Thirtysomething

Another bland generic apartment complex is being marketed as the hippest thing to hit Charlotte in years.

I can get past the requisite “creative class” mumbo jumbo (ground level retail space for art dealers? a climbing wall? yeah, right…) and the absurdity of the notion that one can actually build a “hip, urban village” from scratch. I can get past Doug Smith’s erroneous assumption that “shiny, brand new, and above all, dense” is synonymous with “urban”. I’m used to it. I’ve been reading his columns (not to mention sites like Urban Planet) for years.

What’s bugging me specifically about this article, though, is the fact that Doug is still using a stale, trite term like “thirtysomethings”. For god’s sake, can we please retire this hackneyed cliché and its younger sibling “twentysomethings”?

For those who don’t remember, a largely subpar TV series that went off the air about fifteen years ago is responsible for this annoying shorthand for the more digestible “people in their thirties”. You can’t find reruns of the show anymore (there’s at least some justice in the world) but the title will apparently haunt us forever.

Ten years ago when “thirtysomethings” was still being used regularly in the bar reviews of almost every magazine in the country, it was already stupid and annoying and not at all “fresh”. Today, it grates on the nerves in sort of the same way it used to horrify the Brady kids to say “groovy” in 1974, long after the rest of the world had moved on.

It must be stopped. Now.

Randomly Wednesday

Yeah, it’s Wednesday:

It was catastrophic carnage befitting the day after Hallowe’en. I walked into the Tiki Room this morning, and there were dozens of dead (or dying) ladybugs all over the floor right by the outside door. It was very sad when I had to vacuum up the cute little buggers.
Speaking of seasonal carnage, why does anyone go to The Castro for Hallowe’en anymore?
Again speakng of seasonal carnage, I, like thousands of children across the country, am having candy for breakfast this morning.
This afternoon: a doctor’s appointment in Charlotte, preceded by lunch at Gus’ Sir Beef, where the beef tips, collard greens, and fried squash make my eyes roll back in my head in a way that few other meals can.

Trick or Treat

As a new homeowner and a fairly new adult (despite being 42 years old), this whole switch from end user to service provider in the “trick or treat” game is so new and confusing to me. Since I never really see kids much in my neighborhood, I didn’t know how much candy to have on hand. And I’m still not sure what an appropriate disbursement per goblin actually would be.

It’s 7:22, and the doorbell has only rung three times. I may be stuck with lots of candy. That’s probably not good either.

Five Years of Gooeyness

Because we were on vacation and all, I never got to mention that Mark and I celebrated the fifth anniversary of the night we met Thursday night. The milestone was marked at a Denny’s overlooking the New York State Thruway. We always do Denny’s on our anniversary because we went there that first night back in 2001, the night my life changed so dramatically.

I’ll try not to get too mushy and make everyone start retching. I just wanted to thank the most wonderful boy in the world:

For putting up with my snoring and mumbling, my other assorted quirks, and my constant need for food.
For coping with my moods when I quit smoking, when my thyroid went out of whack, and when I occasionally lapse into midlife crisis mode.
For always offering to turn around at the next intersection so I can snap a picture of that vintage supermarket we just passed (and maybe even go inside).
For understanding me so thorughly and completely, and for supporting me in so many ways.
For helping me to drag myself out of San Francisco.
For having the ambition, drive, and motivation I too often lack.
For standing out in the rain that night in February 2004.
For loving cafeterias and dumpy old diners as much as I do.
For being able to converse intelligently on subjects that interest me.
For taking me to Disneyland. And across state (and national) borders for immoral purposes.
For maintaining the assorted databases around which our lives revolve, even when I slack off on my end.
For being a perfect fit, physically and intellectually.
For giving me a wonderful home in a beautuful city.
For making me realize that, even though I might have been quite happy spending my life alone, I could be even happier spending it with someone else.

I love you, baby. Happy anniversary. Happy Hallowe’en too.

Randomly Monday

Random thoughts for a Monday morning:

Any Tornotoans out there? On vacation, I discovered that SunTV (channel 52) is airing King of Kensington reruns at 11:30 AM on weekdays. I remember this show from when I was a kid, and I was apparently the only person in the entire country who watched it during its brief American syndication run. Anyway, I’m dying to hear the theme song again (the vocal version from the early seasons) and would be really excited if someone could record it for me.
Circulating hot water baseboard heat is the coolest thing in the world. There’s no blower spewing dust all over the place and drying out your skin, plus the baseboard units aren’t even hot to the touch, so it’s safe to put furniture next to them. It’s so warm and toasty.
Road trip stats: ten states, one province, 446 still pictures, eight hours of video, $650 in car repairs, $71 in dental triage fees, $50 in Canadian antibiotics and pain pills, $30 in assorted over the counter medications at Loblaw’s, six bucks worth of Kosher Hungarian Hallowe’en candy for the neighborhood kiddies, two reunions with old friends, and a tons more fun, despite the occasional bits of drama to which I have just alluded.
I missed the K&W, though.