Get AMPed

Reality Show Bites

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 00:25:00 +0000

Blame it on winter and my ensuing propensity to hibernate, but lately I've become hooked on several certain "reality" shows, so much so that I've spent an entire Sunday in my pajamas without having left my apartment once. So much so that my DVR flashes a warning message when I select a new show to record saying, "You already have 2 other programs selected to record at that time" (or something to that effect). But can you blame me? What do you expect when VH1 and Bravo air such scintillating programming about washed-up B- and C-list celebrities teetering on the brink of OD-ing and a score of wannabe drag queen superstars ripping off their wigs as they lipsynch for their poor, Godforsaken lives? What's a girl to do, hit the STOP button? I think not.

Usually I'm not much of a TV watcher. I've been known to go for a whole week without switching on the boob tube and over an entire YEAR without cable television. But when you put a sexy doctor like Drew Pinsky in the same room with *the* former Madam of Hollywood (who now sports one hell of a banged-up collagen injection lip job - just try and take your eyes off of it), toss in one majorly in-denial Dennis Rodman and add a dash of a certain 70s show child star who recently admitted to having a consensual sexual relationship with her father, you have a recipe for couch glue. And how am I expected to resist the ruthless but always-on-target advice of Millionaire Matchmaker's Patti Stanger, with whom I have developed an undeniable love-hate relationship? Speaking of, I would love to see her on Celebrity Death Match (remember that show?) with Tough Love's Steve Ward. Sorry Steve, but with as much as I've learned from you, my money's on Patti.

To top it off, Oprah had to go and do an episode on the new CBS reality drama Undercover Boss, which of course meant I had to schedule a regular Sunday night taping. I think CEOs of all major American corporations should be required by federal law to appear on that program. I'm convinced such a regulation would put an end to unethical corporate behavior and maybe even bolster our country's economy. Not to mention eliminate the need for eye makeup remover. Talk about a tearjerker!

But I think I'm doing a pretty darn good job of not getting sucked in to the reprise of Orange County's "real" housewives. All I need is about 5 minutes of that show to remind me how fortunate I am to not have been raised by a bleach-blonde, silicone-infused fake woman.

(No offense, RuPaul.)

You better WORK!

I'm an Analytical Philosopher

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 14:47:00 +0000

A friend of mine who is a life coach created this personality quiz (ignore the title - it's the name of her MeetUp group) and swears by its ability to determine what type of people you would be compatible with in friendships, dating and work relationships. It's based on several different personality type indicators (one of which is Myers-Briggs) that she has studied. I've taken it a couple of times, both with the same result (I'm the "Analytical Philosopher," which coincides with the INTP type in Myers-Briggs), and I've also purchased her in-depth results which give a description of each of the other types and their level of compatibility with mine. I'm curious to know, especially for those of you whom I know personally, which type are you? Post your results (including the description) in the comments. It will be interesting to see how compatible we are according to the report I bought!

The Analytical Philosopher
86% Energy from within
86% Big-picture focused
71% Decisions based on facts
71% Open-ended planner

This means your personality type is 'The Analytical Philosopher'. At heart, you are an abstract philosopher who uses logical patterns of events to build systems of theory-based information in an open-ended way. You are a natural critic and can point out important problems before a project starts. Socially, you are laid back, spontaneous, independent and are open to socializing with fun people. You tend to prefer a small group of close friends who know you well.

Mastication

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 14:41:00 +0000

"Smack. Slurp. Smack. Chomp. Sliiiish. SMACK." These disgusting noises have been the soundtrack to my workday for the past oh, 4 months or so. I have the pleasure of sitting next to the noisiest, most inconsiderate eater in the entire office - also known as "Smack" and "El Caballo." And I have tried EVERYTHING to deal - from dropping hints (having "casual" discussions with a passerby about how annoying noisy eating is; sighing loudly in response to every slurp he emits) to flat-out asking him if he wouldn't mind to please close his mouth when he chews. After that last strategy, he improved about 70% - but only for a couple of weeks.

Now, once again, his mastication is my misery, and it's worse than ever. To top it off, El Caballo loves to eat, and takes full advantange of the stocked kitchen and provided lunches at the office. A pack of Lance crackers and a bottle of orange juice for breakfast daily (he always waits until I arrive to chow down), an average of 3 full plates for lunch, topped off with an afternoon snack or two for good measure. The worst part is, he doesn't just do it when he eats; apparently he has some sort of oral fixation that causes him to loudly suck and release his thumb as he stares contemplatively at his computer screen and click his lips together as he's talking on the phone (or, as he's just sitting there). My headphones are perpetually in my ears in an attempt to drown out the noise and harbor the vexation boiling beneath the surface that begs to be released in what I imagine would be such a gratifying "SHUT THE F$%* UP!!!!!"

Having exhausted all other avenues, I finally vented to the office manager this week, who immediately declared, "Oh, we'll have to move him!" You mean that's all it took?! I was both instantly relieved and annoyed at myself for not having said something sooner. I would have saved myself a lot of aggravation and my coworkers an earful. (I have discovered a good bit of new music on Pandora, though.)

Anyway, victory! I dare you to ask me how it tastes - finger-smacking good.

I Now Know the Meaning of "Baby Fishmouth".

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 23:17:00 +0000

(I heard it's sweeping the nation.)

Shiloh Jolie-Pitt

Looks like The Fishmouth could use some Chapstick.

