The psychology of the booty call

Wow. It was just pointed out to me that I haven't blogged in months, and that I should, because I used to be funny once upon a time.

Then, like a sign from above, someone sends me a very bloggable and appropriate link:
The psychology of the booty call.

Safe dialing, everyone!

Finally, a reason to watch the Macy's parade

I've never been a big fan of parades, and the Macy's T-Day parade in general is just one big traffic snarl. But this might forever redeem it for me.



And Oh My God I love that guy! I wish more people and his sense of humor, and took themselves less seriously. Also, so cute! Aging so well!

My latest internet crush

I love Aberjona's blog, even if often I don't understand it (what is for this Tumblr?). A few of my fave posts of his recently:

On the benefits of siblings
On how I usually feel in relationships, including the last one, and possibly also the current one
On the awesomeness of Bjork, and also Spike Jonze
On the universal truth
On a hard lesson learned
On the new world order
On the hotness of Olivia Wilde
On how I know I should live my life, and wish I did, and try to do
On rendering me speechless in jaw-dropped awe
On my old pal Zeke
On disturbing poultry
On the Loonie Bin!

I'm trying to remember if I found him this incredibly charming and clever, and by extension hot, when we were in high school together.

It's awesome when some random internet quiz makes you feel totally validated

Maggie's result for How geeky are you?...

Cool Extrovert

Hey! You scored 43% Geeky, 74% Cranial and 19% Introverted! Brilliant! I honesty wanted to call this category "the perfect human being" but I thought too many reading recent results of other test takers may take offense.

I do believe this category is most likely the smallest percent of the population. (I mean, if everyone were like this wouldn't the world be a better place?) You, my friend, have balanced intelligence with an incredible personality, and have found a way to avoid geekiness.

You may find the combination of personality and brains can sometimes come off as conceited, and there are instances when you may bump heads with people. Being as people-smart as you are, you may find empathizing and listening to others, even if you know they are incorrect in something, can avert even the biggest problem.

Take How geeky are you? at HelloQuizzy

my life as a scene from "Office Space"

So, at work right now, I'm consulting on someone else's project, as I am the resident expert on a tool that they want to include in a new section. This project has a Basecamp discussion board. And our office has a project manager who tries to keep all the active projects moving along in an orderly fashion.

This morning, someone had a question for me on the group discussion. I need to get an answer elsewhere, I have already sent out an e-mail asking for the info, and now I'm waiting for a response, which I expect later today.

The project manager just came up to my desk, leaned against the wall of my cube, and asked if I'd seen the message. ("Hi, Peter. What's happening? We need to talk about your TPS reports... Did you get that memo?")

I explained to him that I did see it... ("Yeah. I got the memo.")
... and that I'd already requested the info... ("And I understand the policy.")
... and that I'm expecting an answer soon... ("And the problem is just that I forgot the one time.")
... at which point I'll post the answer to the discussion board. ("And I've already taken care of it so it's not even really a problem anymore.")

The PM then told me that he needs me to look at the question that was posted on the message board... ("Ah! Yeah. It's just we're putting new coversheets on all the TPS reports before they go out now.")
and provide an answer. ("So if you could go ahead and try to remember to do that from now on, that'd be great. All right!")

I told him again that I'm already working on an answer.
He suggested that I post on the message board that I'm working on getting an answer.
...
At which point I asked him if he'd ever seen Office Space (and the guy who sits next to me burst out laughing).

What color is your aura?

The magnificent Nina has posted a color quiz for us all. As my life is very introspective lately, any and all analysis tools are helpful.

Especially when they're pretty spot-on. Check this out!

maggiebex took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Strives for a life rich in activity and experience..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

My Existing Situation
Sensitive; needs esthetic surroundings, or an equally sensitive and understanding partner with whom to share a warm intimacy.

My Stress Sources
Wants to overcome a feeling of emptiness and of separation from others. Believes that life still has far more to offer and that she may miss her share of experiences if she fails to make the best use of every opportunity. She therefore pursues her objectives with a fierce intensity and commits herself deeply and readily. Feels herself to be completely competent in any field in which she engages, and can sometimes be considered by others to be interfering or meddlesome.

