How to swim with sharks.

So today I'm obviously going to devote the blog to talking about Miley Cyrus.

Ha! Just kidding. After googling what "twerking" meant, my corneas were voluntarily burned and my brain bleached.

Actually, I'm on my way down to the Jersey Shore later today for the few last days of summer. While there, I plan on taking a paddle boarding and possible surf lesson. And also maybe will be eaten by a shark.

CB: "The girls are going to paddle board and surf on Friday."
Me: "Oh fun!"

Pause.

Me: "In the ocean?"
CB, laughing: "Uh, yes."

Pause.

Me: "Aren't they worried about sharks?"
CB: "They'll be in the bay, they'll be fine."

Then I laid there in silence having an awake nightmare about them all being attacked by wild bay sharks.

Cut to: the next morning.

Me: "CB mentioned you guys are going paddle boarding and taking surf lessons on Friday. So fun!"
NK: "Obviously you're coming too, right?"

Pause. Panic.

Me: "Oh totally!.....Are you at all worried about sharks?"
NK: "No joke, you can't wear a life vest. I mean, you could, but you'd be the only one. And just...no. You can't wear a life vest."
Me: "Oh no problem, I'd never wear a life vest on a paddle board!" 

Lies.

Anyway, I'm totally fine, you guys, and in no way have I been giving myself shark pep talks. Like, question:

What does one do if they happen to see said shark below their paddle board?
Answer: Pass out and die.  

What does one do if a swarm of baby sharks come over to say hello while you're learning how to surf?
Answer: Pass out and die.

So, basically, I'm totally prepared and promise not to wear my life vest. Because, let's get real: if a swarm of baby or grow-up sharks come by to say hello, a life vest isn't going to keep me from passing out and letting them eat me for lunch and/or a snack.

Anyway, I'm totally psyched, you guys! And, if I survive, I'll blog about it next week!

Happy Labor Day Week/end, everyone! What are you guys doing for the holiday?

Conversations from Cohabitation

While laying in bed reading, I started my nightly ritual of inserting ear plugs into my ears. To do so, I rub them really fast in between my hands. (also, CB's so lucky).

Me: “You know, every time I do this I feel like Mr. Miyagi.”
CB: “I think the exact same thing when I hear it.”
Me: “Really?”
CB: “Really.”
Me: “See, this is why we’re MFEO.”
CB: “Yep, it all comes down to the ‘Karate Kid’ for us.”

***

While laying in bed at a friend’s house over the weekend, we listened to the ceiling fan make a repetitive, rhythmical sound.

CB: “It sounds like the beginning of a song.”
Me: “It does, right? But I can’t figure out which one.”
CB: “I think it’s a Michael Jackson song.”
Me: “Yes! I couldn’t figure out what it was but that’s totally it! The disco one where he’s surrounded by all of those flashing lights and random blue screen images in the video.”
CB: “Yes!”

And then, without missing a beat, we started singing along to the rhythm of the fan. 

Because we’re intensely cool.

***

The other morning, I walked in on CB finishing up shaving in the bathroom sink. As he was cleaning up, he grabbed a tissue to wipe up the water.

Me, stating the obvious: “Are you using a tissue to clean up the water?”
CB: “Yeah, why?”
Me: “Why don’t you just use a paper towel?”
CB: “What’s the difference?”
Me: “Um, one is for cleaning up water and the other is for blowing your nose.”
CB: “But who cares? The tissues are right here.”
Me: “But they have lotion in them!”
CB, staring at me.
Me: “These are way more expensive than the paper towels! They have lotion!”
CB: “Uh and how much do these lotion tissues cost that using one to clean up will make a difference?”
Me: “One every DAY! And that’s not the point.”
CB: “You brought up the cost.”
Me: “Can you please just use paper towels?”
CB: “Yes. If this conversation will end, I will use paper towels.”
Me: “Thanks!”