AND WHMS just happened to be on TV at the same time I found this picture. :)

Preachin' It

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 15:54:00 +0000

If you're an American citizen of age, whether you're Go-bama or No-bama, vote today.

Vote because there are still countries in the world who govern by coercion and hold so-called referendum "elections" where citizens are often shot and killed for voting against the military junta in power.

Vote because there are millions of people in this world who would give anything to have the right that you, as an American citizen, have to participate in your country's electoral process.

Vote because many of our Grandmothers and Great-Grandmothers were innocently jailed and subjected to violent torture and even death, all in the name of securing women in America the right to elect their government's officials.

Vote because you'll be taking part in an election that, whatever the outcome, will make history.

Vote because it's American.

Vote because you can.

Sometimes I Perplex Myself.

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 14:10:00 +0000

So I had one of those "New York moments" on my commute this morning. Or, a study in human behavior transpired - same difference. About halfway into my train ride, a woman steps into the car and stands to the right in front of me, reading her magazine, minding her own business. My first thought was, "That girl looks a lot like [insert name of friend from salsa class 2.5 years ago whom I used to hang out with but haven't seen in almost 2 years, partly because she had a baby in the past year and we all know that changes everything, although we are still 'Facebook friends']. But I know it's not her. Her face is slightly different; plus, she's wearing glasses." I sneak a few more furtive glances at her and decide, "Definitely not." A couple minutes later I look directly in front of me and see a man standing there reading his newspaper, and he looks a lot like said friend's husband. That's when I realize, "Duh, it IS them!" And it made sense because they got on the train at the stop that goes through their neighborhood. Neither one of them seems to have noticed me, though, as, in typical New York commuter style, they are so engrossed in their reading that they don't even seem like they're with each other, much less aware of who's sitting less than two feet away from them.

I find myself frozen in a state of uncertainty and shyness. What do you say to 2 people you haven't seen in 2 years, who have had a baby since you last saw them, whom you don't hang out with anymore and probably never will again, when you only have about 10 minutes before they get off the train? So I just sit there, listening to my iPod, then switching to my book, hoping that one of them will notice me and say something first. And I'm arguing with myself in my head, thinking, "You better say something soon, before we get to their stop, or it's going to bother you the rest of the day!" But my shyness proves the victor over any semblance I have of social normality.

A few stops later, the person sitting to my left gets up, and my friend's husband sits down in her place - right beside me! I think, "Ok, soon they'll have to talk to each other, and I'm sitting here in between them, and they'll HAVE to notice me then." Nope. They continue reading their respective materials, and, next thing I know, we're at their stop. Neither say a word, to me nor to each other, as they quickly stand up and exit the train. I'm left feeling nothing less than stupid. I end up sending her a Facebook message as soon as I get to the office, and find that indeed it was her and her husband on the train, and we both feel silly and agree that next time we'll say something, etc. Except I'm not so sure that "next time" I won't run to the other end of the car, because I'm still so embarrassed about how I acted today. The whole incident has me scratching my head, bewildered by my own bizarre behavior.

When you live in a big city and you have one of those rare moments when you run into someone you know on the street, in a store, or, in my case, on the train, you can't help but think such moments occur for a reason, and you should take advantage of them, because really, what are the chances? So the thing to do would be to say "Hello, ohmygosh what a coincidence, it's been so long, how are you?!" Right? I mean, what kind of person just sits there pretending like she doesn't notice two friends from her past, whom she hasn't seen in ages, and who have had a major life event transpire since she's last seen them? Who does that?! I could sit here and explain that I fear the possible awkwardness of conversation so much sometimes that it's paralyzing, but that still doesn't seem to sufficiently excuse my behavior. I am trying not to beat myself up over it. But I do marvel at how powerful fear can be if we let it, and wonder how many worthwhile opportunities I have let pass by in life all because I have given in to my neuroses.

Am I weird, or just human?

Searching for Terra Incognita

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 21:14:00 +0000

Try to learn something about everything and everything about something.
    -- T.H. Huxley

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dilettante. A dabbler. A Renaissance woman. Call me what you want, I am a Jill of many trades, master of some. Since my post a couple of weeks ago about being stuck in a rut, I have been contemplating what to do next with my stagnant self. I've even set some mini-goals in the areas of physical fitness, social life, career and personal development. But I still need to decide on a new interest to explore just for fun. You see, I am the type of person who needs variety. I am addicted to new experiences. If I'm doing the same activity over and over, regardless of how fun it was for me when I first started, eventually I will get bored with it (case in point: salsa). So I need something fresh and stimulating. Classes I've taken in the past:

cooking
yoga
acting
drawing
photography
quilting
tap dancing
salsa/cha-cha dancing
tango (a very brief stint)
writing
aromatherapy (a very, VERY brief stint)

I am not much of an athlete, so forget about any sports. But I do have rhythm, so I'm thinking possibly a percussion class. There is a drum circle group I found through MeetUp.com, which is meeting this weekend, though it is all the way in Harlem, which will make it difficult for me to get motivated to actually go to it. But it's an idea.

I've thought about bellydancing, but I'd really like to mingle with a co-ed group, whatever I decide to do.

There's language classes, but I don't want to go from sitting at an office desk all day to sitting at a desk in a classroom. Plus, one of my mini-goals already is to progress through at least the first 10 lessons of my Pimsleur Italian program by Thanksgiving. So I've got that area covered. (Don't ask me what lesson I'm on right now, though!)

