Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Fashion victim

Help me out here, girls.

This skating dress:

Cute? Frumpy?

My main concern is skirt. I am 23 years old. I'm not certain that calling attention to my ass with a ruffled skirt is a wise move.

This dress is "inspired" (read: ripped off) by Sasha Cohen's Malagueña short program dress.

Which is perfectly fine by me.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Family trait

Yes, I’ve been on a bit of cocky streak lately. I’m about to leave for the gym and – I won’t lie – I look seriously way cute.

My kid sister, Meg, puts me to s-h-a-m-e. She’s been on a cocky streak for 19 years and 8 months. Makes me look totally humble.

The kid likes herself. Always has. Believes that spending time with her, blowing money on her, talking with her on the phone and watching her play sports is the center of everyone’s universe. Knows that she is the luckiest person in the world because she gets to spend every second of every day with herself.

This weekend, Meg and her hockey team were at their league tournament. It’s a few hours away, in a cute little resort town in the northern part of the lower peninsula.

On Sunday morning, just before her last qualifying-round game, Meg calls Mom and Dad’s house.

Dad answers.

“You know what, Dad?”


“Out of all of the girls who live locally, you and mom and only one other set of parents didn’t come for the tournament this weekend. And So-and-so is adopted, so that doesn’t even count.”

Golden words of wisdom

Today's life lesson: do not eat ramen noodles just prior to going to sleep. They will give you very funky dreams about being a Sting look-alike's date to an awards show where you bond with Mandy Moore while wearing a white dress with sequined straps.

You may also wake up wearing only one sock.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Shameless work rant

(or: if I get Dooced for this, they’ll be doing me a huge favor)

I get along famously with one of my coworkers, a barely-above-me guy named, ironically, Kevin. Not intern Kevin – just another Kevin who I work with and happen to really, really like.

Main difference: I don’t want to jump this Kevin.

This Kevin is a few years older than me. He’s married. He’s genuine. He’s funny as hell. Once he trusts you, he’ll do anything for you. He’s just awesome. I love working with him.

Apparently, that is a problem.

We took Excel training together last week. Sat next to each other. Giggled a bit during the breaks. I’d make fun of him when he couldn’t do something. Interacted with him the same way I’d interact with any of my friends and any of my coworkers who I really clicked with. We were not malicious. We were not flirtatious. We weren’t anything, really.

Well, I was bored out of my skull and insulted that I was expected to take this course. But that’s beyond the point.

Shortly after we arrived back at the office, my new boss got a phone call from the company HR bitch.

“My mother said that if Kevin were her husband, she’d divorce him, after she saw how Aly and Kevin interacted in training!”

Let’s pause here to get something straightened out. The HR bitch’s mom was in our Excel course because she wanted to learn more about Excel and because she also happens to be the president’s son. Mother = HR bitch’s mom. Mother = president’s mom. President and HR bitch = siblings.


So, Mother thinks that I am a hussy. Despite the fact that she has never met me before and has no idea how I interact with other people. Excellent!

And HR bitch isn’t smart enough to think about the 9,841 interactions I’ve had with her and say to her mother something along the lines of, “oh, that’s just her personality.”

No. HR bitch calls my new boss.

Who is quietly pissed that I refuse to turn cartwheels in excitement over her new role as my boss.

And the shit is stirred.

Kevin is pulled into New Boss’s office.

There’s concern.

You two get along so well.


He’s in her office for over an hour.


Only me.

Because when I, being the dirty tramp that I am, was giving Kevin (a married man!) a lap dance during class, he was merely ignoring me.

Because all of this “inappropriate” interaction was one-sided.

Yep. I mostly talked to myself.

You see, she told Kevin, it isn’t just what happened in Excel training. It’s our friendship in general. I get along with him far too well! And we’re not insinuating that the two of you are sleeping together, but Aly needs to get along with equally as well as she gets along with you.

Translation: it hurts me that she likes you more.

This is where I would like to give the punch line and tell you all that this is a joke. But, apparently, it’s not. I am going to get in trouble for this. For being good friends with Kevin and for acting towards him the same way I would act towards any friend or close coworker. For making an old woman jump to conclusions about what we do when we’re alone.

Like it’s my fault that old broad has a dirty mind!

Or that New Boss is overly sensitive.

And with that, I realize that I am naïve. To think that New Boss was professional enough not to reduce herself to an emotional female because she has not won me over in the four weeks that she has been my boss. To believe that it was okay for two people who happen to have different genitalia to be friends in the workplace, friends outside of the workplace, and lovers only when the sky falls and hell freezes over.

