WARNING: If watching cheesy couples makes you as sick as it does me, do not click on the link below. Mr. Weenie and I celebrate our 13th anniversary on Monday, so I thought I’d break out the ol’ video.
After a very romantic engagement in New York’s Central Park, we decided to elope to Greece. Now before you gag, just keep in mind that 1998-1999 are still the most romantic years we’ve had as a couple. These days romance is when one of us gets up early to take the dogs out for their morning dump and lets the other sleep in.
We definitely faced a few challenges on the way to our nuptials—not the least of which was our luggage not being on the same flight as we were. Five minutes before the ceremony, a young man ran into the courtyard with our suitcases on his head, shouting in deeply accented English, “The luggage! It ees here!!”
This video was originally created during the last millennium, so it’s a bit dated. (Note the dual Walkman headphones.) Also, I think I may have married a Pilgrim.
If you happen to be standing behind me in line at the local caffeine peddler, you’ll notice something that sets me apart from the rest of the addicts. No, it’s not my radass Chupacabra tattoo. (Okay, I don’t really have a Chupacabra tattoo, but wouldn’t it be awesome if I did?)
I am addicted to decaf espresso. More specifically, decaf espresso with exactly two tablespoons of half and half and one teaspoon of sugar. (Yes, I measure.) I would like to posit that my love of coffee is deeper precisely because I drink decaf. I don’t drink it for the jolt of caffeine; I drink it for the flavor (and for the jolt of sugar and cream).
My morning coffee preparation is as delicate as a Japanese tea ceremony, only with more spilling. As you can see in the photo essay below, each cup is unique.
“One Girl, Seven Cups”
SUNDAY - I think of Sunday as rather dainty. And possibly British.
MONDAY - I like using this cup on Mondays because it's like the sun is apologizing for waking me up so early by serving me a cup of coffee with of one of its crazy-ass sun ray arms.
TUESDAY - A little Weenie trivia for you: Tuesday is my seventh favorite day of the week.
WEDNESDAY - Meh.
THURSDAY - This cup really speaks to me. It says, "I sure wish it were Friday so I could take off early and go sit at a cafe under an umbrella drinking another cup of coffee. In France."
FRIDAY - I call this one my Green Cup of Deception. Do I feel happy because it's a seriously bitchin' green cup, or is it because I'm taking off early today to watch The Wire on Netflix? So goes the legend of the mysterious Green Cup of Deception.
SATURDAY - is almost as awesome as the guy who invented chocolate covered espresso beans. That guy rocks. In fact, I think Saturday should change its name to Chocolatecoveredespressobeaninventorday.
I just had a very brief and unpleasant conversation with my husband. While my business seems to have hit a plateau, Mr. W. is experiencing great success with his. Am I happy for him? Of course. Proud? Hell yeah. Seething with barely contained hostility? Absolutely.
Envy is the most opportunistic member of the emotional community. While Optimism and Confidence gossip over cappuccinos, and Introspection sits in the corner with her arms crossed, Envy stares inside longingly from the street, waiting patiently to be invited in. (Envy is also a drama queen so she’s standing in the rain, and a car just sped by, hurling a wall of water at her back.)
Envy is the most unnecessary of all emotions. At least Fear serves a purpose: Hey—Do you see that Gila monster over there? Don’t touch it. Envy serves only to make a person feel less than someone else: Hey—Do you see the $10,000 jacket that woman over there is wearing? Don’t touch it.
I hate Envious Ilene, but unfortunately she and I are conjoined twins. As much as I want to tear her off like an ugly sweater, we share some important organs I’d like to hang on to. In an attempt at compromise, I have come up with a few coping strategies to help me live in peace with this reality:
Try not to compare oneself to others. This is much easier said than done; especially when you’re suffering from PMS and have a giant pimple on the tip of your nose.
Remember that nobody’s life is perfect. Things seem to balance out over time. For example, I am envious that Mr. W. has a great new client, but I am not envious of his hairline.
Acknowledge how much you have. This one’s pretty easy, as well as highly scalable: I have shoes. I have socks. I have feet.*
*Note that using the inverse of item #3 has the potential of doing more harm than good: She has Manolo Blahniks. She has weekly pedicures. She is a whore.
Although not always entirely successful, some coping mechanisms can help. Case in point: After writing this post, I’m less obsessed with my husband’s recent success. Instead, I’ve decided to focus on my new hobby—making little voodoo dolls from the hairballs Mr. W. leaves in the shower drain.
Be nice. Be respectful. Tolerance for foul language is very high, but don’t
use it against anyone else, or you’ll be bound, gagged and forced to watch Fox News. I reserve the right to delete comments as I see fit because I’m the head boss lady in charge. So there.
