Soooo Georgie Wants You to Put A Ring On It?

(Was the title too much? It might be too much.)

It's been a while. Sometimes, you need to be inspired to write about...nothing. Well, all that nothing finally inspired me this evening. The following conversation just happened between me and my mother:

While discussing Glee, and its upcoming season finale, we started talking about next season. Anyone who's a 'Gleek' (yeah, I am one, I'll say it) knows that next season they are casting a 'Carrie Underwood type' to be Rachael's arch nemesis. (If you don't know what that means, don't worry, it just means you aren't awkwardly obsessed with a television show.) The point here is, we're talking Carrie Underwood. Which leads to talking about Carrie Underwood's engagement to Mike Fisher. (It's the hockey thing, we can't help it.) Which leads to talking about Hilary Duff's engagement to Mike Comrie.... (I'll start you part of the way through the conversation, otherwise we might sound nuts. Fine, we already are nuts but, we'll try to keep it to a minimum here.)

Me: Well, yeah, but have you seen Hilary Duff's engagement ring?!

Mom: Yes, but Mike Fisher is far better looking than Mike Comrie. Doesn't that matter? Wouldn't you rather be Carrie Underwood?

Me: You are correct. He is better looking. Far better looking. BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THAT RING? If those are my options, come on! I'm never going to be an American Idol but I still have a shot at being a Canadian's Girlfriend.... He is Canadian right?

Mom: Yes. They are both Canadian. But the one who got the million dollar ring found the Canadian hockey player slash heir so, may want to work on the American Idol thing too. Good luck with all that.

So in case you were ever wondering what the conversation is like between mother and daughter, there it is folks. Million dollar rings, Canadian hockey players, and TV shows that literally have no effect on anyone's life. So here's to family and all the wonderfulness that comes with it.

The Blood Line Continues to Never Disappoint

So the little brother won Beer Fest '10. We all know how Mom felt about that. This past Sunday the 4 of us attended a Penguins game in Pittsburgh. The Igloo is being torn down this year and it was our little family's final hoorah. Our farewell to a historic place. A place we hold very dear to our hearts.

Naturally, in what is apparently true Fahn fashion, this involved a few beers.

With a Mom to drive me back to Buffalo and a little brother to drive S back to State College, the 21 year olds took advantage and toasted the Pens. This led to a few encounters that may have proven Mom right about how it's difficult to be proud of the beer funneling, keg standing, and flip cupping.

First 2 rounds were on me. (First paycheck put to good use!) Round number 3 was on S. As we were getting ready to get round 4 (our last one, we aren't that bad) S looked to me and said, "I think I'm going to ask Mom for money to contribute to our drinking fund!" And thus she promptly turned to Mom and literally said, "Hey Mom, want to contribute to our drinking fund? We need a twenty!"

Rolling her eyes, Mom went into her wallet, handed us $25, and asked us to get her a water. At the close of the period we got up to go to the restroom and then get our beers. Mom decided to come with us. Naturally, the guy at the beer stand looked at us and as he began to pour said, "2 Bud Lights?" Naturally, Mom rolled her eyes and responded, "Yep, of course they want 2 Bud Lights but they also need a water this time. As you could probably guess, the water is not for them."

As we walked back to our seats she looked at us and said, "So you guys pretty much make friends with whoever is serving the beer everywhere you go don't you?" After a moment of pondering the only real answer we could come up with was, "Yep."

So, maybe she has a point, but: shouldn't she also be proud that we're like really, really good at making friends? It's not like everyone gets remembered by the beer stand guy. We were special.

Or maybe we were just frequent fliers....

UPDATE: Mom came home today with a bottle of Jameson so we can take victory shots (there was nowhere to take them after the game) this weekend when the the kids come home for Easter. At least we know we totally get it from somewhere.

Now This is A Blood Line To Be Proud Of

The Scene: My Kitchen (Where I haven't even had my first cup of coffee yet.)

The Players: Me and Georgie

Georgie: So, did you get the phone call I did last night? (Never ask someone that question like that. 'The phone call' could have come from anyone about anything. This girl's mind always assumes the next statement is, "Uncle Barry died. He choked on a shrimp at Red Lobster.") (I don't have an Uncle Barry. And if I did and he was eating at Red Lobster, I'd hope he was eating crab. Unless it was Shrimp Fest.)

Me: No, what phone call?

G: From your sister.

Me: Oh boy, what was it?

G (In a voice imitating my sister): MOM! You're going to be soooooooo proud! Jord won Beer Fest!!!!!! (Beer Fest AKA Beer Olympics. Every team dresses up as a different country, (which basically means writing Germany in Sharpie across a tee shirt) and competes in various drinking events.) (And for those of you who don't know, J is the baby of the family.)

Me: Did he really?!

G: Yeah I guess so. And Sarah just kept saying, 'You'd be so proud, you'd be so proud!' And I just kept saying, oh yeah, I'm so proud that all my kids are so great at drinking. And there's nothing like getting that phone call while everyone is hammered so those kids can ask for praise for being, like, soooooo good at flip cup.

