But Call Me Betsy

Did you ever do that thing where you decide to just check in on your old crushes on Facebook? Because aren't we all friends with these guys who ripped out our hearts and stomped on them in college and high school? And don't we even sometimes "like" their stupid family photos or the baby photos and wonder if we should leave a pithy comment that might make him realize that we're the ones who got away? I never do that. Hardly ever. But the other day, while we were watching the Beatles tribute show, I did a quick search for a guy I had such a crush on in high school, Rob D. I found his page, and he's still married to the girl he dated just out of high school and they have three gangly children  and she's still very beautiful and thin. I was getting all nostalgic for those days and wondering why we never ended up together, (the Beatles were playing "Yesterday" in the background, so I had the perfect medley going) and then I clicked on a link to a ...

I forgot to write in my blog yesterday and I have totally been meaning to finally jump on the TBT (throwback Thursday meme  on Facebook. However, I don't have any of my photos handy anyway, so I can't show you how amazing I was in the 90s or how very very awkward my prepubescence years were--I had huge plastic glasses and a really bad bob haircut (think Little Lord Fauntleroy). I was also in the throes of making a political statement about hair spray and the ozone layer, so I had this super elaborate feathered cut that I could never keep in a style. Oh, and perms. I had a few terrible home perms. And then I used to do this thing when my hair was longer where I would braid it when it was wet and sleep with it like that so that in the morning, my hair would be wavy, like  a mermaid. Except it never quite worked out that way b/c I also got cuts like two times a year and so the ends were always dead and straw-like. So, I'd have this shimmery long waves ending in like singed hai...

Since I'm now obsessed with Inside Amy Schumer, I was watching her skits on YouTube last night, and saw one that was about two women on a game show. How it worked was that they would be shown a guy, he would say a few words about himself, and then both of the women would guess how the relationship would end. The one who got closest to the truth won. So, like one of them would say, "We'll go out for two  years and then one day, I'll discover that he has a secret folder on his desktop with nude photos of Daniel Radcliffe in them." This, of course, got me thinking about all of the guys I've dated and how often I had more than an inkling that it wasn't going to work out. And I don't just mean that it wasn't going to succeed because of my own issues or because statistically, it's highly probable that it would fail (though both these are are reasonable worries), but because there was something wrong with the guy, or if not with him in particular...

Here's something a person could do if she worked in West Philly and didn't yet have that many friends to go to lunch with: walk across the street in search of food and company at 30th Street Station. However, be forewarned that you will face a minimum of three homeless people scattered about, mumbling to themselves with nearly dead cigarettes smoldering at their fingertips. That's what I did today for lunch. At the same time, the train station is a beautiful building and if you squint and try not to notice the myriad destitute people sleeping toothless on the wooden benches, you can sort of enjoy it. It's the same building where they filmed Witness, one of my favorite movies, if only because of the scene where Harrison Ford dances in the barn with a Quaker woman played by Kelly McGillis to one of the best songs in the world, "Don't Know Much About History" (or whatever the title is). After work, decided to walk to my next destination, just to see what that...

Why is everyone so excited about this movie? I caught part of an old episode of Sex and the City the other night and was reminded how much I don't like any of the characters very much, especially Carrie Bradshaw with her fake coyness, expensive shoes, and not so interesting voice over narration . The show I saw was one where Carrie visits her Barishnikov in Paris and she's wearing this ridiculous dress and a tiny little straw hat perched jauntily on her intentionally messy curls. Mary Beth told me recently about a friend of hers who wrote a paper claiming Golden Girls was actually a more progressive, feminist television show than Sex and the City ever was. I don't remember anything in particular about GG , but I have to agree that SATC never struck me as particularly ground-breaking. And yet I confess the we watched it almost every week at Julie Vedder's , the only grad student we knew who had cable. Most of the shows center around the women lamenting the state of ...

