Florida The Final Frontier

These are the voyages of Melissa and Adam. Who boldly went where most people their age do not venture...Pembroke Pines, FL. The mission; to seek out a Bar Mitvah and not be annoyed by the local alien they call Nona.

Melissa arrives first, her flight out of Philly lands approximately 1.5 hours ahead of Adam's flight out of New York. She roams the airport, tries to find the next terminal, cuts through a parking garage, walks on a sidewalk that might not have been a sidewalk, then succesfully sits in the bagage claim of Spirit Air. After all that her schvitz was at a level 9. Approximate air temperature 87.

Melissa gets a good 30 minute nap. The dramamine is still in affect. Finally Adam arrives. He has a red dot on his cordory pants. Why he's wearing cordory pants to Florida is a mystery. The greater myster is where the red dot came from. The mystery is never solved.

The adventure continues to the rent a car. Adam tells Melissa Advantage rent a car is part of Hertz. The Hertz man tells Melissa that is rediculous. Adam says thanks for asking. Melissa says no problem back out to the heat. Melissa renames Advantage to Disadvantage, although the cool guy behind the counter decided to act cool and give them an upgrade. Adam and Melissa decide their butts are definetly relieved they don't have to sit in a Kia compact car. The Nissan Versa is so much nicer.

They arrive at Granpa Al's 40 minutes later. They tell the guard they are here to see Al Cohen, he says which one. Oh Florida you never disapoint do you? The visit and the cafe are exactly as they were last time they were here. Grandpa Al a bit worse for wear but the pistachio nuts were excellent. Adam ate most of them. Adam eats most of anything. They leave with promises to call and visits to come in the future. Nona is waiting and you can't keep a Nona waiting for too long.

The Nona alien is comprised of many things. 1 part caring old lady, 1 part vanity, 1 part deaf, 1 part life of the party, 1 part liar, 1 part loving, 1 part excessive, 1 part giving, 1 part the same Nona they have always known. Her behavior should never be a surprise, but Melissa always is.

As for surprises Adam is in for a treat when he learns he has to go to Synagogue on Friday night and that is where the dinner is being held. He has a mini meltdown. Then recoups and decides to wear his suit, which isn't his Hugo Boss suit he likes to brag about, but a nice suit anyway. At Synagogue Melissa and Adam sit behind a guy in a Tommy Bahama shirt. Apparently Florida did not get the memo that you should look nice in Synagogue. It could be worse though, Adam could be wearing his Hugo Boss suit.

At the Bar Mitvah Adam and Melissa watch Nona get loaded, dance to Play that Funky Music White Boy, then claim she isn't drunk. They dress up Adam in all the Bar Mitvah flair we can find and take pictures. They do one last dance to Shout and then leave to go to their cousins house, cousins who Nona would refer to as Not Blood. They are blood to Melissa and Adam but not blood to Nona and therefor not really family.

At Lori Baron's house Melissa and Adam play with the kids. Adam goes to "get pizza" with Willie. Melissa entertains said kids until they get back. Lori comes home from a 3 hour hair appointment and Melissa proceeds to ask her if the thing on her finger is a tumor to which she responds "it is not a tumor."

Melissa and Adam do not get back to Nona's till well after midnight where she is still up watching old movies on TCM. Melissa tries to avoid the Nona alien and goes to bed because in a few hours they have to get up to go eat again at a brunch.

Brunch is comprised of many dishes, an omlet station and belini's, which they have been drinking not stop since they got there. Melissa tries to not eat too much since in a few hours they will be on a plane but she can't help herself and eats too many delicious fruit tarts.

The rent a car is due back at 1pm giving Melissa and Adam a few hours to hang out in the airport. Adam proceeds to talk on the phone for most of the time they have left together while Melissa sits and stares at the wall. They make fun of their other brother then part ways to go home.

Mission Accomplished

30 and ragin like it's my Bat Mitvah,

Melissa

It's hard to write a blog when you have nothing to say.

True Fact: Writing a blog requires writing.

It should also require creativity and interesting topics.

Currently I have neither.

When I was a young girl growing up in the middle of nowhere New York I dreamed of things that seemed out of my reach. I wrote poems about loneliness and gruesome death. (I was very into Anne Rice) Through college all I did was write. Short stories, poems, a notebook full of things that were currently bothering me. I wrote more than I studied, my grades would reflect that.