I'm also toying with the idea of rock climbing, although that's a somewhat athletic activity that could cause me to feel more frustrated than excited. But I do need something that will get me out of my head and into my spirit - something either creative or physical or both, but definitely something NEW to me.

So... pottery maybe? I'd feel like a cliché. Even though it's a perfectly respectable activity. But I'm just not sure it "pings" for me right now...

What's a dabbler to do?

BOO for Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 17:37:00 +0000

Generally, Halloween is a holiday I could take or leave. If someone invites me to a costume event, and I have nothing better to do, I'll go. But if nothing's going on, I opt out of doing something that involves donning a costume - I don't care; I don't feel like I'm missing out. This year in particular, though, I'm just not feeling Halloweenish. I'd even say I'm borderline anti-Halloween. I have a few options, but none of the BOOzefests are enough to inspire me to scramble for a last-minute costume - the pressure of which also contributes to my lack of enthusiasm for the whole thing. Bleh. If I had kids, it would be a different story - I'd enjoy experiencing it through their eyes. But as it is, I am in this weird limbo stage where I am just feeling so OVER any kind of party scene, while at the same time, obviously, I am childless and hence have no motivation to carve pumpkins, dress in a crazy outfit or hand out candy (nobody is coming to my apartment door, anyway).

And so this year, as Halloween falls on the start of a weekend, I am left with this quandary of having no social plans, because all everyone I know is doing is Halloween stuff, both Friday and Saturday nights. Me, I just want to maybe go out dancing for a bit one night, catch a movie the other. The dancing part, though, would require a costume of sorts unfortunately. If worse comes to worse, I'll just throw on my default costume - a white trash bag - and go as, what else, "white trash."

But the movie part is pretty enticing to me. It's been awhile since I went to the movies alone and really lost myself in a good flick. I am not one of those people who feels like she can only go to the movies (or a restaurant, for that matter) with someone else. In fact, I actually prefer to go to the movies alone. If you think about it, what is the point of going with someone, anyway? You're sitting in the dark for 2 hours (give or take), are focused on the screen in front of you the whole time and can't have a conversation with someone anyway, unless you want the audience hissing at you. Sure, you could "discuss" the film afterward if you had a companion, but I'm not one to go see a movie so that I can dissect it later. I just want to enjoy watching it, lose myself in it. Seeing a film in a theater is one of my favorite escapes from the rest of the world. If I had someone sitting there beside me the whole time, it would be like, part of my world is right next to me, reminding me of... my world. Which I'm trying to escape. Not that anything is "wrong" with my world, but, you get the idea. It's like a mini-vacation of sorts.

So I guess I just made my weekend plans.

?

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 13:00:00 +0000

I need inspiration. A reason to get out of bed in the mornings. My days have gotten so mundane and seemingly meaningless that they're starting to run together. For instance, the other day when I was at the office I realized that I'd lost my Bose iPod headphones. I thought back to earlier that morning, as I was getting off the elevator and taking them out of my ears - that was the last time I'd seen them. I retraced my steps, but no sign of them. I got home that night and found them on my kitchen table and realized that the time I was getting off the elevator was actually the morning BEFORE. My short-term memory ain't what it used to be, and I fear that my IQ has dropped scores of points in the past year or two as a result of having a job for which I am waaaay overqualified that finds me doing the same dry tasks over and over, in between which I visit the same 4 websites over and over and over like a robot. I used to be really smart and opinionated. I was the commencement speaker at my Masters degree graduation ceremony, for Pete's sake. Professors used to read my papers out loud to the rest of the class. But now? I don't have nearly as many opinions about things, which worries me. Somebody comments colorfully about the last presidential debate, or the current financial crisis, and I'm like, "Uh huh," and that's it. I find myself making spelling mistakes(!) that I've NEVER made before. A couple of days ago I was typing an email and used the word "unaccessible," stopped, and had to check Dictionary.com to see if the prefix to that word was really un- (it's not; it's in-). My brain is turning to mush! I don't even know what to title this post.

Is it possible for a human being to get dumber over time, all other physiological things being equal?

I need opportunities to be creative. Tasks that wake up areas of my brain that are currently inactive. Challenge. Stimulation. Variety. A reason to get AMPed. Even going to salsa classes is starting to get old. It's a bad time market-wise to be searching for a job better suited for me, yet if I don't do SOMEthing soon to break out of this mental rut I've been in I'm afraid I'll transform into a spiritless simpleton. I think I'm already halfway there.

Anyone have any ideas? Anyone? ANYONE?! Please, no crickets this time!

(By the way - all of the above is why I haven't blogged in over a month, the longest stretch of time I've gone without posting.)

Finish This

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 16:16:00 +0000

You finish the first half of the sentence (in red) with a true statement about your life. I tag anyone who wants to play along:

