I've had my first little "blog break" in quite some time.  For that i half-apologize.  i just haven't been feeling it.  No, actually, that's a total lie.  I'm still writing blog posts in my head (in and out of the pool), but i just haven't had it in me.  Life has been pitching me high and inside, and i have been brushed back, out of the batters box.  And i understand that in a world of fairy-princess-glitter-hope-dust that when i do have these tough periods in my life, that those would be the most important times to write and share and bletchhhhhh.  Sorry, i just threw up in my mouth.

So, anyways, sorry about the break.  But even blogging must take a back seat sometimes.

But no one puts Mattiti in the corner.  Let's get to it.

LIVELIVELIVEUPDATE I was just informed the coffee shop im in is closing in 30 min.  Motherfucker.  This is what i'm talking about folks.  Boogiemans following me.

One of my favorite TV shows at the moment is How I Met Your Mother.  It may be that the characters' back story is that they all went to Wesleyan (like me).  And it may be Neil Patrick Harris -- who is brilliant.  Buuuuut it also may be that they have developed one character's back-story to be that she was a teen-aged Canadian pop-star.  One of her fake songs is my ring-tone.  More recently, they showed her Canadian kid's morning show (thing Mickey Mouse club) which was all about beaver ("they're the national animal--they're so cute").  The whole show was one huge beaver joke between these two teenaged girls and  . . . . . . ALAN THICKE!!!  Alan has made a number of cameos.

So the songs that "Robin Sparkles" sings are partially hilarious because she sings them with a Canadian accent.  And that got me thinking that there are plenty of Canadian singers in the world (i know, its hard to think about) but you never hear the word "about" pronounced in that Canadian of Canadian ways.  We leads me to think that at some point, early in these Canadian singers careers, some said, "Ok ok, now you'll never get famous if you continue to pronounce 'about' like a crazy Canadian.  it's pronounced 'about.'"  And then that singer practiced singing about like Americans instead of Canadians.  And that makes me laugh.

America the beautiful.

Here has been life since engagement:

mmf gets sick.

i get violently ill, go to the ER, get pumped up with 2 liters of fluids.

mmf gets it.

things aint good t'all y'all.
So excuse the lack of posting

but until then, a poem:

Online Dating

a few political points that i just plain need to make.

we the people have a problem.  it's that we the people thing that we the people know what's best for we the people.  we don't.  not even close.  that said, in many cases, neither do the people who we elect.  

the newly elected GOP leadership are honestly trying to push for the tax cuts for the wealthiest 2% to be extended!!!!!  that's insulting.  they are trying to claim that by continuing to save the richest Americans money, those people will infuse the economy with said wealth.  There are some problems with this theory.  First, it's totally bullshit.  You know, i guess that is actually the most definitive of the arguments.  I mean, while we've had these (outrageous) tax cuts in place, we almost fell into the worst depression since the "great" one.  I'm sure by continuing to favor the richest people, things will get better for the poor.  Oh wait, no they won't.  We also have economist after economist who says that this "trickle down" mentality simply doesn't work.  And the Republicans know this.  Which means, the Republicans are trying to push this through in order to save themselves and their rich friends some taxes--even if it costs us our country--our deficit and our dwindling middle class.  I just can't fathom, considering the problems and unemployment the country is facing, the titanium cojones it takes to stand up and suggest extending benefits to the least needy group possible.  No, this doesn't even help small businesses.  It only helps what the news stations like to call the fat cats.

So on a deeper level, here's my problem with this particular Republican proposal.  The Republican party has always put themselves out there as the party for working class (middle) America.   And while i don't share many viewpoints with the party, every American deserves a voice -- those in Idaho are just as important as those in New York (City.  idaho and parts of NY state are extremely similar).  But this policy doesn't benefit middle america.  It doesn't help farmers.  It doesn't help the poor.  You can't be "of the people" with half your mouth and promote policies to save millionaires money with the other half.

It seems, in this regard, the newly formed Tea Party will make for some interesting negotiations.

Full disclosure.  What the "Tea Party" is seems to be almost comically unclear to me.  There is the Obama birth certificate looking, oversized democrat hating, (totally and utterly racist) wing(nuts) who i like to laugh at when they make quotes about witchcraft or gay devils etc.  But there is at least one branch that seems committed to being "of the people."  these guys and gals, while still not my political favorites, seem to me to have a sane and reasonable platform.  And, some of these Tea Partiers were the ones that got elected.