As I reached 30 I ran out of ideas. I ran out of the ability to think. Now I sit at a desk, fearing how boring the next meeting I am forced to attend will be. I think of ways of harming my mortal enemy which never really would work out. I think of harming myself just to get out of here. Mostly I can't think at all. It's as if all intelligence has left my brain and all I have is mush to replace it.

You can't write a blog based on mush. At least not the blog I was intending to write.

I was going to write a blog about being 30. I still might continue to, only I have nothing to say about the topic. Everyday is the same. 30 is the same as every year before it.

Feeling good is only a theory until you buy into it. Like religion or sex. It seems lately I am out of money.

Out of ideas and not ragin' it,

Melissa

Story of the Day

Milk Crates

She began stacking milk crates at the age of ten. At first it was a hobby, the crates were free from the local supermarket and she didn't have many friends. She liked the lines of the crates, the squareness of their shape, the solidness of the plastic. They were light enough for her to lift and easy enough to stack. With some duck tape and Elmer's glue she found she could connect the crates and build things greater in size than she was. Her first project was a bench. The projects only got bigger after that.

Six years later and her crate house was complete. It was three bedrooms two baths with a porch and an eat in kitchen. She said she would live there if only the roof didn't leak, but that is the problem with crates, they aren't completely solid. The house was to be her crowning moment and it would have been but near the end of the completion she had run out of free crates from the supermarket and had to find other sources to supply her with materials.

The stealing began on a Thursday. She was walking home from school and saw a truck parked outside a warehouse loading milk crates onto the back. She nearly walked past, but her fingers began to twitch, her legs started to walk backwards, her eyes bulged as her pulse quickened. Then her feet quickened and she grabbed the first crate throwing the milk on the floor. Eight block later when she knew she was safe she promised herself she would never steal again because it was wrong. The only thing wrong was her posture was starting to bend, she could no longer stand completely straight.

It happened gradually. Since the age of ten her body was slowly bending its way into crate form. Her arms now hit the ground when she walked. She could no longer stack crates, her body wouldn't let her. At the age of twenty she was now a fixture in her own crate house. She stood bent over on the porch while people came to take pictures of the town's new attraction. People would sit on her as her new form made her into a chair. They would take pictures and bring them home to make scrapbooks. Eventually when she died, her skin hardened to plastic and she became the thing she most loved, a milk crate.


30 and wishing to rage it,

Melissa

Feta Cheese and Freedom

I had big plans for this Friday. I was going to come into work and be told by my boss that they were sorry but they were giving me my 60 days notice. The layoff of my dreams. Severance pay, then unemployment and the summer of Melissa would begin. As soon as I was told this news I was going to pretend I was upset. Maybe fake some tears and say I have to take the rest of the day off to "figure things out."

Then I would leave, and as soon as I turned the corner of 17th street I would start dancing and singing like Fraulein Maria. I would run to the train, then run to my house the minute I got off. I would proceed to take a nap (because that is what I do). After this well deserved nap I would get up and go to the computer and look for 25 day long cruises to the Mediterranean. My 60 days would be up just in time for Jacob's summer break to start. The two of us would sail the high seas, eat too much food, vomit a lot from sea sickness (well me, not Jacob he has a stomach of steel) and pretend we are rich by laughing ridiculous at everything we see. I'm looking at you Gyro.

After our summer tour of all things Feta, I would spend the rest of the summer landscaping my backyard and filming some of it for Internet because why not? I could land a show on HGTV. I could be the next star of Backyard Awesomeness. And when I wasn't filming Backyard Awesomeness I would be napping because that is what I do.

Instead though I have not been given my 60 days notice. Which in fact has given me plenty of time to dream of what my Backyard Awesomeness will look like. So I will leave you with an image of the plans I have, don't ask how I'm getting an ocean in my .13 acres of land, you'll just have to watch the show.

30 and semi ragin it,

Melissa

30

It happened during a Disco Biscuits show, where most of the important things in my life have happened. Ed kept looking at me with a shitty grin telling me how many minutes were left. Then right after he would say it isn't that bad. It wasn't that bad. I was mostly distracted by the sick Basis that was raging out my 20's. I've heard Basis live 15 times, but this time I may have actually remember every note. Then it was midnight and an Inverted Shimmy was starting to take form. And I was 30.

