If You Belonged Here

Alice Opens Pandora's Box

Pandora: I hope I’m not too dull.

Alice: Please let me be you. That’s the first question: can we trade lives?

Pandora: Are you sure you want to? I mean, I live an immature carefree life with no parents and excessive alcohol. Oh, and apparently this thing called "adulthood" is looming over me.

Alice: Well, I’m pretty sure this is a facebook status quote from you " Pandora is having an impromptu beer pong match against ___________!”

Pandora: Monday evenings get dull. We make the best of them. I also want to state that I won that game.

Alice: Yeah, I’ll take it.

Question two: this entire interview is going to be about your giant boobs, your college lifestyle and your gangsta father. What do you have to say about that?

Pandora: Sigh. Really?

Alice: No. But if it were what would you say?

Pandora: I’d say I talk about my boobs on a regular basis so it'd really be no different but I think of them as temporary. Polly promised me she'd pay for half of my reduction. Granted she was ten-tequila-shots deep, but a promise is a promise.

Alice: So you're going to go from like a triple Z to a D-ish or what?

Pandora: More like from a DD down to a healthy C. Pretty sure somewhere in the world a boy is going to fall dead the moment I decide to sign the papers at the plastic surgeon's office.

Alice: I'd bet on that being like a lot of boys.

Pandora: No worries.

Alice: Did Polly really give you condoms at a Nordstrom Cafe?

Pandora: Yes and lubricant.

Alice: No she didn’t! What kind of lube?

Pandora: Are you really going to make me dig it out? Hold on. "Natural feeling" k-y.

Alice: That’s so Polly—getting you the good kind of lube and not that "jelly" crap.

Pandora: Um, yeah. I don't know anything about that "jelly" crap. I'll take your word for it.

Alice: Please do. What kind of condoms?

Pandora: A lot of kinds.  She even got me the "Pleasure Pack."

Alice: How many condoms are we talking here?

Pandora: 52 of them to be exact. Apparently that's considered a two-week supply.

Alice: Maybe that’s a two-week supply for her but I'm here to tell you that if I check back in two weeks and you don’t have any of them left then we are trading lives immediately.

Pandora: Trust me, they will be here in two weeks. I've sworn myself off boys for at least a month.

Alice: While we're on the subject of sex—I understand they call your sister Sex On A Stick. What I don’t understand is how you didn’t get that nickname first—seeing as the term so clearly applies to you as well and you are older?

Pandora: How do I say this without coming off narcissistic?

Alice: I’m sure you can think of something.

Pandora: Baby sister is a bit more naive. Essentially, she doesn't realize she's hot.  

Boys regularly tell me they've never met someone like me and are completely entranced by me. Then I dump them. Unless you're the current ex...

Alice: We won't talk about the current ex, will we?

Pandora: Let’s not.

Alice: How long have you known Polly?

Pandora: Since I was about seven. I consider her and the Dol my older sisters.

Alice: But you are actually related to one of them, no?

Pandora: Yep, the Dol is my biological cousin. Her late mother and my father were siblings and the offspring of our commie-pinko grandfather.

Alice: So, of course knowing how awesome the two of them are and the fact that they are both in the San Diego area—did proximity to them factor into your choice of college?

Pandora: I always knew I wanted to live my youthful years where surf meets turf. I had visions of suntan boys with too long of hair. I didn't think I was going to need my extended family down here. Freshman year was tougher than I thought though and I’m very fortunate for both of them.

Alice: Best college classroom moment?

Pandora: During speech class. We were talking about the different mannerism and dialects you use when talk to different people, as in your language towards a cop is different than the way you'd talk to your best friend. This lead to our professor asking us if we ever had any run-ins with the cops. One kid told about the time he got an M.I.P. The professor wasn't sure what it was and the student had to explain it was for minor in possession—in his case, marijuana. My professor then spent ten minutes reminiscing and telling us how she tried weed once and was told to sauté it in red wine, dry it out, and then smoke it. Then she encouraged us to tell us about other illicit activities we took part it. My professor was also a seventy-year-old woman.

Alice: What do you want to be when you grow up?

Pandora: Ugh. Lately I’m thinking housewife. Except I burn cookies and can't cook. I redeem myself with my cleaning abilities. But I'm told I just need to be explosive at sex.

Alice: The sex bit is good advice—who gave it?

Pandora: Polly Poppins herself, who else? In all seriousness, though, I might want to grow up to be Bookgirl. I'm going to declare my major as literature and writing.

Alice: Have you declared a major yet or will this be the first? 

Pandora: This will be the first. I initially considered declaring biology. I shortly found out it was nothing like Grey's Anatomy.  I now feel it is better for humanity if I didn't hold a scalpel or any medical instrument.

