Always a Bridesmaid, Finally the Bride

Well, I must apologize for my prolonged absence from this blog. I know it's been a difficult month for you, not having access to my well-researched opinions on current affairs. But alas, I am back! So you may all breathe a long-anticipated sigh of relief....Emily's inarguable arguments have returned.

The reason for my extended absence is rather inconceivable. In a world where many climates are reaching record-low temperatures during a global warming epidemic, where people pretend their children have been carried off in a balloon in an attempt to get their own reality show, and in which Alec Baldwin has a hit TV series, something even more unbelievable has happened....I have gotten engaged.

That's right. It's finally happened. After years of racking up enough bridesmaid dresses to give Katherine Heigl's character in 27 Dresses a run for her money, I finally get to be the one with a cheap, plastic replica of myself on top of a 4-tiered buttercream cake. Like most females, I have been dreaming about walking down the aisle ever since...well....I could walk down the hallway! So as soon as Derek got up from his knee outside that public restroom off of Interstate 81, I began planning. Little did I know, I was already way behind.

I remember secretly mocking those friends of mine who started planning their weddings before they were officially engaged. As in, they already had churches, reception halls, and videographers booked and had distributed their bridesmaid gown requirements to me before their boyfriends had even begun layaway plans at Zales. (I hope neither one of them is reading this, because I'm not making this up!) At the time, I stuck my nose up at the thought of how far they were jumping the gun. But now it seems the joke is, in fact, on me. It is now their turn to laugh sadistically as I scramble to find an affordable DJ and a florist who is available on a mere 9-months notice. (Well, at least the one who is still married gets to laugh!)

Seriously, with all the stress of finding a photographer who won't charge me 2 grand for a dozen pictures or a church that will overlook the fact that we may have slacked off in our Sunday worship routine for the past 237 weeks, I haven't even had time to notice how beautiful that diamond looks on my left hand! I'm so busy agonizing over whether we should serve chicken or steak at the reception and figuring out what possessions I can sell in order to pay the $850 that my dress is going to cost, that I've nearly forgotten what Derek looks like. Now it all makes perfect sense. Those girls planned their weddings ahead of time so they could actually enjoy being engaged! Who would have known that these impatient princesses were actually brilliant, strategic minds plotting a giant victory in the war of the wedding plans?

I admit, I mocked them at first, but I have now become a full-fledged advocate of their cause. After attempting the more traditional path, I now say plan the wedding then get engaged. After all the sleep I've lost trying to do it in reverse...I can't argue with that!

Stressing for Christmas

Now don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love Christmas. I truly believe it is the most wonderful time of the year. Everyone’s house is beautifully decorated with colorful lights or dull and boring white ones. People smile at me in the check out line at Walmart, instead of running me over with their carts to beat me to the “speed-thru line”. Friends and colleagues are giving me frosted, green and red, sugar cookies. Radio stations play “White Christmas” until I think I might actually vomit snow. The ACLU is trying to make everyone call them “holiday trees” to avoid offending all the non-Christians who decorate them this month. No, I certainly can’t deny the warm feeling I get starting the moment I finish my Thanksgiving pumpkin pie to the day I finally return all the clothes my mother thought were “so me”.

But, I can’t suppress the other feeling I get after I’ve finished the last piece of Halloween candy that didn’t find its way into a trick-or-treater’s sack. That sudden wave of nausea in my stomach. The tightness in my chest from the inability to breathe steadily. The clumps of hair that mysteriously wind up in the center of my fists. That dreadful feeling that somehow someone has stolen pages from my yearly calendar because it could not possibly be here already. We all know what I am talking about. Holiday stress! That mix of emotion between Christmas cheer and Christmas I-want-to-bang-my-head-into-a-wall-‘til-New Year’s.

Come on now. I work a full-time job. I own my own business which takes up most of the remaining 16 hours of my day. I have 5 four-legged children to take care of, one of whom does not use a litter box. Plus, I require at least 6 hours of sleep to prevent my turbo-bitch side from surfacing. (So we’re already up to a necessary 29-hour day.) I do all this while also attempting to keep friends and relatives occasionally reminded of what I look like and now I’m supposed to throw Christmas into the mix too?! You’ve got to be kidding me.