I have been wondering for months what I would be thinking the minute I turned 30. What revelations I would have, what regrets would come, what things I've been holding onto for so long that would leave me. But in that minute, the one after I got my birthday wishes, hugs and kisses all I could think about was how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten since lunch when I had a piece of birthday cake that made my stomach do horrible things to me all afternoon. I was thinking if only this damn show would end, I could go to Lorenzo's down the street and eat a mammoth slice of cheese pizza that I had been dreaming about ever since we pulled up to South Street. I was thinking that if maybe they started a shitty encore I could convince Jacob to leave early so we could beat the crowd to the delicious pizza and I could burn the roof of my mouth with it.

All this anticipation to the moment of change and the reality of it was there was no change. I was still thinking about eating, which is what I do all day long everyday. If 30 couldn't even change my appetite why would it change who I was?

Two days into being 30 and nothing seems different. So for the next year I will see how I can make it different. Instead of wondering what the beast called 30 is going to do to me, I'm going to see what I can do to it.

I've taken the first step. I bought a Coach wristlet, because I obviously cannot afford a bag. That makes old. Although right after I bought tee-shirts from Delia's so I think I evened myself out.

30 and ragin it,

Melissa

I miss Billy Crystal

It's Oscar time.. Oscar Oscar... you know the song

This year the hosts are Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin.. comedy duo.. great.. does Steve really need Alec?

Can I ask what Billy Crystal is up to this year? Does he really have better things to do then not host the Oscars? Is City Slickers 3 coming out? (I can only hope)

Billy has hosted 8 times and all 8 times a fantastic movie has won. Here's a rundown:

1989: Driving Miss Daisy
1990: Dances With Wolves
1991: Silence of the Lambs
1992: Unforgiven
1996: The English Patient
1997: Titanic
1999: American Beauty
2003: Lord of the Rings Return of the King


Ok so American Beauty is pushing it but there is always 1 loser in a bunch.

Meanwhile, am I really suppose to stay up way past my bedtime of 9:30pm for movies like Avatar, The Blind Side and The Douche Locker?

First off Dances with Wolves already won in 1990, so what if its Indians weren't blue? Does an Oscar have to stoop so low that visual effects now win over story line?

Second if I watch the Blind Side I may actually go blind by plucking out my own eyes.

Third can someone explain to me why The Hurt Locker was suppose to be good? Who really chooses going to Iraq over being able to bang Kate from LOST on a daily basis?

Here is my fantasy Oscar picks as the Academy seems not to be able to choose correctly.. hit it Billy...

10: 500 days of Summer - I am obsessed with Zooey Deschanel and her bangs

9: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince - Because as usual I ask too much of you Harry

8: Inglorious Basterds - I'm married to the Jew Bear

7. Land of the Lost - I'm a sucker for Danny McBride and the chick from Pushing Daisies

6: UP - Only the first 20 minutes then it went downhill.. Wall-E was way better

5: It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia Season 5 - I know it's a TV show but I'm running out of movies that don't suck

4: Zombieland - just for the scene where they reenact Ghost Busters with Bill Murray

3: District 9 - Mocumentary plus prawns = gold

2: Star Trek - Best movie of the year hands down.. JJ got robbed

1: Grey Gardens - Although an HBO film.. it's the best movie ever and should be recognized as such... don't forget the ice cream Edy!


Movies I have not seen and could have made this list had I of seen them:

Crazy Heart
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
The Lovely Bones
Where the Wild Things Are
The Road


So there it is.. I saw a list of movies from the entire year and guess what they all suck. Can Hollywood get off its ass and make something original, something interesting, something with a goddamn plot! And while they are at it can the call up Billy Crystal and just see what's he's doing because he's probably not doing much since he found Curly's gold.

I am a Troll

I finally admit it, I am a troll. I've tried desperately in my nearly 30 years of life to avoid my trolliness, but I can no longer fight it. I am getting shorter, wider and within the last few years more wrinkly and club footed. (OK maybe not club footed yet, but it's coming). I also started grunting, wearing tattered oversized clothing and have been mouth breathing more often. This is a sure sign that I am slowly becoming the true troll I always knew I was.

In honor of my new found appreciation (more like submission) to my trolliness, here is a list of super fantastic trolls I can look up to.

ZELDA RUBINSTEIN: All Knowing Troll

Zelda may best be known for her work in Poltergeist as the medium who knows everything about evil spirits.. but I remember Zelda best as Madame Serena the seer in Teen Witch. Standing only 4 foot 3 she helped poor Louise turn from loser high school student to Teen Witch awesomeness. If only I could have had a Madame Serena in my life to tell me what to do. We will all miss you Zelda, you were the greatest of female trolls.