Pause

Me: “Do these conversations sometimes make you question our pending marriage?”
CB: “Nope. They just reinforce what I already know.”
Me: “That I’m crazy?”
CB: “See? You can already read my mind. And yes.”

***

Friend: “Wait, you’ve never been to hibachi?”
Me: “Not that I can remember, no.”
Friend, to CB: “You need to take her to hibachi!”
CB: “Yeah, but every time we go on a date in public she draws attention to us.”
Friend: “What do you mean?”
Me, rolling my eyes: “Oh my God, I said ‘vulva’ too loudly one time at a restaurant and he still brings it up.”
CB: “Jesus, woman, you don’t have to repeat it!”
Me: “Um, ‘vulva’ is not a bad word.”
CB: “Everyone in the restaurant stopped and stared.”
Me: “Right, and then you started talking really loudly and weirdly about Volvo cars. As if that was going to help.”
CB: “It helped.”

Ten minutes later as we were sitting down to dinner, I was talking about ingrown hairs with our friends.

CB, turning to our friend: “This is why we don’t go to hibachi.”
Friend: “It's all starting to make sense now.”

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday Wrapup

It's Friday! Let's get right to it.

***

First of all, thank you to everyone who emailed, commented, etc. regarding my Uncle Bob. I have the best readers ever.

***

Oh my God, you guys, relax. Ben Affleck as Batman will be fine and the world will go on. Also, I will single-handily keep the movie theaters in business come Summer 2015 in the hopes that he takes his shirt off again like he did in "Argo."

Moving on.

***

I swear to God I'm trying this on the treadmill when I get home later. Also, send the paramedics for when I fall off and break my face.

***

And now, the Book of the Week. This one's on my list, which is super-annoying because my list is growing longer and my bedtime is getting earlier. This does not bode well for making it through any chapter of any book in less than two days.

I'm a good time.

Click here to check out The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker. Enjoy!

***

And now, the Video of the Week.

I've been waiting for this moment for months (as CB has been dreading it.) Finally this week, John Mayer's new album dropped (as all the cool kids say - back in 2002) and I've been dutifully listening to - and really enjoying - it. CB is very excited that I share my music choices with him.

Anyway, this has quickly become one of my favorite's off of the album, so enjoy this rare glimpse of John Mayer singing directly to me (in my mind). Also, you can learn Spanish while watching it, too! Bonus.

And happy Friday, everyone!

The Ya-Ya Sisterhood just took their clothes off to hug.

So, I think I have to stop mind-planning my wedding for a while because I just came across an article where they were talking about the hip new thing for brides. And it gave me such a flop sweat, anxiety-inducing mental scare that I immediately shut down the internet and tried to time-travel back to when I didn’t know how to use my brain to form words.

Bridal Party Boudoir Shots, you guys.

What are bridal party boudoir shots? They’re a combination of everything in my life that terrifies me, which I’m pretty sure is the exact opposite feeling I’m supposed to have about anything related to my wedding day. Also, I’m pretty sure nobody in my life needs to see me cuddling my friends, nearly-nude, in an 8x10 matte frame.

So um, first of all, how does this conversation first occur? You just, what, approach your future sister-in-law and be all casual and chatty about taking your clothes off together on camera? Because nothing would be more terrifying to me – or CB’s sister – than having that talk. She doesn’t even like to be hugged, so I’m pretty sure she has zero desire to get all cuddly in the nude with someone she’s forced to become family with in 12 months.

I can't even, you guys.

Also, I can tell you right now that my sister wouldn’t even finish that conversation. She’d be like “Girl, get real.” And then start talking about vegan food or something and I’d recoil in the corner realizing that nobody wants to take naked pictures with me.  

Second of all, can we flash back real quick to a few weeks ago when I tried on wedding dresses? (click here if you missed it). I barely like to get naked for myself, let alone for a photographer who is there to take “empowering” pictures of me and my friends.

