Cheer up, Chrish!

It’s My (Pity) Party

This past weekend Darth Kitty tried to gnaw my leg off below the kneecap. That’s her sweet way of reminding me that her litter box needs cleaning. I suppose it beats a larynx-crushing death grip or a nonchalant beheading via lightsaber. She certainly lives up to her nickname. Two weeks ago, she broke another table lamp: knocked it over and cracked its base. Thinking it could be resurrected, but out of essential Super Glue, I took it to my parents’ house for repair. Unfortunately, Darth Kitty took its reappearance as some sort of threat to the Empire and smashed it to smithereens. It’s the third such lamp to meet its demise.

A few years back she decapitated several male figurines in my nativity crèche (mistaking them for Jedi Padawans, no doubt). This year she karate-chopped in half a beloved Santa figurine (I’m getting the sense that she isn’t a Christmas fan). I threatened to put coal in her stocking, but she just gave me one of those creepy, glassy-eyed stare downs. Next year I intend to seek revenge. The rebellion begins!

(In case you were wondering, the hostile takeover of NEH was short-lived. I am pleased to have struck a truce with the plebeians who attempted to wrest control of my website. As if they could have elevated this platform to a higher level than moi. Rookies. Oh, and that Letter to Our Readers… completely my idea. Shades of Shattered Glass. Clever, eh?)

Sadly, life has not been a bowl of cherries lately. My casting agency sent me two more we-don’t-care-to-employ-you-but-would-you-still-help-us-anyway emails. Yeah, they (1) were looking for another set of identical twin boys for Betty Anne Waters and (2) wanted me to write a state legislator who is trying to cap (and ultimately kill) the film industry tax incentives which the state passed into law last year. As if! Apparently these people have never heard of the concept “If you scratch my back then maybe I’ll scratch yours.” Or, as Janet Jackson used to sing, “What Have You Done For Me Lately?”

Nada. El Zippo. So I’m not helping them. It’s all about revenge these days. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Girl. Whatev. Grrrrrrr.

We’ve been hit with nothing but bad news here in Michigan lately. Our 12% unemployment rate is the highest in the nation. The Ann Arbor News announced it is closing in July after 174 years of publishing. Electric bills will probably rise 11% this year. My employer says not to expect a salary raise for the next three years as they shift more funding of healthcare premiums to the employees. The only rainbow to break through the stormy clouds of recent months — yesterday’s trouncing of top-ranked Louisville by our gritty Michigan State Spartans — was fleeting as President Obama usurped the headlines by announcing his own hostile takeover of General Motors Corporation. Talk about bringing Michiganders back down to Earth with a resounding thud. I suspect it was payback ’cuz MSU messed up his NCAA bracket.

The near decade-long recession and resulting downward spiral of the auto industry has turned Michigan into a Third World Country and the trickle-down effect has been brutal: I fully expect my church to close its doors this summer or fall. So many people are drowning here and the rest of the country’s attitude is, “They built crappy cars, so let them die!” I feel like the planet Alderaan. Pulverized.

My dad is a white-collar GM retiree, so he and Mom lost their healthcare insurance as of January 1, 2009 and had to procure their own. A few days later, Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Luckily that was caught early and we think her surgery was successful, but they ran into difficulties with their new health insurer, so her follow-up care has been curtailed. Plus, Dad has a neurodegenerative disease that requires expensive medications. Without question, 2009 has been a year of high anxiety.

Then Hayden’s engagement leaked to the rags. Shortly thereafter, Mom gets a letter from my former boyfriend (now a dentist) that includes a picture of his 4-bedroom house mansion. He’s looking to purchase a second (vacation?) home in a pricey northern Michigan community. That news really does wonders for lifting my spirits. Gee, thanks Mom!