My Restrained Characteristics
Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.

Insists that her goals are realistic and sticks obstinately to them, even though circumstances are forcing her to compromise. Very exacting in the standards she applies to her choice of a partner, and seeking a rather unrealistic perfection in her sex life.

My Desired Objective
Strives for a life rich in activity and experience, and for a close bond offering sexual and emotional fulfillment.

My Actual Problem
The fear that she might be prevented from achieving the things she wants leads her to play her part with an urgent and hectic intensity.

Fights against restriction or limitation, and insists on developing freely as a result of her own efforts.

Sure, YMMV, but I enjoyed it. If you take the quiz, please let me know how well you feel it got you.

Speaking of my life and what I want to achieve with it -- please continue to send whatever positive vibes or wishes or karmic juju or whatever your magic of choice in my direction for a desirable outcome. After all, you know how I "pursue my objectives with a fierce intensity and commit myself deeply and readily"!

PS: And then I could not stop myself from taking it again. Diff results, some overlap, still pretty good:

maggiebex took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Longs for a tender and sympathetic bond and for a ..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

The glamourous world of Cinema

From the fine folks at BANG!, our beloved British gossip feed

Sienna Miller had her private parts digitally enhanced for her new movie.
The 26-year-old actress had to have pubic hair added by computer wizard for some scenes in her new film ‘Hippie Hippie Shake’. In the movie, Sienna plays Louise, the girlfriend of publisher Richard Neville, who was heavily involved in London’s party scene during the 60s.
A studio source told Britain’s Daily Mirror newspaper: “The film is set in the swinging 60s when fashion was wild and body hair even wilder. Unfortunately, Brazilian waxes weren’t common in the 60s and Sienna’s part involved one or two nude scenes – meaning that her grooming habits were on display. A merkin [pubic wig] simply wouldn’t have done the trick, but luckily computer wizardry came to the rescue. Sienna’s private parts were enhanced, giving her a rather unruly bush. All the cast had a good giggle about it and stoical Sienna happily played along.”

Imagine having that job in digital FX. And they told you Hollywood would be glamorous and exciting!

Cupcake Crime

Last night around 2 am, we were distracted from our epic Somerville Showdown thumb war by the sound of breaking glass. When the noise stopped after a couple of crashes, we figured someone had thrown a beer bottle or two, and so returned to the business at hand (or thumb).

Tinkling and shattering sounds resumed less than a minute later, and we worried that someone might be trying to break into Ann's car, parked on the street below. Ann dashed downstairs just in time to see someone running away from Kickass Cupcakes, carrying their cash register. She described a white man of average build, wearing a white cap, light-colored clothing and long shorts. Somerville's Finest were on the scene within seconds. One pursued the robber down Highland Avenue in the direction Ann indicated, the other contacted Kickass's owners.

Who could be so cruel to cupcakes? Stores rarely keep any significant money in a register overnight, so the haul was hardly worth the effort of lugging the cash register away.

By 2:30 the repair crew was already at work, clearing away the broken glass and patching the hole with plywood. Pumped up from all the drama, we escalated our tourney to full-on arm-wrestling.

Fishy Google ads

Where is the best chowder in Boston? Boston.com wants to help you find it, and wants your suggestions.

But Google Ads thinks you might actually be looking for something else...


Oh, those wags in Mountain View. Who knew their content matching was so sensitive to subtleties?

Those Brits sure know their bait and tackle, don't they, Becks?

From BANG!, our British gossip feed

David Beckham was left with red hot genitals because of a faulty car heater.

The English soccer star ran into trouble when the heated seats of his 4x4 car malfunctioned in Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Galaxy player was driving when the setting jammed on heat, forcing him to pull over and find something to cushion his scorched manhood.

An onlooker told Britain’s Daily Star newspaper: “One minute he was tearing across Los Angeles, the next, he was rolling down his windows, panting and staring down at his crotch in horror. There were lots of fans and paparazzi following him, making it even more difficult for him to sort out his boiling bits. He was gutted to be caught cushioning his seat from the hot leather.”