How the heck does anyone find time for fighting the Target crowds over the last two blu-ray players in the entire world? Who can actually wrap a teddy bear? What people seriously have the leisure of sitting through Rachel Ray’s “Holiday Eats” episodes and go into the kitchen and reenact what they witnessed? Who manages to create a magnificent electrical display on their front lawn using only the lights from the previous 16 Christmases? Why would anyone want to drink eggnog? Where are all the people like me who have no idea what dancing visions of sugar plums would look like because they haven’t slept all season?

I don’t know if I can take it another year. I think for 2009, I’ll hire someone to celebrate Christmas for me. I haven’t had a free moment to consider what I'd like from Santa anyway! So if you’re looking for any gift ideas for me, a Holiday Celebratory Specialist would be perfect. How can I argue with that?

Holding Out For a "Heroes"

So about a year and a half ago, I was somehow suckered into watching the pilot episode of Heroes. My friend had bought season 1 on DVD and after watching it, was "convinced" that I would "totally love it." That statement alone made me tempted to throw the collection in the same box that houses my stone-washed jeans, Disney Princess Collection CD, and the tacky, Christmas-scene blouse that my sister gave me three Christmases ago. Things that I don't have the heart to throw away, but I wouldn't dare chance people knowing I own. Wayne is a great guy but after he was "convinced" I would "absolutely love" The Hot Chick (starring Rob Schneider), his credibility in assessing my tastes seriously plummeted. Not to mention, the whole synopsis of the show was about real people with comic-book-character powers and abilities. Had Wayne ever met me? What part of my personality made him think I would have even the slightest bit of interest in a show about invincible cheerleaders and flying politicians? I wasn't even crazy about Batman!

But somehow, the episode made it into my DVD player. I watched all 23 episodes by the end of the week. I couldn't believe it! In the entire 3 years I'd known Wayne, we'd only ever agreed on one movie and several reruns of "The Golden Girls." How had he managed to find such a gem? I was completely hooked. I was even glad I hadn't started watching it on TV because I couldn't imagine having to wait a whole week between episodes. I'm surprised I didn't lose my job from all the nights of staying up til 1am, telling myself "just one more episode." (No, that came later, from a nasty, back-stabbing, liar....but that's another blog or another time!) Yes, Heroes had changed my life. It gave me a long-awaited reason to keep paying my cable bill, and an incredible marriage to my ideal husband. (OK that last part was only in my daydreams, but that fantasy of marrying Detective Matt Parkman -the character, not the actor- was incentive enough to keep me tuned in!)

But then, something awful happened. Season 2! Talk about a let down. Where were the riveting, action-packed, "holy s*&%, I can't believe that just happened" episodes that I had been so captivated by in season 1? Who the heck were these new heroes with extremely useful powers like bleeding sludge out your eyes or the ability to light your cigarette from the palm of your hand? (Although I do have to admit, that does save you the trouble of having to fish through all your drawers for a lighter.) What is the point of Hiro traveling through 17th century Japan to dual with Sting? Why does no one in Japan question this guy's blond hair and blue eyes? If Peter has the ability to take every one else's powers, how is it he ends up all the way in Ireland and never even tries to find Bono to steal his superhuman ego? How does Kristen Bell (Elle) manage to keep her hair from frizzing with all that electricity running through her? Far too many mysteries to solve. And the worst part was, none of them were interesting enough for anyone to try! The most riveting storyline was the nail-biting episode where we were all on the edge of our seats, waiting to see if Claire was going to make the cheerleading squad at her new school.

And just when you thought "Petrelli for President" was as boring as it could get, season 3 comes along, showcasing my husband (Matt) on a quest through Africa to follow a turtle!!! It is a very important journey. At the end, Matt learns that he too can go temporarily blind and paint 1960's pop art. I think I'm going to follow the stray cat outside my classroom and see if it leads me to the ability to dance. Why not? Can't be any bigger a waste of time than trying to keep up with Heroes!