1. My uncle once sent me an "all-weather shirt" he made that had two pairs of sleeves: one long, and one short.
2. Never in my life have I seen a dead body.
3. When I was five my parents called me stubborn.
4. High school was more fun than I realized at the time I was experiencing it.
5. I will never forget to go to the doctor for my annual exam.
6. Once I met Charles Barkley and the Nelson twins (not simultaneously).
7. There’s this boy I know who is too stubborn to approach me, even though I know he really, really wants to.
8. Once, at a bar, I got up on a stage, danced in my underwear and made 30 bucks in tips.
9. By noon, lunchtime in my office is nearly over.
10. Last night I caught up on Judge Judy episodes and reconnected with people on Facebook from my teaching days.
11. If only I had more opportunities to be creative.
12. Next time I go to church I'll be with my family.
13. What worries me most is winter is around the corner, and I don't want to get SAD this year.
14. When I turn my head left I realize I could use a massage.
15. When I turn my head right I see framed photos of my family on my desk.
16. You know I’m lying when my mouth is closed.
17. What I miss most about the Eighties is the music!
18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be Viola de Lesseps: "I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. Not the artful postures of love, but love that... over-throws life. Unbiddable, ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture. Love - like there has never been in a play. " (Okay, so that's from Shakespeare in Love, not one of his plays. But she was in Twelfth Night too!)
19. By this time next year I will have traveled to another new country and submitted my writing for publication.
20. A better name for me would be one that people would always spell and pronounce correctly!
21. I have a hard time understanding why a woman would lend her boyfriend money, and why guys I date and am just starting to get to know only text and never call.
22. If I ever go back to school, it would be to study something in the arts - probably theater.
23. You know I like you if I let you hang out with me.
24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be my parents.
25. Take my advice: never doubt your intuition.

Where Should AMP Go Next?

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 19:05:00 +0000

It's time I enlisted some reader input. (Lurkers, that means YOU!) I am debating between two different locations for my 2009 travel adventure: Morocco (with a travel group) and Costa Rica (for a writer's workshop at a resort). I need to decide by 26 September 2008, when the prices for the Morocco trip will increase by $300. Until then, Morocco costs $400 more than CR, and they're both a week long. Here's the other info I'm weighing:

Costa Rica

Cost includes workshop tuition, accommodations, all meals, morning yoga class, and 3 "eco-tour adventures" such as swimming in natural pools by waterfalls and a boat tour through the jungles (I would observe the monkeys from a distance, of course.)
I'd have to share a room with a stranger (which may or may not be cool)
It is gorgeous and warm there (I'd depart NY in the middle of our winter)
I'd have time to relax by the pool, get a massage, etc.
I'd get some serious writing done
5 hours of flight time
2 hours' time difference

Morocco

Cost includes airfare, hotel accommodations, most meals and guided tours
It would fulfill my Africa requirement for my "7 continents" goal
I might get to ride a camel
I'd get to go to night bazaars, which I LOVE
Mad cool shopping
Cool sightseeing & architecture
I'd have my own room (always a cool thing in my book), which accounts for the cost difference when compared to the Costa Rica trip
Approx. 7.5 hours in flight time
4 hours' time difference

What do you think? Where should AMP go next?

The Sun Always Shines... on YouTube

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 16:55:00 +0000

I love YouTube, if for no other reason than the fact that I can find a semi-rare music video of one of my favorite 80s songs, "The Sun Always Shines on TV" by a-ha. I remember staying up late to watch Friday Night Videos every week to see if they would air it, since MTV (remember when that channel showed nothing but music videos?) rarely ever did.

And now, 23 years later, I can access it any time I want and even post it on my blog, thanks to the magic of the internet. Mags is just as hot as I remember him; check him out, decked out in denim, ROCKING the keyboards!

Love Me, Love My Scar

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 15:45:00 +0000

Remember my monkey bite? And how I visually chronicled the miraculous healing of the 1.5-cm deep, unstitched wound? Well, after 4 months, one cortizone shot, nightly applications of Kelo-cote and lots of massaging per my doctor's orders, it has settled into a nice, flat, 1/2-inch long, pinkish-red linear scar. And you know what? It has grown on me (so to speak) - to the point where I'm no longer seriously considering having a laser treatment next month to reduce the redness. I figure, minimizing this beauty of a blemish would be like deleting the pics I took on my Thailand trip, or burning some of the glorious goods I scored at Chiang Mai's night market. Why would I want to destroy such a unique memento of a story I will be telling for the rest of my life? If I intentionally fade out the scar, what would I have to show my grandkids as a visual aid? Who knows whether internet video will still be around 50 years from now.

Perhaps more significantly, the thin red line on my left bicep is a loud, proud reminder of the pluck and prowess it took for me to fully seize a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and venture into foreign territory overrun by wild monkeys. It also represents the same gusto with which I have spontaneously performed at a burlesque club, slapped a frat boy and fibbed my way to fourth row at a Rolling Stones concert. It's my mark of moxie, my badge of courage, my symbol of spunk. Minimizing it would be an act of self-negation.

On my brunch date this past weekend (the same one where the guy let me pay for my half - go figure), I noticed, as I do with everyone else who is seeing my scar for the first time, that he kept glancing down at my arm. Noting the obvious curiosity, as I usually do, I verbally called attention to the mark and how it has progressed in recent months. When I got to the part where my dermatologist said I could have it reduced, he nodded emphatically, and agreed (a little too excitedly), "Yeah, yeah!" Then I told him how I considered the scar a part of me, and explained why I was probably not going to go the laser route. His face fell somewhat and eventually he said, "Oh, I guess I see what you mean." Yeah, buddy. It's MY arm, MY scar, and I'M ok with it.

Perhaps my battle mark should be a sort of dating litmus test. The way a guy reacts to both it and the story behind it could be, after all, pretty revealing about him as both a person and a potential boyfriend. Is he too into my physical appearance? If he is repelled by this "fault" on my body, what happens when my legs become laced with spider veins, my hands dappled with age spots (that is, if I were to actually let him go the distance with me)? Or is he fascinated by my story, my sense of adventure and bravado? Overcome with awe and respect at the way I shun physical "perfection" in favor of individuality, authenticity - in short, my penchant for "being real"? Guess which type of guy I will deem worthy of a second date!

