Stamps are only 39 cents

What ever happened to the idea of "penpals"? Ever since the internet was created, the idea of a letter going through snail mail was laughed at. I don't know about you, but I LOVE getting snail mail. Granted I cringe when I see a bill or something of that nature, but it's mail nontheless. I am sad when I open my little mailbox and find nothing inside. A huge smile is brought across my face when I see familiar handwriting. You know what I'm talking about. You get that little thrill, that burst of joy when you find a letter from someone you care about. I mentioned the idea of penpals to a friend of mine. I thought he would gladly play along. But it turns out instant messaging and the phone are easier for him. Now, I don't negate that form of communication. I am always on the internet and always chatting online. I do admit that because of instant messaging, I've kept some great friendships alive. But it's just not the same. It satisfies that urge for instant gratification, yes. But when they're talking to you via IM, they haven't taken the time to sit down, pull out a pen and paper, and start writing. There's just something beautiful about that. You can call me a packrat, but I've kept such letters/cards. I have many memories of my mom through cards that she has sent me. I remember when I was little, I could never read her handwriting. It's this beautiful cursive script. So tight and compact. Where mine was large and bubbly. I now look at her handwriting and it brings such warmth and joy to me. I can recognize it a mile away. No one writes like her. I cherish every letter, every card, every signature. Because they're from my mom. She took the time and the thought to tell me how proud she was, how much she loved me. She also does this via email but I can't see her writing. I can't see the way she makes her Ms and Ns through electronic mail. When I am missing my mom, all I have to do is go find a card from her and it's as if she's right there in the room with me. Ok, ok. I know mom's are different. But just think about the "old days". How people would wait days, weeks, months! For that letter to arrive from their friend or loved one. I think that we should bring back snail mail penpalling. Yes, penpalling. It's now a word. Don't argue. So...who's with me?

PS. Google the word penpals. It's fascinating!

Dear Mr. President,

Stunning. She is absolutely stunning. P!nk. For the past couple of weeks I've been listening to her newest album I'm Not Dead. I'm loving it. Everysong, every beat, every story. There's one song in particular that I can't seem to get out of my head or heart. Here are the lyrics....

"Dear Mr. President"
(feat. Indigo Girls)

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you



Moves me to no end. Check the song out. Better yet, check the entire album out. You'll be pleasantly surprised.

I get the chills every time

Yes. I admit it. I'm hooked. This show is ruling my life right now. I live, eat, breathe So You Think You Can Dance. Ok, that's exaggerating a little. But honestly, I can't stop watching this show. EVERY Wednesday and Thursday I run home after work to get to my Tivo-ed episodes. Sparky and I chat online every time and talk about the dancers, the choreography, the judges, the costumes, EVERYTHING. ADDICTED. I just can't get enough of it. I've even saved a couple episodes on my tivo. I never do that! I've been so moved by some of the dances, that I had to keep that show so that I can watch these dances whenever I so chose.

I have found the wonderful world of YOUTUBE and will search on a weekly basis for So You Think You Can Dance videos. I am beyond thrilled to tell you that one of my favorite routines made it on there. It's a contemporary piece between Ivan and Alison. Watch it and tell me what you think! Now, unfortunately after the routine, they don't keep the tape rolling so you can see the judges reaction to this piece. One of the judges was brought to TEARS. This piece has moved me beyond words. I was covered head to toe in chills the first time I saw it and my mouth was to the floor. I still watch it and am stunned speechless. It is truly a brilliant piece. I hope you enjoy it!

Despite the cheesy "reality" tv show part of it all...these dancers are really amazing. It's phenomenal to watch a dancer "grow" and be able to manipulate and adapt to all styles of dance. Not something you can see on other reality tv shows.

I crown thee, So You Think You Can Dance, Skipper's favorite reality tv show.

"You can't eat Nanny McPhee..."

I've been really bad about my diet lately. I generally eat only once a day and that's at dinner. Thursday night, I caved and I told my mom (save your breath, I've already got the lectures, she says she's going to kick my ass). That night, I get off work and go saunter through Tower Records. I see the movie Nanny McPhee. (Fantastic film by the way. Rent it if you haven't seen it already) The movie is ONSALE for 9.99. Woo, what a buy! I'm SO EXCITED and I just can't hide it, I'm about to lose control...*cough* Sorry, I got swept up in a moment of song. So I call Mom. "Do you wanna keep your copy of Nanny McPhee." "NO. Why?" "Well, it's here at Tower for 9.99. So if you wanted to keep your copy, I could get this one." Her response....priceless. "You can't eat Nanny McPhee."

Saturday I go shopping with a friend and I'm completely delirious. (Shopping does this to me) And I go to the sunglasses section and try on every comical pair of sunglasses I could find. I find these....and decide to take a photo with my camera phone.



