You're a young, vital, happening kind of lady who gets it."  (Don't argue with me.  That's what you're thinking.)  I know I often give that impression, but I've been fooling you all for years.  Here are the reasons why I am so very, very old.

1.)  I have become one of those people who sees a really great movie about three years after everyone else, and then I go around telling people about it like it's brand new.  Isn't that terrible?  I used to hate people like me.  I remember when people started "discovering" Pulp Fiction, months after I saw it at a special midnight show in a basement theater in Houston.  I hated those people, and now I'm so much worse.

Here's my example:  I just saw a movie called The Queen.  It stars Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth II and centers around the Queen's handling of the death of Princess Diana.  This is an awesome movie, but I'm embarrassed to mention it to anyone, because it's such old news.  I mean, I saw it on USA, for goodness' sakes.  However, since this is my "safe place" I can tell you all that this is a great performance, and Helen Mirren totally deserved that Oscar that she may or may not have won some amount of time ago.

2.) I don't understand The Hills.  I mean, I don't understand anything about it.  What is this show supposed to even be about?  Is it supposed to be reality?  It's poorly written enough to pass as reality, I supposed, but please.  And why do they chew so much?  Honestly, the one time I tried to sit through an episode of this dreck I endured 47 minutes of chewing followed by a commercial for Pro-Activ.  I know this show must be vitally important to our popular culture, because E!, People, and other pop-watch media spend just oodles of time telling us how Audrina was mad that Lauren ate Spencer, or something like that, but I just don't get it.

3.) I don't get all of the "hip references" anymore.  I can't even cite any examples, that's how un-hip I am.  

4.)  I have become living history to my students.  I remember the first year I was teaching, I was shocked that I had to explain to my students what communism was.  I was only 21 years old, but I was teaching students who had been born around the time the Berlin Wall fell, so they hadn't grown up with the Cold War as a daily reality.  It is so much worse now.

I try to give my students a frame of reference.  When we are talking about the 1980's, for example, I start with, "This was before the internet."  The gasps are audible.  You would think I said, "This was before indoor plumbing," or "This was before multi-cellular organisms exited the primordial ooze."  Then, the tentative hand-raising begins.

"Miss," they begin (I let them call me Miss because it makes me feel younger), "was this before cell phones?"

"Yes," I smile gently, making sure my dentures are in place, "it was before cell phones."  The cacophony swells.

"What about DVD players?"

"Was it before iTunes?"

"Did you have a television?"

"Were there cars when you were a kid?"

"Were you alive during slavery times?"

I hold up my hands, adjust my half-glasses, and pull my shawl close around me for warmth.  I know, deep in my heart, that I am not the old woman I must seem to them...but sometimes, late at night, when Extra is attempting to convince me that Heidi Montag is, indeed, a celebrity, I doubt myself.  That's when I'm sure that, for better or worse, I'm old.  Now get off my lawn.

To Francesca, With Love...

Recently, I was given some blog love from one of my favorite online gal pals, Francesca of Three Bay B Chicks. Francesca listed me as one of her 10 favorite blogs. I looked at her recommendations, and now most of them are listed on my sidebar. (Go ahead, check them out, they are awesome.)

I am new to blogging, so I don't have many blogs that I read, so instead, I'd like to honor Francesca's honoring of me by honoring a request she made in the comments section of my "Inside the Actor's Studio" blog. (I know, I've used the word "Honor" too much, but it makes me giggle.) Here, now, are my answers to James Lipton's Ten Questions:

1) What is your favorite word? Kerfuffle. I use it a lot.

2) What is your least favorite word? Any explicit anatomical term makes me cringe a little. I was raised to believe that was vulgar; of course, I now have a three-year-old daughter who strips naked and runs through the house shrieking, "Look at my butt!"

3) What turns you on? Really well-prepared, semi-complicated food.

4) What turns you off? Flabby hands.

5) What is your favorite curse word? It's too filthy to print, and I only use it on occasion. Tom Cruise said it in Tropic Thunder, but I've been using it for years.

6) What sound or noise do you love? Silence.

7) What sound or noise do you hate? The wheezes as my son struggles to breathe.

8) What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? I would love to be a professional writer. I'm working on a novel, it's up to 50,000 words, but I'm stuck...

9) What profession would you not like to attempt? I would not like to do anything where I have to be dishonest, or compromise on really important things. So, no future for me in politics or school administration!

10) If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? I answered this in my blog post earlier, but here's a new one:
Welcome to Heaven. Your mansion is three doors down, to the right. Brad Pitt is cleaning the pool.

Imagine the rest of the staff...

Inside the Actor's Studio: The Imaginary Interview

Imaginary James Lipton: Good evening, and welcome to tonight's imaginary edition of "Inside the Actor's Studio."  Our guest tonight has made imaginary history, becoming the first artist in history to receive the Oscar, the Tony, the Grammy, the People's Choice, the SAG, the Golden Globe, and the Critic's Choice award in a single year.