The other type? Can kiss my keloid.

Which Tarot Card are You?

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 12:56:00 +0000

You are The Empress

Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

No Pay? No Way!

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 17:28:00 +0000

Here I go again on the conventions of dating in modern times. Is the whole "the guy should NOT let the girl pay on a first date" mentality now antiquated? Or is it influenced by geographic or cultural origins? I've never run into this issue before I lived in New York, but now all of a sudden I'm confused. I've been on dates with lots of very different guys since I moved here, and some have adamantly refused to let me pay when the check comes, while others don't give the slightest objection when I pull out my wallet. Still another had the gall to bring up the subject DURING the date, claiming he didn't know whether he was supposed to argue with a girl when she offered to pay, because some women seemed to think it was an old-fashioned idea to let the guy pay for everything. Are there really such women out there ruining it for the rest of us? Or was that guy just a cheapskate, trying to get me to fork over some dough for the bill?

I went on 2 "first dates" this past week, with 2 different guys, ages 30 and 33, respectively, from 2 different countries outside the U.S. The first one protested as soon as I reached into my purse - both at bill time AND when the cab dropped me off at my apartment. (He even rode with me, out of his way, to make sure I got home ok! Talk about a gentleman.) The second? Handed me some cash when I pulled out my debit card - just enough to cover his share, and ONLY his. No discussion ensued. Fine, I thought, then this little outing we're on does NOT qualify as a genuine date, and consequently I will NOT engage in any non-platonic physical contact with you, regardless of what moves you make. I was put off by this lack of consideration, but I hate to admit that it was a catalyst for me to once again question my dating expectations.

And so I ask: Does the guy paying the check on a first date depend on his geographic origin, cultural background or age? Is there a good excuse for him letting the woman pay? Am I too traditional for urban dating? Or do some men just need a good whack on the head with a loaded wallet? Somebody please clarify this issue for me! (Bonus points if you're a guy and/or from another country - namely Romania, Ghana, Korea or anywhere in South America.)

Stories of Olympic Proportions

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 13:32:00 +0000

I have been searching for some inspiration the past several days, and a friend of mind so astutely reminded me to turn to the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Duh! I've actually been keeping up with a good bit of the games this time, and rather than the Olympic feats themselves, what I've found to be the most fascinating are the human interest stories behind some of the participants. The drama, the love triangles, the betrayal, the humor, the ironies, the tales of triumph over tragedy... Here is just a sampling of what I mean:

Georgia vs. Russia, on the battlefield and in the sand. The countries are newly at war, and face each other in the games today for women's beach volleyball. Well, kind of, but not really. Georgia apparently lacks the beaches to cultivate their own athletes in this sport, so they had to import their players from Brazil and stamp them with Georgian names and nationalities so they'd be within regulations to play, but, whatever. Let's just hope the athletes keep it civil.

Michael Phelps's Olympic eating feats. The U.S. Swim Team's golden boy is so accomplished he published his autobiography three years ago at age 19, fools. (Take that, Oprah.) And according to his book, he's showing everyone how to eat their hearts out: His breakfast includes 3 sandwiches of fried eggs, lettuce, tomato, cheese, fried onions, and mayo; one omelete; a bowl of grits; and 3 slices of french toast with powdered sugar, washed down with 3 chocolate chip pancakes. Pass the Pepto, please.

Samantha Peszek takes off her pants... and puts them back on. I about bit all my nails off Sunday while watching our girls in the qualifying rounds of women's gymnastics. Stepping out of bounds in the floor routines, falling off the bars, landing atrocious dismounts... Teammate Samantha Peszek's last-minute injury really shook up the rest of the gang. The injury was so fresh even her mom didn't know what was up as from the stands she watched her daughter - gasp! - put her warm-up pants back on right before the floor performances began. The best part was the commentators voicing everyone's confusion: "Wait, what's this? She put her pants back on!" Girlfriend should never have taken them off in the first place. Keep your pants on, Sam!

Poor, poor Manaudou. My heart breaks for France's sweetheart of swimming, Laure Manaudou, who is so devastated to have placed seventh in the 100-meter backstroke and eighth (aka, last place) in the 400-meter freestyle that she's considering dropping out of the competition. A far cry from her performance in Athens four years ago, which found her taking home gold and silver for her country. As a woman who's no stranger to heartbreak, though, I know the real deal behind her loss of heart for the game. Hel-lo, she's swimming against her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend, Federica Pellegrini, who also, it just so happens, broke Manaudou's world record last night in the 200-meter freestyle. Heck, I give Manaudou props for even entering the Olympics this year, considering that last year nude photos of her appeared on the internet (her ex, Italian swimmer Luca Marin, is rumored to have been the culprit). If nothing else, give the girl a medal for keeping her game face under such humiliating circumstances.

Lopez Lomong: You go, Lost Boy! I saved my favorite and most inspiring story for last. Chosen as the U.S. flag bearer during the Opening Ceremony's Parade of Nations, the Sudan-born, 23-year-old 1500-meter runner has already triumphed over the most devastating of obstacles. At age 6, he was torn away from his family (during an 8am church service, no less), blindfolded and carted away in a canvas-covered truck by Sudanese militiamen seeking to turn children into boy soldiers. Eventually he and three other boys escaped and they walked for several days before reaching a Kenyan refugee camp, where he lived for 10 years before coming to America as one of Sudan's "Lost Boys." Track star status at Northern Arizona University followed; then came American citizenship, and, a year later, qualification for the U.S. Olympic team. His presence in China at the games is flavored with the bitter irony of China and Sudan's mutually beneficial economic relationship, a tie that has many protesting the Asian country's worthiness of hosting this year's games. When asked how he feels about China, Lomong diplomatically states, "I hope to inspire a Chinese kid out there." He's also using his Olympic status to spread the word, via his website, about the current atrocities taking place in Darfur. Whether he wins a medal Friday or not, he's already a hero in my book.

