Jason says "read this blog!"
Just when I'm about to sign the DNR papers for this blog something comes along and inspires me to write another post. One of these days Jason Segel will come to his senses and beg me to befriend him. I just hope he isn't waiting to see the 365th reason. It may take years.

365 Reasons Why...An Explanation

Well, hello there (said in a very sexy voice). You're looking quite lovely today. Welcome to my blog. Feel free to take off your shoes and get comfortable, maybe leave a comment or two. This started out as kind of a funny thing to do after I blew a phone conversation with Jason, but I've found I really enjoy writing every day and researching new and interesting things about my future BFF. In January I met Jason at a comedy club and the few words we shared only reinforced my belief that he and I would get along famously. As a dear friend of mine recently said, "why wouldn't he want to be friends with you - you're awesome!" Perhaps the 365 reasons in this blog may just convince Jason of what I already know to be true: separately, our awesomeness is great; combined, it may be enough to take over the world. If you want to be one of my esteemed followers, simply click on the 'follow' button toward the bottom of the page. Come on, you know you want to.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Reason 289

Deadlines. For those of you who have been keeping track, today marks the anniversary of my phone chat with a very talented, handsome, Muppet-loving gentleman who answers to the name Jason Segel. The morning after that awkward conversation I started this blog in an attempt to convince Mr. Funny Pants we should be friends. If all had gone according to plan (and let's be honest, nothing ever does), this would be my 365th post. I would have faithfully shared reason after reason with my adoring public (or at least my fawning parents and supportive friends), reaching the one-year milestone with a blissful smile on my face and Jason seated on my comfy couch, bowl of popcorn in his lap, ready to watch The Muppets Take Manhattan. Alas, I have not been as dedicated in recent months as I once was, neglecting my bid for friendship in favor of more worthwhile pursuits like cringe-worthy first dates and eyeballing the filth in my bathroom with disdain. I did, however, over the course of the year manage to act like a complete dolt in front of Jason three times and squeal with girlish glee when he posted a comment on this very blog, which only reinforced my unhealthy ambition of becoming Segel's bosom buddy (1980's drag outfits and cheesy sitcom script not necessary). Looks like stalking has some benefits, afterall. Despite my recent apathetic approach to wooing you, Jason, I still strongly believe we'd get along like gangbusters, and since you're so hip I know you'll forgive me for letting the deadline for completing this blog whoosh by me like air between a certain blonde celebutante's ears. In my 33 years of living I've learned the importance of flexibility; the world will not come to a crashing end if every single deadline isn't adhered to, especially those we set for ourselves. Once we're thick as thieves, Jason, I'll happily remind you of this any time you're up against a deadline and your agent is breathing down your neck. Life is too short to be slaving away at a keyboard, cranking out new pages for what's sure to be Carrot Top's comeback movie. I'll even forgive you if you neglect some friend-related due date. Just don't forget my birthday or there will be hell to pay. We Leos do not like to be ignored.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Reason 288

Snow madness. I don't know if this holds true for your sunny neck of the woods, Jason, but for at least the last month all the local media outlets have been warning Seattleites about an impending visit from a fesity little lady called La Nina. Apparently, she's stopped by the area before and wreaked all sorts of havoc. Meteorologists have been prediciting the worst winter in over 50 years and people have been waiting with bated breath to see if there is any truth to their mumbo jumbo (we all know meteorology isn't a real science). Well, on Sunday night that weather system made an unexpected house call, sprinkling adorable irridescent snowflakes all over the Puget Sound. The citizens of my fair city became giddy at the thought of catching flakes on their tongues and showing off their most recently purchased cold weather togs. Then Monday morning arrived and La Nina had become a woman scorned, determined to ruin every adult's commute and grant every child's wish of school getting cancelled by dumping inch upon inch of the white stuff up and down western Washington. Snow-pocalypse had begun (I swear I heard the clopping of 4 sleigh horses in the distance). Now, when it snows around here people freak out just a little. Ok, more like a whole lot. Sure, we can handle 100 days of rain in a row, but if a quarter of an inch of snow accumulates on the ground all common sense goes straight out the window. It probably doesn't help that the local news stations track every blip on the Doppler radar, send lowly reporters to the tops of every hill covered in a sheet of ice to film cars sliding out of control, and interview little old ladies who are bound to slip on the sidewalk and break a hip if the cameras run long enough. We can't escape the snow insanity. Last night I watched the news at 9:30 before I went to bed and when I woke up at 6am and turned on the TV I swear the exact same segments were being aired. With the amount of time our news anchors spent chatting about the pregnant woman who was stuck in traffic for 5 hours, one would think there is nothing important happening anywhere else in the world. Um, didn't someone fling a bomb at South Korea? If you are ever on location filming a movie in my great city, Jason, and there's snow in the forecast, don't be surprised if the entire western region of the state shuts down. I'll be happy to shine some light on the mass hysteria and then drive you to the nearest Safeway so you can stockpile a week's worth of canned goods in your trailer. Julie Andrews may think snowflakes are fine and dandy, but around here they are certainly not one of our favorite things. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go put on a 4th pair of socks. Should I be concerned that I can't feel my toes?