“Designed to empower women, these photos are taken for many reasons, including bonding and having fun with friends and [gaining] the obvious element of strength and safety in numbers.”

Yeah. Because nothing says empowerment like casually sitting around without my top on while a guy takes photos of me hugging my sister! Also, I’m pretty sure we’re bonded. We’re good. Keep your clothes on.

But regardless of all of that, perhaps we’re missing the biggest detail of them all, which is:

WHO ARE THESE PHOTOS FOR?

Because I have to be honest with you. I’ve never sat around wishing that the clothed photos of my friends and me at a club were actually of us wearing matching underwear bottoms and hugging each other from behind. So perhaps they’re meant for your future husband? I mean, perhaps if it wasn’t a photo of me, his sister, and my sister, it may have been one of CB’s passing thoughts. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to ever actually see that outside of his mind.  

Or have it framed above our couch to share with company.

So basically I’m hoping that this is a trend that will fade fast, because I have a few friends who have yet to get married and I’m really in no shape to be in anything but soft lighting from here on out, you guys.

But am I alone here? Or have we all gone ‘round the bend?

Friday Post

So this Friday isn't like most, so this post won't be the normal Friday wrapup. But next week we'll be back at it, I promise!

Today I just wanted to take a moment to remember my Uncle Bob, who passed away yesterday after a nearly year-long battle against pancreatic and liver cancer.

Bob married into our family 17 years ago and I was lucky enough to get to know him a bit throughout the years. I traveled with he and my aunt Lauren on an 8-day Mediterranean cruise in 2004, acting as their guide through everywhere from Barcelona to Monte Carlo.

You see, since both Bob and Lauren are blind, they needed someone to help make the trip a bit easier. Of course, I'm pretty sure they didn't quite bargain for their 26 year old niece "helping" quite so much.

The day we landed in Barcelona and were making our way through the airport towards the cab line, I temporarily forgot that my ENTIRE JOB was to be their eyes. So, instead, I guided Bob right into a sliding glass door that closed behind me as we were making our way outside.

I was his favorite niece. Obviously.

But true to form, Bob soldiered on. Just like he did when he battled - and beat - bladder cancer. Just like he did when he refused to let the fact that he was blind stop him from engaging in life like a sighted person - riding tandem bikes to get into shape, giving ME directions while driving, and helping me find things in the kitchen when my own sight failed me.

And just like he did when he took on cancer for the second, and last, time. He went in fighting and kept pushing back until the very end. He was determined to be one of the very few who comes out alive against the beast of pancreatic cancer. And even when it became clear that the cancer was winning, he continued to fight days longer than even the best doctors predicted.

He left behind a wife, a mother, a sister, a brother, nieces and nephews, friends, and his seeing eye dog, Zeus. And he was surrounded by all of these people (save for Zeus - who totally would've been there if he'd been cleared to drive) in the hospital until the very end. A testament to how many people he touched throughout his short 56 years on this earth.

So, as before, I'll leave you with this video. Because at the end of the day, we should all take a moment to reflect on life and how we lead it. Even in death.

Enjoy your weekend, all. See you next week.

Conversations from cohabitation

Yesterday, we had a scale delivered.

CB: "Um, am I going to have to convert my weight every morning? Because that's a lot of math at the beginning of the day."

At first I thought it said 922, which made me laugh. Then I
realized that there was a decimal point there and wanted to
keep it European. Then, if asked, we could just say that we're considered
skinny in Europe.

Me: "Now I'll go weigh myself in the bathroom, because you are never to see that number."
CB: "You're crazy."

I walked into the bathroom and weighed myself.

Me: "Oh my God I'm huge!"
CB: "No you're not."
Me: "But I gained three pounds since I was at the doctor a few months ago!"
CB: "That's normal."
Me: "Let's call it water weight. It's also that time of the month so let's blame that, too."
CB: "Woah, woah, woah, TMI."