DANNY DEVITO: Comedic Troll

Not only did Danny Devito play a penguin troll but he also played a troll brother to Arnold Schwarzenegger. His troll antics are legendary and his current trolliness as Frank on It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia doesn't disappoint. In the words of Frank Reynolds "The acid's makin me feel like I have to take a dump."

RUMPELSTILTSKIN: Fairy Tale Troll

Oh that crazy Rumpelstiltskin, spinning straw into gold, stealing poor young ladies first born. Who ever could have guessed your name?

CAVE TROLL: Lord of the Rings Troll

So Frodo and crew decide to take the passage through Moria. Seemed like a good idea at first until the Orcs come along with a giant ass Cave Troll. Out of all the trolls so far this one is the most bad ass. Luckily for Frodo he had his Mithril Coat on that Bilbo gave him and saved his ass from the bad ass Cave Troll. Unfortunately, this is where our Cave Troll's story ends. May you rest in peace brutha.

GUMMI BEAR TROLL: Saturday Morning Cartoon Troll

And finally we have the cutest of all trolls, the Gummi Bear Trolls. These adorable trolls were always trying to steal Gummiberry Juice. Gruffi wasn't having it...

PRIORITIES

Or more appropriately, how should I be spending my money? This question came about after spending several hours arguing on Phantasy Tour about a guy who's wife asked him to stop smoking pot because it was too much of a finance. Of course I was berated for agreeing with the wife because we all know how much smoking pot is the most important thing ever. The fact that I'm almost 30 years old and still arguing with random nameless people on Phantasy Tour is a whole other post in and of itself.

Meanwhile, the problem here is how should I be spending what little money I have? This month alone I had an exceeding large increase in extra cash due to the fact that all my credit cards were paid off. I had in fact about 350 dollars worth of extra money to just throw away, this was after I already saved 250 dollars.

So what did I do with it? Well the logical thing to do would probably have been to put another 100 dollars into savings. I didn't do that. The next thing may have been to give some extra money to my car payment. I didn't do that either. What I did do was go to the mall and spend 150 dollars at Twenty by Twenty, yes the Forever 21 store because even as I turn 30 I will always be 21 in my heart.

To spend 150 dollars at Forever 21 you need to purchase at least 8 things, which I did with much success. I found cute hipster dresses, some snap button blouses, a skirt, a cardigan and a jacket for 9 dollars. At my birthday party in a few weeks I will look 21 and hopefully feel no more than 27.

Then I moved onto Urban Outfitters, which I only buy things from the sale rack unless it's a bag that I can't live without. This time it was only for stockings which cost 18 dollars, a bit expensive but they were exactly what I was looking for.

I also bought a necklace online.

A ticket to see the Disco Biscuits on my birthday.

30 dollars on my train pass to get work.

Dinner at my favorite Diner.

Several stops at WAWA.

And a withdrawl for 20 dollars to go to the movies to see the Wolfman.. which I would like my 20 dollars back please.

Total I have 49.72 dollars left until this Friday when I get paid again. In which case I will have to pay my mortgage and get my hair done so I will have about an excess of 200 dollars give or take.

So what to do with that 200 dollars. Most likely it will go to gas or train rides. Perhaps another shopping trip, it's almost spring you know. I will probably buy another book on Amazon or look for shoes.

But what should I be doing with my money at 30 years old? Investing it? I don't know if I trust the 401K to be there when I need it. Savings account? It seems no sooner do I fill the savings account then I drain it on something for the house or for my car. So let's say I spend it on more clothes or shoes or eating or reading, who's to say that isn't where I should be spending the money? If a shirt makes me happy shouldn't I buy it? If buying shoes I can barely walk in but are gorgeous fill me with delight shouldn't I purchase them and sit them on my shelf to admire? If all we have in this life is the things we collect throughout the years, shouldn't we be collecting the things we love most?

The only thing left to save for really is my granite countertop in my kitchen. In 10 years time I will be able to save for that, in the meantime I can afford the 20 dollar slave labor made dresses from Forever 21 and I can wear until about two weeks later when they fall apart.

The calling out game.

It starts like this:

I wake up in a panic about 30 minutes before my alarm is set to go off. I realize I do not want to go to work today. I start to think about scenarios that have happened or that might happen. I wake up Jacob and ask him for permission to call out. This being my way of justifying the call out. He says no of course and then I proceed to freak out.

Sometimes I actually realize I should go to work and do so. Other times the following events occur:

I call out with a lame excuse. I am sick, I just can't make it, my car broke down which is the lamest of all considering I take the train to work. I proceed to get out of bed sometimes eat some breakfast or just fall back to sleep after Jacob leaves for work.