One of the top priorities of these new tea party republicans is to rid the political system of earmarks.  You remember earmarks.  Pork-filled bills.  Essentially, they are pieces of legislation that, when passed, give big chunks o money to a state without strings or oversight.  In theory, they give local legislatures the ability to fund programs in their state, since they know the needs of their constituents best.  In reality, they are ways for politicians to transfer large amounts of money to each other without oversight.  Pork-belly spending.  "i'll vote yes for your bill if you pass my bill to give me (my state) this 4 million for 'public works.'"  The "needs of the constituents" it seems, tend to often coincide with the needs of that politician.  It's a corrupt system.

So, these tea party GOP'ers have proposed legislation that makes taking earmarks against the Republican Party's platform.  This is . . . a good thing for the american people (in my opinion).  it is not, one might suspect, in line with the current Republican point of view (many like their pork).

to give you an idea of the greater Republican feelings about earmarks, we take you to Arizona, where John McCain is adamantly against earmarks, while his fellow Arizona Republican simultaneously has individually passed over 10 earmarked bills which send the state millions.  Johnny doesn't only like his cake, he likes to eat it too.

So now you have some Republicans working "for their people" and finding opposition from . . . other Republicans.  Glorious.  It is, in essence,  a battle between who the Republicans say they want to be, and who the Republicans currently are.  Sure, the old school GOP say banning earmarks is "unnecessary" and "would be ineffective" or "not what's important at a time like this."  But i think, down deep, they are scared shitless at the prospect of having their gravy train shut down by members of their own party.  While the GOP may have the house majority, they aren't the monolith they used to be.   And i think that's a good thing.

I know there is a subsection of you, my noble readers, who really are always just reading in hopes of me updating you on the "locker-room situation."

Well today is your lucky day.  Cause we've got update.

Last we left our anti-hero, the knots were piling up and i was beginning to wonder what was going on in this guys head that he would be immune to having 13 knots in his swimsuit strings.

I'm here to tell you he's human.  Today i did a thorough count, and there were only 5 knots in the strings.  Most notably, the ones that i put way down the string where they were normally covered by the waistband, are out.  So her knows someones tying knots in his strings, and he still keeps it hanging outside.  All this equation needs now is a little consistency.  With my back surgery et al., i had to take a hiatus from a regular swim schedule.  Now, engaged and healing, i'm ready to re-commit.  Now that i know the message has been received, we just have to crank up the message's volume.

I added a knot today.  That makes 6 total.

But wait, there's more.

Last week, as i was walking to my locker to change into my swimsuit, the young man (grad student age) with the locker directly next to mine, held out his bathing-suit, and wrung all the water out of it right in front of my locker.  A big friggin puddle.  And granted, i don't think he knew it was mine (even though i said SOMETHING audible when i saw it like, "come ON."   I projected it up into the air and not at him, but come ON.   He did see me go to my locker though and offered no apology.

Also, the bottom catch on his locker doesn't work.  This means that (i am the devil) if you pull on the lock at all, the bottom half of the locker bows well out.  Now, i'm not SURE i have it in me . . . but this situation really seems to be calling for a piss puck.

What is a piss puck?* I'm surprised you don't know!?!  But i'm happy you asked.  You take a paper cup, and pee just a half-inch or inch of urine into said cup.  Put said cup in the freezer.  Wait.  Wait a little more.  What you remove from the freezer in an "in mold" piss puck.  To use the piss cup, simply peal away the cup and you can slide that piss puck through any small space.  Under a door, into a locker.  And when it melts, you have yourself a gosh darn mystery.  How did someone pee in the middle of my office overnight?  Does it smell like pee to you?  It smells kinda like pee to me?  

I could easily slide the piss puck into his locker.  I'm not saying i'm going to.  i'm just letting you all know that i could.  Easily.

I am like the Punisher of the locker room.   Doling out vigilante justice.  I will become what they fear most . . . . . Consequences!" 


*it should be made clear that i did not invent the piss puck.  I think i saw it on collegehumor.com or something equally embarrassing. 