I find them beyond comical cause they can't even fit on my face. My cheeks are too damn fat. Notice the man in the background, looking at me like I'm psychotic. No sir, I'm just delirious. Anyhoo, I send the photo to mom. Show her that her daughter is really as crazy as she thinks. My mom text messages me back. "They would be too hard to swallow"

This is why I love my mother....

Buying stock in purell...

When I moved to New York City, I became a bookworm. I was never that kid who would read for hours or would be found with a book in hand. But when I moved to NYC, I found the wonderful world of books. I couldn't stop reading. All I wanted to do was BUY BUY BUY! When I moved to my current apartment, my mom had the joy of buying me a bookshelf! I had that many books. I would never have thought to have been the one to own a bookshelf and use it for books. Because I now had this weakness, I was told by my friends to go to the library. Free books. Tons of them. But I saw it as a limitation. That I had to check out the book and then return it by a certain date. Well you can renew it they would say. I kept buying books despite the fact that I had gotten myself a library card. My friend Catherine (who I loving call Kiki) told me about this book called The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. I think you will really like it! She says. Being that Kiki is a librarian, she tells me that there's a library across the street from where I work. Seriously!? Oh, this is exciting. I'm going to activate my library card and check out my first book! I go there, they don't have the book in stock. "We can put it on hold for you. You'll receive an email when it's ready." Well, being that I am a New Yorker, I wanted the book now. We are firm believers of instant gratification here in this city. So I go to Barnes and Noble. They don't have it. "The minute we get this book in, it just flies off the shelves." A few days go by, I see another B&N and I go in. They don't have it. Go back to the original Barnes and Noble to see if they've restocked. They still don't have it. I FINALLY get an email "You're book is ready to be picked up." WOOHOOO! The next time I am scheduled to work, I leave my house a little early so I can make a stop at the library. I get my book. I have this massive thing sitting in my hands and I can barely hold myself together. I'm just dying to tear into it. I sit it down on my desk when I get work and I examine this thing. Its a hardcover (Paperback comes out in Oct of 2006) so it's wrapped in plastic and my OCD kicks in and I suddenly feel dirty and want to wash my hands after every time I turn the page. If I want to become a hardcore bookworm, I have to get over this quickly. So I keep my purell close at hand. There's a little slip of paper that they've put inside when I checked it out that said "checked out on June 21st - due by July 12th". OH MY. I have 3 weeks to read a 642 page book? Now, this is not something I can't do. The matter of the fact is that my subconscious now has a deadline. The ENTIRE time I was reading this book, I kept thinking "Ok, page 234 - due by July 12th." "Ok, page 386 - due by July 12th" You get the idea... I WAS FREAKING OUT. "But you can renew the book if there are no holds on it." "Just check it out again and then you can finish it then." "Don't worry about it. If you don't finish it, you can borrow my copy." Ummm....HELLO!? Do you not know me? Do you not know about my OCD...Now that I have the deadline I HAVE TO FINISH IT. I can't return it unfinished. ARE YOU CRAZY!?!

OHMIGOD, it's July 11th and I still have over 200 pages left. See, this is why I didn't want to become that person who checked out books from the library. I don't like deadlines on things I'm supposed to enjoy! Oh and look at that, the original B&N I went to in search of the book with all intentions of buying it now had a plethora of copies. Bastards. BUT...I did it. I finished the book at 12.41am July 12th. Woohooo GOOOO ME! So I have returned The Historian and of course, while I was in there, I had to see if there was anything else I liked. There was. I have checked out another book. 4th of July by James Patterson. (DUE BACK AUG 2nd, oh dear another deadline.) I think I can, I think I can, I think I can... So I think I'm going to like this whole library idea. It might be something I can get used to.

OH! And The Historian is REALLY good....especially if you have a thing for Vampires! :)

Coulrophobia

"PHOBIA" AN INTENSE, ABNORMAL, OR ILLOGICAL FEAR OF A SPECIFIED THING...

I have an intense fear of clowns. I actually can't believe that I'm writing about it, it's that intense. Not to mention, while I was googling "fear of clowns" to get the actual phobia name, I came across this FRIGHTENING photo that you see to the right. As I sit here and type this, my hands are shaking, my insides are tightening up, it's hard to breathe, and I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing. All due to this bloody freaky clown!

