Melissa's Rules for a Perfect Sunday

Yesterday was an almost perfect Sunday thanks to the rainy weather. When it rains on a Sunday it is almost a mandate that you stay at home and be low key and just relax.

The below rules are rules I invented a few years ago and I rediscovered them yesterday and decided to once again become a devout follower of Melissa's Rules for a Perfect Sunday.

**Ed note; it is more than OK to break these rules for a special occasion, like a party, or if it is a three day weekend and Monday is a holiday. In that case it is perfectly acceptable to use these rules on that Monday.

1. Never, ever wear a belt on Sunday. If you're pants are too big and you insist on wearing them, deal with having to constantly pull them up. I suggest sweat pants.

2. It is a sin to brush your hair on Sunday. Let it go and be free and messy (however, I follow this rule just about every day. I dislike brushing my hair).

3. Under no circumstances should you wear make up on Sunday. I don't care if you have a zit the size of Montana or you have gigantic bags under your eyes. Make up is not permitted on Sunday's. That is why God invented oversized sunglasses.

4. We are too addicted to technology and that is why computers should not be used on Sunday's. Don't check Facebook, don't read this blog, don't turn on your computer on Sunday. Computers need a day of rest too.

5. If you are lucky enough to own a DVR or have OnDemand, Sunday is the day to catch up on all your shows. Why, just yesterday I caught up on Real Housewives of Atlanta, Hung, and Project Runway. I even squeezed in time for an awful Lifetime movie starring Kirstie Alley.

6. If it can be avoided, don't answer the phone on Sunday. The last thing anyone needs on a Sunday is someone rehashing some lame ass story about what happened to them on Saturday night. I don't care how funny it is or how incredible the story, it can wait until Monday.

7. Find your zen and hold onto it. No drama. No stress. No worries.

8. There is something very nostalgic about lying on the couch (or in bed) and reading the Sunday paper. I mean the print version. With the section solely dedicated to the comics. The paper is like $2 on Sunday's, but if you drive around East Atlanta you can find people selling it for a $1 and it is sooooo worth it.

9 (OPTIONAL). If possible, don't wear shoes. Sunday's are great days to go to the grocery store or take a relaxing walk (if the weather permits) and you have to wear shoes to do those things, but otherwise, no shoes.

And that, my friends, is the way to have a perfect Sunday.

Let's all go to the movies!

So, I've seen a lot of movies lately. Well, not a lot, but more than I would normally see in the past week.

I'm one of those people that when others are talking about "classic movies" I'm the one that's like "Oh, I haven't seen that" to which I usually get "WHAT?" For instance I've never seen The Goonies or any of The Godfather movies. (You're totally going "WHAT?" right now.) Instead of expanding my mind and watching new movies I prefer to watch the same movies over and over again. I've seen Mommie Dearest one billion times. Anytime Smokey & the Bandit is on I will faithfully watch it even though I own it and can pretty much recite the whole movie from heart. I will also stop whatever I'm doing to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, Almost Famous, Troop Beverly Hills, and Easy Rider.

Recently I watched Mamma Mia. It was OK. I've seen the play so I knew what I was in for. I do love Meryl Streep though. And, if Pierce Brosnan can get a role singing in a movie then I can still hope for my Broadway career (I can't carry a tune in a bucket).

On Sunday we went to the drive in to see The Goods with Jeremy Piven. The Pivs (as I like to call him) is a fabu actor and he always makes me laugh. And I did a lot of laughing during The Goods, however, it wasn't that great of a movie. I think that The Pivs has been type casted. He plays Ari Gold (his role on Entourage) so perfectly that I think he's destined to play the role of the over bearing smart ass for the rest of his life. Last night Keeping Up with the Steins (another movie The Pivs is in) was on WGN so I checked out a few minutes of that (even though that is a movie that I have actually seen before) and I realized that Ari Gold and his character in Steins is basically the same. Though he wasn't a Hollywood hot shot in The Goods his character was still very similar to his role on Entourage and Steins. I would like The Pivs to flex his acting chops a little more like he did in Old School where he played the loser Dean of Students. But don't worry, I haven't given up on The Pivs and will continue to be his fan (and one of his Twitter followers).