I expect that I will be yelled at tomorrow. (As, apparently, New Boss was too wimpy to do the yelling yesterday.)

And I don’t even know how to defend myself.

I’ll apologize, I suppose, for having a personality that caused someone to assume that I was a tramp. I’ll ask for specific details of my trampy behavior.


I’m not quite sure.

Because I feel like telling my boss that I will hold her hand and bring her flowers and dance on my desk at her arrival with greater frequency would be somewhat inappropriate.

Thus, I have come to a conclusion: I’m fucked.

And I need to find a new job.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Not as stupid as I thought, yet still an ass

I have this really, really bad habit of exchanging emails with Colin while I'm at work. See: yesterday, a conversation we had about a soccer teammate and very casual acquaintance of mine.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 4:28 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

you should hear the question Lisa asked me last night

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:06 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

Tell me!

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:18 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

it was just blunt and out of the blue

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:21 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

That's not telling me what she said.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:26 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

there was a problem in her game I went over and asked them what the problem was and she just asked me out of the blue if I was single and that I should ask you out for a date

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:33 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

Oh. My. God.

Well. Isn't she charming?

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:42 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

yeah it was way out in left field and was not expecting that one from her

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:46 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

No. I wouldn't have expected that, either.

I'll have a little chat with her.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:53 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

I got a kick out of it

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 5:57 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

I'm glad you're so amused.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:05 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

it was just a little weird going from getting yelled at from one person to hey why don't you ask Alyson out

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:11 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

Well, Lisa tends to say whatever is on her mind. She's not exactly shy. It keeps you on your toes!

In case you were wondering: I definitely didn't put her up to that.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:23 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

she made that clear that you have never said anything about it. I told her about what had happened.

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:29 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder

Oh, how I would've liked to have been a fly on the wall for that.

From: Colin
To: Aly
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:32 PM
Subject: Re: Reminder

nothing bad, I was just the one that messed everything up is basically what I said

From: Aly
To: Colin
Sent: Thursday, February 23, 2006 6:42 PM
Subject: RE: Reminder


Fascinating? FASCINATING? Is that not the lamest comeback in the history of the world? Do I not deserve to have my eyes gouged for replying to Colin's stupidity with such a half-assed answer instead of seizing the opportunity and telling him what a dumb fuck he is?

Ugh. I make myself sick.

Not quite as sick as he makes me. But sick enough.

He is such a turd.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

This is what you need to know about the ladies figure skating event:

Shizuka Arakawa
Hello, goosebumps!

I fucking love this program and I’m so glad she went back to it. Not skated with quite as much expression as I’d have liked, but it was still undoubtedly the best program of the night.

The girl rarely hits a bad position. She also rarely has a dress I truly like. Both true for tonight.

Best part of her victory: she trained in the D with Richard Callaghan for a while.

Sasha Cohen
She’s such a pretty skater. But she has no guts. Her program was so lifeless. It seems she was too nervous to even attempt to sell it. Even her spins were slooooow. I expected more.

Great choice for her LP music. Suited her extremely well.

Her short program dress was gorgeous. Her LP dress was okay.

Was that a Kabbalah red string tied around her wrist?

Irina Slutskaya
So sad for Ira. She isn’t my favorite skater, but I definitely appreciate what she does, how long she has been doing it for and everything that she has had to go through to keep skating. I wanted her to win this. She deserved to go out on top. But she was just so cautious. You can’t win when you’re skating within yourself like that. She deserved to finish above Cohen, I think.

Fumie Suguri
I love her. I hate that her career has been marked by so much struggle. When Suguri is on, her skating is so incredibly beautiful and delicate and effortless.

Lori Nichol is the perfect choreographer for her.

I wish she’d medaled, even if her layback spin sort of sucked.

Joannie Rochette
Her choreography was beautiful. David Wilson, her choreographer, is a master. I didn’t think the music did her any favors, though.

Very pretty pink long program dress. I really love when the underskirt is a different color. I’d wear a sparkly pink dress if I qualified for the Olympics, too.

Kimmie Meissner
She is a pleasant skater and a very, very strong skater, but she doesn’t fire me up. As far as my personal tastes go, I classify her with white chocolate. I know others can’t get enough of her skating, but I’d rather go without.

Emily Hughes
When CBC showed Sarah Hughes in the stands during the short program, clapping like a wild woman for her little sister, I teared up. Can you imagine watching your little sister complete in the Olympics? I bet Sarah is more proud of Emily than she is of herself. And that’s kind of sweet.

To switch gears: you’re on crack if you think that she had any chance at medaling. Not nearly enough exposure in front of international judges. She performed admirably under the pressure of replacing Kwan.