Me, picking up my phone.

CB: "What are you doing?
Me: "Googling 'what's the proper weight for a 5'9" female?'"
CB: "If your phone is smart, it won't answer that."

Me, getting my weight as the "norm."

Me: "Oh whew."
CB: "Can we move forward now?"
Me: "Ok. But you have to promise me that if I start to balloon up, you'll say something."
CB, staring at me.
Me: "I'm serious! Even though it'll make me cry - and it will - you have to say something."
CB: "Ok, I promise."
Me: "You rolled your eyes! I can tell you're not taking this seriously."
CB: "No, I promise I'll tell you. But I just want you to know that this is a lose-lose conversation for me."
Me: "I understand that."
CB: "But I'll continue to call you crazy."
Me: "I understand that, too."

***

Waking up this morning to GORGEOUS 60-degree weather.

Me: "Oh my God, you have to go out on the balcony and feel this weather."
CB: "Is it gross?"
Me: "No, it's gorgeous! It's autumnal!"

CB, stepping outside.

CB: "It's chilly."
Me: "Oh my God you're the worst. It's, like, the perfect temperature."
CB: "Yeah, for October!"
Me: "Exactly."
CB: "But it's August!"
Me: "Right! Which is why it's such a treat!"
CB: "If it were like this in the summertime I'd never go swimming."
Me: "I would. Also, you haven't gone swimming all summer."
CB: "And I would never get a tan."
Me: "You're not tan now."
CB: "But that's because I work inside at a desk."
Me: "Um, then who cares what the temperature is? It's been 100 degrees and you haven't gone swimming or gotten a tan. So it may as well make me happy and be 64 degrees."

Silence.

Me: "We're going to end up living in different regions, aren't we?"
CB, laughing: "Perhaps."
Me: "We'll be, like, the happiest married couple in America."
CB: "Living the dream."

***

Commuting to work I was talking to CB about some things I'd been thinking about that morning.

Me: "So does that make sense?"
CB, nodding.
Me: "Or no? It's ultimately up to you, I was just thinking that might be a good strategy."
CB: "Honestly, I'm only half-focused on what you're saying right now. It's 8:15. My brain hasn't quite gotten up to 'Becky Speed' yet."
Me, laughing.
CB: "It's like you wake up and your mind is immediately on and you're thinking about a million things."
Me: "It's my blessing and my curse."
CB: "You're my blessing and my curse."
Me: "It's why we work."

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

And then I stood naked in front of a stranger.

So, as you guys know, I went wedding dress shopping on Friday. And I totally didn’t cry, you guys! Though I did get a little sweaty and “Ingrid,” our helpful wedding consultant, casually was like “would you like me to turn on the fan?”

Um, yes, and I’m sorry for my swamp-like tendencies.

However, there were a few things I definitely didn’t anticipate when walking into the Bridal World. First, some friends were meeting me there so that I had back-up when the going got tough and I ended up in a taffeta tearfest in the corner of the bridal salon.

So when Beth texted that morning about my outfit choices, I got a little nervous that perhaps I hadn’t put as much thought into this as others.

Beth: “What are you wearing?”
Me: “Well, right now I’m wearing work clothes but I brought shorts and a t-shirt to change into.”
Beth: “Really? I’m here jamming on skirts thinking we have to be cute. No?”
Me: “Never even occurred to me.”

So I decided not to change into my shorts and t-shirt and, instead, went in the dress I was wearing for work. But when I walked in with a yellow ShopRite shopping bag full of my backup outfit, Beth was like “You seriously look like a homeless person. Put that in your purse.”

Whatever, brides wear shorts, BETH!

Anyway, CB’s sister was also joining us for the fun, so once we were all properly dressed and seated among the dozens of other brides in the “Bridal Lounge,” I started to get nervous. I mean, I’m someone who gets anxiety walking into Old Navy if there’s a greeter by the door who might try to sell me something, so imagine my Xanax-inducing fears when I found out that I’d not only have one person dedicated just to me, but that I’d also have to show her my boobs!

