I love my Mom. I really do. She reads this site periodically so I REALLY LOVE HER…but, there are lots of ways in which we’re different. I won’t grow up to be like her. It’s just not possible. We’re not alike. I mean it. We’re not.

…But then of course, I think about it, and realize there are ways I am slowly turning into my mother – even though I basically made a blood pact with myself such a thing would never happen.

5) I talk to the TV / movie screen
To this day, one of the most annoying things my mom can do in my presence is talk through a TV show or movie. Either she’s explaining to the room how stupid something is, or she’s asking questions that she wouldn’t have to ask if she would just LISTEN in the first place (“what’s happening here? Why is he like that?”). We have gotten into huge, giant fights about this habit of hers, and the one time I told her to be quiet in a rather nasty tone she got so pissed I thought she was going to set me on fire.

So yeah, I hate this habit of hers when she’s around, but when I’m alone or with friends…I freaking do the exact same thing. I don’t understand it. It’s like I’m compelled to slip snarky comments into the dialogue everyone’s trying so hard to hear. It’s horrible. I can’t stop.

4) I shop at Ann Taylor
When I was younger, and my mom would bring me to the mall, we’d always have to walk inside this bevy of sensible dresses and cashmere cardigans. The pastels would immediately make me feel like I needed to take a nap, and even my mother’s excited yelps of, “they have petites!” could not convince me to spend money there.

However, just the other day, I found myself drawn to the windows of this store, and then pulled inside, by the very same cardigans that used to make me want to vomit boredom. Plus…they have petites. Read More »

I have an account on a dating site. But I never use it. Unless I want to depress myself. Then I use it.

It’s easy to depress oneself on an online dating site – especially if A) you know for a fact you’ll never find the person you want online and B) all your “matches” are either really unattractive or cover their profile with flowery prose that’s so full of sh*t there’s no room for actual talent.

Aside from the shirtless mirror shot attached to a Faulker-esque description of New York City in the winter or a predisposition for “coding computers”, there’s nothing that turns me off faster than when one of my weird, douchebag-like “matches” has NPR listed as one of their loves. Which is strange. Because I love NPR.

I love being serenaded on long Sunday car rides by Ira Glass’s calming monotone during This American Life. I enjoy All Things Considered, BBC World Service updates, and the occasional funny op-ed by a slightly famous quirky writer. I feel comfortable with NPR’s obvious liberal bias – as I myself own such a bias – and there’s nothing better than sitting alone in my apartment with a glass of wine as deep-set, unhurried voices click their well versed tongues against my eardrums. NPR is like a womb. A liberal, literary, sophisticated womb where I take comfort at least twice a day (if not more).

So why the shuddering when I notice a potential mate might enjoy themselves some Fresh Air with Terry Gross?

I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe because most of the people I know who listen to public radio are bleeding heart liberals, and even though I consider myself one of those bleeders (with a shot of hippie thrown in), I get a little nervous when a guy describes himself that way. Read More »