Alice: Favorite college kid alcoholic beverage?

Pandora: Pink panty droppers or the classic standby bottle of cheap wine. Never boxed though. I try to keep it classy.

Alice: What do you miss most about high school?

Pandora: Having my closest girlfriends at lunch every single day. That's it though. It was a small town; I needed to get out.

Alice: Were the other kids so jealous of your Papa Gangsta Pete—because he was obviously one of the coolest parents ever?

Pandora: Kids are still jealous.

Alice: I’m jealous.

Pandora: You should be. But honestly, it's only been recently that I could accept the fact that my dad is pretty awesome.

Alice: Does Papa Gangster Pete read the blog?

Pandora: I sure hope not because if that's the case I HAVE NEVER KISSED A BOY AND ALCOHOL IS BAD BAD BAD. Actually, he can barely access a computer.

Alice: I wondered how you were getting away with the alcohol/sex talk. Does he know he has a facebook fan page?

Pandora: I might have mentioned it once.

Alice: So, basically, no.

Pandora: Shh.

Alice: So Papa Gangster Pete is a California Peace Officer. What is that exactly?

Pandora: He says it's adult daycare. But in laymen's terms: prison guard. He loves his job. His personal motto is "you can be a stoner, barely graduate high school, and still make six figures. God, I love California."

Alice: And if there is a Vegas trip for your 21st birthday he will be there, right?

Pandora: He's never been to Sin City so apparently he's using me as an excuse.  But I’ve never been one to turn down my daddy's money so I’ll take it.

Alice: Can I come? I feel like I have to see it to believe it.

Pandora: You can come to Vegas but he's every bit as obnoxious no matter what the setting.  His personal favorite thing to do is tell jokes loudly, in hopes strangers hear them, and then look around to make sure.

Alice: Do you think you inherited that sense of humor?

Pandora: We feed off each other and constantly fire back comebacks. He claims I don't listen to him because he never beat me. But yeah, you can credit my sarcasm to him.

Alice: I’m also jealous of your incredible taste in music. Where, when, and how did that start?

Pandora: I started digging into indie music my freshman year of high school. I was inspired by Garden State and Seth Cohen of the O.C. and further shaped by meeting my male counterpart, who is a college radio DJ. We claim to have "the most culturally relevant friendship ever.” He recently made me a 1000 song playlist full of his favorite indie and hip-hop finds.  

Alice: Are you going to be writing about music more here on the blog? I love when you include playlists.

Pandora: I heart sharing with people what I’m currently listening to. I probably won't be putting up a post purely on music, but I always try to incorporate music into my post.  Also, just ask me and I'll mail you a mix.

Alice: What are you listening to right now?

Pandora: Currently "Satellite Skin" by Modest Mouse is rockin'.

Alice: Does growing up scare you?

Pandora: Insanely. I got depressed turning 20. I don't want responsibilities.

But then I remembered that my dad never grew up—not really—so neither will I. I just need to get a job.

Alice: Have you decided on where you will be spending your summer abroad? 

Pandora: I’m not sure if it'll be summer but I want to study in England: Beer and Boys.

Alice: Favorite book?

Pandora: “The Secret Garden” and then “The Secret Life of Bees.” Apparently, I like the clandestine theme.

Alice: Movie?

Pandora: "The Sound of Music" and then "Garden State."

Alice: Dare I ask for a favorite song?

Pandora: "Green Eyes" by Coldplay. 

Alice: How about artist then?

Pandora: I can't pick one band unless I’m allowed to mash Coldplay/The Fratellis/Spoon/Muse/Phoenix.

Alice: Last question: when you get married, can I have what's left of those condoms?

Pandora: I told you, I only swore off boys for a month. But I'll be happy to buy you your own two-week supply for Earth Day.

Chance Looks for Love...In Expensive Places

Since this is my first post on this blog I thought I would write about my two favorite subjects: me, of course, and my lack of a love life.

I feel like one of those horses that is great out of the gate but not much for stamina. (Insert joke here).  I started off my love career like a rocket. In the seventh grade, I danced all night with Michelle A.  Well, it really was more of a rocking back and forth than dancing but I was touching a girl and she wasn't running away because she thought I was about to snap her bra strap. We danced all night. And on the last song I even dipped her without dropping her on her head—to the applause of most of the crowd. We were voted 'Best Couple.' The award came with a huge Hershey's Candy Bar. 

I knew I was in love.  I could feel it in the nervous energy that would make me shake just thinking about Michelle.  I remember sitting in my room and listening to love songs on my walkman dreaming of Michelle as Mrs. Michelle Chance.  The combination of her first name and my last name was something I wrote in various styles of penmanship on my trapper keeper.  This of course was discovered by my classmates and was added into the Chance humiliation hall of fame.  Looking back I realize that even then I was a fool for love, and a fool and his love will soon part.