They totally don’t make you do that at the nicer Old Navy’s, you guys!

Ingrid, pleasant bridal specialist: “What size bra do you wear?”
Me: “36C?”
Ingrid: “I think you’re more like a C+. So, I have some ideas of where to start for you, so take off your clothes and put this robe on and I’ll be right back.”

Closes the door.

Me, to Beth and CB’s sister: “So you guys are gonna have to go ahead and turn around.”
Beth: “There are mirrors everywhere. We’ll still see you. Just take your clothes off, C+.”
CBS: “Yeah, it’s not like we’ve never seen it before.”
Me: “I hate you both.”

Cut to: 15 minutes later and I’m standing there trying on my third wedding dress option, holding my C-pluses in hand.

Beth: “Are you dying right now?”
Me: “I can’t even talk about it.”

However, besides not knowing how to appropriately dress for wedding dress shopping - or knowing that I’d be naked in front of strangers, one of my best friends, and poor CB’s sister who never needed to have those scars - I also didn’t know the following things:

We should all be wearing corsets. Call me anti-feminist, but that sh*t WORKS! Why have I been working out all this time when I just needed a 50-something woman pulling my fatty parts and internal organs together to slim my waist? For real, you guys. Comfort is over-rated. As is laughing, sitting, or eating.

High heels are the devil's work. So they give you heels in your size to try on with your dress so that you’ll be able to get a sense of the actual length on your wedding day. However, they clearly didn’t poll the audience before making this selection because if you think I’m about to walk down the aisle in anything other than my sparkle flip flops, you’re sorely mistaken.

DON’T FREAK OUT, all of my girlfriends, I’m only half-serious. I’ll wear adult shoes, I promise. But can we all just get on board with the fact that no heel in America is comfortable? And probably not in Europe, Africa, or any part of Southeast Asia, either.

So it became a constant balancing act for me – I mean, I couldn’t get into these dresses without letting go of at least one of my C-pluses, and at one point just threw caution – and my chest – to the wind and was like “I’m not a contortionist, I need to prioritize!” So I decided boobs out was better than ripping a dress with the heels and then having to pay thousands of dollars for my own modest, Quaker-like ways.

However, what I’ve failed to do my whole life is walk around my apartment in a short silk gown and high heels. Not only do my legs look killer, but I also looked like a 50s movie star getting ready for her close-up. The only thing I was missing was my scotch on the rocks, and I swear to God I bet they had that in the backroom just in case.

Everyone looks better with the lights off. Every time I’d half-like a dress, Ingrid would walk over to the light switch and dim the lighting. Immediately we were all like “Oooooohhhhhh.”

She’s a genius!

And while nobody would let me make dress choices in the dark, I will admit that I’d prefer that someone walk around me at all times with some sort of light-shading device to soften my complexion and make me look all sorts of mysterious and dream-like at all times. Hell, I’ll put the heels and the robe on and CB will be like “What did you do with my fiancé? And whatever it was, keep her there!”

However, in the end, I think I found my dress! Or at least narrowed it down to what looks good on me and what doesn’t so that I can browse online without delusion. And if you ask me, that’s a successful shopping outing!

Happy Monday, everyone!  

Friday Wrapup

My hair indicates that it's humid with a chance of rain outside. BUT it's Friday, so we've got that going for us.

Let's get to it!

***

This is the best thing I've seen all week. Also, I hate Shark Week because it terrifies my soul. But a cat dressed as a Shark makes it happy again.

***

So, today I do something that also terrifies my soul:

Wedding Dress Shopping.

We all know my dislike feelings over having to shop ever, and I rarely do it with other people because I usually like those other people and want them to continue to be my friend after the shopping excursion is through. So, I typically go in alone.

However, apparently, wedding dress shopping will be fun?