Just kidding, just kidding.

its just that the readership of my blog has really spiked since i added the whole mushy love story, that i figured if i kept it going, i could really increase my readership.  And no, it's not even a little difficult to whore out my deep and pure love to get people to read me.  My friend Brian suggested that i break off the engagement and get re-engaged.  This is a good plan EXCEPT that i would undoubtedly lose my testicles in the process.  Brian did not seem willing to donate his testes to the process.  Pussy.

back to reality.

So, usually, while the pool locker room is an obvious wild-card, the pool itself is pretty benign.  But, every once and awhile, you get surprised.  The other day i happened to go to the evening hours for the pool which is considered "Open" swim.  This means that people other than lap swimmers are welcome.  And sometimes you get kids or families who swim around the shallow end and everyone's happy and life goes on.

But this day there were a gaggle of CLCG's (cute little college girls) all bikini'd up and attention seeking, splashing it up.  This started off fine, but then got, um, dumb.  One of the tinier and smallest bikini'd of the girls, quick as a whip, climbed up the HIGH DIVING BOARD!! and prepared to jump (lap swimmers still going back and forth).  this would have been both ridiculously ill-advised and pretty moronic to a normal person who cared about the welfare of others.  Just as the girl got to the end of the board, the lifeguards (two college guys) looked up and saw what was happening.  He said, "Um . . . . no.  There's no diving boards during pool swim." It had just the right amount of condescension and "use common sense people" inflection.  The girl, in her pouty best said, "but i'd really want to."

Now i thought, and this was my bad, that the college guys would get distracted by all that skin and boobs and let her tomahawk onto us poor and tired lap swimmers.  he did not.  He actually replied with one of the best quips i have heard in a good while.  "Then join a team," he said.  Perfection.

The real winning comment came from the same girl about 40 minutes later (i was now post-swim).  As her friends are drying off poolside, she goes into the women's locker room.  About 5 minutes later, this girl comes out of said locker room to exclaim, "I am SO confused.  All the lockers look the same!  Does anyone remember where I put my stuff?!?"  These are the voices of our future, people.  The next generation.  Of course all the lockers look the same.  They're LOCKERS@!!  What locker room have you ever ever ever been in that didn't have identical lockers (besides half vs. full-lockers).  Did she grow up with some magical multi-color locker room with personalized inscriptions.  Did the number on the locker not seem like an important difference to commit to memory.

but you know what really makes me sad about this girl.  It's not that she's an idiot.  There are a lot of idiots.  it's that she chose to announce her inability to find her locker across the entire pool room area.  She could have easily just walked around the pool and then told her friends that shes an idiot and she can't even remember her own locker.  They would laugh at her and it would be super funny and i would never even have known the better of it.

But with comfort and confidence, she screamed it.  The ease with which she unloaded her verbal diarrhea made me sad.  Being satisfied with mediocrity, especially while engaged in what is supposed to be higher education, just seems wrong to me.

I think you can understand why the silence of being underwater appeals to me.

i've never known, previous to writing an entry, that in writing it, i would actively save myself a ton of time.  Until now.

Many of you who read my blog with some consistency have noticed the "character" of gf often slips her way into being a main character in my blog.  its only because she is also a main character in my life.  i don't use her name because she never asked me to start a blog and share my/our life with everyone who cares to read.  but, for shame, she is my gf no more.

this, my friends, is the story of how i put a ring on it.

from heretoforth, the woman previously referred to as gf, will now be called mmf, which stands for my motherfuckin fiance.  booyah.

halloween is my birthday.  Atrologically speaking, i am a scorpio sun, scorpio moon, and scorpio rising.  the combination of these two things means that i am, essentially, the second coming . . . of satan.  and while i try not to believe in anything that tells me im bad . . . i kinda like it in this case.

either way, for my birthday weekend i told mmf that i wanted to go to boston (where i used to live prior to grad school) to visit my old roommate and my college friends who live in the burbs.  Being that it was my birthday (and riding the fact that last year mmf got super sick right before my birthday) she was totally open to whatever i wanted to do.  I made reservations for friday night at a schmancy restaurant near my old place (where we'd meet my old roommate BC), and we planned to walk it to dinner from there.  On saturday we planned to head out to burbville to have a late brunch with the college peeps and their two little adorable daughters.

the traps were set.