Nobody knows where my Hayden has gone (pssst, back to Canada)
But Blanche left the same time
Why was he holding her hand
When he’s supposed to be mine
It’s my (pity) party and I’ll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to, cry if I want to
You would cry too if it happened to you

—Slightly altered lyrics from Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party”

[30 March 2009]

The lovely Natasha Richardson

A Cautionary Tale (OT)

Very sad news about actress Natasha Richardson—wife of Liam Neeson, daughter of Vanessa Redgrave, sister of Joely Richardson, and mother of two young boys—who tragically died from her injuries as a result of a skiing accident in Quebec. I had my own brush with a brain injury while in college, so my NEH friends have graciously turned the keyboard over to me in order to tell my cautionary tale.

One Friday evening I returned to my dorm room after eating dinner with friends. Within 30 minutes I began to feel poorly. A rumbling in my belly suggested an impending case of food poisoning. I laid down on my bed feeling feverish, nauseous and diarrhetic. When my symptoms rapidly worsened I jumped out of bed, pulled open the door to the hallway and proceeded to… black out.

When I came to I was lying on my back on the hard linoleum floor. My roommate had gone home for the weekend; everyone else was at the bars. I had no idea how long I was passed out in front of that open door, but probably only a short time.

Racing to the community bathroom, I was both diarrhetic and needed to vomit, but how to remedy both at once? Of course you can’t, so I vomited into the toilet and… crapped my pants. Yeah, ewwwww!! I was so ill I didn’t care, nor did I attempt to clean up the mess on the floor. Poor janitor. Needless to say, I have always felt terrible about that.

Afterward, feeling groggy and weak, I showered and went to bed. My head throbbed, my body ached, yet I never considered the possibility of a closed head injury. I slept all that night and most of Saturday. Around 6:30 that evening, a friend phoned to inquire why I had missed both lunch and dinner. Leaving out the gory details I told him I had been very sick. He generously offered to fetch me something to eat. I requested the only food that sounded good: McDonald’s french fries and a vanilla shake.

Suffering from an excruciating headache, I went to my friend’s room Sunday evening and asked his roommate to drive me to the emergency clinic on campus. By then I had realized that I might have hit my head when I fainted. While the clinic turned out to be a four-hour ordeal, bottom line, the CAT scan showed a slight swelling of the brain. A possible mild concussion, they concluded. I answered the medical staff’s questions and offered my own idea about food poisoning triggering the blackout, but they had had no reports of similar food poisonings on campus. I was sent home with a prescription for the pain and told to get some rest, not exert myself. Someone should wake me every few hours to make sure I was okay. Now you tell me!

The cause of my illness remained a mystery. However, two years later while reading the warnings insert on a package, I discovered a possible explanation. Sudden nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and fever are all symptoms of… Toxic Shock Syndrome. TSS is a potentially life-threatening illness that is commonly linked to use of tampons in women. Unfortunately, so much time had passed that I could not remember if I had been using tampons or if the medical staff had even asked me about it. Here are the symptoms:

• Fever greater than 102°F (38.9°C)
• Rash
• Headache (very common)
• Muscle aches
• Sore throat
• Cough
• Nausea and vomiting
• Diarrhea (profuse and watery)
• Abdominal pain
• Lightheadedness or fainting (especially on standing up)
• Confusion or disorientation
• Low blood pressure (systolic less than 90 mm Hg)

I no longer recall whether I had the rash (a key symptom of TSS), sore throat or cough, but I exhibited all the rest. Admittedly, many viral illnesses share these same symptoms. Was my headache an actual symptom of TSS or the result of hitting my head? In retrospect, I feel I was lucky… perhaps damned lucky. My undiagnosed TSS-like symptoms did not escalate nor did I suffer adversely from the head injury. Given that I was alone and did not seek medical help within the first 48 hours, I was very fortunate.

So, that’s my PSA for the day. Don’t take a head (or whiplash) injury lightly. You never know what the internal damage might be, so please have it checked out ASAP. My thoughts and prayers are with the Richardson, Neeson and Redgrave families. [18 March 2009]

He’s just not that into you!

A Letter to Our Readers

The NEH management team wishes to inform its readers that the writer for the NEH opinion page, more commonly known as Part 2, has been sacked. It is with deep regret that we came to this decision — to dismiss our esteemed writer, colleague, and friend — but we felt it was time to take NEH in a new direction.