Last night we "rented" I Love You, Man (it was OnDemand and we paid $4.99 to watch it). It was good. Was it the best movie ever? No. Was it as hilarious as The Hangover? No. Did it keep me entertained and make me happy? Absolutely. I adore Paul Rudd. And I like Jason Segel (the guy who's "frontal" we saw way too much of in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which was also side splitting hysterical). I Love You, Man was what I would like to think of as a chick flick for guys (like a bromance? Cause it was kinda a love story about two guys becoming BFF). But it had dirty boy humor, lots of love for Rush (Rush is totally a man's band even though I love them), and a super cute dog.

Let's talk about the dog for a minute. The dog in this movie, Anwar (his real name, I IMDB'd it), is a Puggle. And though I've never discussed my love for Puggles on this blog (I don't think) I have been in love with this breed (a hybrid Pug and Beagle) forever. Our neighbors in our old apartment complex had a Puggle named Charlie and he was the cutest thing in the whole wide world.

So, anyway, I Love You, Man was definitely worth seeing.

I was checking HBO OnDemand (I have HBO now!) and I noticed that Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium is available. I think I might watch that later today. You know, whenever I hear the word "emporium" (which I think is on it's way out of our vernacular) it always makes me think of the days before CVS and Walgreen's when we would shop at Drug Emporium. I think emporium is a great word and I will do my best to bring it back from the edge of extinction.

I still haven't seen Funny People. I also want to see Inglorious Basterds, and that new Matt Damon movie. And of course, Taking Woodstock.

Perhaps if I can see all four in the next month or so I can write another movie post.

Until then I'll be on my couch watching Dazed & Confused for the 397th time.

They say everyone has a twin...

I love Seth Rogen.

I also love Curb Your Enthusiasm. 

Since we just got HBO we've been trying to take full advantage of it.  Especially since summer television sucks for the most part.  I know that a new season of Curb starts soon, and I can't wait.  But poor Jamie has never had HBO so he has never been exposed to the hilarity (and awkwardness) that is Curb.  So, after making him sit through an episode the other day he decided he liked it enough to start watching the first season.  We're about seven eps in so far.  And lemme tell ya, since the first season was way back in 2000 it's like watching brand new television for me, I barely remember any of them (except the infamous Richard Lewis fight outside the jewelry store - still pee in your pants funny).

I don't know if it's because I haven't watched Curb in a while since the break between last season and the upcoming season has been like 100 years or if it's because recently Seth Rogen is everywhere but something has started to drive me crazy.

I swear Jeff Garlin and Seth Rogen are the same person!

They say every person has a twin, and I certainly don't think these two look alike, but there are definitely some physical characteristics they share, but their voices?  Identical.

I promise.  Watch an ep of Curb and then watch a minute of any Seth Rogen scene from any Seth Rogen movie and you will see what I am saying.  It's uncanny.  And a little bit freaky.

I thought I found my voice twin once.  I was in the hall at my old job talking to someone and another person came around the corner calling "Elle."  I looked at the person doing the calling and she seemed surprised.  She said she heard me talking and thought I was Elle.  Huh.  The person I was talking to did agree that maybe I did sound like Elle.  So that afternoon I put on the radio (Elle is on the radio) and listened.  I totally sound just like Elle.  I was flabbergasted.  

Until no one else agreed with me.

At least I don't sound like Jeff Garlin.

Ode to the answering machine

Remember the answering machine?

The other day while leaving a message for a friend of mine who decided not to answer the phone I began screaming "wake up!" into her voice mail. 