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Reason 287

Laughter at others' expense. As a teacher I have struggled to stay awake through many presentations about the roots of bullying, building students' self-esteem, and creating supportive classroom environments and, while I whole-heartedly believe that even the stupidest children walking the nation's educational corridors deserve to feel safe, it doesn't stop me from making fun of the adult idiots I have to contend with on a daily basis. Now, I'm not talking about my coworkers (although some of them would definitely not qualify for the gifted program) or even the average Joe talking on his cell phone while walking down the street, oblivious to the dog shit he just stepped in. Nope, I have discovered, through years of painful research, that the most intellectually-challenged of our species spend a lot of time lurking on Internet dating sites. I don't know how many times I've been on a particular site and an IM window has popped up with a ridiculous conversation starter like "Do you like to be dominated?" or "What kind of clothes do you wear to work?" I'm sorry, did I accidentally stumble onto a site for chubby dominatrixes? It's not like I'm wearing leather in my profile pictures and carrying a whip. Why, just a few days ago a young man apologized for being so forward, but was curious to know if I wanted to watch him? Um, watch him do what exactly? I'm guessing it wasn't knit a hat for his wiener dog while Julie Andrews sang on a mountain top in the background. Although now that I think about it, that might be pretty entertaining. Occasionally I also recieve ludicrous compliments like "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Seriously? Have you ever laid eyes on another woman in your life? People certainly don't vomit when they catch sight of me, but I think my mug is pretty average. The real kicker, though, is an email I received this week with the subject line "Hi dear, Email me on [insert address here]." I'm not sure if you realize this, sir, but we have never met, which means you have no grounds to refer to me as 'dear.' His email was a real gem, riddled with spelling mistakes and abbreviations in a stream of consciousness style that made this grammar Nazi's skin crawl. Here's a particularly compelling chunk: "Well i went through your profile and i see that you are Okay,and i will like to know more about you and your personalities." Hmm, is he insinuating I have a multiple personality disorder? Calling me 'okay' really gets my engine running, too. I think I'll drop my panties right now. Perhaps the most appealing statement he made is "And i have decided in my mind that i will relocate to where ever my right and perfect match is for the betterment of our union." Jeepers, you're willing to move ten miles away to be my life partner? I am such a lucky girl! Let's fly to Vegas tomorrow and track down the least-bloated Elvis impersonator to shackle us together forever. I don't know how much longer I can subject myself to the seedy world of on-line dating, Jason, but I will happily laugh with you about all of the awkward and horny dolts who contact me until I finally stumble into the arms of my perfect match. With the way things are going we should be able to milk at least a year of guffaws out of my pathetic love life. At least someone else will be benefitting from my pain.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Reason 286

The male perspective. My best friend Steve is amazing, but he doesn't always answer his phone when I need a bit of advice on inexplicable behavior exhibited by people packing penises. Or is it penie? Anyway, just yesterday I wanted to know, from a dude's perspective, if I could throw away any hope that a certain charming, intelligent and funny man I had been corresponding with on-line would reply to me last email. I sent it a week ago and had heard nary a peep. This gentleman and I had written back and forth at least three times and spent almost an hour IMing, so my obvious reaction to his lack of response was WTF?! Sadly, Steve didn't pick up his trusty iPhone when I attempted to solicit his opinion and I ended up slumped dejectedly on the couch for at least thirty minutes, running possible scenarios as to why the cutey-pie was avoiding me through my head. My first thought was he was trapped under something heavy, which is a line stolen from one of the best romantic comedies ever made, When Harry Met Sally. I concluded this probably wasn't feasible - the man must have been attacked by sharks instead. Well, Steve did call me back (interrupting what had been a fairly festive pity party) and promptly burst my delusional bubble - the man wasn't going to email me back. If he was interested he wouldn't wait a whole week to answer my soul-searching questions, like which direction should toilet paper be loaded (so it pulls from the top, obviously) and whether he condoned the use of excessive condiments. If we were friends, Jason, I would have you on speed dial and any time I needed a testosterone-fueled perspective on the crisis at hand I would ring you up, quick as a bunny, fill you in on all the sordid details of my life, and wait with bated breath to hear your thoughts. Until that day comes I guess I will have to make due with Steve and his sporadic proximity to his cell phone. Please befriend me soon - the fate of my love life rests in your knowledgable hands. That and I wouldn't mind knowing why guys have no qualms about shifting their junk around in public. Really!