I couldn't help it. The first half of season 3 was such a snooze that I went to my doctor to get tested for narcolepsy. I decided to skip the second half and say nightly prayers that season 4 would see the show return to its season 1 format of kicking ass! And yet again, I was disappointed. It seems in a feeble attempt to make up for putting everyone to sleep during season 3, the writers and producers decided to assemble season 4 while all consuming heavy doses of speed! Now, the plots are so involved, so fast, and so twisted within themselves, I can't even keep up. I started watching the pilot for season 4 and six minutes in, my brain exploded! By the time I had managed to pick most of the remaining pieces of it off the couch, I was so far behind, I couldn't even see the tail-lights of the plot. All I knew was, the sassy, brunette girl from Days of Our Lives would not be catapulting into prime time via this show, seeing as how hey killed her guitar-hero champ character off before the episode's end. I haven't even attempted to watch an episode since. I just can't afford another unexpected lobotomy. What if this time I loose something essential?

Well Wayne, we almost had one. You hit it out of the park, only to be caught by a little kid, who reached over the wall to catch it while it was still in play. I still hold out hope that someone will be able to sit down with me and explain this last season to me, so I can be ready for season 5. Maybe that will be the season where the show finally gets back its mojo. In the meantime, I guess that copy of Six Feet Under Season 1 will have to find its way into my DVD player. Perhaps that one has enough stamina to stay a home run. Either way, I have to watch it sometime so you'll stop mentioning it every time you come over....then I'll be able to say "yes, I have watched it" and you can't argue with that!

A Hallow Extreme?

Ah it is that time of year again. The leaves have fallen. A chill is in the air. Pumpkins have been picked. Cider steams up my morning mug. Yes, this is absolutely my favorite time of year. A time when the hard-core, conservative Christian residents of the Bible Belt attempt to ban Halloween from the rest of us heathens. I am sure I am going to get a lot of slack for this one, but I have to be honest with you....I really don't care. I've lived here in the Belt for 5 years now (granted, the very ghetto part it....you know, the part in which you can only beat with the Old Testament because we haven’t scraped together enough money for the complete King James version yet) and every year this controversy baffles me.

Now, in all fairness, I'm from the north, which automatically means I am going to Hell. I'm pretty sure that's what Damn Yankees was all about. Until I moved below the Mason-Dixon Line, I didn't know there were people who didn't celebrate Halloween! I just assumed it was a standard part of childhood; much like birthday parties, summer vacations, and accidentally setting your backyard on fire. I went to church nearly every Sunday morning. (Yeah, that's right...we Episcopalians actually have to get up and go to church on Sunday mornings. We don't get to just go at our convenience anytime over the weekend!) But I can't recall a single time, in 25 years, that someone tried to tell me that Halloween was evil or satanic.

So you can imagine my flabbergastment (when you write your own blog, you get to make up your own words) in 2004, when I began my first teaching job as a “southerner” and inquired about what kind of Halloween festivities would be taking place at the school and was met with awkward stares, much like the ones on the faces of bystanders in those dreams where you suddenly realize you’ve walked into a room naked. Thankfully, another radical teacher took pity on me. She pulled me into a dark corner and whispered that “we don’t acknowledge Halloween in the school. Too many families believe it is a threat to their Christian faith."

Huh??? Giving candy to kids is a threat to Christianity? To dentistry, perhaps, but Christianity? That must’ve been left out of my Bible Cliff’s Notes. I don’t recall learning that at my Catholic university. Of course, we had a bar on campus too so maybe that discredits any religious arguments we alumni might submit. I know what you’re going to say…”They feel it is a glorification of demons, witches, and the Devil. Celebrating such evils is a crime against Jesus.” That would all make a whole lot of sense too, except for that Halloween started as a Christian holiday! Long before it secured its place as a secular holiday, October 31st was the Christian celebration of All Hollow’s Eve, occurring on the night before All Saint’s Day. Good, Jesus-praising people dressed up as ghosts, ghouls, and Kayne West in order to scare away evil spirits. They carved scary faces into jack-o-lanterns not to invite wickedness in, but rather keep it out. (Those who couldn’t afford pumpkins just took in the nearest black cat in heat, which generally did the trick as well.) These traditional Halloween rituals weren’t a celebration of evil. They were an attempt to scare it away with a dose of its own medicine. Maybe someone should try that with Michael Moore. Force him to watch his own movies and maybe he’ll be scared away. It’s worth a shot.

