WAY TO PISS ME OFF . . .

For the second time in three days, a man has attempted to test me on my knowledge (or lack thereof) of baseball and/or Yankees trivia. THIS PISSES ME OFF. God for-f*cking-bid that a woman express interest in a sport or team and not know everything there is to know about the sport or team, because then that is proof that the woman is not a true fan, right?! Why the f*ck does The Penis insist upon quizzing me to make sure that I am worthy company for a baseball game? Why can't I just enjoy myself and my many boyfriends on the New York Yankees?! So, to all the men in my life, BACK THE F*CK OFF, or else you'll make me really angry, and then I'll cry, and then you'll feel really bad and I will take advantage of your groveling to get back into my good graces. Smirk.

***

SUPER-HEROES . . .

I just discovered that Mrs.G has been referring to me as Wonder Woman in her blog. This, of course, pleases me immensely, because you know I ran around as a child wearing red panties with aluminum foil wrapped around my wrists and a headband strapped to my forehead, insisting that my family defer to my super bullet-deflecting powers. Granted, my mother refused to buy me a star-spangled leotard, so I was basically topless the whole time, but I was five years old!

Anyway, Mrs.G would love for me to be The One for her other pal Superman, a/k/a Mr. Fab-U-Lous (according to Hooch and myself). Bless her heart for trying -- she's one of the few people I trust to intuit my true nature well enough to be looking for The One for me. There are tons of generous people out there who throw their brothers, sons, nephews, brothers-of-friends-of-their-second-cousin-from-Milwaukee at me, but Mrs.G and her ilk -- perceptive, caring, sincere, down-to-earth, lacking ulterior motives -- are few and far between . . .

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GO DO SOMETHING ELSE, PLEASE . . .

So, JW and I finished watching the first season of "Dawson's Creek" on DVD. I've resigned myself to conceding that I quite enjoyed it. The characters use many big words, and there's so much angst that I never experienced as an adolescent, so I feel quite okay immersing myself in that fantasy world for a few hours a week, to see what it might have been like to have been an abnormally well-spoken and heartbreak-ridden 15-year-old girl.

Then, we watched "Sex & the City." I can never do that again -- watch "Sex & the City" with a guy, much less a guy I'm friends with. It's like watching a whole series of tampon commercials with my brother = WEIRD. I'm creeped out and embarrassed just thinking about that half-hour right now. I need to move on to another topic.

On the other hand, I ate very much watermelon and very many guacamole-flavored potato chips (they are green and actually taste like sour cream & onion). Tasty. Being friends with JW is like having another brother. No, actually, it's like being a twin, because he's older and taller than Cheech, and generally more on the same wavelength as me, due to the lesser age difference. Also, we often unintentionally dress alike (not when I'm wearing a skirt, though, thankfully). Really, only with family can you count how many times they go to the bathroom in 30 minutes. Jeez.

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LIFE CHANGES . . .

The painters need to be done with our house. NOW.

My mom needs to finish menopause. NOW.

I need to move out, move on, grow up. NOW.

***

LAST FRIDAY'S FIVE . . .

I got scolded for being delinquent, so here it is, albeit three days late:

1. How are you planning to spend the summer? Outdoor barbecues, Yankee games, beach trips, a week in L.A., rooting for the church softball team on Sundays, being kidnapped for ice cream, expanding my library, watching it's-so-bad-it's-good television, sticking my head in a watermelon until October.

2. What was your first summer job? Being a mother's helper to my high school Russian teacher after she adopted her son. He was tiny and plump and very fun. I learned to make strawberry jam and how to set a table American-style.

3. If you could go anywhere this summer, where would you go? Too many places: London, Wales, Spain, Italy, Provence, New Mexico, Vancouver, Alaska, Bar Harbor, the Vineyard, and of course, Red Mountain Spa in St. George, Utah.

4. What was your worst vacation ever? Wildwood, New Jersey with the family, several years ago. Don't go on family vacations to the Jersey shore when both the women in the family are PMS-ing and it's raining the whole week. Just don't do it.

5. What was your best vacation ever? My post-Bar exam trip to Red Mountain Spa and L.A. provided much-needed rest and recovery from a summer of Bar prep, the actual Bar exam, and a heartwrenching breakup. Nothing like the LOLs (or at least two of them), dry desert heat, morning hikes, healthy food, massages and body scrubs, and my sister Ha with her awesome family and her super-California-healthy neighborhood to get me back on track . . .