Monday, November 1, 2010

Reason 285

Halloween duties. Sure, as a kid I enjoyed dressing up in whatever thrift store outfit my mom had pieced together, smearing greasy makeup over various parts of my face, and roaming my neighborhood demanding candy from the shut-ins I only seemed to see once a year, but as an adult my passion for Halloween has waned and I no longer feel compelled to celebrate in costume with drunken idiots who have no qualms about strutting around as sexy caterpillars or something. Nope, I am perfectly content to spend All Hallow's Eve on my mother's couch, passing out treats to the local skeletons and Spanish dancers while a cheesy movie plays in the background. In fact, that's exactly how last night played out (and the Halloween before that and the Halloween before that...well, you get the picture). I enjoy oohing and aahing over creative costumes parents slaved over and seeing tykes' faces light up when I magnanimously tell them they may take 3 pieces of candy out of the bucket. I bet the stingy folks across the street can't top that! I adore the sound of crinkling candy wrappers as tiny hands dig through the offerings, searching in vain for their favorite sugar bomb, and I take comfort in knowing that not everyone in this country is frightened of knocking on their neighbors' doors, even if it does only happen once a year. Since you are quite the social butterfly, Jason, I'll assume you spent last night at your local bar hitting on scantily clad women while dressed in some brilliant outfit purloined from the HIMYM costume trailer. Sure, you had a grand time, but what about those poor neglected kiddies who banged on your security gate and received only silence in return? Since I'm sure we'll be the best of friends by next Halloween, I will gladly take it upon myself to keep your proverbial home fires burning and pass candy out to anyone who is brave enough to approach a celebrity's house while you get shot down by she-devils and bunnies who have no interest in checking out your puppet collection. I will, however, expect you to shell out the big bucks and buy candy bars people actually like, as opposed to fruit snacks, toothbrushes, or coupons for doughnuts at the local grocery store, as a neighbor of mine used to do. We may be bosom buddies, Jason, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to stomp out a bag of flaming dog poo left my some miscreant who hates boxed raisins. Even I have my limits.

Reason 284 (The Lost Reason)

The Puyallup Fair. Deep fried chicken and doughnut burgers. Whiny, snot-nosed children in strollers. Fragrant livestock doing their business out in the open. Morbidly obese families in ill-fitting clothing. Behold the wonders of the fair! I could be making this up, but I'm pretty sure the annual western Washington state fair in Puyallup is the largest one west of the Mississippi and boy is it a doozy. It runs for three weeks each September, and this year I was fortunate enough to get a double dose of artery-clogging food, terrified roller coaster riders emitting high-pitched shrieks, and grimy public restrooms that ran out of paper towels within the first two hours of opening. Once we're friends, Jason, you'll have to make it a point to visit me in early September so you can marvel at all the locals and taste a famous Fisher's scone for yourself. I've made the yearly pilgrimage to Puyallup since before I could walk, so I know the fairgrounds like the back of my freckled hand and would be happy to navigate us quickly through the throngs of hillbillies to the Hobby Hall full of homemade clothes and 4-H presentations about castrating sheep. We could caress the thousand-pound pumpkins, pose for pictures with adorable piglets, and construct elaborate theories about the people who plunk down good money for telescoping flagpoles, bottles filled with colored sand, and magnetic bracelets that harness your chi (or some shit like that). If you behave yourself I'll even treat you to a Cow Chip cookie. Sounds like a magical Saturday to me, Jason. How could you resist?

*I titled this the Lost Reason because I actually hand wrote this post in mid-September after enjoying a rockin' Hall & Oates concert at the fair. My procrastination is so intense that I didn't have the energy to type up my ramblings until today