I'm excited because the people I'm going with are expert shoppers who won't let me look bad on my wedding day. And so that's a bonus. I'm not excited, though, because my subconscious told me I wasn't last night in the form of a dream where there were, like, 20 people in a room with me while I was trying on wedding dresses (though one of them was dark grey and kind of see-through? So I guess I'm a little whore-y in my subconscious also.)

By the end of the dream, though, people had lost interest with me trying on three different dresses and were then measuring the windows for drapes. I'm not sure what that means, but I'm pretty sure it means that I will not be featured on "Say Yes to the Dress" anytime soon.

Also, I didn't know that was a show until I made my appointment at Kleinfeld's and then I had to sign a waiver AND fill out an application saying whether or not I wanted to be featured on the show.

I'll give you one guess.

(But I'm flat in the back!)

***

And now, the book of the week! Since my dad has been keeping that book blog afloat as of late, I decided to do my part and FINALLY post about that Detroit book I've been mentioning over the last few weeks.

So, check it out here and feel free to browse around while you're over there!

***

And now, the Video of the Week.

So this is the song that went through my head during both marathons - on repeat - and is now in my head since CB and I have started doing Insanity again. Which is insane.

And I keep telling him that my frontal armpit muscles hurt and then he keeps telling me that that's not a word and that they're called something else (lats? I don't really listen).

Anyway, my frontal armpit muscles hurt, you guys, and so I must continue to listen to this song so that I can become lean and mean AND continue to impress others with my extensive Kanye West song knowledge.

Happy Friday, everyone!

And then I called kids "whipper-snappers" and drank Metamucil.

This morning someone called me ma’am. And while we all know that it’s not the first time, it didn’t sting any less, you guys.

You can tell I've matured by
how I hold my wine glass. 

Which got me to thinking about when, exactly, I became an adult. When did I turn from ‘miss’ to ‘ma’am’ and how on earth do I make it stop? Was it when I finally moved out on my own and started working in the “real world”? Was it when there was a 3 in front of my age and everyone assumed I’d finally matured? Or was it when I realized that, while my soul feels perpetually 16, my body clearly looks like a ma’am.  

Which got me to thinking about all of the things that happen to you as an adult that totally suck.

For example:  

You cannot sleep in. When I was a teenager and through most of my twenties, I could sleep half of the day away before even considering waking up. So much so that I used to go to my 11am “morning” class in college in pajamas. To be fair, though, the class was IN my dorm and so technically I didn’t have to leave my house.

But now, if I sleep until 8 it’s like I’ve hit the lottery, and even then, I’ve likely been waking up every half hour thinking I’ve missed a meeting or an alarm or I just really want to wake up to French press my coffee and read the newspaper. And then I get sad because I realize I’ve become an adult. And then CB points out that adults don’t normally have sparkle phones and I feel much better.

You check in on your 401K. Just that sentence alone says it all. And makes us simultaneously responsible and horrifically uncool, which is sort of the underlying theme of adulthood, I've found. 

You talk endlessly about what’s for dinner. Up until a few years ago, the contents of my grocery list included “ramen” or “peanut butter.” Though, to be fair, those sometimes are still on my list now (and don’t ask my friends about the time I confessed to putting ketchup on my egg noodles because you’ll find out that my friends are big fat liars and nobody should listen to them ever.)

But in the last few years I’ve become that person who watches cooking shows and reads cooking magazines to get Quick Weekday Meal ideas and stuff.

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??

I mean, I’m not the person who rips recipes out of magazines and adds it to her cookbook. Hell, I’m not even the person who OWNS a cookbook. Except I totally am that person, you guys, and it’s freaking me out!

Yesterday, I had a whole conversation with my coworker about the best way to cook asparagus. And then I had a whole conversation with CB about what our menu options were for the week based upon the groceries I’d purchased.

And then my child-heart cried.