Personally, I don’t think your short and long program dresses should be in the same color family.

Mao Asada: I loved your short program music. I really need to look it up and steal it for a program of my own. Hated the black tights, though. The fullness of the skirt combined with the black tights really ruined your lines. And it sort of made your ass look gigantic.

Carolina Kostner: too much pressure, kiddo. Your handlers should’ve known to tone it down. Not your fault!

Insignificant CBC commentary:
Tim Horton’s is running this commercial flaunting its Timbits hockey, a beginner program that it sponsors in rinks across Canada for the youngest hockey players. The commercial is all of these little 3, 4 and 5-year-olds scooting around the ice and being so fucking cute that my uterus does a spiral sequence.

Not as exquisite as Cohen’s, of course.

Lips zipped

I didn't get to see CBC's live feed, but I followed the live results at work, and there is one tiny little thing I would like to say about the ladies long program.

But I'll refrain. Don't want to spoil!

Wednesday, February 22, 2006


I feel as though I have been scammed.

Corporate America duped me into doing exactly what it wanted me to!

I occasionally get free books mailed to me through Random House's Get Lit program. Get Lit is basically a program created to generate buzz around Random House books - they suggest the latest and greatest in Random House books. And they pop a copy of their latest recommendation in the envelope, fully expecting you to fall in love with it and tell at least 20 of your friends.

So here's the scoop.

The book is The Burn Journals, by Brent Runyon. I fell in love with it. Dear friends, you should read it.

And that is how I became Random House's clever marketing ploy.

Seriously, kids, it's an awesome book. A memoir of a teenage boy's gruesome suicide attempt - dousing his bathrobe in gasoline, putting it on and lighting it on fire - and the subsequent physical and mental recovery. It's so, so powerful. But not a terribly difficult read. A+. For real.

[side note: I'm not even sure how I got into this Get Lit! thing, but it's worked out rather well. I randomly get free books in the mail. I love that.]

I'm also loving Martha Stewart's Everyday Food magazine. Very non-pretentious and useful, as far as cooking magazines go. I love it like crazy. Ya'll probably would, too.

Finally, I realize that I should probably post my thoughts on the Olympic ladies short program but...I haven't quite formulated what I want to say about it. And I probably won't by the time the ladies long program begins. So ya'll may have to settle for a combination report.

I will say this, though: the favorites have won in every discipline so far.

My gut says that the fourth time won't be a charm. I don't think the gold medal will go to Slutskaya or Cohen.

I'd like to be wrong.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

My head has been awfully big lately

The Microsoft Excel "training" course that I had to take today was nearly as insulting as my boss's suggestion that I take the communicating effectively (AKA how to write an email that uses punctuation) class.

I knew I was in trouble when the instructor had to explain to another student that double-clicking didn't mean pressing down on the left and the right mouse button at the same time.

I get to take the second part of the class for four hours on Thursday.

Here's to hoping that we learn how to use AutoSum!

Monday, February 20, 2006

Love Letters

Dear Man at the Gym Swimming in White Soccer Shorts,

COME ON. You’re wearing unlined white shorts and you willingly go into a body of water? Please. I refuse to believe that you have yet to learn the precise science that makes wet t-shirt contests alluring to members of your sex. Gross. You deserved to be kicked out of society.

Dear Tanith Belbin and Benjamin Agosto,

Wheee! Way to represent, kids!

Dear hair,

You straightened incredibly well today. Was this your way of thanking me for cutting off the 19” of dead ends that had been dragging you down since December, or was this just a pleasant surprise for me? Either way, you’re a team player. Gracias.

Dear Oksana Domina,

You’ve had a killer wedgie in every program I have ever seen you skate. What’s wrong with asking your costume designer for a little extra backside coverage?

p.s. I loved your program.

Dear Monday,

You snuck up on me, motherfucker.

Dear Luck,

How fortunate I am that you scheduled a meeting at Corporate on the day of the Olympic ladies short program. How lovely it is that that meeting will end at 2:00 pm. How excellent it is that I’ll be 15 minutes from Mom and Dad’s house. How charming it is that Detroit is close enough to Canada to pick up Windsor’s CBC feed. How wonderful watching the LIVE ladies short program coverage on CBC will be!

Dear NBC,

In case you didn’t already know, your Olympics coverage sucks ass in comparison to CBC’s. It always have. It always will.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

You can call me Hasek

Listen here, boys and girls.

Tonight I got my first shutout.

Oh, glorious victory!

I also found out that Spawn of Skating Gods failed the Moves in the Field test that I passed.

Ahhhh. Shameless basking in victory.