Sometime later after I have slept for a few hours I wake up in a panic. I've done it again. I've called out of an easy job and they are going to fire me. I'm going to lose my house. I'm going to lose everything. For about an hour I lay in the bed completely unable to move because of my panicking. After about an hour I realize that I have called out more than I've gone to work for the last year and they still haven't fired me. Plus I still have 5 sick days and 3 weeks of vacation left. So I'm not out of time. Then I finally get out of bed and shower.

Although, after I shower I realize I have nothing to do. I could try to fill out my application for grad school, the same application I have been trying to fill out for the past 5 years. I could try to find a new psychiatrist to help me through my anxiety. I could go to the library and volunteer for a couple of hours so when I fill out said application I would have experience attached to it. I could go shopping but don't want to spend the money in case I actually do get fired. I could go to the gym but don't until 4pm because I don't want them knowing I called out of work.

So where does that leave me on my day off that is suppose to be fun but as usual has turned into a panicked depressed day?

On the couch, watching horrible TV, thinking about what I should be doing but am not. And as I approach my 30th year will that change anything? I think not considering on that day I will be taking off from work because I don't want to work on my birthday. I'm not sure how this will help me because I will be spending the day alone and mostly depressed.

So how do I stop from calling out of work? What will power can I find to get on that train every morning and sit in my chair doing absolutely nothing for 8 hours? If I can't change how do I expect the job to change? The job is not changing. I am not getting laid off anytime soon unfortunately. I have nothing to make me change except my own free will. But my own free will is stuck and I refuse to let it out.

Does 30 mean becoming an adult, taking responsibilities for myself? I hope it does because at 29 I am still not able to be the person I think I am suppose to be. I am not able to give myself an inch of movement towards something greater then this hole of self hate I have dug since before I knew what I was doing.

Can I make a pact with my 30th year? Can I ask it to help me be something better? Something saner? Something thinner? Something smarter? Something less angry? Something more useful? Something more loving? Something more like the picture in my head?

Something less me?

I'm gonna tell them all to go kick rocks

instead of telling them to go fuck themselves. Kicking rocks sounds so much more mature and fun, who needs to swear anymore? I've been swearing my whole life. My father used to tell me I talked like a truck driver. I guess that's insulting to truck drivers who are nice family men and don't swear.

Swearing is like my back up device. When all else fails just throw out a few F bombs and let them explode all over people's faces. It is most fun to do at work in the lunchroom. You wait until the older ladies come in when they are talking about dancing with the stars, then you start swearing up a storm. Throw in a cunt for good measure and the room is yours.

When I turn 30 in 44 days I wonder if my swearing will decrease or increase. Does turning 30 mean you have to mature to no swearing? I waited most of my childhood to turn an age where I could swear all I want and not be yelled at for it.

I guess until I figure it out you can all go fucking kick rocks.

The Begining of The End

47 days to go. 47 days to do whatever it was I planned to do in my 20's but never did. Since I can't remember what those things were I'm going to stop crying over the what ifs and start heading towards the why not's.

Why not do whatever it is I've always wanted to do, but do it when I'm 30? Is 30 really the end of the world? Is 30 the new 20? And was being 20 all that good to begin with?

Here's a top 10 list of what I've accomplished in my 20's thus far:

1. Lost 55lbs, gained back 15, lost 15, gained 15 currently trying to lose 15 again.
2. Graduated college...slowly
3. Met husband
4. Married said husband
5. Went to 8 Disco Biscuits New Year's in a row
6. Bought a house after living in 9 apartments over the course of 8 years.
7. Had 8 jobs and only fired from one..currently miserable at current job.
8. Thought about applying to graduate school for the last 6 years.. only got as far as the first paragraph on the essay.
9. Became a resident of South Jersey and have decided to embrace it with large hair and trips to the Jersey Shore.
10. Been out of the country 3 times, Canada, Israel and Jamaica ... Irie Mon...


So I pose these questions: Do we really grow up all that much? Do we change who we are just because of the number attached to us? Can we have things like husbands, houses, dogs maybe children and still maintain the person we always thought we'd grow up to be?

I've lived a decade of 20's.. Will I now live a decade of 30's with the same regrets and what ifs? And are those regrets and what ifs the product of my own procrastination, my own fear of success?

Or am I just obsessed with myself too selfish to realize that all of this is just made up to make myself feel important?

I guess we shall see.....