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What's in a Name?

2/26/2016

 
There are things I will never remember: street names; geography in general; when a birthday card should be mailed to get to the recipient on time; to send a card at all. But I do have a gift for remembering names and faces.
 
I’m not just talking about seeing an actor on television and saying “That’s the guy who played ‘coffee drinker #2’ on General Hospital back in 1996 when Carly and Sonny got into that fight over lattes” (though I do do that, and yes, I’m aware it’s annoying). Here’s where it is a blessing: when I meet someone at an event, and then see them again, say, a year later, I will remember that person’s name, where we met, and that we spent twenty minutes during that encounter talking about how awesome Laurie Metcalf was as Jackie on Roseanne.
 
Great, right? But here’s the problem: I’ve found that if I see someone every day, say, at the office, and we’ve never been introduced, I can’t not give them a name anyway. Some people might call this OCD or the sign of severe mental illness. I’m going to stick with “quirky.”
 
Here are the people I work with:
  • Albert
  • Sue
  • Security guard who works M–W: Cutie McHottie
  • Security guard who works Th–F: Scowly McCrankypants
  • Jackie
  • Travis, the guy who was a year behind me in high school
  • Lisa* one half of the twins that were two years ahead of me in high school
    • *might be Lori
  • Magnificent Beard Man
  • John
  • Archie Bunker**
    • **This guy looks like nobody so much as Carroll O’Connor in a seventies sitcom. I do suspect that this is probably not his real name, though.
  • Courtney
  • Scott Who Is Not Brian***
    • ***Here is an example of when my system causes problems. This guy resembles Brian Albright, someone I knew in college. So I immediately named him Brian. When we were introduced two months later, and lo and behold I found out his parents had misnamed him “Scott,” I had a difficult time switching to his non-Brian name. Thus, Scott Who Is Not Brian.
  • Keurig Hazelnut (Kay Hazey doesn’t talk much, but she sure likes her morning coffee)
  • Less Magnificent Beard Woman
  • Gustavo
I don’t want to list everyone in my building—Mike, Saggy McNeedsaBelt, Maureen—but you get the picture. It helps me feel like my whole world is neat and organized. However, now I live in dread of the day that I’m actually introduced to Cutie McHottie. Because you just know I’m going to call him the wrong name.
www.morguefile.com
His beard lends itself to no other name.

Alone Time

2/19/2016

 
Some couples fight over finances. Others have been known to divorce over the toilet seat being left up. In our house, the biggest disputes arise over alone time.
 
I am a big proponent of alone time, probably because I crave it so much. There is nothing I enjoy quite so much as stone-cold quiet and having the house to myself. I prefer to write in uninterrupted silence. Social interactions—even with Jason—drain me. The only way for me to refuel is solitude. Jason, on the other hand, would prefer us to be joined at the hip. It's made for  more than one disagreement in our home.
 
Because of this, these are some real conversations that have actually happened in my house:
 
Jason: I think it would be fun to go to the movies this weekend.
Me: Great. Have fun.
Jason: No, I meant together.
Me: STOP TRYING TO CONTROL MY LIFE ON THE WEEKENDS!
 
Jason: I’m going to run out to the store. See? I’m giving you your alone time.
Me: A half an hour, during which I will be continuing to do the laundry and ironing, doesn’t count.
Jason: There’s just no pleasing you, is there?
 
Jason: How was your day?
Me: Please stop talking.
 
Jason: What’s for dinner?
Me: For the love of all things holy, are you ever not home? I just want five minutes to myself!
Jason: Jeez, you’re in a mood! PMS?
Me: Move your face closer so I can slap you.
 
You see, one of the other problems with needing alone time is that when you don’t get enough of it, your ability to communicate the overwhelming need to be alone goes downhill. It’s sort of a catch-22 that goes along with being an introvert. If am able to articulate my feelings along the lines of “People have been talking at me all day. I am socially, mentally, and emotionally drained. What I really need is a few hours of complete silence and lack of outside stimuli so I can recharge my batteries. After that, I will be a much more pleasant person,” well, then, I’m actually doing pretty well, and probably don’t need alone time. However, if I am short-tempered, weepy, and generally incoherent, saying “Move your face closer!” in response to “How are you?” is not getting my need to be alone across in a clear and concise manner. Now, to me, I think “Move your face closer” pretty much says it all. But some people (not naming any names, but it’s Jason) think I’m being rude and generally snarly. Let the arguing ensue.
 
When my nephew Evan was a toddler, one of his favorite phrases was “Leave. Me. Alone!”
​I hear you, kid. I hear you.
Picture
Don't make me resort to the couch fort again.

Valentine's Day Crap

2/12/2016

 
I have often said I am not a romantic. This hasn't changed. For Valentine's Day this year, I've decided to treat myself to a week off from the blog. So let's take a walk down memory lane with this blog post from VD Day 2012, when I, um, walked down memory lane:

With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I'd revisit some of my past romantic holidays. This could explain a lot about my personality, so bear with me.

In 8th grade, I was going out with a boy, whom we shall call Randy Mitchell of 45 Hopewell Rd, Glastonbury. Going out with Randy mostly meant that we exchanged school pictures and I giggled like a drunken smurf every time we passed in the hallways. This was my first Valentine's Day with a boyfriend; I bought Randy a giant, five-pound Hershey's Kiss to celebrate the event. Randy dumped me (via handwritten note that he gave to my friend Amie to give to me, no less) on the morning of February 14th. Amie and I ate that whole giant Kiss during history class, thus kicking off lifelong food issues.