As we left the house for boston that afternoon, mmf realized she left her phone at the house.  i asked if she wanted to go back and get it (we were only 5 min. away at that point).  she said no.  i asked her if she was sure.  she said yes.  i DIDN'T say, "but you're gettting ENGAGED this weekend."  so we left it.

in the car my stomach was getting  . . . . wonky.  before long wonky turned to full out nausea.  we stopped at a rest stop to handle it the old fashion way.  didn't help.  was i REALLY getting physically ill from nerves?  but im not nervous.  i mean, this is the easiest and best decision i've ever made.

im nervous.  turns out even for a "relationship expert," committing one's life to another make me feel like im literally going to poop my pants.  in describing the feeling shortly after the fact, it felt like my stomach was taking a poop in its stomach was taking a poop in its stomach and so on until the end of stomach pain.

When we got to BC's place, mmf went to unpack our stuff in our guest room.  I immediately suggested "birthday shots."

"what do you want to shoot?"

"scotch please."

I then did two (and a half) shots of scotch . . .        solo.

Best two shots of Dewar's White Label that i've ever had.

Men and women--heed my advise on this one--i'm not saying you should get drunk before you propose to someone.  I'm not even saying that marriage is a good or bad thing.  What i'm saying is, that if you do make the decision to propose, and you do get nauseous, and i suspect you will, a few shots reallllllllllly takes the edge off.

*begin tangent* another point of advise.  i'm not quite certain how every person doesn't use their birthday as "engagement bait."  I mean, driving hours and hours, "birthday shots," i'm sold that a birthday as a guise for an engagement ruse is really the way to go.  Downsides?  You get very little birthday.  but honestly, even I (im generally well on the high side of birthday celebration--halloween people!) couldn't get too psyched up for turning 32.  I'm not a Magic Johnson fan, and its just an odd uninspiring number to me.    Upsides?  best. birthday. present. ever. *end tangent*

it was go time.  i checked in with BC, "you got your phone call ready?"

(A short walk from my old place, lies Brookline Lunch--which is not in Brookline [its in cambridge on brookline street]-and is not only for lunch [we ONLY go there for weekend brunch, but its open from breakfast til late lunch].  This is where mmf and i had our first date [she had smiled at me on FRIENDSTER a few months prior--we were taking it slow. {im just now realizing how long we've been together}]  I have been going to Brookline for over a decade, and in that time i have become very friendly with the amazing family that owns and runs it.  When mmf and i were on our first date, in fact, one of my then roommates was our waitress.  So yes, i had called ahead.  The plan was for the three of us to leave the house to go to dinner.  shortly after leaving, BC would get a phone call from work, requiring him to run home and do something for work quickly [trust me, this is totally plausible].  Though i had chosen a very real and conveniently located fake restaurant for us to be going to, mmf never really "investigated it," so i didn't have to worry about walking her a slightly longer way to Central Square.  This route would take us past Brookline Lunch, at which time i would put phase 2 of the plan into action.)  The fake phone-call came, and (in what he would like to consider his acting masterpiece) BC excused himself quickly to fix a work problem.

It was 6 pm.  As we walked up Brookline St., i, candidly, commented that all the buildings looked new to me.  Mmf replied that they probably just looked new because the only time i see them is when im hungover Sunday morning (on the way to Brookline for brunch).  Which prompted me to say, "Wouldn't it be amazing if we could go to Brookline Lunch for my birthday dinner."  She laughed and agreed and lamented the fact that it had closed earlier in the day.

As we neared the restaurant, i saw the first hitch in the plan.  There was some student film crew shooting literally in front of the door.  I know i should have been thinking, "Oh, i don't want to ruin their shot." But what i WAS thinking was, "they better not ruin MY shot!" I improvised.  I took mmf's hand and just kinda walked her into Brookline Lunch.  We were recognized and greeting by the owner/server/mother and i asked her if they were still serving.  As we had rehearsed, she said they were closed (um duh . . . we were the only one's in there) but, for us, no problem.  We sat down at the booth of our first date and ordered coffee.  Mmf figured we were having a cup of coffee and we would wait for BC to catch up.