David recently showed the world his seemingly impressive tackle in a series of new adverts for Emporio Armani. The 33-year-old sports superstar models the fashion house’s autumn and winter 2009 underwear collection.

Meanwhile, Will Smith revealed at the premiere of his latest film ‘Hancock’ last night (18.06.08) that David is going to give him soccer lessons. Smith said: “David Beckham is one of the best soccer players in the world. I begged him to teach me how to play and he promises he will. I can't wait.”

Sorry, I just could not resist

Ko-thario and me -- more banter

He replied! Funny, charming, lots in common, cute. Looks like a tall dark Jewish Michael Cera.
Even though he's made this whole quest public, I'm not going to post his e-mail here without his consent. But I did write back again:

...67 replies -- behold the power of Grub Street! I'm glad you didn't stop counting at 69, too cliché and puerile. That said... the last time I went to a Trivia Night, our team name was "We're Not Gynecologists, But We'll Take a Look." So of course our final, losing, score was 69. The trivia master was at a loss for words.

I'm an omnivore / recipe anthologist / windowbox gardener / online journalist. I have a Master's in Journalism, but beat reporting isn't really my style. It also pays about as well as abstract expressionism, I suspect. So now I run the online events calendar for a major newspaper, as well as all the new-fangled mobile action. If you absolutely need to check the baseball score while we're out to dinner and you have a cell phone handy, I'm your girl.

I also used to edit a magazine for NYU, and my dad was a physics professor, so I still have a soft spot in my heart for academia.

Is there really that much demand for abstract expressionist porn music? Do you have sexy librarian glasses you toss aside just before breaking into a pole dance?

--Maggie

PS: I like your smile.I hope it's not really *that* rare.

And then I saw the latest update on Grub Street. I was one of only five people he wrote back to! (though I was also one of nine people who mentioned Brazilian waxes, alas.)

Grub Street posted the update at 4:15, and I didn't send off my reply until 5 -- I had it open on my desktop since this morning, but it's been a hectic day at work. If I'd finished up a little sooner, I might have more interesting gossip for you.

Stay tuned!

With uni you get two

Grub Street tells of a funny foodie mensch who's looking for a Ko-date on Craigslist. B insisted that I reply (if this works out, he will have only himself to blame...):

Hello, you hysterically funny foodie!

I'm not a Brazilian porn star, but I have gotten an occasional brazilian, and I always find rock star parking. Haven't played Rock Band yet, but my 11-year-old niece got me hooked on Guitar Hero. But I digress...

Baggage -- does my Samsonite wheelie bag count? Because, seriously, it's amazing. Ten years old, travels with me about every other weekend on average, it's been as far as Japan and the Caribbean, doubles as a cat bed whenever I forget to put it away, and it's still going strong. Also, it may have saved my life, as I was dropping it off for repairs instead of commuting down to the WTC on the morning of September 11.

I speak five languages. Unfortunately, Dutch is not one of them. That said, if you're "romantically forking foie gras into [my] mug," I'll let you cop a feel. Left or right breast, your choice -- each is magnificent. Feed me uni too, and you can touch both.

You want a link? Here.
You want a picture? There's one in this post.

Ko ho,
Maggie

Hmm, I might have to make an OK Cupid profile out of that.

For the record, I heart Dana Vachon

I don't care what you think.

Alas, while reading the Gawkers as they mock my darling, I gained a new insight:

"A Field Guide to Wall Street Men.

'Pink Shirt Guy' is from Connecticut or Westchester. Secretly wants to sleep with his mother. Went to some prep school you've never heard of and is in banking because of his insecurities.

'Blue Shirt Guy' is from Long Island or New Jersey. Secretly wants to sleep with his sister. Went to public school and is in banking because of his insecurities.

Both are total douchebags."

I never realized before that the suburban New York class wars are oriented on a North-South versus East-West axis. Me being from New England, I am honorary North, pink-shirt team. Excellent!

