Does Debbie

Friday, December 30, 2005

Goodbye Year

In honor of the departure of 2005, I thought an entry on the year 2005 was appropriate. Some of my fellow bloggers have also used this time for a retrospect of the past year- the good times, the bad times, the times that are blog-worthy. Rather than re-hash all 12 months, I thought I would just list the top 12 things I learned in 2005.

1. Never go on a blind date when you have the flu. And for that matter, never go out with anyone named Arthur. Especially if he is 32. That name only belongs on men that have grey pubes.

2. There is a cause and effect reaction from not going to the gym. If I don't go to the gym, it causes me to get fat.

3. Jdate works (no, not for me.) In 2005, I went to 1 jdate wedding, and another friend got engaged.

4. Nothing beats a good pot brownie.

5. An Ace-Seven offsuit in Hold 'Em is not great if you are in 1st or 2nd position.

6. I really am too old for Fire Island.

7. I should have more deductions from my paycheck, and max out my 401K.

8. After 15 years of having sex, I have a new favorite position.

9. You can tell someone on a first date that you "like to rhyme" and he will still like you.

10. LOST really is as great as everyone said it is.

11. My chocolate chip banana bread is as great as I say it is.

12. It is ideal to have a celeb crush with the same name as your boyfriend. He will never know who you are thinking about when you call out the name in bed.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Mexican Wednesday

I consider myself lucky to have a group of friends that go out for dinner every 4 Wednesdays or so, for Mexican food. Mexican Wednesdays began as a fluke- 3 of us deciding that Wednesdays worked best for us to have dinner and catch up; coincidently the first 3 dinners were at Mexican restaurants. And just like Johnny Damon refused to shave pre-Yankees while on a winning streak, our group has not treaded into another epicurean ethnicity. Over time, the group has expanded, and any given dinner consists of 3-8 people.

At last night's dinner, an interesting debate began. The question of nudity- always a fun topic. One of my friends had gotten naked with a guy on a 3rd date, but did not have sex with him. The men at the table were outraged; the women pleased. This led to further probing over the situation- were you over the covers or under? how exactly did your clothes end up on the floor? How did you leave his apartment?

You see, getting naked is not as simple as just dressing down to your birthday suits. The act is fairly monumental in the future of the relationship. There is of course, the attraction level that occurs- or ceases to occur (I once lost all interest in this guy I dated after seeing an ass with more cellulite than mine.) There are also numerous personality traits that could surface: confidence, promiscuity, nervousness, control. In fact, whether or not the two people consummate their nudity is somewhat secondary.

Leaving dinner that night, I was glad of one thing: that I wasn't getting naked with anyone that night. Mexican food and nudity just do not go together.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Friends with Benefits

So I just spent the past 72 hours with my man's nieces. Twin girls, age 5, and their younger sister, age 2 1/2. I fell in love with these kids the first time I met them, and was so excited to spend a holiday weekend with them. More on how tired I am later.

Anyway, when I first met them in July, I felt like Jack Nicholson being asked for the truth by Tom Cruise. "Are you going to marry Uncle Matt when you grow up?" "Why aren't you a mommy?" I pulled some answer out of my ass that placated them (I might have told them I was a lesbian or infertile, or something like that.)

This time, before the trip, Matt warned me that they might call me Aunt Debbie. They were young. They liked me. Wishful thinking on their part, I assume.

No less than 2 hours into the trip, I was asked when Matt and I are getting married. I was able to ignore that question as no one else heard, but the next day, the question was asked again at the breakfast table. Matt's sister quickly answered that "Matt and Debbie are friends. And you don't marry all of your friends, right?" Good answer! At least until I realized what message she just sent to the girls. Matt and I shared a bed at their house. The girls woke us up every morning at 7:30am (woo-hoo!) They were going to think that all men and women who were friends shared a bed. And hugged and kissed. They were going to learn what "friends with benefits" were. They would have lots of "friends" in high school and college. They would lose their virginity in middle school and have babies in their 20's. They would be "just friends" with the next door neighbor. Oh no!

Would it have been easier to just say "I don't know?"

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Dating Hold 'Em

The other night, after a nice dinner at Barca 18, the man and I engaged in one of our favorite pastimes: late night poker. I know where your mind is going... and I'll let you go there, but that's not the point. You see, he had just bought actual poker chips, making our games a little more legitimate.

Anyway, I happen to be a fairly decent player and beat him. At the end of the night, he had no chips, not to mention no... Anyway, but what was key was that I slow-played him. For you non-poker players out there, that means that I kept my bets minimum at the beginning of a great hand- giving him no clue to the 3 jacks I had. I slowly built up the pot, just to take it all. It was fun.

A few days later, at my weekly therapy, I happened to bring up the poker game. Clearly, it was a slow week in my mind, and the only things I wanted to talk about were Brokeback Mountain and Poker. Leave it to a therapist, but she was able to transfer my poker skills to my dating life.