You use anti-wrinkle cream un-ironically. And you also make sure to put it on your neck, which is  a sign you take this sh*t seriously.

You start talking about things that hurt. This one is hard to admit because it’s the ultimate sign that you’re no longer twenty-something. But when you and your friends can sit around talking about joint pain and your bad backs, you know you’ve gone ‘round the bend.

Also, if you’re doing this while simultaneously looking at your 401k, just end it now.

You think of old people as young to make yourself feel better. 

It’s important to understand that the conversation you’re about to read happened while we were making the bed.

Me: “Did you hear that?”
CB: “What?”
Me: “Dustin Hoffman is 75.”
CB: “Yeah, he’s been around for a while.”
Me: “He looks really good for his age.”
CB: “He does.”

Silence, fluffing pillows.

Me: “I mean, if I had to guess, I’d never guess he was in his 70s.”
CB, clearly not as invested in the conversation: “Yeah.”

Silence, straightening the bed runner.

Me: “Do you think that’s because we’re getting older?”
CB: “What?
Me: “I mean, when I was younger, 75 sounded super-old. But now when I hear that someone’s 75 I’m like ‘oh, that’s not old at all.’”
CB, staring at me.
Me: “Like, do you think that it doesn’t seem old because I realize subconsciously that I’m closer to that person in age now than I was 15 years ago and so I’m trying to make myself feel younger by making them not seem old?”
CB: “I think you think about this kind of stuff more than the average person.”
Me: “But do you know what I mean?”
CB: “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

And then he left the room, likely to contemplate how wise and deep I am.

And the list goes on. What did I miss? 

Happy Wednesday, everyone! 

Posting a recipe out of laziness.

Since you guys have asked for it - and I'm unable to post a real post today (because I'm uninspired and perhaps sleepy?) - here is the recipe that called for lime juice and baking soda. It's delish. And the blog it came from rocks, too, so click here and enjoy!

Also, if you're looking for other good cooking blogs, check this one out as I've used it quite a few times AND the blogger is a reader of this little old blog. Win/win.

Do any of you have a killer recipe you want to share? Post in the comments and check back here Wednesday for an actual real post!

Happy Monday, everyone!

Friday Wrapup

Happy Friday, everyone! As we speak, I'm in Boston visiting friends for the weekend and undoubtedly creating many a story for next week's blog. So stay tuned!

But, true to form....let's get to it.

***

Can you pass this 101-year-old test for 8th graders in Kentucky? Answer: no. Click here. 

Now cry and be ashamed.

***
This week's Book of the Week is one that I definitely want to read. I blogged years ago about The Road, warning my sister not to read it, but when she didn't listen, she totally ended up in the fetal position rocking back and forth and cursing my name for ever even mentioning the book.

It's a little bleak.

So when my dad first started describing this week's pick, I was like 'Uh oh, is it another The Road?' and he assured me it was not. However, it does sound just dark enough to pique my interest - and is a great story overall.

Anyway, check it out here and then browse around at some other top picks!

***

Please send all good thoughts, if you don't mind, to my uncle, aunt, and extended family as they're dealing with the dreaded c-word, and have been for some time. Things are getting a bit more intense, so any positive vibes are very appreciated. Thanks.

***

So this week's Video of the Week is an homage to Courtney, whose birthday was yesterday (and since I'm too lazy to dedicate a blog to this momentous occasion each year, just click here and read a blog where I was all sentimental and stuff).

But ok, the reason I picked this song is because, at my 14th birthday party, I got the Violent Femmes tape (yes, I'm old.) And Courtney loved the tape even more than I did and so she made me play this song over and over and over and over during the course of the entire night (it was a sleepover! Painful). And it's so much harder to play songs on a tape over and over because of the rewinding and the tortuous exercise of it all. But I did it because she's one of my best friends. And because sometimes she scares me so I basically just do what she says.

Happy (belated) birthday, Court! Enjoy.

Happy Friday, everyone!