We believe Mr. C is a brilliant talent of unlimited potential who has the brightest of futures ahead of him. Furthermore, his choice of romantic partner is a personal one which, frankly, is none of our business. (but we love her! oh yes, we adore her! totally!!) Unfortunately, Ms. Bitter… er, uh, Ms. Bovenschen has allowed her own dismal love life (more like non-existent… what?! don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true!) to color her perspective regarding the new chapter Mr. C has elected to write in his scintillating “Book of Life.” Fearing her negativity could drive readers away, we opted to regain control of the editorial content (it was a bloodless coup… honest!).

We are not cruel or unsympathetic to our former cohort’s plight. Rest assured, she was given a very generous 3-month severance package along with our positive recommendations (to a psychiatrist, heh, heh! wait… she received a salary?! no one told me that!).

And so, NEH extends its heartiest congratulations to the happy couple. We wish them every joy (they are so cute together… imagine how adorable their little munchkins will be!). Additionally, it will be our mission to remain as supportive as possible by affirming Hayden’s present choices as well as any he might make in the foreseeable future (he is so yummy, is he not?! give me liberty or give me Hayden!).

Since this decision was thrust upon us rather suddenly, it will necessitate a period of profound reflection and diligent planning. We ask for your patience as we feel our way through the coming weeks. NEH wasn’t built in a day, you know, but we have every confidence it will rise again. Bigger and better than ever!

In the meantime, we the undersigned members of the management team offer our sincerest apologies to Mr. C (ooooh… and his future missus!), and also to you, our loyal readers. We will be taking turns as guest writers until we can hash out a new plan. May Hayden Christensen and NEH reign forever! (I’ll drink to that!)

The Management

Missy “Minx” T.
Allix K.
Claire R.
Sandy B.

[11 March 2009]

Let’s play “Hide the Ring”!

Happy Together

So, Hayden is en… en… eng… enga…

Oh, fudge! I can’t say that word yet, especially when Blanche is in the mix. There’s no denying it: I’m still in denial. Someone asked if I will still refer to her as Blanche after they are mar… marri… after their wedd… An excellent question. One that is still under heated debate in the NEH Crisis Center conference room.

Imagine me and you, I do
I think about you day and night, it’s only right
To think about the girl you love and hold her tight
So happy together *

Given the eschatological times we find ourselves in, I’ve decided to delve into a few tabloids. What have I got to lose? Although no fan of the gossip rags, which utilize questionable sources and occasionally outright fib, I think I have a pretty good B.S. detector. So, let’s see what we can see.

Hmmm… this one’s rather interesting. R***** B***** and Hayden Christensen Secretly Engaged. Cute. A Star Wars reference: Ani and Padmé were secretly married. Now, I gotta admit this one threw me for a loop. It reports that they were “engaged over the holidays.” Given the publication date (Feb. 19), one would naturally assume that meant Valentine’s Day, the holiday of lovers. However, it never explicitly states that as fact.

Then, this one… Christensen Proposed Over Christmas caught my eye. Huh?! Could this be true? Was I prescient in calling this way back on December 23? It would explain the sudden queasiness in the pit of my stomach around that time. Could he and I actually be operating on the same wavelength? Was I sensing his terror that she might Just Say No!? Wow, that is so… so scary. Yet sort of cool, too. I was only half serious about having a trusty tinfoil hat that enabled me to read his mind.

The oddness of this revelation begins to permeate my psyche. If he popped the question back in December, why the sudden flurry of articles after Valentine’s Day? Did he ask her to refrain from wearing his ring in public? (note gloved left hand in photo above, taken 17 Feb 2009) I seem to recall him being queried last September about a ring she was seen wearing around town. No one was describing that ring as a “rock”—slang for stunning sparkler of an engagement ring. Something is definitely fishy here. Was Hayden trying to delay the announcement in order to protect my feelings? Could this tinfoil hat actually have two-way reception? No, that’s just silly.