Then it dawned on me.  She would never hear my pleas (and demands) until she was already awake and checking her voice mail.  Back in the olden days (and assuming the answering machine was positioned next to her bed) screaming "wake up!" would've woken her up because she would be able to hear the message I was leaving.  I guess an answering machine was the old timey way of screening phone calls.  

I think this antiquated equipment has a lot to offer.  For instance, I'm in the middle of leaving a message for you.  If you see that you've missed a call from me you go ahead and call me back.  But I'm still leaving you a message so either I have to quickly end my message by saying "oh, you're calling me now, bye" or ignore you beeping in, finish my message then when I hang up I have a message from you and now we're confused about who needs to call who back and we never get in touch with each other and I'm stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire (hypothetically speaking, of course).  

If Scenario A takes place and I click over while in the midst of leaving my message then I have to repeat everything I just said on your voice mail to you.  Which is annoying for me because I hate to have to repeat myself.  If this was an answering machine you would've heard the first part of my message and when you picked up we could've continued the conversation.

Answering machines also taught us patience back with everything wasn't so immediate and we weren't always in a hurry.  Remember when you would come home from school or an after school activity and the little red light on your machine was blinking telling you had a message?  The excitement and anticipation of pushing the play button and hearing who called you while you were gone was so exciting (but then it turned out to be a telemarketer).  That doesn't happen anymore.  We always have our cells with us.  If someone calls us, we know who is calling when they are calling.  If we don't answer the phone it is usually by choice.

My favorite answering machine story goes like this.  Years ago my parents gave my grandparents an answering machine (BTW, it's still in use today at Poppy's condo).  Since it's somewhat difficult (especially for grandparents) to figure out how to record the outgoing message for years and years when you called their house and the machine picked up the first thing you heard was my Gramma going "damn."

But, along with 45's, petticoats, non-digital broadcast television, and most importantly the land line, gone are the answering machines.

Unless you are my grandpa, because his is still alive and kickin.  But, ask him to check his voice mail on his cell phone and it's a whole different story.

Red Alert!

So, Twitter is down today.  I tried to log on this morning from my BlackBerry to write about how Jeremy Piven was awesome on GMA and how I could not wait to see The Goods next weekend.  Well, I couldn't get on to Twitter.  I figured it was my BlackBerry being stupid.

Then I got on my computer and could not get on either.  Then I logged on to Facebook where everyone was writing about Twitter being down.  Turns out, Facebook was intermittently out as well.  Super hackers.

An MSNBC article informed me that Twitter was being hacked and that's why no one could log on.  It also quoted a bunch of people screaming about how lost they are without Twitter.  That got me thinking...  Would I be lost without a website?  And the answer is no.

I rather enjoy the Internet.  I like reading blogs and playing online spades and Facebooking, but really, if I couldn't for a day or a month or forever I would OK.  I think as a culture we are too dependent and too addicted to the Internet.  But I think that's OK, because this is 2009 and why shouldn't we be?  You can't tell me that if your Grandpa didn't have a laptop while he was hiking seven miles, up hill, in the snow to school every day that he wouldn't have been checking his email.

I mean, if I didn't read www.dlisted.com (the best gossip blog ever, but not for the weak of heart or easily offended) I would totally suck at trivia and I would have no idea what Brad and Angelina are up to.  If I didn't Facebook I wouldn't know that half the people I'm friends with went to see Beyonce (which, they were all at the show updating their Facebook status about how amazing the show was but it seems to me that if they were screwing around on their phones updating their status then how much attention were they really paying to Beyonce?).  And, if I wasn't on Twitter then you wouldn't know that I had leftover rice for lunch (and really, isn't that a valuable thing for you to know?).  

So, people of 2009, take a deep breath.  Twitter will be back soon.  In the meantime, turn of the computer and go watch TV (or read a book if you even still know what a book is, and I'm talking a real book, not one of those Kindle things).