Flash-forward a year and it was time for the Eighth Grade Dance.  Expectations were pretty high. I think there was a pool on if I would get to first base or not. I had a plan, not to talk Michelle into an illicit but passion-filled kiss behind the bleachers— but to get her to fall deeply in love with me.  She was smart (future valedictorian), popular, and beautiful with that great 80's poof of hair and leg warmers that went on for miles.

During the dance I stepped away from the Hawaiian punch and asked Melissa R. to go with me to the cloakroom and point out which jacket was Michelle's. After Melissa left—I think a little bit sad that I didn't try to feel her up—I slipped a black velvet box into Michelle's pocket. When I got back to the dance, Michelle was waiting for me; the couple’s dance was about to begin. The song was “Take my Breath Away” by Berlin, the one that was featured in a spit-filled sex scene on Top Gun.  A scene that would give me a lot of trouble later in life during a situation that involved a woman’s chin, my drool, and the worst sound you can hear the first time you are together, hysterical laughter. But that is a story for another time.

The song was a perfect way to describe how I was feeling about Michelle, which I told her at the time: "Michelle, this song is a perfect way to describe how I am feeling about you."  I think she giggled. I remind you that it would be another four years before she became valedictorian.  We were voted best couple…again. But if you think I was going to use my built up capital on a good night kiss, you underestimate me, my hormones, and her mother’s icy stare. I knew come Monday morning some things were going to happen—and that kissing would only be part of it.

And Monday morning came. Lucky for me it was picture day so I got to wear my best striped shirt with my favorite skinny leather tie. I put a little extra Groom & Clean in my hair, and stole a squirt of my Dad's Aqua Velva.  Looking good, smelling good, and in an hour —when Michelle and I went to the library or, as we called it then, The Love Shack—I was going to be feeling pretty damn good.

I got off yellow bus number 5 and walked into school. A crowd of girls was sitting there waiting for me.  A huge smile swept across my face, as I thought word had already gotten out of what a great boyfriend I would make, and the girls were lining up. Melissa R. and her posse of Chanceabees surrounded me. They were shouting my name and asking if I had given Michelle a pair of earrings.

"Ladies, ladies, those where 100% cubic Zirconium earrings."

Well, the girls all got pretty quiet for a moment. I was sure was they were in awe of my generous nature. Then Melissa spoke up in a tone that was downright mocking, "You Jackass. She doesn't even have her ears pierced!" Two points for Melissa.

Needless to say Michelle and I never did make it to the Love Shack, never kissed, and--although I am sure she was in love with me—the massive middle school pressures of gossip, jokes, and hallway taunts ended our brief but passion-filled affair.

The point of this story wasn't about how much of a fool I made of myself. The point is that for love I would always be willing to go past the point of fool.

Flash forward 20 years, a lot of partners, a few loves, and an embarrassing case of the clap: I am still a fool for love. But I’m not having much success finding anyone that is interested in watching me make one of myself.

Enter in internet dating.

For about fifty bucks a month I get to look at thousands of women that live in the Seattle area while not having to suck in my slight spare tire or change out of my bathrobe. If I think they are hot, and if the interests and hobbies that they rarely do match the interests and hobbies that I rarely do, I can send them a wink. Or if I really want to put the effort into it, an email. 

Gone are the days of telling the hot girl in the grocery store that I always  squeeze the melons in order to make sure they are ripe. Or the days of telling the girl in the over-sized Harvard sweatshirt at the laundry mat that her underwear would look great on the bedroom floor. Now it's all about how hot your profile picture is, and if you have any cool action pics, like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro , skiing a black diamond run in Vale, or standing on top of the pyramids.  Then there is your short story about who you are, what you’re about, and what things you’re looking for in a partner.  Although nobody is completely honest: I am 34 and only a social drinker or I really don’t care about money and if you make any.   It is really important to be mostly honest: I like kittens, puppies, and long walks on the beach. But not desperate: I am lonely, feeling a bit randy, and really just want a girlfriend I can cling to.

So without further ado here is my profile from Match.com:

The above picture links to the full profile, just click. Any advice, please feel free to share but, dear reader, please remember I am a man, therefore sensitive and fragile so try not to cut me too deep. That means you, too, Alice!

 

Begging the Question: Why, Bookclub, Why?

Well, there's this: I read the book and I am sure that whoever bought the movie rights made a sound investment. This book will be a fabulous movie. And young people may even enjoy the read.

Actually, there was a whole lot more, but if you didn't get here in a timely fashion, well, there's a whole lot less now. You'll get the gist from the comments. Which I may delete later. We'll see.