it's prettier than risk

And today was a scorcher, right?

I've been popping quite a lot of Tylenol PM these days in an effort to stifle the screams of my whip-lash (is that hyphenated?), caused from my run-in with a deer a few weeks back. This morning, I foolishly washed those capsules down somewhere around 4:30 AM, completely disregarding my intended wake-up call of 8:30.

Fast forward 5 hours: Here I am coasting down I-78 West into Pennsyltucky to meet my sister, my niece, and my Cheech and escort them safely home to the Garden State of euphoria. My anticipation the entire ride was difficult to mask and I shamefully took it out on the iPod, listening and re-listening to Huey Lewis & The News tunes while singing at the top of my lungs. I was driving my mom's mini-van... didn't I once dedicate an entire blog to my ridiculously unprecedented nerdiness? Probably. But it can't be helped - the heart of rock and roll is still beating.

I'd say I'm a little unhealthfully obsessed with my nephew, the Cheech, but I don't know that it's possible for any sort of unhealthfulness to exist when it comes to obsessions with Cheech. He's that incredible. My sadness when he left New Jersey to head back to the smokey mountains of Tennessee was heart-breaking, to say the least. I'd be lying if I were to tell you that I expected to love any human being as much as I love this child. It is only occasionally that I feel a little guilty for not putting Olivia or Elliana (my two nieces) in the spotlight. Ever.

They're less than a year old.
They're still growing into their cuteness.
They can't share with me in dialogue about Dora the Explorer.
I love them too - but the most I can do right now is hold them and hope they grow up to be anywhere near as cool as their older brother/cousin.

So what did the Cheech and I do today? We ran circles in the parking lot of the Wawa until we were sick from dizziness - making sure to take off our shoes beforehand, turning the soles of our feet a deep ebony.
We jumped on the bed.
We played monkey tunnel.
We harassed the dogs.
We went exploring in the garden and found japanese beetles mating and albino crab spiders waiting in prey.
We had a blast.

Another portion of joy has returned and for real, this is a time when I know beyond anything that God is watching out for me. There's no other reason He would choose to bring something so absolutely amazing into my life.

Currently listening : Plan B By Huey Lewis & the News Release date: By 24 July, 2001

easy access

One o'clock in the morning, scissors in hand, I take a walk to the bathroom mirror and before you can say "no thank you, I don't care for meatloaf", off it goes: over a foot of hair. It took a full three seconds for what I had done to register.

Oh, shiesse.

So, naturally, off went the rest of it as well. It was a short lapse of judgement. No, who am I kidding? It was a short lapse of everything. At that very moment in time, absolutely nothing on my body was functioning properly with the exception of my hand. And as you can imagine, the aftermath has been treacherous at best.

It will take just a few weeks for me to adjust to this change - but those weeks will seem like an eternity. Everything has changed and even a simple task like showering has become an obstacle to overcome. If this change had happened gradually, it would have been so much easier to cope with, but I'm afraid that the loss was so sudden and so severe, that it will make the recovery that much more difficult. Washing my hair (if you can even call it hair anymore) takes about a minute and a half. And rinsing it - well, I don't even quite know how to explain this to you... have you ever picked up a gallon of milk thinking that it's full when, in reality, it's nearly empty? There's just too much give, right? Your arm flings up and over as you realize that the effort you were putting in does not match the task at hand (literally). It's the same feeling here. I prepare to squeeze the excess water from a length of hair that just simply is not there.

I'm not quite certain how I feel for the look of it yet. I look like Bridget Fonda in "Point of No Return". And as one well-meaning friend so thoughtfully put it: "It looks cute when it's pulled back."

So now comes the growing-out process, and the "how-do-I-style-my-hair-now?" process, and the "what-do-I-do-with-the-hair-that's-been-chopped-off?" process.

If I were married to Paul Mitchell, none of this would be an issue.