I'm may be going to hell in a handbasket (but at least I'm enjoying the ride)

So, I'm planning a playlist for a baby shower that I am hosting in a few weeks.  We're having it at my house which means I get to play DJ.  But also cause I have the best taste in music.  Instead of compiling a list of songs to play at a baby shower, here's a list of songs NOT to play at a baby shower:

• Toby Keith - Who's Your Daddy? - self explanatory
  
• The Beatles - I Want You (She's So Heavy) - cause pregnant ladies are heavy
  
• Three Dog Night - Mama Told Me (Not to Come) - cause if you listened to Mama you wouldn't be pregnant
  
• The Band - Rag Mama Rag - you go nine months without being on the rag 
• Elton John - The Bitch is Back - pregnant ladies are moody
• The Fifth Dimension - Wedding Bell Blues - unless the mother to be is married
• Jimmy Cliff - The Harder They Come - see above Mama Told Me (Not to Come)
• Tim McGraw - Red Ragtop - umm, it's about an abortion

Meanwhile, these are all songs my guests will be listening to.  It's going to be an awkward afternoon.

I'm kidding.  

Maybe.

Mission: Accomplished!

It took five trips, but it is done.  We are now the proud owners of a fancy (particle board) new wardrobe from Ikea.  It is built, mounted to the wall and full of clothes.  Yea!!!  Life is good.  Let's celebrate with a Blingee!

If you build it, they will come

Guess what I'm doing today?  Going to Ikea!

Guess how many times I've been to Ikea in the past forty eight hours?  FOUR!

No, I didn't get a job at Ikea, however after all the time I've spent there and all the employees I've dealt with, I should work there.  Let me start at the beginning.

I am a clothes collector.  I love clothes.  And though I really do wear just about everything in my closet, I have a lot of (too many?) clothes.  I have so many clothes that I filled up the big closet in our bedroom and the little closet in the second bedroom.  This left Jamie (who also has a pretty decent amount of clothes) with his stuff hanging on a temporary wardrobe rack from Target.  It's works just fine for his clothes, but it collapses a lot.  It's at least a year old and it's been moved and through all of that it's lost some pieces (like wheels) and it's been damaged a little bit.  So needless to say, it's not the sturdiest of furniture (?) anymore.  But it's done it's job.  It's also a huge eyesore.  The whole second bedroom is, so really it fits in to the aesthetics in that room.  Our house is cute and hip and in town, that room, however, is trailer trash.  But it has tons of potential because it has a really cute fireplace in it and lots of windows.  

But anyway, I want the true potential of that room to shine through (and also function as an actual bedroom for when people stay with us) so I've begun fixing it.  The first thing that needed to happen was getting rid of the clothes rack and upgrading to a wardrobe (or armoire depending upon which store you are shopping at and how much money you are spending because things with French names are expensive).  We looked online for wardrobes and found some really awesome ones for like thousands of dollars.  Then we found some on Craig's List but no one responded to my emails (if you're going to post something on Craig's List you must respond to all honest inquiries about your items.  It's polite.  A simple "Sorry, it's been sold" is completely acceptable because it is a response).

So Ikea it was for us.

We went on Thursday because I'll be damned if I'm going to attempt Ikea on a weekend.  Halfway there I realized that we probably should have taken my car instead of Jamie's if we decided to purchase (my car is bigger).  But since we were almost there and it was raining we didn't turn around.  After strolling through Ikea and looking at every wardrobe in the freakin' store (and almost getting in a fight with a seven year old kid because he was in my way) I found the one I wanted.  There was no aisle or bin number on it (which is how you find it in the warehouse) so I had to ask for help.  A curmudgeon was assigned to be my help.  He did help.  Sort of.  Anyway after explaining that I didn't want to buy the shelves and the baskets but just the wardrobe, the doors (because why would they come together?) and an additional rail he finally got me a print out of what I needed with the aisle and bin numbers (but that was also after he had to call for back up).  The back up lady, who was really nice, explained that you can't buy additional rails for this particular wardrobe because again, that would just make sense.  But, good news!  She had an extra one and had dropped it off in "As Is" a few days ago.  It probably hadn't sold yet so we could just go down there and get it.