Imaginary students cheer wildly

IJL: She has accomplished all of this while remaining a devoted wife and mother, as well as publishing three best-selling novels.  Truly, the Actor's Studio is honored to welcome tonight's distinguished guest, Deb Amazing Pants.

Standing ovation.  Deb enters, blushing modestly at the acclaim.  She embraces Lipton and sits, motioning the still-cheering audience to quiet.  Eventually, they do.

IJL: Welcome, Deb.  It is an honor to have you here.

Deb: No, please, it's my pleasure.

IJL: What an amazing year you have had.  Tell me: among all of the honors and accolades, what stands out the most?

Deb: I believe it was the personal triumphs I experienced.  I think personal achievement trumps professional accomplishment any day.

IJL: Can you tell us what triumph you're thinking of?

Deb:  Oh, I don't know... George Clooney proposed to me after we wrapped our last film together, and I found that to be very validating.

IJL: What did you say?

Deb: Oh, I let him down gently, of course.  I'm very happily married, but George is a great guy, I'm sure he'll find the right girl.

IJL: Indeed, he must have been heartbroken.

Deb: Well, you snooze, you lose.

IJL: You are delightful and a breath of fresh air.

Deb: Back atcha.

IJL: If I may ask about your process: how do you establish a character?

Deb: The truth is, James, acting is just pretending.  The secret is, I pretend to be another person, and then say whatever the script says.

IJL: Brilliant!

Students applaud wildly

IJL: We'll conclude with the question I ask everyone on this show: if heaven exists, what do you want God to say, when you arrive?

Deb: You'll be skinny forever, here are the cupcakes.

Students applaud wildly, some spontaneously combusting.

Fin  

Should I Put a Ring On It?

I promise, this isn't a rip-off of Kristina's similarly themed post.

I have been having a terrible time with Sven Jr.  He has something called RSV, which, as I understand it, means he will periodically scare me to death by gasping and wheezing for a few days, then he'll be fine again.  When he is having an attack, we use the nebulizer every 4 hours.  That's not the problem.  The problem is that he is so happy, I can't tell if he's feeling bad until he's feeling so bad that he cries for 8 straight hours.

Which is what happened last night.  Sven, of course, is out of town.  As a public school band director, he is frequently called off to visit exotic and faraway locales, but he does so in the company of adolescent band students, so I can't really be jealous.  However, the children (ours) have a very hard time when Daddy is gone, and when one adds to that Sven Jr.'s current health issues, Mommy gets very little sleep.

Which is why we were watching Vh-1 this morning at 3:20 a.m.  I thought the music might somehow be soothing...please don't judge me, I haven't slept in days.  I was about to give up and set fire to the house when Sven Jr. suddenly stopped crying and snapped to attention, eyes on the TV

On the TV: Beyonce's video for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)."  Sven Jr. watched in silent awe.  After the first thirty seconds, I had my laptop out, downloading the video from iTunes, secretly certain that it was coincidence...

Sven Jr. has watched that video fifteen times today.  When she smiles, he smiles back.  He is starting to say, "Oh, oh, oh," at the right time.  He is wiggling right along with her, though his thighs aren't as toned...

I admit, I like Beyonce.  She's gorgeous, I like her voice, and I like her work ethic.  I just don't like that she's better than me at getting my son to stop crying, that's all.  I mean, Beyonce, you've got looks, talent, money, fame, a new husband...can't I have this?

Marriage Communication

Sven says: "We need to get the house cleaned up."

Sven means: "You need to get the house cleaned up."

Deb hears: "You're a terrible housekeeper."

Deb says: "What do you mean by that?"



Sven says: "Do you want me to keep the kids for a few minutes so you can get on the treadmill?"

Sven means: "Go get on the treadmill that I spent $600 on because you wanted it."

Deb hears: "Fatty, fatty, two by four..."

Deb says: "What do you mean by that?"



Deb says: "If you want a shower this morning, you need to get up now."

Deb means: "Get out of bed, lazy bones."

Sven hears: "You stink, you dirty pig."

Sven says: "What do you mean by that?"



Sven says: "I can't find the snarfle."

Sven means: "Deb, get up and find me the snarfle."

Deb understands this perfectly.

Deb says: "Did you look for it?"

Deb means: "I know you just want me to find it for you, but I'm going to make you work for it."

Sven understands this perfectly.

Sven responds: "Of course I looked for it!"

Sven means: "I walked to a room and spun around three times with my eyes open."

Deb understands this perfectly and, sighing, goes to find the snarfle, currently located six inches from Sven's right foot.



Deb says: "What do you want for dinner?"

Deb means: "Please tell me what you want for dinner please please just this once have an opinion on something before I do and you just shoot it down please please."

Sven hears: "Blah blah blah dinner?"

Sven says: "I don't care, whatever you want is fine."

Deb lunges at Sven and bludgeons him with a bag of shredded cheese.