Cloonacy

I hope Cloomydia isn't bad for a baby...

And now for something completely different

While I've been writing about Very Serious Things, "living life explicitly" and perhaps Sharing Too Much, the interwebs have continued to churn out the funny. The past few days have been particularly rich.

So herewith, a selection for your amusement:

Echo Park Time Travel Mart, Barbarian Repellent

Star Wars according to a 3-year old

Monkey Star Wars

Official happy Sex and the City trailer #1

Longer, sadder, Sex and the City trailer #2

Stuff White People Like

I love New England

Jimmy Kimmel loves Ben Affleck (I point you to Gawker because they've got links to the whole history and lead-up of the gag)

For the Somervillionaires, TomCat Champion warns you of Snow Emergency

Okay, okay, and one that is related to current events, but still funny:
Handy forum abbreviations

In honor of J. Lo

.... and all my other peep-ettes who are currently baking, or have recently produced, a sweet bun in their respective ovens:



Seriously, I know so many pregnant women and already-birthed babies, that I'm knitting baby hats non-stop these days, and I'm still way behind...

And what of my own oven? Hmm... well I guess I can't put it off anymore with talk of grammar or celebs, can I?

Reader, I did it. I went and got inseminated.

In answer to the questions posed last Tuesday:

• Yes, I had time to choose a donor. To be honest, I had been dragging on this decision for weeks, and the only way I was ever going to make up my mind was under deadline pressure anyway.
  
• Yes, the bank was indeed able to deliver in time. Though that depends on what you mean by "in time."
  
• Yes, the Jolly German was happy to see me on Wednesday.
  
• Yes, I was back in the office well before the Big Important Meeting. And fortunately, the cramping and spotting didn't start until later that night.
  
• No, I did not try with B Thursday night.

Now for the details...
I spent last Tuesday running around like a crazy woman. Somehow, between meetings at both offices, I spoke to the sperm bank and confirmed that they could deliver to the Jolly German's office on Wednesday morning, as long as both I and the doctor faxed over some paperwork. I got the forms to the JG, confirmed that he had time to see me and that everything was in order.

Only one problem: even though the LH surge happens before ovulation, it's still preferable to do the insemination on the same day you see the pink line. Reason being, idle sperm can stay viable in the uterus for around 48-72 hours, whereas an unfertilized egg only stays viable for 12-18 hours. So it's much preferable to have the sperm already there, hanging out waiting for the egg to arrive. And there was no way the sperm would arrive on Tuesday -- I hadn't even chosen the donor yet! That said, the JG still thought it was worth a try, so we forged ahead with plans for Wednesday.

But how on earth was Ms. Paralyzed by Indecision going to choose a donor?
I had been combing the donor catalogs at two different banks for months, and I could not make up my mind. Some days I liked them all, other days none were good enough. To make matters worse, one of the banks lets you build a "favorites" list for further review, but that list was not working properly. So I had been saving donor profiles for weeks, and ended up with nothing saved to review.

In between meetings, I logged on quickly, and saw that Donor of the Month had been updated. Amid all those baby pics, one sweet face leapt out at me. I checked his profile, and he sounded cute, funny, and clever. He even reminded me a bit of B in the personality department, and he was a film major! A quick call to the bank confirmed that his specimens were available for rush delivery.

The JG's office said that they would call me as soon as the package arrived Wednesday morning. My schedule was clear until the Big Meeting in the late afternoon, so all that was left to do was breathe deep, get some sleep, and wait.

Gosh, I was wishing I had someone to go with me, hold my hand, just Be There....

Remember the baby hats? I'd just finished one for my three-year-old neighbor, so I stopped by after dinner to drop it off. Her mom had the day off on Wednesday. Her mom is an Ob/Gyn. Her mom offered to come with me and hold my hand.

This was EXCELLENT. Not only did I have company and support, I also had a second set of trained eyes to make sure all went well.

I also had a FedEx tracking number. Wednesday morning, I may have brought down FedEx servers with the force and frequency of my page refreshing.