I may cease all bitching about my life, posting funny stories about my father, pondering my lack of relationship with boys (especially boys named Colin), recipe posting and mindless blather and turn this into a blog singularly dedicated to my athletic achievements.

Should I do so, I will change the name of this blog.

The new name frontrunner: The Girl Who Won't Grow Up.

Saturday, February 18, 2006


I've spendt my Saturday night at the gym, closely followed by eating oranges and orange Jello while watching the Girls Next Door on E!

Who needs a nightlife?

Not me, truthfully. I'm such a homebody. I don't wish that I was at the bar tonight. I don't have any desire to spend tonight at a club. I'm happy in my ponytail and sweats.

I don't wish that I was doing anything different.

But it'd be awfully nice if I weren't here alone.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Genetics weren't on my side, but the judges were

Ya’ll thought I didn’t blog yesterday because I was moping about Valentine’s Day, right? WRONG!


You thought that I was watching the men’s short program, giggling uncontrollably because of my passion for the Olympics?


I didn’t blog yesterday because I was very busy exhibiting my athletic prowess. In a skating test and in a glorious loss in my soccer game.

Tra la la la la.

So, in figure skating, there is a prescribed series of tests that every skater takes. There are test sequences for disciplines, plus a series of tests called Moves in the Field. Moves tests are somewhat torturous for a skater like me - who is more of a natural jumper and less of perfect, pretty ice princess. Moves are the subtleties that make skating so amazing - the control of edges and the power and flow on the ice. The things that look easy, but are really fucking hard.

I took a moves test yesterday, in case you couldn’t tell.

And I happened to be taking the same test as this kid whose parents are fricking A+, first class, world-renounced Russian coaches.

So I’m testing the same test as God’s Gift to Skating Genetics.

Lovely. What a charming thing to be compared to. The only thing I have going for me is the fact that the father in Turin right now, coaching America’s only chance for an ice dance medal, thus unable to make me nervous with his I’m-The-Coach-of-All-Coaches stare while I’m trying not to fall on my ass.

Which I didn't do. Not even close, actually. In a rare exhibition of bravery, I tucked away my nerves and skated the SHIT out of the test.

And passed.

And as soon as the judges released the results, I changed into my soccer gear and rushed off to soccer.

To get shellacked, 14-4.

Can't win them all!

Monday, February 13, 2006


My mom kicked Emma out today.

She was horribly bad the last 24 hours. Ranting, raving, uncontrollable. When her evil switch is flipped to on, she cannot be reasoned with. She cannot be spoken to. You cannot be anything but a victim to her anger. It is a horrible, scary thing to witness.

Mom was home alone with Emma. She had enough. Called her parents. Pick her up. Now. Then Mom left for my grandma's house.

I imagine that it was horribly hard for my mom to give up on Emma. But living with her, I'm certain, was equally hard. It was a struggle when my dad was at home all day to help. It was close to impossible once he was back at work.

I'm disappointed. Not in my parents, but because they were essentially the last resort and the situation seemed so promising.

Where does she go next?

I am finding that it is incredibly hard to love someone so much and hate the person that she can be.

And I'm not the one living with her.

And I'm not her parents.

And there isn't much that I can do to help.

I just kind of feel like screaming

Sometimes, I think I need to be medicated.

I feel extremely anxious today. I am ready to jump out out of my skin, but I couldn't tell you why. Maybe it's just because I'm at work. And that I have a car payment due. And I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow and I'm not quite certain how short I'm going to cut it.

Or maybe I'm just anxious.

I really couldn't tell you.

How fricking wild is this Gretzky/Operation Slapshot/Janet Jones scandal?

Things I'm doing tonight:
1. Watching Olympic pairs free skate, even though I'll already know the results
2. Editorial test
3. Mulling over haircut
4. Eating Jello
5. Preparing for 14-hour Tuesday
5. Skipping kickboxing class
6. Cooking eggplant
7. Wearing the slippers my mom gave me for Valentine's Day

On the subject of Valentine's Day: I feel as though I should be bitter and angry about it. But I am not. And, honestly, I never have been. Likely because I have never had a valentine, so I do not know what I am missing out on. Oh, the benefits of being naive!

My dad seems to be really excited and optimistic about his new job. I've heard more about his profession in the last week than I've heard about it in the last 23 years. In my humble and ignorant opinion, that is an awfully good sign.