But despite all that, if people still believe that allowing their child to dress up like A-Rod or other villainous creatures will affect where they spend the afterlife, fine. Don’t let them wear “demonic” costumes. But is it really necessary to forbid them from dressing up as clowns, princesses, and superheroes? I’m probably alone in this, but I think depriving your child his or her natural right to go door-to-door and beg for candy once a year is the true evil. Where would today’s youth be without bite-size Reese’s and Snickers? I have countless fond memories of trekking through several feet of snow, with my cutesy little costume stretched over a parka, and trick-or-treating through my upstate New York neighborhood. I could never deny my child those experiences. That would be unethical!

So I will be at home tonight, handing out Nerds and Smarties to the handful of trick-or-treaters who have managed to persevere. Because, hey….I believe that’s what Jesus would do. My apologies to anyone I might upset by this entry. But it’s my blog and I’ll offend if I want to, offend if I want to, offend if I want tooooooooo…you would do it too and you can’t argue with that!

Bromance, Homance, and Nomance

My quickly dwindling supply of incoming funds, combined with mortgage-payment-equivalent ticket prices, has left my thirst for late summer cinema unquenched. In layman's terms....I'm too poor to go to the movies! Gone are the summer days where the air conditioning would break and we'd beat the heat by chilling at the local AMC. Luckily, my newly-heightened bargain browsing abilities have led me to the Red Box. When I sit and sulk over previews for flicks I can't afford to see at the Regal, I can take some comfort in knowing that in just a few short months, I can rent it for a buck at my closest Golden Arches. I decided to take advantage of this ray of sunshine a few weeks back and rent "I Love You, Man."

"I Love You, Man" is a classic example of a bro-mance (0r as Derek likes to call them, dick flicks). Bro-mance is a term given to a close relationship between two guys who don't listen to Barbara Streisand CDs while frosting their tips. Basically, it's a clever term for "best friend" in the world of the Y-chromosome. "I Love You, Man" was a movie about a guy who didn't have a close guy friend until his fiancee encouraged him to go out and find one. Personally, I give 2 thumbs up to the fiancee for realizing the importance of a bro-mance in a man's life. I never understood girls who get upset when their guys want to go out for "boys nights". Why? I mean, I could understand if your man was going out with his other external urinary tracted friends 5 nights a week, but a routine "guys night out" is actually good for a relationship. I'll tell you exactly why I am THRILLED that Derek (after nearly 2 years) has finally gone out and gotten himself a bro-mance....I don't want to have to sleep through another stupid "Narnia" movie with him! I have no interest in standing outside for 8 hours to see U2. I know nothing about, nor can I even pretend to care about where the USA stands in the World Cup Soccer qualifiers. Thank God for Alex, Shaun, and Wayne! Now I breathe easy any time WWE comes to town, knowing that I won't have to be dragged downtown on a Monday night to sit through it. I am the first to admit, Derek's bro-mances have saved our relationship!

The same is also true of ho-mances. I don't think this term has caught on with quite a raging popularity, but it's my term for close friendships between females who don't cut their hair above the ear or frequent the Lipstick Lounge on a regular basis. Most normal guys have no problems with their girlfriend leaving him at home so she can scrapbook or watch "Grey's Anatomy" with someone else who will actually cry and shout obscenities at the screen. And I don't think many ladies would argue the fact that it is a necessity of survival to have someone in your life who WILL tell you that you look fat in those jeans or that those shoes do NOT go with that dress. Sue, Marie, Ann....your ho-mances have saved my life and Derek's sanity on many occasions!

But while it's fairly obvious that bro-mances and ho-mances are essential in maintaining healthy relationships with members of the opposite sex, there is one final "mance" whose importance, in my opinion, is greatly under appreciated. I am referring, of course, to no-mances. What the heck is a no-mance, you say? Well lucky you, I am about to tell you. No-mance is a term I am pretty sure I founded exclusively, which is defined as a strictly platonic relationship between a male and female, neither of whom have ever made guest appearances on "Queer As Folk." I can't tell you how many friends I've had over the years who have broken up over one (or both) of them having a no-mance outside the relationship. People (and no offense my vagina-bearing friends, but primarily females) seem to have a very hard time accepting their significant other having a close friend of the opposite sex. Endless battles have been fought over this very issue. Some deaths have even occurred. And while I can sympathize with an opposition to a friend who harbors intentions of something more with your Cuddle Muffin, I think a lot of couples are overlooking a substantial benefit to Shmoopy having a friend of the opposing gender.