If I should call you up, invest a dime
And you say you belong to me and ease my mind
Imagine how the world could be, so very fine
So happy together

But let’s back up. What about that other ring? Did she produce a faux engagement ring in an attempt to make Hayden jealous? Or was it to get the media talking about matrimony because he had yet to broach the subject? But, but… that would be manipulative. Hayden’s dream girl, a schemer? If so, did he fall for it—hook, line and sinker—or merely succumb to her pressure tactics?

I can’t see me lovin’ nobody but you
For all my life
When you’re with me, baby the skies’ll be blue
For all my life

Hey, it’s only fair that I put this woman under a microscope and examine her motives. Geez, this is Hayden we’re talking about. Am I the only one looking out for his best interests here? This will be his mate for life. He needs to be fully cognizant of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not saying there is any ugliness, but…

He can’t go into this with blinders on. Recent months have shown them to be inseparable and Blanche’s anonymous friends describe them as a “great couple.” (May I interject here and commend Hayden’s friends for being better at keeping their yaps shut.) Yet, the dynamics of a romantic relationship inevitably change when a couple is betrothed. And evolve yet again after they tie the knot. With each progression expectations are revved up a notch. Lovers let down their guards, revealing a bit more of their dark sides.

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together

And what about Blanche’s response, when the airline passenger spied her ring and asked if she was married: “I’m not married yet, just engaged. I know I look like I’m 15, but I’m actually 27.” I know I look like I’m 15?  Was she fishing for compliments or trying to be cute? I have always looked young for my age, but even I don’t play that game. A compliment is genuine if the other person mentions your youthfulness first. Bringing age into it, unprompted, suggests insecurity on her part. How could one of the most beautiful women in the world—does Maxim Top 30 ring a bell—suffer from an inferiority complex?

Maybe she doesn’t hear it enough from Hayden. He doesn’t strike me as a suck up, i.e., someone who dishes out insincere compliments. If you’ve done something to earn it, he’ll definitely let you know. Otherwise, he’ll keep quiet. Just channeling Hayden’s thoughts. This tinfoil hat is truly amazing! Everyone should have one of these… Man, this is heady stuff!

I hope Hayden is taking notes. Looks like you gotta flatter her more, babe, or suffer the consequences. We all need to have our egos massaged from time to time, but if she requires a daily dose of sweet talk/attention and has to look elsewhere for it, well… trust me, you don’t want to go there. I guess what I’m trying to say is this: the engagement period is a time for exploration. Test the limits—within reason. If you don’t compliment her for two whole days, does she turn into a shrew? sulk? withhold sex as punishment? If you’ve got a high-maintenance woman on your hands and you’re not up for it, better to know that before it’s too late.

So happy together
And how is the weather
So happy together
We’re happy together

I’m reading a book called Three Simple Rules and Rule #1 is “Do No Harm.” After re-reading the above paragraphs, it gave me pause. What am I doing? I sound nitpicky and catty. I confess I don’t know much about Blanche. From what little I’ve read she seems like a nice person and probably even good for Hayden. So why would I try to undermine their relationship (if that is indeed what I am doing)?

Gosh, I don’t think my objective is sabotage. I offered advice out of love and concern for Hayden. My own experience has taught me this: the breadth and depth of your love cannot overcome certain fundamental differences. You have to look long and hard to see those differences because, sometimes, they are kept carefully hidden. Or we just don’t see them due to our own willful blindness. (We believe this person is our One True Love and can’t wrap our minds around any information which contradicts this perception.)

My friends and family loved my SO, but even they sensed trouble ahead and a few tried to warn me of the pitfalls. I was not anxious or dissuaded because I was confident I could weather the storms. Sadly, we did not share the same dedication to making our relationship work. Whereas I saw something special worth saving, he listened to the voice inside his head that said, “Yikes! This is too difficult. Get out now!”

I think Hayden prides himself on being a good observer. Let’s hope he is putting that talent to use. What kind of wife will she be? Supportive? Needy? Do her expectations about married life jive with his? The big issues—money, kids, religious/spiritual, sex—are all important, but so are the smaller ones. I know I’ve been reading between the lines, a dangerous practice, but the fake engagement ring episode suggests a willingness to use the media to get what she wants. I remember another beauty who was famous for using that tactic. Yeah, Princess Diana’s fairy-tale marriage was anything but.