And now, I leave you with a glimpse of our dear President's support of America's Olympic medal hopefuls. Note his admirable willingness to take time out of his busy schedule to give them a pat on the, uh, back:

Gross.

An Exercise in Observation (Or, A Sociological/Self-Revealing Analysis of Starbucks)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 20:34:00 +0000

I am bored. I have not blogged in almost a month. And I feel the urge to blog right now, though I really have nothing to say. What is there to say when you're not inspired? And yet, I want to type something.

How about I share with you one of the homework exercises I did from The Right to Write (which, as a class, ended a couple of weeks ago - but being the ridiculously slow reader that I am, I am still plowing through the book). See if you notice any recurring themes in what I wrote. And try to contain your excitement.

The exercise is entitled "Specificity," and the first part involved me listing and describing ten items in my immediate environment - which happened to be one of the 2,598 Starbucks in the city. I was also to expound on whatever associations I had with each item. Here are my observations:

1. "Kenya" poster: An elephant in the center, surrounded by bright declarations of orange, red and green. Reminds me of my appetite for adventure and travel to faraway places.

2. Dirty glass door: Smudges of hurried hands smeared across it. Reminds me of when it was my turn to clean the glass door in the family room during Saturday chores as a kid. My least favorite task - the Windex never seemed to work, and my Dad would fuss at me to "use more elbow grease!"

3. Bookcase: Lined with bags of coffee and multicolored mugs, marching in an orderly row behind an orderly row. A couple of coffee makers thrown in, serving as drill sergeants. Makes me think of my past life as "Sergeant Perfect" [aka the Teaching Years], keeping the order, keeping everything in line. No disruptions - guarding against disturbance of the "peace"!

4. Circular green & white lit Starbucks sign: Such a symbol of American culture today - omnipresent - there and over there, too, whether you like it or not. It's the latest addition to the McDonaldization of Society - that book we had to read in Sociology class - which I actually only read in part, but did I ever read any book in college in its totality? This sign evokes the tiny, but nonetheless present, smidge of anti-American mentality that my inner rebel keeps tucked away deep in her underwear drawer.

5. Tall, circular, shiny black trash can: Even the trash cans in this joint smell of obnoxious self-assuredness! But nonetheless it remains ridiculous to me - it looks like a suppository!

6. This pseudo-wooden tan circular table at which I sit: Give me a break. Is there any ounce of authenticity in this place?

7. The scratched-up, darker brown, might-actually-be-wooden chair across from me: He's trying. Wannabe. Poser. Next year, you'll be trying to be something else.

8. The dirty white electrical outlet on the wall by my feet: Spots of brown mottle its once-pristine surface; splashes of coffee, or something more unmentionable? Kind of reminds me of all those Southern Baptist Bible beaters I knew in college, who claimed to be worthy of white weddings, but their Saturday-night escapades told a much different story, as evidenced by their bloodshot eyes staring up at the pulpit in church the next morning.

9. The flourescent red exit sign glaring at me above the door: The Devil's eyes, taunting, "You can do your homework tomorrow night... go to Taj [for Monday night salsa], you know you want to!"

10. These slate-gray square tiles, composing a sad excuse of a floor. What can I say? You're lame, you're boring and people only walk all over you!

I didn't end up doing Part II, because by the time I got to #10, the Devil on my left shoulder had kicked the Angel off of my right one, and I went out dancing.

Traumatized

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 13:40:00 +0000

For the most part, I really enjoy living alone and having my own space. But there are certain instances when I realize it would be really cool to have someone else around in my apartment. Like when I'm watching an episode of The Golden Girls, and Dorothy cracks a line that sends me into hysterics, and then I stop mid-cackle to think, "If nobody is around to hear me laugh, is it really funny?"

Then there are other times, like this morning. I'm turning on the faucets to the shower when I notice what first appears to be a couple of strands of hair poking out of one of the faucet knobs. That hair dye job I did last week really did me in - I'm shedding big-time, I think. But wait. Did one of those strands just move?! I freeze. This is not happening. Fearful of what's about to occur next, I dash to the closet for the 10-year-old can of Raid and madly douse the general area with the white spray, forcing the culprit out of its cowardly hiding state. And it is HUGE. At least 2 inches long. High-pitched, shrill shrieks ensue (from me, not the roach). I pause for a couple of seconds, frozen in terror, hoping to hear a knock on my apartment door from a concerned neighbor (my screams were that loud). When I realize nobody is coming to my rescue, I resume the shrieking as the nasty critter dashes across the bottom of the tub, disappearing from view behind the half-drawn shower curtain. No way in hell am I going in there after it!

I grab my makeup case, a clean washcloth from the closet and immediately go into emergency-alternative-morning-routine mode. A sponge bath at the kitchen sink ensues (I'd already declared it a 'dry shampoo' day anyway). Put on my face in the bedroom mirror, douse myself with extra cologne and deodorant, get dressed and I'm out the door, still shaking. I'll save the brushing of the teeth for when I get to the office; I have yet to eat my oatmeal anyway.