If your boy-toy has another female he can talk to, that means he has someone else to tell him (ahead of time!) "Don't do that!" when he thinks about re-scheduling your anniversary because it's game 2 of the World Series. One of my very best friends in the world is a guy named William and he'd be the first one to tell you that virtually any time he has come to me with a girl-problem, my response to him has been, "You're being stupid." Trust me ladies, it's good for your man to have somewhere else he can get the female perspective! It gives him far less room to ever say, "She's being irrational." (And note to all you penis-toting readers out there, there is never a situation in which that statement is smart to utter, unless your honey is having issues with your mother and the comment is in reference to the "she" who bore you!)

And guys, the same is true for your Sweetums having a guy friend to whom she is not in the least bit attracted to. I have another very good friend, Barry, who I often consult regarding dispute impasses between Derek and myself. I am usually able to see Derek's side of things much clearer after receiving invaluable perspective from Barry, most often of such comes in the word, "Em, stop being a female." Now, if only such advice could be forwarded to my aunt Flo when she makes her monthly visit....

Really, the most important thing to remember is that no matter how in love with Dittums you might be, never forget the importance of your friends. Male or female, those friends were not only important in keeping you going throughout your single life, they are CRUCIAL in surviving your love life. And after my well-formulated arguments....you can't argue with that!

Bend This, Beckham

*First off, I want to apologize again for making my devoted readers wait so long for my latest opinion. It's not that I haven't had any! I recently was offered an unexpected teaching job and had to jump right back into the classroom on very little notice. I promise, now that I am back into the groove of teaching, Can't Arguments will again be posted on a weekly basis. I apologize profusely for the delay and thank you all again for continuing to come back to the site!

Derek had been planning this big weekend for months. He'd purchased tickets online, made sure we both had the time off of work, booked the hotels, mapped out the mileage, and budgeted gas costs. His preparation for this began all the way back in June. Ah the anticipation...how on earth was I going to wait for my romantic getaway to Columbus, Ohio?

There are really only two reasons for anyone to visit Ohio. To go to Cedar Point or to have breakfast at my aunt and uncle's mouthwatering breakfast franchise. While we did manage to partake in the latter, Derek had other plans in mind for the final destination of our 6 hour drive. More than anything, he wanted to see his European football hero, David Beckham. For those of you in the landslide majority of the country who have no interest in soccer, Beckham now plays for the MLS team, LA Galaxy. Last Saturday night, the Galaxy embarked on a transcontinental journey to play the Columbus Crew. Unfortunately, the LAX Transportation Security Authorities must've been having a slow day, thus deciding to shake things up a bit by detaining Beckham before boarding time, because the Galaxy's flight took off without the Beck Man.

Naturally, when Derek failed to see the number 23 on the back of a navy jersey, he did what any loyal fan would have. He whipped out his iPhone and checked the MLS injury list. Beckham's name was not among those listed. Derek then zipped over the the official Spice Girls site to see if there was a reunion tour he was unaware of, that perhaps Mr. Posh had decided on which to accompany his wife. No. It seemed the world still chooses to block the group from memory. I even had Derek check Soap Opera Digest's page. I didn't really think there would be any mention of Beckham's absence on it, but I figured since Derek had a wireless connection, I may as well see what I'd missed on Friday's episode of "Days of Our Lives." The lack of evidence to the contrary made our conclusion rather obvious....David Beckham had no-showed.

