Title: A Charmed Life
Author: Debbie Angelo
Blogging since: March 2006
Post Date: May 16, 2007
Post Title: Wardrobe, Malfunction So things are going as well as I can make them here. The house is a sight, and I have to make a vet appointment to put Dad's cat down this week. But what really got the sobfest going was when Dad sprung on me that he'd like me to clean out my mom's huge walk-in closet. Surrounded by her clothes and the smell of her perfume, my heart started hammering and I started punching numbers into my cell phone until I got someone to answer theirs so I could chat while sorting and not think about what I was doing. (M., thank you!) Suffice it to say that I slept in her old bathrobe Monday night.
Post Date: May 2, 2007
Post Title: Food for Thought, Redux I didn't get to have many friends as a kid, moving around as often as we did, so I'm not sure what the "average" American child had for dinner. But I'm sure that the standard meal for the Nielsen-type household wasn't tongue. I clearly remember seeing a slab of meat covered in taste buds, sitting on my plate, accompanied by a tomato sauce with pine nuts and dill in it. It took me years to touch pine nuts or dill after that, and for a long time I was convinced I never wanted to French-kiss a boy. Oh, when I brought the subject of this revolting repast up to my mother years later, she clucked her...tongue, actually...at me, and said, "That wasn't tongue! That was tripe!" Oh, MUCH better.
Post Date: December 5, 2006
Post Title: I Should Have Pruned My Dates The following are actual sentences spoken to me during my less-than-stellar dating career: 1. "Let's just go Dutch... How about I put five bucks in... Can you get it this time?" (Unemployed loser)
2. "She [old college flame] was the sportscar every guy wants to drive. You're the station wagon that they actually buy!" (Intended as a compliment, believe it or not!)
3. "I thought we could just lie here and admire each other." (ex-husband, then-boyfriend, on not doing ANYTHING for our first Valentine's Day together.)
4. "Let's keep dancing and maybe nobody will notice" (college BF, breaking up with me at the only formal dance I've ever been to, having mistakenly led me out onto the floor to the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody.")
5. "Not tonight sweetie, I want to be here in the morning so I can make my mother coffee." (Do I really need to fill in the accurate stereotype here or can everyone guess?)
6. "Let's walk across the [George Washington] bridge [in the middle of January], it'll be romantic and save us four bucks."
7. "You're becoming an obsession." (Ding ding ding! Hello, time to make like a banana and split!)
Post Date: September 27, 2006
Post Title: From There to Here Picture it: northern New Jersey, 1993. I'm a college student, working my way through a bachelor's in biology by also working full-time at a jeweler's at a local shopping mall. It's been a long day, and my car is parked farther away than normal, outside the food court. I exit through the first set of doors where there is a bank of payphones, and am about to go through the second set when I hear one of the phones start ringing. There's a guy about my age sitting on the floor underneath the phone, obviously waiting for his ride, and I ask if the call is for him. He rolls his eyes and tells me that it's some weirdo who crank calls the phone every ten minutes hoping that a woman will answer and have phone sex with him. I decide that I need to have a little fun, so I pick up the phone myself. Me: "Wayne Morgue, you kill 'em, we chill 'em."
Weirdo: "Why'd you answer like that? [voice lowers seductively] Hi, I'm Frank. What are you wearing?"
Me: "I'm wearing a lab coat. I'm studying biology."
Weirdo: "Ooh, a college
Me: "Yeah. I learned about plagues today. Did you know that the Black Death is still around? And that when you get it, you get these huge black lumps filled with pus under your arms and in your groin? But don't worry, you die pretty quickly after that. At least it's not like ebola. That makes your eyes bleed."
Amazingly, Frank listened to me for at least another minute before hanging up the phone. The guy sitting on the floor was busting a gut laughing. He asked me how I'd ever come up with that idea and told me that "Frank" would probably call back in another ten minutes. I waited 15, and sure enough, the phone rang again.
Frank: "Hi, I'm Frank. What are you wearing?"
Me: "Frank! You hung up on me! That's very rude. I was just about to tell you about elephantiasis. That's a lymph infection where your balls get to be the size of a laundry basket. Don't worry, though, it's pretty rare. But syphillis is pretty common. Did you know, you can get it and think it's gone away and it can come back into your brain years later and make you crazy? Are you crazy, Frank?"
Frank: [sputtering] "I...I... I'm losing my erection!"
Frank: "You're sick, did you know that? Really, really sick! I bet you don't have a boyfriend, do you?
Me: "I do, actually. Want me to describe him?"
So much for a future career as a phone-sex operator. Or a hostage negotiator. Or a suicide-hotline volunteer. But I'm a real hit at parties.