After a jumpy subway ride (I keep feeling things crawling on me) and a subsequent frantic phone call to my landlord, we conclude the "roach" was more likely a waterbug, but they're all the same to me. I beg him to come by today and check the bathroom, because I won't be able to SLEEP let alone shower until someone else determines that the coast is clear. This is one of those rare instances when, as much as I hate to admit it, I'd rather have a man around. "Unfortunately I'm on jury duty til the 25th, so I won't be able to come by anytime soon," says the burly ex-marine Italian Brooklynite with the heart of a teddy bear.

"You don't understand, I have a phobia of these things. I'm not going to be able to use my bathroom til it's cleared up," I complain. "There's no way you can stop by later today?" Hot tears begin stinging my eyes.

"Listen, I'll see what I can do. I've got the spray stuff that takes care of the problem. I may be able to swing by tonight. Remember, they're more scared of you than you are of them!"

I'm not so sure about that. Don't ask me why I'm so freaked about something seemingly so small. Past-life residue, maybe? All I know is, I can get bit by a monkey on the other side of the world in a town with shabby, shady medical care and not get HALF as traumatized as I was this morning by a creature that was hardly bigger than my thumb.

I need to get me a man, stat, if for no other reason than to be my standby bug-killer. I can't go on living in fear of creepy crawly things that turn up when I least expect it!

Procrastinating

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 16:26:00 +0000

I have to create print macros for 34 different (and by 'different' I mean I'm going to have to invent the wheel each time) Excel files - before my boss comes back from sabbatical on the 28th. Now is the perfect time to do it, while my other teammate is out traveling and I have no other work demands. Now is also the perfect time to put it off. Because truth be told, I work much better under pressure anyway. The ONE time in grad school when I actually started a paper several days before the due date instead of waiting until the night before - that ONE time I didn't put it off, I also wrote the worst paper in my entire grad school career. My professor even commented that it was not "AMP writing." I figure I had too much time to botch it up. So best leave these things until the last possible minute. Nothing like the pressure of a looming deadline to light a fire under your rump and get the juices flowing to create some quality finished product.

So in the meantime, I figured I'd blog about life these days. This week is gonna be a hella crazy one - and I'm talkin' bout all the stuff going on NOT related to my job. First off, it's my birthday week (did I mention it's July 10?), and of course there are the ensuing celebrations and traditions that take up several days. Not to mention all the summer salsa craziness that has reached its peak. I went out dancing last night (yes, on a Monday night!) and got home at (gasp) midnight. Which isn't even considered "late" among true salsa fiends, but for me, a girl (who really should be calling herself a woman given that she's turning 32 in 2 days) who kissed goodbye her ability to pull off late school nights/back-to-back late nights years ago, that is a big deal. Tonight is dance class (up to 3 of them, depending on if I can hang). Tomorrow night is my first class with the great JC - I ain't talkin' bout the one who died for our sins - since I took her Artist's Way course back in the fall. This one's called The Right to Write, and I'm sure it's going to be good too, but really I'm most excited about just being in her presence. She's a great storyteller and has a way of putting things that leaves you wanting more - like espresso chocolate truffles or something. And after class, I just may head uptown to Tavern on the Green for - you guessed it - more dancing. That brings us to Thursday, the anniversary of my birth, which I took off from work and menacing print macros to do whatever the hell I please. The planned part of the day involves sangria followed by some spinning and booty-twisting at a Latin concert on Pier 54. Friday equals another day off (why take just one when you can have two?), which will be spent doing laundry and packing in the morning for my 2-day escape to an R&R retreat upstate at Omega, all by myself, to recover from my whirlwind week and bring me back to nature and serenity of mind before I return to the office Monday only to sit and contemplate the 34 print macros that I still haven't touched.

Whew.

AMP's Birthday Wish List 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 18:04:00 +0000

By no means a comprehensive list:

The cd Bavarian Fruit Bread by Hope Sandoval (currently out of print and only available as a partial album on iTunes - but, of course, I want the WHOLE thing)
A box of Bruce Beck's Tuscan Sunshine truffles
I am not one of those people who sees a giftcard as a cop-out - as long as it's to one of these stores: Sephora, Anthropologie, Originalgood.com or Amazon.com.
This guy. To paraphrase Charlotte York, "I've been dating since I was [16]. I'm exhausted! Where IS he?!?"
A plane ticket to see my Grandma in Houston at the end of this month. She's 94 and I haven't seen her in 5 years. :(

There. Wishes submitted to the Universe!

Ten Things I Love About Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 16:13:00 +0000

1. Flip-flops and brightly-colored pedicures.

2. Not having to lug a jacket or coat around with you wherever you go.

3. Ice cream.

4. Swimming pools (though they're hard to come by in NYC - you gotta know the right people).

5. Free outdoor concerts, movies in the park, festivals, flea markets and street fairs all over the city - all summer long. One year Joan Osborne played in my neighborhood park - I walked to the show from my apartment, got in free and sat up front!

6. Happy hours out on a patio - whether at a bar or a friend's apartment.

7. Outdoor salsa events! Pier 54, South Street Seaport and Central Park, to name a few venues.

8. Goof-off Fridays at the office.

9. Rooftop parties. Particularly on a really nice night, with a really cool view of the city and a summer fling to make out with. Yum.

