This just arrived via email:
Hi dear!!
My letter will surprise you!!
My name - Elena. My age-26 years. I live in Russia!!
Private life didn\'t turn out well. I decided to find a foreign man. I dream to meet a decent, kind and clever man!! It is difficult to tell about myself. If this is of any interest to you, write to me.
My address - ramsdams@gmail.com I\'ll wait!!
Kisses Elena
Now I'm worried, and I hope Elena isn't waiting for me personally. She sounds desperate, sad and beautiful. I've never met her, but now I'm feeling pressured to help her find a foreign man, a decent, kind and clever foreign man.
I don't know the details of how Elena's private life didn't turn out well, but I do want to tell her that finding a man won't necessarily solve the problems of her private life. What went wrong? Why is it difficult to tell? Elena, you are a mystery.
I'm in no position to help--Dave and I and our two cats live in less than 1,000 square feet of space, and it would be tight with Elena sleeping in our second bedroom, which is also an office, and anyway Dave is my foreign man--but if anyone out there can help, please contact her at ramsdams@gmail.com. Elena will wait for your answer.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Linda
Linda S. was the first bad girl I ever met. We were in grade school together, age eleven, and got breasts and periods before most of the other girls. It was our physical maturity that drew us to each other.
What fascinated me about Linda was that she knew exactly what to do about her maturity, while I was a clueless geek. She shaved her legs, used tampons, had boyfriends and smoked Marlboros. And she had style, wearing tight t-shirts, low-slung jeans and wide belts. She had beautiful long blond hair, a broad Slavic face and a big confident laugh. I could't understand why she wanted to be my friend.
Her Italian mother was divorced from her Polish father--the only "broken home" on our street at the time. The rest of the divorces didn't come until at least five years later in our Chicago suburb, including my parents'. Linda's mom, Carmella, always seemed to be cooking big pots of tomato sauce, and she scared me. Carmella was the only person who could wipe the smile off Linda's face, and she did it with shouts and hitting. Thank god I didn't see Carmella often; she had a 9-to-5 office job, so Linda and I could run around the house freely.
When I was in fifth grade, I was in a brief love triangle with Linda and my kindergarten best friend Wendy, but I eventually dropped Wendy for Linda. She was the only friend I wanted to be with. We liked to dance in the rain together, listen to pop music and put on glamorous shows for each other in the basement. I especially enjoyed lip-synching to one of Carmella's records, "Goodbye Charlie," by some singer like Dory Previn or Patti Page or whoever it was.
Anyway, Linda was seriously involved in all of my first kissing experiences: 1) She pinned her boyfriend Mike in the schoolyard one Saturday afternoon and forced him to make out with her to prove to me how long she could hold a kiss without taking a breath; 2) She instructed me and a neighborhood boy, Greg, to kiss each other on the lips because neither of us had ever done it before and it was time to learn; 3) We were bored one weekend night with no boys around and decided to practice French kissing with each other, which we did on my bed.
I haven't seen Linda in years, but I thought about her the other day after watching Madonna's 1991 documentary, Truth or Dare. While performing in Detroit, she gets a visit from an old schoolfriend, and Madonna describes her as a bad girl from a broken home who was a bad influence--she showed Madonna how to insert a Tampax, ran around with boys, smoked...
Basically, Madonna--one of our era's biggest bad girls of all--had a wild bad-girl friend in childhood just like my very own Linda. It seems like no matter who you are when you're a kid, it helps to have a bad girl around to guide you through tough times.
"Can I just say that I find it really irritating that everyone beats up on Britney Spears?" Madonna told Elle magazine in February 2001. "I want to do nothing but support her and praise her and wish her the best. I mean, she's 18 years old! It's just shocking. I was so gawky and geeky and awkward and unsure of myself."
What fascinated me about Linda was that she knew exactly what to do about her maturity, while I was a clueless geek. She shaved her legs, used tampons, had boyfriends and smoked Marlboros. And she had style, wearing tight t-shirts, low-slung jeans and wide belts. She had beautiful long blond hair, a broad Slavic face and a big confident laugh. I could't understand why she wanted to be my friend.
Her Italian mother was divorced from her Polish father--the only "broken home" on our street at the time. The rest of the divorces didn't come until at least five years later in our Chicago suburb, including my parents'. Linda's mom, Carmella, always seemed to be cooking big pots of tomato sauce, and she scared me. Carmella was the only person who could wipe the smile off Linda's face, and she did it with shouts and hitting. Thank god I didn't see Carmella often; she had a 9-to-5 office job, so Linda and I could run around the house freely.
