Barb’s Burblings

I’ve never understood women who refer to their female friends as “girlfriends.” Part of it is that I definitely do think of that word in the romantic sense; part of it is that it just seems unnecessary. “Some girlfriends and I went out for lunch yesterday.” Why not just say “friends”? Was there something that made it particular for women only? I wonder how many women who use the “girlfriends” have close male friends to begin with. There are times when I’ve done things with just my female friends for a girls’ day; usually you can tell by context. “Some friends and I went for mani/pedis, then got drinks.” Sure, there are guys who get manicures and pedicures, but not a ton. I might refer to it as a “girls’ day” in conversation, but I can’t see myself saying “I went out with my girlfriends.” But then, it’s rare that I’m out with a group of just girls. And if I’m hanging out with a female friend, just the two of us, it’s usually, “Oh, I’m going over to my friend Tricia’s” or “Amanda and I had drinks.” The whole thing is just odd.

But then, I’ve always been bad at girly stuff.

My last ice skating boyfriend was Tim Goebel, who skated in the 2002 Olympics and won the bronze and was the first person to land three quads in competition. He was adorable. Curly hair. Love!

Anyway, I naturally have watched the Olympics since and swooned over skaters. But now…I have a new boyfriend. And credit goes to the Fug Girls, for this entry. He has a sarcastic long program! That is AWESOME! Seriously, you should watch it, and ignore the first couple of jumps, which he whiffs.

Also, cute World War II theme for the short? Win. Picture of himself as a kid on his Twitter feed? Win.

I mean, he’s not cracking the Top 5 Boyfriends, but he’s on the list.

It’s almost Shark Week, and after a few years away, the Discovery Channel has brought back Chompie. Huzzah!

…Who’s Chompie, you ask? Why, this is Chompie:

Here he is, coming through the Discovery Building in Silver Spring. You can also see his side fin, there. Scandalously, it’s his backside facing my building:

That’s right. Chompie is coming for you, Metro riders!

My boss brought in flowers for a celebration we had this morning in honor of my two latest books. They were quite pretty, and she gave them to us after the party was over. Luckily, I had driven to work, so I didn’t have to take the flowers with me on the bus. And, I discovered, they fit perfectly into my cupholder:

Isn’t that pretty? I thought about just leaving them there, but my car gets no sun when parked in front of my apartment.

Now I just have to hope the cats don’t eat them.

At night, Colin usually sleeps snuggled on my legs, except during the summer, when it’s just too warm. (Though if the air conditioning is on enough, even then he’ll join me.) Pem usually winds up somewhere on the bed.

But the past couple of nights, she’s been sleeping on me, which is definitely unusual, except when it’s very cold–which it hasn’t been. So, because it was night and my brain had nothing better to do, I started thinking about those stories about the animals that sense that someone is dying, and goes in and stays with the person. It got to the point that I was a little freaked out at the prospect of going to sleep, for fear that I may never wake up.

Of course I did wind up falling asleep, and I did manage to wake up in the morning. (Barely. I was sleepy.) Yet another indication that I really should come up with new things to occupy my brain, because apparently, my life at the moment just isn’t enough.

In the morning, I watch tv as I get ready for work. If I’m on time, it’s the History Channel–Civil War Journal, The Most, Modern Marvels. If I’m running a bit late, it’s The West Wing on Bravo. Turns out these two channels have very similar demos; or, at least, similar enough that they run the same commercials. Seriously, I’ve seen that stupid Rosetta Stone commercial at least a million times. I’m still interested in the product, but please, please stop selling me on it.

Anyway, there’s a new one that really annoys me. The narrator says something about people not paying attention when shopping, and shows a blindfolded woman picking a frozen meal out of a freezer aisle. Then she takes off the blindfold and looks at the nutritional information. “300 calories?!” she says, horrified. “And 8 grams of fat!” Then it mentions that there’s this soup that’s only 80 calories! Why are you consuming so many calories needlessly?

Well, first, if I’m buying a frozen meal, I’m probably going to have it for lunch. At work. Where I don’t exactly have access to a stove upon which to heat the soup. And no, it didn’t seem that this soup came in those “Heat in the microwave” containers.

But more annoyingly, really, 300 calories and 8 grams of fat (which is on the high end for a Healthy Choice or similar frozen meal) IS NOT THAT MUCH FOR A MEAL. If you assume that the average person should be eating 2000 calories a day, we’re talking about 15% of the day’s calories. Which seems about right, for lunch. Honestly, I don’t know that 80 calories is going to power me through the afternoon. Maybe if I paired it with someone…which, of course, means I’d be consuming more than 80 calories for lunch. Quite possibly, something at much as 300 calories.

Now, it’s not that I’m anti-soup. I’m not. I frequently have soup for lunch on weekends. I’m just saying that sheesh, people, it’s not like we can live without any calories. Simmer down.

I was killing some time in a Bed, Bath, & Beyond a couple of weekends ago when I came across the display:

I love it. The romantic music, paired with…plungers. Win!

I didn’t plan it, but 5 years ago, on the 15th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I found myself at the Imperial War Museum in London, where I took this picture of a piece of the Wall. I don’t remember much from 9 November 1989 (I was 11 and in the 6th grade), other than my German teacher being very excited, and I can still see the poster she had hanging in her room for the next 3 years. But watching specials about it and reading about it…it’s so moving. And crazy to think that I’ve lived through such turbulent times. That’s a decent-sized part of why I want to visit Berlin and Moscow. In my lifetime, I’ve seen them change. Which is just crazy.

Anyway, cheers Frau Venus.

For some reason, when I woke up this morning to feed the cats, I started thinking who top 5 current boyfriends are. (Some people might refer to this as their “lists”–you know, the people they can have sex with without retribution from their partner. Since I’m single, I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing.) So, as of 7:15 this morning, here’s the current list:

Boyfriend Emeritus:
Michael Ball
Other Boyfriends:
John Krasinski
Matthew Morrison
John Oliver
Brian Roberts
David Tennant

Hmm, two Brits and three Americans. That seems about right. And in alphabetical order, so nobody’s feelings get hurt.

I met up with a couple of friends to see Julie & Julia on Tuesday night. Since we were coming from three different directions, we decided to just meet at the top of a Metro escalator. Once we were all there, we paused to chat a bit, figure out where to eat, etc. As we talked, I noticed a yellow cone (you know, like those “Wet Floor” contes) flying through the air. I looked over and saw a kid yelling at another. At first, we all figured that it was just some kids fooling around…though it’s risky to throw a cone like that at the top of a Metro escalator during rush hour.

It was when the cone was quickly followed by a backpack–a backpack that hit me on the butt, thank you–and the shouting quickly turned into tussling that we realized that these kids weren’t fooling around. And quickly hightailed it out of there, noticing the arrival of the police. Who stuck around for quite some time, as they were still hanging around when we finished dinner.

All of this is to say that in addition to my legs that are sore after doing lunges the other night, my butt also hurts. It’s just not pleasant. Thanks, hoodlums!