Have you ever been to As Is?  Don't.  I mean in theory it's a great idea.  It's where all the slightly damaged and odd stuff ends up and you can buy things there cheap.  It's like the Ikea outlet.  But it's also huge and nothing is organized and there is junk all over the place.  I immediately went to the window for assistance.  A very nice man was helping me while Jamie dug through racks and racks of hardware.  Mr. Nice Man explained that there was so much stuff down there that it might be impossible for him to find our rail, even if it is down there.  Then we realized we didn't even know what the rail looked like.  So, we went back up to the wardrobe department, which means starting at the front of the store and working your way back and down because Ikea is a maze and there is only one way in and one way out.  We examined the rail in the floor model (considered taking it too) and went back to As Is.  Amazingly Jamie found the rail (and it was only $.30, yes cents!) but then we couldn't find the plastics pieces that snap into the side of the wardrobe that hold the rail in place.  Ugh.  We found some that will hopefully, probably work and we took them because I was over it by then.

But, because we took Jamie's Mazda and not my Jeep, we have to go home to get my car so all the boxes will fit.  So that's trip number two.

We get home and start assembling.  As I watch a lot of "This Old House" and have a knack for putting things together I assumed the role of Head Contractor and employed Jamie to be my assistant.  This thing we bought weighs over 100 pounds so I need his help moving some of the bigger pieces.  All is going swimmingly.  Until Jamie leaves to go make dinner (reheat meatloaf).  So, here I am all alone putting this thing together.  I need to shift it a little to the left so I can attach the top to the sides.  I'm sliding it by myself when it gets caught on the bottom of the fireplace and rips the left side.  I decide that it's not that bad and quit for dinner.

Friday afternoon I get home from the Food Bank and Jamie gets home from pre-planning at school and we get to work.  I decide to share with Jamie the boo boo I made last night and after examining it with fresh perspective I realize it's in bad shape, I really screwed up.  So, we load the busted piece in the car and go back to Ikea.  The girl at the exchange desk is super nice and helpful.  We even saw my friend from As Is and he smiles at us.  I have a feeling we're not the only people he sees two days in a row.  So Helpful Girl gets someone to bring up our wardrobe and after careful examination to make sure it's the same piece we get our new side and go home.  I quickly install it only to realize that it's the wrong freaking side.

Back to Ikea we go (this is now trip four).  Helpful Girl is laughing at us (in a good, friendly, I can totally relate way).  We are given a new side and PROMISED that it is the correct side.  We get home and it's not.  Of course.  By this point it's 8:30 and as much as I want to go back to Ikea immediately Jamie convinces me it's not a good idea.  So I do what anyone else would do, I freak out, I scream, I cry, I have a temper tantrum.  I am the kid who skipped nap time and is having a cranky freak out in the middle of the Kroger.  So we go to the bar and drink.  Meanwhile I call Ikea and after spending ten minutes getting through their automated system I get a human being on the phone.  He apologizes.  Whatever.  I explain that there is no way I can make it back to Ikea before they close (at this point that is in like five minutes) and request that for my troubles they accommodate me and go ahead and pull what I need so when I get there on Saturday (the busiest day in the Ikea week) I don't have to wait amongst the masses.  I am told this is not possible and he suggests I get to the store at 10am on Saturday when they open.  What he doesn't know is that I have plans for the morning and Jamie is getting up to go fishing and I can't possibly bring this 100+ pound piece of particle board back by myself.  So, here it is, almost 3pm on Saturday.  I'm waiting for Jamie to get home so we can go back to Ikea.  

Hopefully, the fifth time's a charm.

If not, I'm going back to Target, buying more clothes rack and that's the way it will be for the rest of my life.  I'm not a quitter but if it doesn't work out this time, then the sixth time I go back to Ikea will be to return this thing.  And, I will send the General Manager and President a snarky email about my experience.  And I will write it in Swedish.