When I was in fifth grade, I was in a brief love triangle with Linda and my kindergarten best friend Wendy, but I eventually dropped Wendy for Linda. She was the only friend I wanted to be with. We liked to dance in the rain together, listen to pop music and put on glamorous shows for each other in the basement. I especially enjoyed lip-synching to one of Carmella's records, "Goodbye Charlie," by some singer like Dory Previn or Patti Page or whoever it was.
Anyway, Linda was seriously involved in all of my first kissing experiences: 1) She pinned her boyfriend Mike in the schoolyard one Saturday afternoon and forced him to make out with her to prove to me how long she could hold a kiss without taking a breath; 2) She instructed me and a neighborhood boy, Greg, to kiss each other on the lips because neither of us had ever done it before and it was time to learn; 3) We were bored one weekend night with no boys around and decided to practice French kissing with each other, which we did on my bed.
I haven't seen Linda in years, but I thought about her the other day after watching Madonna's 1991 documentary, Truth or Dare. While performing in Detroit, she gets a visit from an old schoolfriend, and Madonna describes her as a bad girl from a broken home who was a bad influence--she showed Madonna how to insert a Tampax, ran around with boys, smoked...Basically, Madonna--one of our era's biggest bad girls of all--had a wild bad-girl friend in childhood just like my very own Linda. It seems like no matter who you are when you're a kid, it helps to have a bad girl around to guide you through tough times.
"Can I just say that I find it really irritating that everyone beats up on Britney Spears?" Madonna told Elle magazine in February 2001. "I want to do nothing but support her and praise her and wish her the best. I mean, she's 18 years old! It's just shocking. I was so gawky and geeky and awkward and unsure of myself."
Friday, March 21, 2008
Instead of perfume there will be rottenness
It's Good Friday today, and I'm reading The Bible. I struggle with it; I don't understand. Isaiah is a cruel, cruel chapter of the Old Testament. Reminding us of God's terrible disappointment in us and the punishment he has in store.
Yes, there are bad girls in The Bible, and God does not love them. Woe to the wicked! They let their women rule over them.
Isaiah 3: 18-24
The LORD said:
Because the daughters of Zion are haughty and walk with outstretched necks, glancing wantonly with their eyes, mincing along as they go, tinkling with their feet; the Lord will smite with a scab the heads of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will lay bare their secret parts.
In that day the Lord will take away the finer of the anklets, the headbands, and the crescents; the pendants, the bracelets, and the scarfs; the headdresses, the armlets, the sashes, the perfume boxes, and the amulets; the signet rings and nose rings; the festal robes, the mantles, the cloaks, and the handbags; the garments of gauze, the linen garments, the turbans, and the veils.
Instead of perfume there will be rottenness; and instead of a girdle, a rope; and instead of well-set hair, baldness; and instead of a rich robe, a girding of sackcloth; instead of beauty, shame.
Yes, there are bad girls in The Bible, and God does not love them. Woe to the wicked! They let their women rule over them.
Isaiah 3: 18-24
The LORD said:
Because the daughters of Zion are haughty and walk with outstretched necks, glancing wantonly with their eyes, mincing along as they go, tinkling with their feet; the Lord will smite with a scab the heads of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will lay bare their secret parts.
In that day the Lord will take away the finer of the anklets, the headbands, and the crescents; the pendants, the bracelets, and the scarfs; the headdresses, the armlets, the sashes, the perfume boxes, and the amulets; the signet rings and nose rings; the festal robes, the mantles, the cloaks, and the handbags; the garments of gauze, the linen garments, the turbans, and the veils.
Instead of perfume there will be rottenness; and instead of a girdle, a rope; and instead of well-set hair, baldness; and instead of a rich robe, a girding of sackcloth; instead of beauty, shame.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Swish Blogade Hostess
Oh boy. I'm still cringing from this video that my friend Lisanne of Found in Brooklyn took at the March 9 Brooklyn Blogade. I'm not used to seeing myself on film. Do I really move and sound like that?
But in the spirit of accurately disseminating the local news and embarrassing myself, I give you here a video of me being a swish hostess in the Old Brick Cafe on Church Avenue in Kensington.
