Thursday, September 13, 2007

Moving (Part II)

Sunflowers

I had totally forgotten that I wrote “To Be Continued” at the end of my first post about moving. Then Brooke was like, “So when are you writing part two?” And I had no idea what she was talking about. But I made pretend I did. I don’t know why, but I do that often. I presume it has something to do with my awful memory. Sometimes I can’t seem to process even simple questions arising from conversations that occurred only moments ago. It’s not that I’ve forgotten it completely, it just takes me longer than it should to recall. So I make like I know what the person is talking about in order to buy time and get clues to figure it out. In a way, I turn common, everyday exchanges into puzzling adventures.

But I think when I wrote “To Be Continued” I meant it more esoterically. Like, “Moving, like life, will continue . . .” More retardedly some might say. But the way I see it, it’s just another opportunity to talk about my back yard garden. (Which was another point of contention with Brooke, who happens to be an editor. She was all, “Backyard is one word, not two.” Which is true. But I made up some story about how I wanted each separate word to emphasize its counterpart. So it’s not “a garden in the back yard,” it’s “a garden, which is within a yard, which is in the back.” I have to imagine it’s tiring to try to communicate with me.)

Understandably, hearing about my garden must get tiring. You just have to understand my excitement. On my list of things I hate about New York, “lack of space” is right at the top. It’s just not healthy to cram yourself into apartments this small. Especially not when there is nature out there, waiting for you to cut it down and build a huge house with a chimney and gables, which I don’t even know what they do, but I’m pretty sure my apartment doesn’t have them.

The thing is, I grew up in a different era. I played outside almost every day after school. In fact, my mom made me play outside. She loved me so much that she made me play outside for at least an hour every day so that when it came time for me to leave for college she would know what it feels like to miss me. At least that’s what she told me. And it must be true because one day I came in early and mom was drinking a martini and dancing around the kitchen. What a brave woman she is.

But today’s kids? Hanging out inside all the time with their video games and their Trans fats? They have no appreciation for nature. They wouldn’t know what a Dogwood tree looked like if it added them on Facebook.*

Me? I can’t wait to get back in touch with nature. For too long the only contact I’ve had with nature is the wood paneling in my elevator and my large, hairy neighbor who I sometimes witness saunter out onto his balcony shirtless while I am out enjoying a cocktail. While I sit there trying not to stare at him stretch, I like to imagine that this is the urban equivalent of a bear sighting. Except instead of being in a log cabin in the middle of the wilderness I am seven stories up on a small concrete patio, and the “wildest” thing about it is that this guy lives on the Upper East Side and doesn’t wax his back.

So you can see why I am excited. And I promise I will tone down the garden mania a bit. The last thing any of us needs is for this to turn into a gardening blog. Any asshole can take pictures of flowers. And you know what? They’re not all that funny either. In fact, I just did a Google search for “flower jokes” and this is what I got:

Two friends, a blonde and a redhead, are walking down the street and pass a flower shop where the redhead happens to sees her boyfriend buying flowers. She sighs and says, "Oh, no, my boyfriend is buying me flowers again".

The blonde looks quizzically at her and says, "You don't like getting flowers?"

The redhead says, "I love getting flowers, but he always has expectations after giving me flowers, and I just don't feel like spending the next three days on my back with my legs in the air."

The blonde says, "Don't you have a vase?"

HAHAHA, GROSS.

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12 Comments:

Blogger leah said...

You know what? That blonde joke is the only joke I know. It's been my trusty go-to for nearly six years because it always gets a laugh, even from friends who've heard it before. And I stole it from an old English professor who used it as an ice-breaker on the first day of class during my sophomore year of college. His name was Pat Johnson -- and believe me, that's no joke.

September 13, 2007 at 1:55:00 PM EDT  
Blogger [mother] said...

Ah, the martini days.

And, yes, I am very brave.

September 13, 2007 at 4:06:00 PM EDT  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I knew what you meant in the last post. I was not expecting details of your move. Thanks for posting though! Shyia

September 13, 2007 at 4:28:00 PM EDT  
Anonymous Dan Fan said...

Just wanted to say I love your blog. Oh, yeah, and you're super cute :-)

September 13, 2007 at 5:36:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Dr. Kenneth Noisewater said...

I've never come across those types of flowers that need vagina juice to flourish. It just goes to show you: Those blonds know everything . . .

September 13, 2007 at 7:02:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Ki Two said...

Wow, I totally didn't see that crotch line...er, punch line coming. Good find, I think. :)

September 13, 2007 at 11:14:00 PM EDT  
Blogger rizabeff said...

going outside was the best - my dad even let us rake! what a privilege!

September 13, 2007 at 11:27:00 PM EDT  
Blogger sid said...

LOL! My friend's parents once sent him outside to play with his friends so that they could get it on while he was away. He came home early .....
And no, friend is not a code word for ME.

September 14, 2007 at 1:25:00 AM EDT  
Blogger nikki said...

hehehe@the flower joke. i generally don't find blonde jokes funny cuz i don't like what they usually imply, but that one garners at least a chuckle.

lol@"vagina juice"...uh, it's just as nutritional as "penis extract".

September 14, 2007 at 8:31:00 AM EDT  
Blogger Poodle said...

that's a good joke

September 14, 2007 at 1:03:00 PM EDT  
Blogger Dan said...

You're right, it is great. Because of the misdirection. Like, you think the brunette will have to have sex with her boyfriend because he gave her flowers (common), but the blond thinks that the brunette will have to stick them in her vagina! Like a vase!

September 14, 2007 at 1:15:00 PM EDT  
Blogger David said...

I was just going to say that this joke was really funny...but your comment above just made it so much better!

September 19, 2007 at 11:50:00 AM EDT  

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