And PS: I'm going to do my best to donate the hair, but I'm not sure I'll have any takers.

alltheright.choices

OK kids, raise your hand if you have an email account that is formatted firstname.lastname@gmail.com

Everyone, right?
Oh how I've ached for a normal email address, one that could even be considered "professional". Gone away are the days of "moechabean@hotmail.com" or "razzledazzle@email.com" (I don't want to talk about that last one, but it really did exist at one point, very close to the birth of email) - you can't have such an email address and be taken seriously. The story behind moebe97 or moebe79 is too long--and too boring--to tell, but be assured that they exist only because monica.navarro was not available. My sadness was only momentary, however, as the advent of Gmail came along shortly. Ahhh... by invitation only! If I can just get myself an invitation, I can sneak right in and snatch up that (apparently) coveted monica.navarro@gmail.com!
Friends, there are a lot of Monica Navarros out there. Do you know any others? I don't even know any other Monicas, let alone Monica Navarros. So alas, while I continue to discover more and more people who have the email address firstname.lastname@gmail.com (I don't think I've ever even seen any other type of gmail address... except for my own), I am just that much more saddened by my lack thereof. So, I've decided to take some action (in the form of an email).

To: monica.navarro@gmail.com
Fr: mycrappyemail@gmail.com (ugh)
Subject: coveted email

Dear Monica,

You don't know me, but we do have at least one thing in common: our name. I think it's a great name, don't get me wrong, but in sharing this name I do face a bit of a tragedy. You see, I've never been able to snag a monica.navarro email address. Perhaps you've always gotten there first (who could know?), but I've always seemed to just miss the boat.

I was ecstatic to open up a gmail account, while gmail was still relatively new, so that I could FINALLY have the email address I've always wanted! You can imagine my disappointment when I found that not only was monica.navarro taken, but so was every single reasonable variation thereof!
So I'm wondering this: would it be possible at all for me to purchase this email address from you? I don't know what it would take for me to get it, but I have a number of things that may or may not be of value to you. Money is one thing I do not have much of. I could probably throw you a few bucks, but I could definitely tack on some extras. I have a bottle of Grey Goose vodka that has yet to be opened. I also have a pair of brand new jeans from the GAP that have never been worn, but I was planning on getting rid of on eBay (they're in perfect condition and perfectly fine, I just didn't particularly care for them). I have two certificates for free ringtones that can be redeemed online -- in no time at all you could be rocking the casbah every time your phone rings (if you fancy the Clash, that is). Also, what size shoe do you wear? And do you like metallic gold?

I know this may seem silly to you, but I figured it's worth a shot. More than anything, I'd be interested to know what exactly it would take for you to sell me your email address. Although, well, I must say that if I had gotten to it first it would take a whole hell of a lot for me to let it go.

Cheers,
Monica.Navarro


Let's see if she bites, yes?

I had no idea

Alejandra will eventually forgive me for having never read her June 29th Blog in its entirety until tonight. It is for this reason that I've only just now been made aware that I have been "tagged". I don't even really know what it means to be tagged, but I like silly games (most of the time and as long as they don't involve tap water or a spinning bottle), and I'm perfectly willing to entertain Alejandra's efforts to get me to post a blog. Granted, there is going to be absolutely nothing exciting in the next few paragraphs. Consider yourself warned, please.

Word has it that I'm supposed to play along and list the following items:

Five things in my freezer:
(oh how I long for the days when I used to have my own freezer! These days I have little to no say as to what goes into my freezer, so I'm going to take a wild guess)
* Morning Star veggie sausage patties (I think it's stupid and misleading that they call them sausage patties at all when there isn't actually any sausage in them).
* Sugar Free popsicles
* A large bag of ice
* An even larger variety of frozen meats that have been carefully vacuum-sealed and labeled with names and dates.
* Toaster waffles

Five things in my closet:
* A red sombrero that my parents brought me from Mexico City when I was 5. It can be seen here.
* Boxes and boxes of Christmas cards that I bought and almost sent out last year, but didn't quite get around to.
* One of these things.
* Five bridesmaids dresses that I'm sure I'll never wear again.
* A pair of metallic gold stiletto heels that Alejandra made me buy two years ago, promising me that she'd pay me back for them. She never has and they sit in my closet still.