What is the worst occupation to be married to? Doctor? Police officer? Lawyer? All good guesses, but not even close. Believe it or not, it’s actor. Second worst occupation: musician. My doomed relationship was with a musician. Hayden is heading to the altar with an actress and he himself is an actor. Lots of actor/actress relationships fizzle. I can testify that musician duos fare no better. Time apart is often a factor. For celebrity couples, problems are magnified because they live their lives in a fishbowl. As far as the paparazzi are concerned, Hayden & Blanche are a 2-for-1 deal and therefore worth pursuing. Will that extra attention put a strain on their marriage? It will if she craves it and he does not. Daily compromises accumulate and feed the resentment. The paparazzi do not care about the inconvenience they bring to your life. Get used to being hunted. And consider hermitizing in Antarctica during pregnancy!

Phew! I think that’s enough advice dispensing for one night.

Disclaimer: It is important to reiterate that these are unconfirmed tabloid reports. The information about a December engagement could be a red herring put out there by Blanche’s friend. Or, maybe the friend is fictitious (like Restil, Hiert, and Sims in Shattered Glass), which throws everything into question. Geez, my head is starting to spin from all this analysis!

* Happy Together / by The Turtles [09 March 2009]

 

What A Waste
 

Filling up my empty days with red wine
Wonder what you think of me?
Lying in the grass alone and wasted
Nothing's how it used to be

I wanna be the first to call and tell you
Yesterday I heard the news
I hear you oughta be congratulated
So I guess that's what I'll do

I'm so happy for you
I could cry
Yeah, I'm so elated
Cross my heart and hope to die
I don't think about you every night
Before I close my eyes
I'm so happy for you baby,
I could cry

Time is money. Ain’t that right, honey?

I’m back. Had to drown my sorrows in chocolate. It’s what we girls do when yet another big fish gets away. So, I polished off the remnants of my box of Valentine’s Day chocolates, compliments of Grandma. Yes, a girl always has her grandmother to fall back on when a certain actor of Danish origin (who shall remain nameless) stabs her through the heart with his lightsaber!!

I’m thinking about redecorating. This website, I mean. Long overdue for a makeover, don’t you think? I’m seriously considering a darker theme. Basic black, a classic mourning color, seems most appropriate.

Listen to the sound of my head pounding
Wish that it was make-believe
Praying for the skies to open up and
Wash away your memory

I can walk around with a pretty face on
Even when I'm black and blue
What's the point in telling everybody
I'm not over you!

Laid awake the other night, thinking about all the time I frittered away attempting to make myself more wife-eligible in Hayden’s eyes: Lost 40 pounds (18 kg) so I could fit into a bikini again. Bought a sweet little black cocktail dress which still hangs in my closet unmolested. I guess those body sculpt/strengthening classes weren’t a total waste (I can probably arm-wrestle Michelle “Biceps” Obama now). Immersed myself in his world by becoming an extra in film/TV. Learned to recognize and speak Haydenese. I even memorized the Canadian national anthem and familiarized myself with the Toronto Maple Leafs roster so I could impress him when we attended our very first Red Wings-Maple Leafs game together. O Canada, our home and native land. True patriot love in all thy sons command… Chrish honey, was that Ponikarovsky or Stajan who scored that last goal?

And those birthday cards… more like greeting cards on steroids. Yeah, I vowed never to do anything as insane as last year’s intricate 3-D photo cube ever again. Which reminds me… his 28th birthday is just around the corner (44 days to go).

Cry about the love we used to have
Cry that I won't ever get you back

Never had him to begin with. Great, I get to sing the melancholic Happy* while Hot Lips over there is belting out Ain’t No Other Man**!  Wish I could say this was another episode of The Bachelor where Hayden had to choose between two women whom he loved equally and Blanche just barely eked me out. Afraid not. I wasn’t even in the hand-her-a-rose-and-send-her-packing category!