Me: Well, it is kind of funny. And we're good at other things too.

G: Yeah...Remember the first time Sarah came to visit you at Penn State and the only phone call I got was, "Mom, you'd be so proud of me! I drank at Tour de State all day with everyone!"? (Tour de State is far more complicated to explain but let's call it a bar crawl but insert 'people's houses and apartments' for 'bar'. Zack Morris was my team name for Tour de State '07.)

Me: Yeah, I remember that...

G: I rest my case. But, yeah, I'm really, really proud! (Is the sarcasm implied here? I hope so.)

End Scene

End scene as at this point I just walked out of the room with nothing left to say. Because, how do you say, "Yeah Mom, we run marathons, we teach kindergartners, we listen to a lot of Dave, and we're keg stand experts. We just want you to be proud of all of our accomplishments."

I Am Woman. No, Seriously Mom, I Am.

My mom recently asked me if I was a boy. Seriously. "Kristen, are you a boy?" I know I spend a lot of time with guys and not girls. When I say 'time' I mean: 90% of the time I leave the house I know no guy is going to approach me because one of those 5 dudes I'm with must be my boyfriend. Otherwise why would I be the only girl around all the time? (I suppose I should note here that none of them ever are my boyfriend? There just happen to be more males in my life than females.) So, I had come to terms with all the assumptions people surely make, but apparently, I spend enough time with just the male species that it compelled my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, to think perhaps I have actual male parts? That is kind of an extreme thing for my brain to manage.

As it turns out, I couldn't give her a really good answer one way or the other. Clearly, no, I am not a boy. But you know, if people (particularly your own mother) are asking you that, you can't help but feel some sort of confusion. This was not a 'I'm going to get an operation' kind of confused. Just you know, bamboozled confused. Thought that should be clear.

Well, I have decided that I am, unequivocally, a woman. How did I come to this realization? (Aside, from you know, the last 25 years of bras and heels and dresses and the want for an engagement ring not because I want to be married but because I want a really pretty piece of something sparkly.) Of course, New York Magazine comes through again. I read the following quote from an interview with Mad Men's Christina Hendricks:

"It is perhaps ironic then that Hendricks actually started out as a model - catalogues, mostly, but there was one season on the London runway that ended when her agent said, "Darling, did your boobs grow?" (One imagines that future season might see the question posed in the opposite direction.)"

Because, really, that question is so much better to be asked if you are a woman as opposed to being asked as a man. And trust me, I've been asked that question more than anyone.

Oh, and hopefully one day that question is posed in the opposite direction. And that'll be one point for the big girls.

Things I've Thought About And/Or Learned

1. I want to actually be Lil Wayne. Not be in his entourage, not be one of his baby momma's, but actually, literally be him. I think he's insanely awesome. If someone can name something un-awesome about that guy I'd love to hear it. (No, I don't care that he's going to jail on weapons charges. I think that adds to the swagger.) If you need some convincing, feel free to purchase this week's Rolling Stone and/or just click here. (In response to seeing him on the Rolling Stone cover Georgie simply said, 'What's he going to do in jail? Isn't that where people just get tattoos? He really should have thought of that ahead of time.' Because people's first thought when going to jail is always, 'Oh no! Where am I going to get all my prison ink with all the tattoos I already have?!' Alternatively, when getting tattoos people probably also think, 'Hmmmm, I may end up in jail someday so I better leave some skin available for when that happens.')

2. I've been bowling wrong for almost 25 years. Apparently you use your middle and ring fingers not your pointer and middle fingers to throw the ball. Who knew? I'm really hoping this revelation improves my game. It should be noted this information would have been really helpful before I bowled 3 games yesterday, not after.

3. Icy Hot is next to Godliness. Despite the fact that every time I put it on Georgie insists upon commenting about how strong it smells, I love it. Anything that makes your calves feel that good can smell however it wants.

4. Things I'm going to invent: Icy Hot that smells in a way in which I could wear it outside the house; crushed tomatoes that come in a box similar to chicken stock so they can be portioned out and stored in the fridge between uses; plastic wrap that doesn't make me want to light myself on fire when I'm just trying to cover a bowl.

5. I think people who Twitter are absolutely batshit crazy. Seriously just totally nutty. That being said, I'm really considering jumping on the bandwagon....

6. A friend tells me if you Google, "When will it get warm in Buffalo?" the answers are abysmal. At least, for today, I don't live where I used to; the photo is Central Park circa about 20 minutes ago.

Shoutout To All The Moms Out There

A very Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there. Since sooooo many Moms read this blog I figured it was important to give them their due. The point is: make sure to give Mom a call, send her a card, or cook her dinner. I will be making a fabulous feast of crab cakes, wedge fries, (seasoned with Parmesan cheese and parsley and baked until golden and delicious) and asparagus. I am probably more excited for this meal than she is.

In other news, my time in Buffalo is coming to an end (yes, I'll be hitting up The Station again tonight) so tomorrow brings us adventures in San Francisco. Get ready for really exciting stories about hour, after hour, after hour of meetings. Also, long naps on planes. There will be lots of stories about that.