Coulrophobia is the scientific term for the FEAR OF CLOWNS. Another definition I've found is "an irrational or uncontrollable fear of clowns." In my very basic research of this phobia, there have a been a multitude of reasons why one would become fearful of the oh-so-cute and cuddly clown. One being "inconsistent parenting." My answer...THEY'RE CREEPY LOOKING! My mom tells me the story of when I was about two, she was holding me while at some type of fair of sorts. A clown came up to my mom, standing behind me and then tapped on my shoulder. BAD MOVE. I turned around to find that...that face...staring right at me. Mom says I freaked out. Who wouldn't!? HELLO! I grew older and seemed to grow out of my fear. I had a clown at a couple of my birthday parties and I even dressed up as one for Halloween. I don't know what triggered it again when I got older. But it has resurfaced. I fear clowns. A lot. I went to see Ringling Bros. Barnum and Bailey for the very first time a couple years ago while they were at Madison Square Garden. My friend was the Production Stage Manager at the time so we got an insiders look backstage. I warned my friend of this intense fear and said "No clown better come near me." Well, what do you know. We're walking backstage getting a tour of the elephants and such to only find a CLOWN WALKING TOWARDS US! I, of course, started to freak out and retreated behind my friend. I do have to admit the clown was very nice and introduced himself by his real name. He didn't do anything "clown-like". So I was able to keep my cool. But only for a brief moment....

Of course, the media has taken this phobia over the top. The original source of the phrase is The Simpsons episode Lisa's First Word. It depicts a flashback to Homer Simpson building his son Bart a clown bed to sleep in. However, thanks to Homer's questionable crafting skills, the clown has a highly menacing appearance, so rather than "laughing himself to sleep" as Homer intended, Bart stays up chanting "Can't sleep, clown'll eat me...Can't sleep, clown'll eat me..." He is so scared he even imagines it talking to him with the threat of "If you should die before you wake.. MWAHAHAHA!!" Bart is therefore suffering from coulrophobia (fear of clowns) as well as clinophobia (fear of going to bed) and phagophobia (fear of being eaten). (I found this little blurb on answer.com)

This has sparked a I HATE CLOWNS revolution. The key phrase is "Can't sleep Clowns will eat me!". This has ended up everything from t-shirts to mugs to diapers. It's cute how they try to kill the fear with laughter. I'm sorry, but who was the IDIOT that thought that would cure this fear! OH, HONEY! I DON'T THINK SO!

Ok, seriously. I have to end this post. My stomach hurts from all the "clown" photos I've come across. Wow, my phobia is hardcore. At least I'm admitting it. Just do me a favor...don't get me near anymore clowns....

Nail biting match

2006 FIFA WORLD CUP FINAL. 76,000 people in that stadium in Berlin. Tell me why this is something that I want to experience before I die. To sit in a stadium watching the World Cup with 76,000 crazy people. Well Bill Clinton was there with his daughter, why can't I go? I don't know if I'd really like that large of a crowd. Though it would be an experience.... Did you watch the final today? There were people in the crowd with FLARES when Italy scored. Flares. LIT ONES. Tell me how this is allowed. If this was taking place in the US...you know that they would be taken down within seconds by every security guard in the vicinity. But those Europeans are crazy...they'll do anything when they're excited. Hey! I'm allowed to call them crazy. I'm European. :) For those of you who don't know, I'm rooting for FRANCE to win. I am half french and say that with extreme pride. Now, if you were only sitting with me while I watch this game. I'm not a "sports" person per se...but I have gotten extremely vocal while watching this match. My neighbors must think I'm crazy. Oh well. I'll just blame Donna.

Sorry France, but Italy's got some pretty men on their team. Woo. Give me that close up again! I don't care that they're all sweaty....those are some pretty men. That's it...Mom, I'm moving to Italy! Wow, they are really pretty...the average age is 29. PERFECT! Sorry I got distracted.

And ITALY WINS in overtime. It was a great game! Bravo Italy. (Though France should have won!) ;)

28 days till I'm in France...

What is that smell??

Ok. I've done something last night that I've never done before. I went to the very first showing of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Dead Man's Chest. The showing was at 12:01am and I went alone. Something I do often...go to the movies alone. Well I'm never really alone, Donna is always with me. Though sometimes she falls asleep. Anyhoo, back to my story. So I get to theatre about 40 minutes prior to the movie. The line to get inside is already WRAPPED AROUND THE CORNER of the block. Now in New York City, seeing this many people in a concentrated area isn't a shocking thing to witness. It's the fact that I was at the VERY FIRST SHOWING of Pirates. Do you even know how long I've been waiting for this film to come out and I would be one of the very first people to see it?! Knowing this made me very warm inside. When I got inside the actual theatre, I was a little disappointed to not see more people dressed up. Though there were some festive outfits happening. If I only had the guts to ask them to take a picture with me....
Two girls sat down in front of me with red bandanas and felt eye patches attached with fishing line. Very creative. But eye patches are not GREEN. They're BLACK! They are truly not REAL pirates as I am. Right as the house lights went out I hear a thunk/crash sound. The (non) pirate girls sitting in front of me had clearly dropped something. A bottle of beer. Cute that you tried to be big kids (I don't know how old they were) and sneak in bottles of beer. Not so cute that you DROPPED it and now I have to smell the foul stench of Heineken for the next 2 hours and 31 minutes.
Aside from the fact that I was getting drunk off the smell of beer, the movie is great! Absolutely hysterical and Johnny Depp is just a dream! I WILL marry him. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who has a soul. (Just be careful not to barter it to serve Mr. Davey Jones for eternity!) When you go to the movie, stay till the very end of the credits. :) You won't be disappointed. So go, NOW. Stop reading and goooo! RUN...DON'T WALK!