The truth is, I haven't yet decided who I'm voting for tomorrow. Well, obviously not John McCain, but I'm on the fence about H and O. My friend Ben has been trying to get me to send an email to the Hillary peeps saying she should drop out and though he can be persuasive in many, many ways (he's an attorney and so cannot stop arguing and saying things like, "Permission to redirect, your honor"), I have not caved. Philadelphia seems to love Obama ...there's a million and one of those blue and red drawings of him and not even one caricature of Hillary to be found in the whole city.Walked to Rittenhouse today to do some writing and was given a flyer by a random Democrat running for court jester who luckily didn't try to talk to me further, but I did get to see a few disgruntled teens with skateboards drinking huge cans of beer and attempting to catch pigeons with their bare hands. I'm ambivalent about both candidates. I want to vote for Hillary b/c I...

Had a conversation tonight with my new bff, Iona (sp?) this cutest girl in the world with big brown eyes and pretty black hair pulled back into a kind of Jackie O meets Dita von Teese thing. We were trying to figure out how it is exactly that guys think about relationships. She's slightly interested in this awkward, shy guy who wears Converse sneakers and says cryptically relationship sounding things like, I'm old-fashioned. I like to take things slow. And yet, he does not seem to be even a little bit ready to kiss her. They've hung out about 25 times and talk on the phone for hours at a time, and he still just shows up and laughs at her jokes and then yawns and goes home without trying any funny business. What does this mean? On what plane is he operating? Was he born in the wrong decade and is he waiting to meet her parents over tea so that he can request a carriage ride through Center City wherein he will offer her a handkerchief to cover her delicate face and perhaps le...

It occurred to me today that I currently happen to know lots of really good men. I've always had good girl friends; women who are giving and thoughtful and willing to listen to me go on and on about cats and SVU and Flight of the Conchords and library books and the other things that disproportionally occupy my thoughts. And I still have lots of those girls around. But just noticed that I also happen to have a high number of good boys in my day-to-day life. There's Dave who will read my scenes and forgive me my trespasses. Padhraig who lets me steal back books I just gave him and makes CDs for my ipod. HH who said to me on the phone the other day, I wish I could hear you better on your cell phone. Your phone cuts out and I feel like I'm missing some of your Aimee-ness. The boy from Circle Thrift who offered to let me use the new restroom they've put in and who looks exactly like Bret from Flight of the Conchords (I swear to God).G. from my philosophy class who gave my te...

Why so sad? Why do you never smile, even when I leave you a dollar on a tab of $1.75 so that you will like me better? Is it because you are located on 13th and Pine and seem to attract a steady cluster of homeless people who sit at the outside tables rolling their own cigarettes and then breezing in to use the bathroom in the basement? Is it because you are an artist and you know that your talents are being squandered as customers demand you to make them vanilla lattes with a shot of hazelnut? Is it because the loud, jarring music that you play enhances your anger; that the daily dose of Rage Against the Machine (meant, possibly, to keep individuals from staying at the coffee shop indefinitely) reinforces your sense of disenfranchisement and boyish angst? You're cute, with your round glasses perpetually fogged by the steamer and your dark bangs that hang over your eyes, but I don't think you care if girls find you attractive. You're probably jaded from the continual stream ...

Welcome to The Bachelor , Season #11. He's from Texas and I think he just lost six pounds sweating to death. The awkward moments keep multiplying and the show has only been on for three minutes. He has hugged each and every one of them in this totally stilted way and said, " Hisonicetomeetyou . Please go inside now. I have already forgotten your name. Nice tits. Nice to meet ya'll ." He is attractive, but what's with the Party of Five unshaven look? He's a millionaire and has an identical twin brother. Hilarious hi jinks with switching places will no doubt ensue in the middle of making out with one of them, not like the women would notice. No one ever says, "I hope I like him. I hope he's not a total dud!" Now the last ten women are bringing their chachas and (as Celia might say) their Mary Green's to him. They always pause after stepping out of the car as though going to a beauty pageant and then say, Bah-bye. Oh, why can't one of them ...