In high school, I was friendly with a boy we'll call Lee Gardner of 122 Weir Street. Valentine's Day fell on a Saturday, and I was working at a little grocery store in town. Lee called me and shyly asked if he could take me out on my break for a romantic lunch. Of course I said yes, and lo and behold, the rotten little snotbag stood me up. I consumed an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Heath Bar Crunch that day, and to this day, toffee makes me gag. Maybe Randy and Lee should get together to compare notes on how to give a teenage girl an eating disorder.

In college, I dated a guy named Tom who was fifty thousand times more in to me than I was in to him. In February, he sent me roses, a diamond pendant, a 1986 vintage Ron Francis Whalers jersey, a new car, and gourmet chocolate drizzle popcorn. In return, I hand-made him a card that said "Roses are red, violets are blue, you skeeve me out, I'm dumping you." Personally, I thought it was clever as heck. From what I understand, Tom wound up in therapy for years. It turned out that inflicting psychological damage on February 14th was a power that could be weilded by either party, and I liked it.

My first husband used to demand breakfast in bed for Valentine's Day. I think this was because he was too lazy to waddle in to the kitchen and cook it himself. I would cheerfully comply, always adding something a little extra, like egg shells. And if the eggs happened to slide off of the frying pan in to the litter box before I served it to him, all the better. I'm sure he thought I was the world's lousiest cook. That's okay; I thought he was the world's lousiest husband.

When I finally shed all of that baggage, I tried to find someone  who was considerate, kind, and not inclined to celebrate Valentine's Day. When I met Jason, I thought I'd lucked out. However, it turned out that Jason had a tendency to promise that we wouldn't do anything for Valentine's Day, then surprise me with the complete works of Augusten Burroughs. So I still associate the holiday with anxiety, because honestly, every year, I never think to get him anything. You'd think I would've grown more considerate by now, but I really feel my lifetime of Valentine's Day wrongs gives me carte blanche to be a jerk.

So to all of you, I wish you luck getting through this Valentine's Day. If you're feeling down, ask yourself: what's more important? Having a snugglebunny to share this day with, or being the first in line at CVS when all of the candy is reduced to half price on February 15th? Honestly, you could make a good argument for both. 

Happy Valentine's Day!
_________
This week from The Storyside:
​
Rob Smales has a new book coming out!
Part 5 of Ursula Wong's "From Idea to Printed Page"
​
Have you heard about Sci Fi Saturday Night's My Peculiar Family anthology? You have now! They're only $544 away from being fully funded. Help them reach their goal—and one of the rewards is a pillow shaped like a blood stain, hand-crafted by yours truly! Also check out the SFSN page on Saturday, where you can hear an interview with me and author Rob Watts as we talk about our involvement in the project!
Picture
This is about as romantic as I get.

Walk to Cure MS

2/5/2016

 
This week's blog isn't going to be funny. Unless you think multiple sclerosis is funny. Okay, to be fair, I think we've all told a joke or two about lesions on the myelin sheath—the very topic lends itself to wisecracks and puns, doesn't it?—but I'm trying to be serious here. Bear with me; I'm not good with serious.

My friend Renee is fabulous. She's funny and creative and can make awesome Halloween costumes out of things she's found in the clearance bin at the local Goodwill. She's thoughtful and sweet and twisted: this year for my birthday, she gave me two necklaces that are actually miniatures of two of my book covers. She also gave me a pencil sharpener that looks like a nose. You stick the pencil up the nostril and give it a twist to sharpen. Awesome, right?

Renee also has MS.

Every year since 2009 (Renee was diagnosed in the fall of 2008), Renee forms a team and participates in the National Walk MS event. Every year, I join her team, raise money for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, and walk with her. Except in 2011—I raised money but didn't walk—but to be fair, I had knee surgery two days before the event. And then there was last year. Last year, I had another engagement the same weekend, so I did what any rational person would do when they're feeling guilty for missing something so important: I wrote and illustrated a children's book about Renee and her family starring her son Patrick, published it, and used it to fundraise for the National MS Society. I'm sure you would do the same. (If you knew Renee, you would!)

This year, I will be at the event, and I'm raising money again. Anyone who donates $20 or more to my MS fundraising page (http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/staceylongo) will get a signed copy of My Mom Has MS. Already have one because you donated last year? Then if you donate again this year, you will get my unwavering gratitude, and a wet, sloppy kiss the next time I see you. 

If you don't want to donate $20 or more, but you really want the book, you can always order it on Amazon (if you click on the word Amazon there, it'll take you right to the book). A portion of every book sold is donated to the National MS Society. If you don't care about the book, but still want to donate, but maybe not as much as twenty dollars, that's still wonderful. Just click on the link (that was http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/staceylongo) and you'll still get a kiss!

Please help. Please donate. Because Renee is awesome. Because MS is a crappy disease, and you want to help fight it. Because you want to say "It's totally okay when I crack jokes about myelin sheath lesions. I just donated to the MS Society, so it's cool. I can prove it: see my copy of My Mom Has MS?"

I won't judge. I'll even let you borrow my pencil sharpener.
Picture
Renee and me and the book in 2015.
__
This week from The Storyside:
"Norman Mailer Remembered" by David Daniel
"From Idea to Printed Page" by Ursula Wong
And don't miss this excerpt from Rob Smales's upcoming new book, Echoes of Darkness, coming out Feb. 28 from Books & Boos Press!

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