last Friday, in case you haven't heard or seen, the New Kids on the Block performed live on the Today show. thankfully, i had an important off-site meeting for work that day, so i couldn't have gone to the Plaza to watch even if i wanted to (and part of me sort of wanted to).
i DVR'd it, of course, and watched it that night when i got home. let me preface the rest of this story with: after the off-site, my co-workers and i went out for some much-deserved drinking. what started as "just one drink" turned into several. we clearly needed to blow off steam and it was a blast. however, after several beers and a chocolate cake shot (don't know what was in it, but i will be having another one very soon), my defenses may have been a teensy bit down.
still. i don't believe even alcohol is a suitable excuse for what happened when i got home and sat on my couch to watch the New Kids perform on the Today show:
not as soon as i saw them, i'm not that pathetic. i was watching the whole scene with a mix of amusement and pity (for the women my age who waited DAYS outside the Today show studio just to have a good spot for a 10-minute concert). i was almost appalled that they were actually singing their old songs—"The Right Stuff" in 2008? really? are you sure?—and i was more than appalled that they had backup dancers is super-short-shorts, doing really retarded dance moves.
Joe took center stage. (he was not "Joey" back in 1989, i will not call him "Joey" now.) and started singing "Please Don't Go Girl." and it was all over. i was in tears. tears! sobbing like a woman on the brink of a nervous breakdown, which is exactly what i felt like in that moment. or no—i actually felt like my 12-year old self. in that moment, in an instant, i was back in my family room, watching the "Please Don't Go Girl" video and falling head over heels for the first time in my life. i'm sure there were a crapload of other emotions swirling in me back then, too, and they all came rushing back, hit me like a Mack truck, last Friday night.
so i just went with it. i cried my eyes out, for the girl who was so vulnerable and earnest back then, who convinced herself—truly, seriously—that she would marry Joe McIntyre someday, that he was her soulmate. i cried because, god, sometimes i really wonder how far i've come since those days, if i've come very far at all, because i still feel like her more often than i like to admit. and maybe i cried because it was a long day and i was pretty drained and sometimes it's crazy and a little bittersweet to realize how much time has gone by—how you can be so far removed from and yet so impossibly close to your past at the same time.
the scene ended quickly enough. the guys moved onto their new single, which was beyond cheesy and i got a hold of myself. i can sort of laugh about it now. silly Megs. all emotional over an overgrown boy band. puh-leeze. just to be safe, though, i will NOT be getting tickets to their tour, not even for fun.
i hope Hilary doesn't drop out before she wants to. i really don't think she should. if it were me, i would hold on until it was absolutely, 100 percent, undeniably, irrefutably clear that there was no chance. i know many people think those criteria have already been met as far as her campaign is concerned, but i have this crazy gut feeling that it's far from over.
you call it delusion, i call it conviction.
as for the other important contest currently happening in this country—American Idol, natch—i could not be more disinterested. to me there's no contest at all. Archuletta has pipes, for sure, but Cook far surpasses him as a performer. it's going to come down to who prefers "edgy rocker" to "cheesy wounded puppy." the whole thing's become a bit of a snooze as far as i'm concerned. it just hasn't been the same for me since Carly got voted off.
strong, capable, ballsy women still can't catch a break around here, clearly...
the company i work for is big into volunteering. (which explains why it took me so damn long to get paid last fall....) anyway, last week the little group i work with volunteered en masse at the Yorkville Common Pantry. it was really one of the best work days i've had in months.
i volunteered at the YCP one time years ago, through New York Cares, so i knew what to expect. back then i'd spent the day packing groceries for those in need. last week i was part of what we deemed the bagel brigade. our responsibilities included packing bagels according to flavor into plastic bags, and slicing yet more bagels in half and slapping them with peanut butter and jelly. (when the project started, we were all craving bagels like crazy; by the end, we never wanted to look at bagels again.)
anyway, it was nice to be out of the office, to be doing something meaningful, something that actually might make a difference to someone. less nice? having to wear a hairnet and a plastic apron for four hours.
but it's cool—it was for a good cause. and after our project was finished, we got to un-hairnet ourselves and walk 20 blocks down Fifth Avenue on a warm, sunny afternoon (the longest i've been outside during a work day since i started!) to the place where we had lunch on the company.
it was a really good day. for many reasons—some selfish, some magnanimous—i wish we had days like that every week.
i've been such a neglectful writer. no good excuse for it either, except for the fact that i'm always too damn busy or too damn tired to string coherent sentences together here. i've been saving all my brain power for the writing gig that actually pays me, which makes me a total sellout, i know, but it also allows me to shop at Anthropologie and this, my friends, i cannot live without.
anyway, it's a rainy Monday morning but i'm coming off a very relaxing (quite overdue) weekend, so the bad weather and big fat workweek stretching out before me isn't getting me too down.
i left work on Friday at noon (a painful feat, lemme tell you) and met my parents in NJ, where we had a lovely lunch and then an equally lovely, early Mother's Day visit with Gram. as far as i'm concerned, she is about the cutest human being on the planet.
the rest of the weekend was spent in PA, where i ate, slept, shopped, obsessed over crossword puzzles, and found nirvana in my parents' hot tub, where i sat soaking for maybe 45 minutes Saturday night and would not have gotten out if it weren't for the fact that i hadn't eaten dinner yet. (i so wish i could fit one on my fire escape, because i truly believe hot tubs are the antidote to having to work for a living.)
anyway. my mama had a nice Mother's Day yesterday, despite the various kitchen traumas my father and i experienced (an ancient crepe maker and lamb chops that wouldn't cook were involved). but no worries: we all survived. and, between being in the "country" with all its green lushness, the hilarity that ensues whenever i hang out with my parents, and not having to think about work for approximately 6o hours straight, it really was the nicest weekend i've had in a while.
so nice i even feel motivated enough to update my blog. (try not to get used to it.)
i was born in december of 1976 via c-section. my father didn't know i'd been born until a few hours afterward. i asked him once what he was thinking all that time. "i was hoping your mother had had a healthy baby," he told me. "but if not, i was hoping she'd had an irish setter puppy." i have a good deal of his DNA. that says everything about me.