I am feeling really smart because I didn't get tickets to James Blunt and now it's sold out. Excellent.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

I may not update again until the closing ceremonies


I hate my job, but I don't care.
Colin ignores me, but I don't care.
My extended family could not possibly be going through more crap than they already are.
It's too cold outside.
I never get enough sleep.
I really need a haircut.
I haven't vacuumed my apartment in weeks.
I have to turn in my registration for spring ice (translation: I'll soon be very poor).
I need to pretend like I am in possession of a brain and read a damn book like a normal educated person.
My back hurts.

Who cares?!


And I've waited, like, 4 years for this.

Michelle Kwan is going for that elusive gold medal and Emmanuel Sandhu is being graceful and unpredictable practically the ONLY entrant in the men's event that I like and the Russians are beautiful and will be painted as the bad guys by American media (per usual!) and are trying to sweep all of the medals (which I don't think they'll do. But 3 of 4 is quite likely).

Oh, JOY!

It's the most wonderful time of the four-year Olympic cycle.

p.s. NBCOlympics.com has live event results. OH MY GOD! My life is over.

Thursday, February 09, 2006


Seems like everyone is blogging such good, exciting news!

And here I am, telling you that my Aunt Marie's leg is infected again.


Wednesday, February 08, 2006


I love it here. Obviously.

But I wonder how much my love for here, my love for my proximity to my family and my fear of radical change holds me back.

Could I ever move?

I could have a dream job. Or I could have my family, my soccer team, my mall, my skating club and coach, my Starbucks, my lake, my hockey team, my habits,my comfort and everything and everyone I have ever known.

Starting over sounds so daunting. It's taken me 23 years to establish myself here. How long would it take before a new location would feel like home? Before I found a soccer team? Before the gym felt like my own? Before I recognized the baristas?

How could I not see Mom and Dad every week?

How would I leave, knowing that I'd haev to abandon the miniscule seed of hope that something magical will happen and Colin and I will end up together and okay and happy that I stupidly maintain?

How could I make friends there, when I can't make them here?

Why do I even continue to entertain the thought that I could do this?

Why do I shoot high when I'd rather stay low?

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

This, obviously, confuses me.

Here's the motherfucking Snoop post.

I remembered the title, so I tried typing in the URL. Viola!

Still have no idea why it disappeared. Pretty pumped that I won't be rewriting, however.

Sometimes technology makes me feel as though my brain is melting.

Monday, February 06, 2006


Did you know that my dad got a job? No. You wouldn't. Because the two-page post that I wrote (and didn't save) on Saturday was savagely eaten by Blogger.

You also don't know that my dad, sister and I ran into Snoop Dog (twice!) and Mike Tyson in downtown Detroit on Friday afternoon.

This post will be recreated, ASAP, because I know how interesting my life truly is.

Or how infrequently I run into celebrities. Whatever.

My old boss and my new boss are married and it blows

I just had my year-end performance review (on Feburary 6th. We're really on top of shit 'round these party) and it sucked balls.

And I ended up crying.

FUCK! I wanted to never, ever cry at work. Fuckfuckfuck.

My review went something like this: you're brilliant but you can be a huge a bitch.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'll just fake it. Nothing in the past three months has happened and I have rainbows flying out of my ass.

Need to find employment elsewhere.

To mitigate my misery and for a sweet-ass reason to modify this for my own needs.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Snow no mo'

Regardless of what any groundhog may predict, winter is nearly over.

How do I know this?

The last crate of clementines I bought was disgusting. Soft and shrivled and brownish. Not the delightful spheres of yummy that we get early in the winter.

I miss those tasty little guys (so convenient to bring to work! So easy to peel! I can eat 8 in one sitting. Healthy junk food!) during the off season.

But it will be damn nice to see the sunshine again.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Full circle

When my dad joined his country club, it was a feeling of coming full circle.

He had been a caddy at the same country club as a kid.

He married mom at the same country club as a barely-no-longer-a-kid 20-year-old.

And, finally, he joined.

When the news leaked out that the land for the country club had been sold, Dad was quietly depressed. He never said how disappointed he was, but you could hear it in his voice when he talked about the million-dollar homes that his club was being bulldozed for.

Last summer was the club’s last year as a private course. This year, it goes public. Then...a subdivision.

Dad, who is by no means a natural romantic, must have thought he was so clever when he came up with the idea of hosting a 30th anniversary party for him and Mom at the country club. He spoke with management, convinced them to open especially for his anniversary party. How could they say no? Not for a member with such history.

Mom and Dad’s anniversary was on Monday.

There won’t be a party. Planning was quietly ceased when Dad’s job was terminated.

It makes me awfully sad. It was an opportunity that will never come around again.

Anniversary 35 will come. Anniversary 40, too.

But the country club won’t be there.

And wasn’t the history behind it what was going to make that party special, anyway?

It’s a shame.
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