Now, as disappointed as Derek was, he still managed to enjoy the game. It made him nostalgically giddy to relive his days of benchwarming for his high school soccer team. So the seemingly endless road trip wasn't a complete washout. However, I can't help but feel a little angry. Sure, we found other reasons to enjoy the game despite Beckham's absence, but what about all those other "23"-shirted people people in the crowd? I know there had to be quite a few of them who made treks even longer than ours for the sole purpose of seeing the tattooed Brit kick a checkered ball back and forth. Personally, I think that kind of behavior is reprehensible for such an icon. When people, especially young people, look up to you as a role model, you have a responsibility to them. And part of that responsibility is to show up at events where those fan are expecting you! I realize it's tough for a professional athlete to uphold his playing contract. I mean, that's 32 whole games! How would Derek Jeter fair with such a demanding schedule?

In all fairness, it was stated after the game that Beckham was MIA due to a problem with his Achilles tendon. Apparently, such an injury prevents you from traveling with your team to show your support. Now it has been reported that Beckham may also miss the Houston game on the 18th due to a sub dermal hematoma. The Galaxy is unsure at this point whether he will have recovered from his minor cephalgia in time for the final game against San Jose on the 24th. We can only wait. And pray.

Maybe I'm wrong though. Maybe my anger is unfair. Maybe it's wrong for us, as fans, to expect someone as big a superstar as David Beckham (who has movies named after him, for crying out loud!) to show up to every scheduled game. He does have advertisement endorsements to think about, after all. But Becks, if you keep disappointing your product-consuming fans by no-showing, you being a spokesperson isn't going to entice anyone to buy any of those products.....and you can't argue with that!

Jon and Kate Make Me Regurgitate

I’m not embarrassed to say that until very recently, I had no idea who Jon and Kate Gosselin were. I mean, I had heard one of my friends once mention this show she watched about this couple who had a boat-load of kids and the dad was a dweeb and the mom was nuts. So naturally, I went home and surfed my cable trying to find what station they were airing “Eight is Enough” reruns on. I love that show! But I soon found out that she was indeed not referring to Dick Van Patten’s claim to fame. (Which, I have to admit was a bit disappointing cuz I love when all the kids make that human pyramid at the end of the opening credits back when TV shows had real theme songs.) Nope. She was referring to TLC’s biggest reality show, “Jon and Kate Plus 8”.

Really? A show about raising 8 kids under the age of 10? Sounds more like a PSA about the dangers of fertility treatments than a good way to entertain oneself for a half an hour. I get nauseous hearing about my co-workers kids! Seriously, I have less than zero interest in Jimmy’s game-winning soccer goal, Susie’s first loose tooth, or Lucy’s getting struck by lightening down at the Boys and Girls Club. You have no idea how hard it is for me to keep faking enthusiasm about this stuff. Oh…yeah…Tim, Damon, Mel….of course I don’t mean your kids! Those stories are completely riveting!

Well, apparently somebody out there enjoys hearing about this drivel because the show is now in its fifth season. (Somebody please tell me how “Arrested Development” got canceled after 2 and a half years and this show has already run for twice that long? What is wrong with this country?) Anyway, this latest season opened to its largest audience in its history. 9.8 million people tuned in to watch and see how Mr. and Mrs. Gosselin were going to respond to Jon’s alleged extramarital booty bumping. 9.8 million people! Almost 10 million Americans had nothing better to do on Memorial Day night than tune in to witness this? Forget universalized health care…that is reason enough for me to move to Canada!

What is our fascination with this nonsense? Even before Jon’s alleged bed hopping, the show was still averaging between 2 and 3 million viewers an episode. Why? What is so interesting about a woman bitching at her husband 24/7 about his lack of assistance in parenting? If I wanted to watch that, I’d spend the evening at my friend Marnie’s house! And the fact that the husband being caught by paparazzi with another woman more than doubled the show’s ratings, is just disturbing. What is our problem? Why are we so riveted by something that will more than likely break up an entire family? It must be the same inner demon that makes us rubberneck when we pass an accident on the highway on the way to work or laugh when someone smacks their funny bone. When it comes right down to it, human beings are a sick and twisted species.

Jon was recently quoted as saying he worries that one day down the road, his kids will google his name and be embarrassed. Which is a legitimate fear. I googled his name to write this blog and I’m embarrassed! What if someday my computer is confiscated and someone finds out that I actually did a search on him? Well Jon, if your kids do wind up googling you someday, you should be happy. It means someone out there still gives a rat’s ass….and you can’t argue with that!