Our amazing hostess then asked what we'd like to order. (i had already called and told her).  I had the steak and eggs (my usual).  At this point, mmf starting freaking out a little.  Not that something big was coming, but that i was going to be full for our nice dinner (i made her get all dressed up).  She said, "Are you THAT hungry"  She was worried that dinner at BL would ruin dinner at the other restaurant.  She was not onto me yet.  The only think that can explain this (given her surroundings) is that being proposed to happens so rarely, that every piece of her body rejects the idea that it could be happening until she sees someone on bended knee.  I told mmf to order as if she were going to be eating.  She replied, "BC's not coming, is he."  "No, he is not."  She now knew something was up.  She ordered the bacon benedict (i had ordered the spinach benedict for her--close but no cigar). 

Coffee came and i started the love talk.  in sum, i told her that not only is she the most perfect person for me, and not only does she love me in a way that i totally can feel all over, but she is also one of the best human beings i've had the pleasure of time with.  i told her that after our first date, her slightly-to-tight hug was one of the most disarming moments in my life.  and mostly, that i'd love her forever.

and then i stopped talking.  a very pregnant pause.  I was milking it.  I was making her sweat it out.  I was also trying to get the wording of what was going to come next straight in my mind.

(she told me later that when the love talk started she started revving up.  she starting thinking, "holy shit, this is happening."  When i paused, she started thinking, "you idiot mff, it's his birthday, he not proposing during his birthday.")

So here we sat.  My love and I, alone in the brunch place of our first date, in a restaurant that opened late just for us . . . . and the love talk started again.  this time it ended with me sliding out of the booth, onto one knee, and asking her to marry me.  i took out the ring.  I hope that the sparkles would blind her into a quick, "yes."
And now for the best and most important part of this story.  She said yes.  She said it quickly and clearly and before the tears started.  i hugged her.  she hugged me.  i threw my arms up like i was trying to grab the ceiling and yelled to the owners/cook/server/their kids, "She said YES!"  Much merriment. 

She once again realized she had forgotten her phone.  I laughed.  We ate.  We smiled.  We smiled wider.

We went back to BC's place after and drank champagne and played some Wii (it's that fun).  I then tell her that we aren't staying with BC.  Off we go to the Charles Hotel were we have a suite waiting for us.  The bed is heavenly.  We check to make sure.

An hour later i take her out to dessert at Finale in Harvard Square.  We are doing this right.  I get a flight of dessert wines (the "Noble" flight, since they are all wines with grapes with the noble rot.)  they are yummy.  We eat yummy desserts til we are almost comatose.  then back to the hotel.
the next morning we get breakfast in bed (two mornings of it actually--part of the hotel deal i got!)  It is a present to both of us.  It's like magic.  Even if the guy had only brought up a pot of coffee, it still would have been the best thing ever.   We ate and drank and were still in bed.
but we have to get to late brunch in the burbs . . . .

When we arrive, not only were my college friends there, but so were my brother, her sister, my college roommates, her college roommate, a few grad school friends--in short--a friendgasm.  She cried again.  We drank tons more champagne (thanks A&S) and as all different people we love got to know each other, we basked in their presence.

Of note.  At one point we went outside and played a game a few of my peeps came up with (and i named): Remote control zombie tag.  Teams of two.  One with their eyes open, the other person with eyes closed.  Then, essentially the blind one gets told what to do by their partner in order to either tag or avoid being tagged (depending on if you are it).  My partner was Davis.  Davis is a dog.  For the next 30 min or so, i got run (dragged) all over the place, generally exploring trees and shrubs around the yard.  I actually didn't get tagged until Davis made a b-line for one of her owners who happened to have already been tagged.

At one point my college roommate directed my brother to "DIVE" for a tag.  He missed completely, but the hilarity of the event was enough to make BC, my boston roommate, stop directing his charge around the yard.  Subsequently, Andy, mmf's college roommate's husband and BC's zombie charge, ran full speed into a person-sized bush.  What a good sport.  It was that kinda day.  It was the kind of day where you run into shrubbery full speed and don't even care. 

Halloween night.  My birthday.  Instead of going out on the town, we all got into costume and played more wii.  it was wicked fun.  i have zero regrets.