At 10:30 I got the call from the doc's office that my shipment had arrived. I told my boss I had to step out for a bit and hightailed it out of there, picking up my neighbor on the way.
As we waited for the JG in the exam room, the nurse came in with a huge shipping carton. Unopened. I had asked them to save the packaging, because I was curious, but they hadn't even looked inside!

Neighbor and I looked at each other, at the nurse, at the box. Nurse handed me scissors and said, "Here, you can do the honors and open it yourself!"

Neighbor said, "Um, you know it's frozen. You mean he hasn't defrosted it yet?"

Nurse explained that no one in the office had ever dealt with shipments of donor sperm before, so this was all new to ALL OF US. I opened the box.

It was a big liquid nitrogen vapor tank, with lots of instructions on how to safely handle the contents. We defrosted the specimen in a coffee-cup water bath, prepared a slide to check out the little swimmers, and we all went over to look at them.

Cute little swimmers! Swimming all over the place! So many! So motile! Yay!

I'll leave out the details of the moment of truth, because I know that some of you are already past your squeamishness threshold. Let me just say that I was very glad to have a friend's hand to hold on to. Definitely more pleasant to do this the traditional way. (every time one of these procedures causes my uterus to seize up in pain, I wonder how on earth I'm going to ever make it through labor...)

In the days that followed, I didn't feel anything particularly special or glowing going on. And to be honest, I wasn't surprised. When my tag-team docs reviewed my pee sticks and temperature chart, they exchanged some very serious and none too encouraging looks. They both really wished that I had arranged all this at least a day earlier, and weren't too sure that we had caught the window in time. It was very likely that the whole adventure had been a $650 dress rehearsal. Even if we had gotten the timing right, there's still only a 10% success rate for women my age, and it usually takes four to eight attempts before I should expect to actually conceive.

So I was prepared for a lack of baby magic. (This is also why the "B on Thursday?" issue turned out to be a non-issue. If I was borderline too late on Wednesday morning, then I was definitely too late by Thursday night.)

But then, during the lunar eclipse, I started to feel a little ... magical. And I started to think...
How incredibly cool, if I do indeed have a baby on my birthday -- which is Election Day, which one way or the other will definitely be historic -- to also be able to tell him that I first had stirrings of his presence during a breathtaking celestial event.

I know, call me sentimental, call me crazy even, but it's good to have hope, yes?

Yesterday, eight days after the insemination, I got a sign that sounds terrible but is actually good news:
Implantation spotting.
Right on time!

I'm not running out to order birth announcements; I still remember the odds. But I'm hopeful enough that on this Lenten Friday, I am following these guidelines that my 5-months-pregnant co-worker forwarded my way.

Per doc's instructions, I'll be taking a test next Wednesday, and I promise to let you all know how it goes.

How to Mix a Maggie

The Recipe For Magdalena Kennedy

3 parts Seductiveness 2 parts Wit 1 part Humor Splash of Laughter Sip slowly on the beach

What's the Recipe for Your Personality?

Thanks, Nina!

Hell is for children, not me!

And who would have ever thought it, hmmm? Good thing my dear Reader Nina clued me in to this fun test...

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

Your fate has been decided....
You are one of the lucky ones! Because of your virtue and beliefs, you have escaped eternal punishment. You are sent to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!

First Level of Hell - Limbo

Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many shades dwell. These are the virtuous pagans, the great philosophers and authors, unbaptised children, and others unfit to enter the kingdom of heaven. You share company with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle. There is no punishment here, and the atmosphere is peaceful, yet sad.


Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

If you're wondering how I scored that sweet simian phone number -- Verizon totally owed me, and they were trying to make good.

With the boyfriend almost 3,000 miles away, clocking double-digit hours on the phone each week, the cell wasn't cutting it anymore. So in early August, after five years of wireless-only, I decided to get a land line again. I went to the Verizon website, they have an order wizard, I crossed all the Ts and dotted the Is, and I was told that I would have service set up by August 13. As part of the process, they even gave me a selection of five (totally ordinary, non-primate-themed) numbers to choose from.