You see, the man liked that I beat him. He liked being slow-played. And in real life, my therapist thought perhaps men like being slow played. Was she on to something? Is all I need to know about dating stem from poker? When I go "All in," am I giving it all up too soon? Does that make me a slut? Are my "tells" too revealing? Is faking orgasms practice for the perfect poker bluff?

Folks, I think I have an idea for my book....

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Commercial Scrooge

Preface: I love the holidays. I love giving gifts, and just as importantly, I love getting gifts.

Rant: There is something about the commercials on TV this time of year that just drives me crazy. This might be a result of having a career in marketing, and being a little too tuned in to the media around me. Although, I tend to think it is just because the commercials are as stupid as can be. Let me explain...

Lexus: There is a woman surfing the net for a gift for her husband. She is on a golf site, most likely looking for a new driver, or perhaps a private lesson or two. In the distance she sees a red ribbon on her neighbors door, but from her angle it looks like the ribbon is on her neighbors car. IDEA: I'll get my husband a Lexus for Christmas. Because that's what normal people do. They go out and spend $35,000 on a car and forget all about college tuition, retirement savings, weekly therapy and food. Hell, they'll starve for a year, but god damn it, her husband is going to have that Lexus.

Zales: This one kills me. The woman is decorating her tree and in walks her boyfriend with that "look" on his face. You know, the look where he has to take a massive shit. Or ask his girlfriend to marry him. Which he does. Under the tree. Barf.

Old Navy: Kristen Chenowith swaps her Galinda the good witch role from Wicked for Old Nave spokeswoman. Enough said.

Happy Holidays and wishing better holiday commercials in 2006.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Work Party

So last night was our company's holiday party. We had it at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, an old synagogue with SJP and Matthew Broderick were married (and where my friend Tracy is getting married next month.) Good times were had by all. Here are some highlights:

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Guess Who

Some things never seem to amaze me. Like the fact that I am 32 years old, and every time I call my mother, her first words are, "who's this?" (said with a smile in her voice.) She is completely serious with that question. After, I'd say, 4 calls a week for the past 14 years, not to mention the 18 years I lived with her, she can NOT tell my voice apart from my sister's.

Not kidding at all, my grandma with a hearing aid knows who I am every time I call, and she has a choice of 4 granddaughters that could be saying, "Hi Grandma." Yet, my mother has a 50/50 chance, and gets it wrong almost every time.

There are even occasions when she'll be embarrassed for not knowing, and fake it. She'll ask certain questions that she hopes will provide clues to the mystery daughter. Such as "How's work" and "what did you do last night" and "how's the sex lately" (kidding about the last one, but again, a way to distinguish between me and my sister.) For fun, I'll play along with whichever daughter she is leaning towards.

In addition to not knowing who I am when I call, my mother also has to ensure another embarrassment when the phone rings: her ring tone is Hava Nagila.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Is it Rude or Is it Right?

To know me is to know I'm honest. Some might say honest to a fault; others might say blunt. "No filter" is probably going on my grave. But you know, I just say what everyone else is thinking. But am I out of line for saying certain things, or is the person who keeps quiet wrong? Let's take a look...

1) AWKWARD OCCURRENCES. The woman with toilet paper on her foot (or me, when I was at Cafe Deville and had toilet paper coming out of the top of my pants,) the guy with one too many poppy seeds in his teeth, the person who truly needs a piece of gum.

2) JUST PLAIN WRONG. Your friend who tells everyone that she looks like Julia Roberts. Those who say that Tasti DiLite is fat free. That person at a party who tells a group of people that Steve Martin was the first guest host of SNL (it was George Carlin, by the way.)

3) KEEP A SECRET. I think we can all admit that there are certain secrets that are not meant to be kept secret. Now I am not talking about the true "life altering" ones your closest friends share with you. But it does beg us to wonder if certain people ask you to keep a secret, knowing full well that you are going to share it, and secretly wanting you to? Like "don't tell anyone but I kissed the guy from the gym last night."

4) UGLY. When I ask someone if my ass looks large, I truly want them to tell me that they see an extra dent on the lower right cheek. I want honesty. But what if the person hasn't asked, do you tell? Under what circumstances is constructive feedback warranted?

Just a little food for thought on this ridiculously cold fall night.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Another Bathroom Rant

There is nothing I hate more about going to the bathroom at work, than the "legs." Let me explain:

without fail, every time I have to "go" to the bathroom at work, there is someone in one of the stalls. Now, the problem is that this person is not actually going to the bathroom. They are not flushing. And they are definitely not wiping. You see, "legs" is the person that has to "go" and wants to do it in privacy, so when someone enters the bathroom while they are in a stall, they just sit and wait for the person to leave.

When you have to just pee, it is not a big deal. You go as fast as you can and let "legs" get back to business. But it is quite uncomfortable when have to "go" as well. You can't ride out this person, as they are trying to ride you out. And trying to take a shit while another person is sitting there in deafening silence is just creepy.

There is always the chance that you might recognize the person by their shoes and pants, and then say hello, thus blowing their cover and making them uncomfortable. But usually "legs" is a pair of black pants and black boots, that half the floor could be wearing.