I’ll be the first to admit that I may have made some tactical errors. It’s possible I scared him away with that offer of sex—every day for a full year. Solicited myself as a pigsitter for Buddy and Petunia. He never collected on that either. Knitted me a butt-ugly Christensen scarf (well, at least it’s a conversation piece). My HAYDENC license plate might have portended an undercurrent of stalkerism. Not that I ever attempted to stalk him! Or hunt down his boyhood home. Even so, we very nearly stumbled upon each other. So close. Can’t forget those poems, haiku, or ballads either. Then there was the free advice I proffered on how to woo a girl—swings, mistletoe, blindfolds, handcuffs—never expecting him to use it on her. Hate to state the obvious, but Sith happened and I was the one shoveling it out!

For those of us suffering from a general post-engagement malaise regarding our favorite Jedi-turned-bad-boy, take heart! Mal Reynolds… er, Nathan Fillion to you, returns to our boob tubes this coming Monday, March 9th, in the new cop series Castle, playing the title character Rick Castle. He looks and sounds sassy as ever. Yabba dabba doo!

* Happy by Saving Jane
** Ain’t No Other Man by Christina Aguilera
[06 March 2009]

 

Nothing to see here, folks. Move along!

Damsel in Distress

Just to show how little attention I pay to tabloids… I just learned today about Hayden and Blanche’s alleged planned merger. I say alleged because neither party will confirm the dreadful rumor. Typical. In fact, I was halfway through writing a post about how dull he has been of late and how we managed to dodge a Valentine’s Day engagement bulletin. How silly of me. Good thing I checked the ’net first or I would have been forced to make an embarrassing retraction.

I knew from a previous peek at the rags that Blanche was rumored to move into his new digs this month and was understandably frazzled about that. This winter turns out to be one of the snowiest, most frigid in recent memory and she doesn’t move in until the worst of it has passed? How much you wanna bet Hayden makes an honest woman out of her before he ascertains whether she can weather Life In Canada? Big mistake on his part. Huge. Once she starts whining about how c-c-c-cold it is and how rural life is soooooooo boring compared to L.A., I will have no sympathy for him whatsoever. Nada.

Natch, I worry that this “news” could seriously hamper my ability to worship Hayden. The nuptial thing certainly quashed my interest in the Lando man and I fear the same outcome here. Of course, I would make an exception for Chrish. Especially if when he came to his senses. Who knows, lightning could strike twice. We Michigan gals are known to have a surreal effect on men!

The obligatory unidentified-friend-of-Blanche reports that the Maxim hottie is “thrilled beyond belief.” Well, duh. It’s Hayden. Hello?! What girl wouldn’t be thrilled out of her gourd? Catch. Of. The. Century. Puh-leez. The woman has been dropping heavy hints about marriage & babies to the media/paparazzi/(wo)man on the street/anybody who will listen for some time now. Even Hayden was bound to catch on sooner or later. Without question, Blanche is down on her knees every night thanking her lucky stars. Mission Accomplished!

And none too soon. Our gallant Jedi knight is rescuing a true damsel in distress. Had Blanche remained in La-La-Land much longer, her fortune might have dwindled down to… well, nothing. Between Kalifornia’s craptastic economy ($42 billion in the red) and Obama’s “tax the rich” scheme, one could see why Blanche might opt to join the Exodus. Makes perfect sense to abandon ship when those she previously endorsed threaten to steal her million$. No dummy, she.

Now, I know what you’re grumbling thinking. Apparently it’s “okay for thee, but not for me.” Hayden’s sweetie would never, ever think that. She is no hypocrite. She is definitely fleeing moving to Canada for her honey, not his money. Banish those horrible thoughts. I’m embarrassed by… what sad, petty people you are!

Regardless, I think it’s safe to assume that I will be skipping NYILU. Not that I’m bitter, mind you.

P.S. You know how I like to play with words. So, is Blanche the damsel in distress or am I? Just askin’. [04 March 2009]