But in the spirit of accurately disseminating the local news and embarrassing myself, I give you here a video of me being a swish hostess in the Old Brick Cafe on Church Avenue in Kensington.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Blogade Review from the Laziest Girl in Town
I've always wanted an excuse to call myself "the laziest girl in town," and now I've found the perfect one. I was the hostess for yesterday's Brooklyn Blogade and planned the event, but rather than me going to the trouble of writing about it, I'm going to leave that chore in the capable hands of other Blogadeers.
Please go to the Flatbush Gardener's review, which has tons of pictures, including a fabulous one of me being a posey wanker. I tried to download the JPEG, but I couldn't figure it out and am probably stealing or breaking some law by trying, and anyway, I'm too lazy to figure it out. Just go to the Flatbush Gardener's link.
I received a really sweet thank you from Eleanor Traubman of Creative Times:
"When I think about what word comes to mind to describe yesterday's blogade, it's
GENEROSITY.
"First, Joyce set such a warm, welcoming tone for the event. Setting it up for folks to read was such a great idea, really gave us a chance to see each other in a new and deeper way that went a step beyond a Shout Out.
"Second, people who read were generous in terms of sharing different pieces of themselves through their writing - personal stuff, stuff that reflected who they are. That takes courage.
"Third, the folks who ran the restaurant just kept the food coming.....homemade food from their family's cultural tradition. I liked, also, that they got to be part of the event. I saw that they were listening to everything and seemed moved.
"Joyce said it well when she saw the afternoon as a way to humanize technology, see the human faces behind the blogs.
"I feel honored to be part of such an amazing, kind, smart, funny, savvy, and civic-minded group of people."
Thanks, Eleanor! And now here's the complete list of everybody else who came yesterday to the Old Brick Cafe in Kensington:
Blue Barn Pictures
Brooklynometry
Crazy Stable and A Year in Prospect Park
Found in Brooklyn
Hutch Owen comic strip
Luna Park Gazette
Midnight Cowgirls
Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn
Self-Absorbed Boomer
Shellytown
Washington Square Park
My god. Many of these links contain posts where people have already written about yesterday's Blogade. I've been scooped on my own event. That's what happens to lazy girls who want to appear as if hard work is beneath them. I hope somebody's making some money off of all this energetic reporting. Me, I'd rather swan about on the day of the Blogade, wearing a cute outfit and filling people's wine glasses and asking them if they're having a nice time.
Please go to the Flatbush Gardener's review, which has tons of pictures, including a fabulous one of me being a posey wanker. I tried to download the JPEG, but I couldn't figure it out and am probably stealing or breaking some law by trying, and anyway, I'm too lazy to figure it out. Just go to the Flatbush Gardener's link.
I received a really sweet thank you from Eleanor Traubman of Creative Times:
"When I think about what word comes to mind to describe yesterday's blogade, it's
GENEROSITY.
"First, Joyce set such a warm, welcoming tone for the event. Setting it up for folks to read was such a great idea, really gave us a chance to see each other in a new and deeper way that went a step beyond a Shout Out.
"Second, people who read were generous in terms of sharing different pieces of themselves through their writing - personal stuff, stuff that reflected who they are. That takes courage.
"Third, the folks who ran the restaurant just kept the food coming.....homemade food from their family's cultural tradition. I liked, also, that they got to be part of the event. I saw that they were listening to everything and seemed moved.
"Joyce said it well when she saw the afternoon as a way to humanize technology, see the human faces behind the blogs.
"I feel honored to be part of such an amazing, kind, smart, funny, savvy, and civic-minded group of people."
Thanks, Eleanor! And now here's the complete list of everybody else who came yesterday to the Old Brick Cafe in Kensington:
Blue Barn Pictures
Brooklynometry
Crazy Stable and A Year in Prospect Park
Found in Brooklyn
Hutch Owen comic strip
Luna Park Gazette
Midnight Cowgirls
Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn
Self-Absorbed Boomer
Shellytown
Washington Square Park
My god. Many of these links contain posts where people have already written about yesterday's Blogade. I've been scooped on my own event. That's what happens to lazy girls who want to appear as if hard work is beneath them. I hope somebody's making some money off of all this energetic reporting. Me, I'd rather swan about on the day of the Blogade, wearing a cute outfit and filling people's wine glasses and asking them if they're having a nice time.
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