Five things in my car:
(some of you may know that my Focus was recently destroyed in a tragic run-in with a New Jersey white-tailed deer. I only just got the new car a few days ago, so there's really not much in it at all. I guarantee nothing exciting).
* A package of armorall wipes (if you didn't know before that I'm a total geek, this should clue you in).
* An iPod adapter
* My secretly stashed map of NYC
* A bottle of vanilla lotion (secret weapon - because apparently I always smell like vanilla, the beach, or tostadas. The beach and Taco Bell were too difficult to fit in my glove box).
* What I think is a bootleg copy of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.

Five things in my purse:
(I don't carry a purse, so I considered reporting five things that I typically carry on my person, but well... there are only so many things that I can carry on my person, and I think less than five is probably the limit. So I'm going to let you know what's lying around in the giant bag that I usually travel with or make day trips with. I haven't taken anything out of it since I went to Peru with it back in March and there are well over five things in there).
* A copy of Nick Hornby's "A Long Way Down" (I haven't read it yet, but I'll let you know how it is).
* Headphones from Continental Airlines
* A miniature pack of Charmin To-Go toilet seat covers - this has to be from Cecilia. Desires for sanitary environments aside, I despise toilet seat covers.
* A wedding invitation to Matthew & Martina's wedding last week
* A buiness card from Clinton Honda for the guy who sold me my Passat
* A bottle of Vicodin
* A medium-sized bouncy ball that I found in Central Park and have become unhealthfully obsessed with
* A Zip-loc baggie chock full o' Allegra (thanks, Greg)
* Two ball-point pens. One works, one doesn't.
* A miniature bottle of Opti-Free Express contact lens solution that opened accidentally and spilled all over everything inside.
* A miniature tube of Colgate Total toothpaste
* A miniature wheel of mint waxed dental floss
* An Italian Charm bracelet (I was looking for that)
* Advil
* Peruvian money
* Listerine breath spray that I stole from my sister and she still doesn't even realize is missing.
* A gift card to Macy's (thanks, Sal)
* A movie ticket to "Thank you for Smoking"
* A notice from the city of Summit for an unpaid parking ticket (it wasn't my fault, damnit).
* A headphone splitter
* A dimebag full of odor-free garlic tablets
* A tape measure
* A Radiohead CD
* iPod USB chord
* Some bobby pins
* A brochure for the Honda Fit
* Tons and tons of receipts

Yes, more than five things. But once I got started, I couldn't stop. It has definitely shed some light on a few things. First off, it seems that I carry around far too many drugs. I also have a tendency to pick up miniaturized versions of practically anything and everything (I did also have a miniature version of the 'fore mentioned bouncy ball, but I left it at Kevin's house the other day).

I think at this point I'm supposed to "tag" a few other people. I'm pretty limited here since not many people read this sad little corner of MySpace. So I'm left to tag the individuals who actually DO.

Caitlin, you're it. So is Katie, Alina, Greg, Ted, Jayvis, and that friend of Stephen's who is not my friend but keeps commenting on my blogs. You're it too.

Happy fourth to all. I'm heading to bed.

Currently listening : Night and Day By Joe Jackson Release date: By 20 October, 1989

06-ish

First it was this:


Then it was this:


And after that:


But then there was this:


and even this:
Allies of New Jersey | Interview next Wednesday!


And perhaps, eventually, hopefully, THIS:



It's been an interesting week and a half, one involving Peruvian Lillies, ADHD sales people, a bacon egg and cheese biscuit, Becky Nash's little brother, NyQuil, pain killers, and a bottle of blush champagne. I used to share any and all of the interesting things that happen to me, but I find myself becoming more reserved these days. I like it just fine that way, I suppose.

I'm doing pretty OK I'd say. I'm now a part of the club: both the one that hits deer in New Jersey and the one that owns a Volkswagen. I'd tell stories about the guy who sold me the car (his name was McManus), or I'd tell you stories about what I had to do to get the car (it didn't involve sex or microwave popcorn)... I'd tell these stories except I'm far too sleepy right now.

And grateful.
I'm sleepy, and grateful.

my love to all. ta!

Currently listening : Pure Gold By Harry Belafonte Release date: By 24 March, 1992