10. My birthday! It's my gift to myself that when my birthday falls on a weekday I take the day off of work. As a kid I never had to go to school on my birthday, it being in the summer and all; as a teacher I never had to work on my birthday; and since I quit teaching I vowed to carry on this tradition of having the whole day to celebrate ME. I usually book a spa appointment of some kind, shop, meet up with friends for dinner and/or go out dancing. (July 10, in case you're wondering.)

Porecelain is IN: Charlize Theron

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 14:24:00 +0000

Ok, this one's a no-brainer. In which of the following pics does Charlize's skin look the most beautiful, healthy and glowing?

Please, honey, if you can't pick a self-tanner that looks even somewhat natural on you, then go Porcelain a là Charlize. It's better.

Ten Easy Ways to Go Green

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 17:00:00 +0000

1. Switch all your household cleaning products to Shaklee products - they rock!

2. Reduce your junk mail by

visiting Catalogchoice.org to get rid of unwanted catalogs;
contacting the Direct marketing Association at DMAchoice.org/mps to remove your name from mailing lists of its members; and
stopping credit card and insurance offers from being sent to you by registering at Optoutprescreen.com.

All 3 above services are free - I've tried them, and after a couple of weeks, my junk mail began reducing considerably! It's so worth the 10 minutes or so that it takes to register.

3. Carry foldable, reusable shopping bags in your handbag to use in place of paper or plastic ones when you go shopping.

4. When you get a new cell phone, donate your old one to Cell Phones for Soldiers. You can print a free postage-paid shipping label from the website.

5. Instead of trashing unwanted household items (and I'm talking about pretty much ANYTHING except animals) that are in good condition, keep them out of the landfills by giving them away via Freecycle.org. You'll clear your space, reduce your trash and make someone's day to boot!

6. Reduce waste when you do your laundry by switching from dryer sheets and liquid fabric softener to Dryer Balls, which leave your clothes feeling soft without the use of harmful chemicals, and are reusable, hypoallergenic and come with a Lifetime Guarantee.

7. Conserve water when you flush by filling a plastic bottle with about an inch of sand or pebbles, then water; seal it shut and place it carefully in your toilet tank. You'll save about 10 gallons of water daily.

8. Switch all your household lightbulbs to compact flourescent ones. They use up to 75% less energy and last up to 10 times longer, so even though they may cost more than most standard incandescent bulbs, they'll end up saving you lots of money in the long run.

9. If you haven't already joined the new millennium, request that all your bills come to you via email and pay them online. No more paper bills, people!

10. Finally, green your beauty routine by transitioning to some of AMP's latest favorite paraben-free products:

Alba Kukui Body Cream - Smells good enough to eat; I keep having to remind myself that it's not pudding, though it has that kind of consistency. And it moisturizes like nobody's business!
Burt's Bees Naturally Nourishing Milk & Shea Butter Body Wash - I just bought this stuff yesterday, but one shower was all it took for me to fall head over heels for it's yummy smell and creamy texture.
40 Carrots Moisture Splurge - Packed with protein-rich soy and an antioxidant-rich complex of carrot, mango and apricot oil to plump the skin and stimulate cellular activity. Vitamin A Retinol that is naturally derived from carrots de-ages, brightens and evens out skin tone, and is less irritating than the prescription form. This moisturizer is like veggies for your face!

From The Lorax by Dr. Suess

Porcelain is IN: Juliette Binoche

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 14:48:00 +0000

One of the most beautiful women in the world.

Juliette Binoche

Things 171 - 180

noreply@blogger.com (Anna Maria Pellizzari) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 14:17:00 +0000

Been awhile...

171. I got wrongly accused for shoplifting when I was in middle school as I was browsing at The Earring Tree at South Square Mall. That really made me mad.
172. In retrospect, I think The Earring Tree Incident fueled my shoplifting stint a couple of years later (dumb, I know, but I was a teenager trying to act cool with her friends). Ironically, I did not get caught that time, now affectionately known as The Great Bathing Suit Caper. A certain department store just made it too easy to layer a couple of bikinis underneath your clothes while in the dressing room, and walk out, unscathed... Three parts nerd, one part rebel. Yep, that's me.
173. One of my "weird single behaviors"* is occasionally I will empty out all of my cosmetics bags and sort and count my lipsticks, lip glosses, lip liners, eye shadow palettes, powders, blushers, eyeliners and mascaras. One day I'll take it a step further and snap pics of my collection, and maybe even share them. Obsession with beauty products to be discussed in a subsequent post.
174. I think cigars and cigarettes really stink - except I like the smell of Marlboro Lights.
175. I used to "smoke" Marlboro Lights socially in high school/college. It wasn't until years after I did so that I realized I'd never really inhaled. Then I tried it again - and learned that smokers are born, not made.
176. When I was in the 9th grade I went to my first New Kids on the Block concert. I remember exactly what I wore: a white sleeveless mock turtleneck shirt with baggy black cotton pants that had white geometric designs all over them (hey, it was 1990). I also had spritzed myself with my mom's Eternity cologne, and to this day whenever I smell Eternity I automatically think of that concert.
177. I have been subscribing to Glamour magazine for 10 years now. It still makes me giddy to find an issue in my mailbox.
178. I've kissed a girl.
179. I once had an office romance. I'd highly discourage it.
180. At midnight on millenium New Year's Eve I made out with this Brazilian guy I'd been dancing with. In the middle of the crowd, on the dance floor. I think he asked for my number afterward, but I'm not quite sure, since he didn't speak any English.
--------------
*Name that TV show reference!

The boys are back in town. Should AMP go see them at MSG? Cast your votes!