Which leaves me with one other option: leave the bathroom and come back 10 minutes later. Damn, why can't we have private stalls!!

PART 2: I am writing this post script the day after I wrote the original story. I just went to the bathroom and who was there? LEGS! I think I might start a new blog that just counts how often women pull this shit. Or shall I say don't shit, and just sit there. : )

Saturday, December 10, 2005

She Comes First

So, the other night I was at the man's, and just not in the mood to watch TV (which he was.) I glimpsed through his 18-book "library" and unfortunately, just couldn't tackle Edgar Allen Poe, or David Eggers. Which left me to lay in his bed, and... think.

Within a few minutes, he came into the room, reached into a mysterious spot (couldn't tell if it was under the bed or in a secret compartment in his night table) and whipped out a book that he thought I might enjoy reading: She Comes First. Now, he wasn't trying to give me lessons on rug munching to test out next time I hung out with a girlfriend, but rather an insight to the "art" form of the female oral sex.

The first 3/4 of the book was about the body part. Did you know there are 18 parts to the clitoris? It wasn't until the end that you get into the technique. This was fascinating! Was this author right? Did he really master the task? What- it takes the average woman 15 to 45 minutes to orgasm?? This book was thorough. I didn't even know what all those steps were!

Now, for you men out there, might I suggest a quick glimpse through the book. I know you might be embarrassed to buy it in a store (kinda like how I can't buy condoms), that's why god created And you women, trust me, it might be the best $15 you have ever spent on a guy. And just think how much fun it would be to buy this book for your company's Secret Santa!

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Would You Please Shut Up?

I am going to speak with mass generalizations here, so forgive me if I offend anyone.

Most men would probably agree that women speak too much. Whereas most women would agree that men don't speak enough. Case in point, my man plays this fun "game" where he counts the number of seconds between my bursts of speech (especially when we are out to dinner) to measure just how comfortable I am with silence. You see, he grew up in a home with a lot less communication than mine, and he enjoys silence. I, on the other hand, think that silence is creepy and for deaf people.

Two nights ago, one of my closest friends called me, quite upset that there is often silence in her home with her new husband. I eased her concerns by sharing my personal situation. I told her that most women speak more than men, and it is a gift we were given.

However, it was last night when the differences between men and women crystallized. I had the greatest epiphany in my 32 years.

You see, women speak because they think that everything they say is important. Men, unfortunately, know how to differentiate between what is important and what is not, thus speaking less. (And clearly not having that many important things to say.)

: )

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Weird Anorexic Habits

I probably have commented to friends on Nicole Ritchie's weight loss several times the past few months. After all, the coke head, I mean, reality star, I mean 80's pop star's daughter is pretty fucking thin these days. I enjoyed watching Katie Couric grill her on the Today Show about her eating habits. I yell at Us Weekly when I see her grace the pages.

But, you know what? I think we all have some crazy anorexic habits.

For example, I happen to be on the thin side, naturally, and don't deprive myself of fried foods or sugar. And yeah, I go to the gym occasionally. But I have some absolutely sick tendencies that put me at the level of Nicole at times:

1) I throw food out if I am eating too much, rather than put it away because I have no portion control. Just ask my friend Robyn- she thought I was nuts as I tossed Milk Duds on the floor during Walk the Line, as if I kept them in the box, I would eat too many and feel gross (not to mention, rot my teeth.)

2) I have begun a new habit of walking up the 11 flights of stairs to my office, once a day. That is 226 stairs of pure concrete hell. And it makes my ass feel great!

3) This is my friend's habit- I swear. When she is done eating her meal, and has more left on the plate that she doesn't want to eat, she pours gross amounts of salt over the dish, thus making the meal inedible. Once, she added sugar and mustard to the concoction.

I think most people would admit to an occasional starvation technique here and there. And I'm sure we all know one too many manorexic (nothing turns me off more than a man that counts calories.)

Off to a Hillary Clinton fundraiser. And yes, I am taking the elevator out of here.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

The Woman with Half a Body

I'm still in Minneapolis, and it is still cold and snowing. So last night I bagged dinner with co-workers for a night of room service and Lost. And let me tell you how hot Josh Hollaway looked on that 42" plasma..

Anyway, following Lost and my call with my man, I flipped the channels to see if anything else was on. If I was lucky, another episode of "I Should Have Died" or whatever it is called was on Discovery. Nothing like watching 2 people practically die in the middle of shark-infested seas.

I scanned all 37 channels a few times over, and then came across a program on TLC entitled, The Woman With Half a Body. Loving conjoined twin stories, I could only imagine what I was in for.

What I saw blew my mind, and made me see the world in a different light. Rosemary Siggins has spent her entire life without legs, and with half a torso. She walks with her arms, and uses a skateboard. She is married with a son. And he cares for her father with dementia, and a mentally disabled brother. And she loves life.

I won't do this story justice- I'll let it speak for itself.