The 13th came and went -- no dial tone. As my phone was about a dozen years old, I figured that was the problem, and borrowed one that my folks weren't using. No dial tone. I ordered a new one from Amazon... no dial tone! So on the 17th, I call for service, and I'm told that my line was turned on, as scheduled, on the 13th, and they'd closed the order. But they can't get through to me; when the woman in the service department calls, she gets a recording that my number is not in service. So she files a repair ticket, and assures me that the line will be working by Monday the 20th.

No dial tone. And when I call again for service, I can't access my account! After about an hour on the phone and many transfers to multiple departments, I discover that they'd changed the phone number on my account, which is why I couldn't access it anymore. They wouldn't even tell me the new number until I got escalated to a manager.

It took three weeks, a service visit to the house, a bucket truck, and several more phone calls to Verizon before I actually got a working dial tone. However, they had no problem sending me a bill, a full two weeks before my phone was actually working. After all that grief, they gave me a free month of service, and the phone number of my choice, to make up for the fiasco. Good work, I say, apology accepted.

And then...

The broken dial tone reminded me that I had no idea how to access my voice mail. It had been weeks since they'd set up my account, they sent me a bill right on schedule, but I have yet to receive some sort of welcome pack with critical info such as what number to dial to pick up my messages.

So I call AGAIN, they apologize AGAIN, and give me the set-up info. This morning, I dial in, I have one message. This message:

Good afternoon, this is Verizon with good news about your recent home voice mail order. You can begin using your home voice mail as soon as you set up your voice mailbox. You'll need your access number, which is [silence, NOT redacted, they just didn't say it]. At your earliest convenience, please call Verizon for important information about how to set up your home voicemail. The toll-free number to call, anytime day or night, is XXX-XXX-XXXX, and at the main menu, press 6.

It is Verizon's goal to provide you with outstanding service. If we can improve our service to you in any way, please call Verizon toll-free during normal business hours [note they don't say when their business ours are] at XXX-XXX-XXXX, where a representative will be happy to help you.

OMG, Verizon, WTF?!?!

Okay, I get that the recording was meant for a person who actually answered the phone, which I had not.

But they're VERIZON, the phone company. You would thing that they could have set up their automated message system to not leave a message on voice mail when calling about setting up voice mail, and instead trigger a command to either:
a. call back later,
or
b. call my alternate (cell phone) number, which they have asked me for multiple times and should have on record with my account.

Regardless, they have given me the best phone number ever, so I guess I'll forgive them this one more time. Sigh.

monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

If you know me, or even if you've just been reading this blog fairly regularly, you know I have a thing about monkeys. Mind you, not the actual animals so much -- I don't go to the monkey house at the zoo (I don't really go to the zoo much, ever since I saw two rhinos going at it).

No, I like the idea of monkeys. Even the word is fun. Monkey, say it. Monkey. And apparently I am a comedic genius in good company: "Samberg cameos in the video dressed as a Viking. Why? Because he thinks Vikings are funny. Also monkeys. He’s a big fan of monkeys."

So let's be clear: iconic monkeys are cute, real monkeys throw poop. Actually, it's all funny.

I have become such a monkey maven that now everyone sends me their monkey mischief. It's good to have a catch-phrase, a brand, a theme. I love it -- so much better than getting cat-themed gifts, as if I'm a crazy cat-lady just because I adopted Siena. (No, clearly I am a crazy monkey-lady!)

Lately there's been a monkey zeitgeist, possibly kicked into high gear when I acquired a simian-themed phone number this week. Muffy let me know that Get Fuzzy has been exploring monkey branding for two weeks now.

Obviously, Monkeys Make People Smile^TM. And the folks at the Monkey Museum know it!
monkey museum - we make monkeys out of people

Thanks, Auntie Amanda, for making my day a little more monkey-licious. If I didn't still have all those Boston-themed cards that I never sent out last Christmas, I might have a set printed up for this year. Instead, I might just have to commission some art!