The Grass is Always Greener

WBEZ Has Ruined Me

How has it come to this? I blame Ira Glass and his gosh-darned brilliant This American Life. I have no other explanation for the fact that, despite the warning signs, I am actually somewhat charmed by a man who, on Date #2 (and this might start to sound familiar), told me that I remind him of Starlee Kine. WHAT? That's the comparison comes to mind as we stroll the summer street in prickly and delicious pre-first-kiss tension? The most annoying-voiced of all my beloved TAL contributors -- nasal, lispy, and high-pitched? THAT Starlee Kine??  I blurted out my protest -- which only made things worse.

Squawked I: "The one with the insanely annoying voice?!"

Replied he: "Well, not your voice, really, but, just your whole annoyingly happy personality." !!!

He went on to describe what I admit is a pretty fabulous piece about the time she turned to Phil Collins for help writing a break-up song. THAT, my friends, is nerve. On Starlee's part, on the gentleman's part, and sort of, somehow, on my part. We wrangled about a bit, and based solely on his lack of trying to couch his words or defend his position, he (or I) convinced me that he was joking. Damn you, public radio, for turning me into a softie! (Or could this be the fault of some deeper influence...)

PS: As for Starlee -- I Googled her, and, for what it's worth she is way cuter than I had imagined. The gent in question wouldn't know this, though, never having seen her pic. Still, she deserves lots of kudos for being a generally awesome storyteller -- like here, at the Moth. Good job, Starlee!

Careful What You Weesh For

Witness little Blondie, blithely traipsing through her dating life, meeting and greeting Bachelors #1 through 50 with her ears wide open. These men are, by turns, kind, funny, impeccably-dressed, tall, creative, or dedicated to recycling... but, she has a few favorite bones to pick. And one of these is the brains bone. If they are fun, they're a bit thick. If they're kind, they're a tad slow. If they remember her siblings' names, they don't read anything but the Metro and speculative fiction. Of particular charm and challenge, of course, is a certain regional accent for which her home-city is so infamous. Sigh. Never was there a verbal style so simultaneously entertaining and guaranteed to make even the shahpest suitah sound, well, like his antonym.

What's a self-diagnosed smarty-pants, linguistically flexible word nerd to do? I guess the answer is: suck it up when you're out with Bachelor #PhD/MBA, and he points out that you have mispronounced the word "epoch." (Really? It's like "epic" not "eeepoch?" What's up with that??)

I guess it couldn't hurt to brush up my Shakespeare.

How Not to Woo a Middle Sister

Having recently returned from a slightly rivalrous weekend with my generally beloved older and younger gal sibs, I was, perhaps, a tad bit sensitive. The littlest and eldest Blondies stuck together, while I felt like the odd girl out -- picky, bossy, and slightly self-righteous.

But, hey, nothing lifts one's spirits like a first date with an attractive and promising suitor, right? In fact, this particular outing was worthy of a BPG first -- a blogpost in the form of verse! Without further ado, dear reader, I give you:

"How Not to Woo a Middle Sister"

How not to woo a middle sister

Is really not much of a myst'ry, Mister.

Simply gaze over your drink at the fair-haired lady,

And say "You totally remind me of (cough) Jan Brady."

Yes he DID.