Dear Mr. Sinclair,

Because I have TiVo, I rarely watch commercials now. I used to hate commercials and dreaded the moment they graced my screen. Occasionally I'll catch a commercial and I am baffled in the things they try to sell us these days but most of all, how they market it. Now, some are purely brilliant. I will never forget Zoom Zoom. You know EXACTLY what commercial I'm talking about. If I were to ever get a car, I would immediately whisper zoom zoom. Now, that doesn't mean I'll buy a Mazda. (Yes, it's a Mazda commercial) But, they sure have made their way into my subconscious. Now I caught another commercial today that just about turned my stomach. It was a Tanqueray Gin commercial. A character named "Tony Sinclair," sporting mini-dreadlocks and a gap-toothed smile, debuts this week in commercials for the Diageo brand where he gives tips on cocktail party etiquette and serves as a foil for the usually posh tone of spirits marketing. They're at a party and you hear something like "ready to tanqueray. Always in moderation". I heard the word moderation and turned to my TV only to find a man standing in front of the hors d'oeuvres staring at the Shrimp Cocktail serving. This was a large plate of shrimp and the entire commercial is clips of him eating and eating. Just hoarding the shrimp cocktail. Grabbing at these shrimp like it's his last day on earth. I don't like seafood let alone watching someone consume an endless amount of it. In a matter of seconds, this commercial has turned my stomach but I was fixated and couldn't bring myself to hit the fast forward button on my TiVo. Tony Sinclair then appears. This man has the worst British accent and is just another version of Austin Powers but this time with dreads. He says something about the shrimp COCKTAIL. Like every COCKTAIL, it should be done in moderation. "I'm Tony Sinclair. Ready to Tanqueray?" My whole point of this story is to tell you that this commercial is not selling anything! Who would want to buy Tanqueray Gin knowing that they're just going to vomit up an entire plate of shrimp cocktail? Makes me more repulsed by the brand actually. I know they want these commercials to "stick in your head" so that when you go to the liquor store, you think what gin shall I buy today? I know, TANQUERAY. No thank you, Tony Sinclair, I'll pass.

Nicknames

Now I've gone through a lot of name drama as my name is one of the most unique names that I've ever heard. Talia. Of course, when this name was given to me, it was not a known name. I can't even begin to tell you the name botching I heard while growing up. Even today, I get the most horrific pronounciations. I've met more and more Talia's as I've gotten older and that bothers me...now. It was a different story when I was little. Ohh yes...very different. I HATED MY NAME. Well, thats an understatement. I went through every phase. Let's change the spelling. To Talya. Let's change the pronounciation. Instead of its CORRECT pronounciation, Tall-EE-AH lets pronounce it Tall-YAH. Let's shorten it. Leah. Let's just change my name entirely. Now, I suggested this change at the most inappropriate time. Here we enter our flashback: I was at a family event and my name became the hot topic of the night. "But Talia is such a beautiful name!" I did not like this at all. So being the drama queen that I am, I stood in the middle of the room and proceeded to throw a fit. "I hate my name! (face is now getting red and the screaming begins) I want to be named something boring! (now I'm turning purple) Like...like...DONNA!" I am now in my mid twenties and my family still calls me Donna. I get birthday cards, christmas cards, emails, phone calls...all addressed to Donna. This nickname has only lasted within my family and I soon lost interest in the name Donna. As it is a boring name and I am not a boring person. Though my other personality is. We shall call her Donna. Remember her. She will reappear.

Flashforward to 2005. I meet Christine. We connect instantly. We really were separated at birth. Even though we're almost 4 years apart. We work together intensely over a short period of time and have a great working relationship and friendship. Out of nowhere, I start calling her Sparky. I don't know where this name came from as I suck at naming things. My pets, my friends etc. Ok, stop with the tangent. Back to my (long) story. So Sparky now is challenged with finding me a nickname. Days later she comes into the room and says Skipper. I immediately respond to the name and it has now stuck. Skipper, skippy, skips any version you can think of, and I respond. Now, don't get me wrong. I love my name. I love love LOVE it. I wouldn't change it for any other name in the world. But Skipper? Is there really any other better nickname for me? I don't think so...