Always Anna

I think everyone already knows that I am obsessed with dogs.  I love them, love them, love them, and can’t wait until the day that I get my very own.  But, I’m also really nervous about getting a puppy - I don’t want to end up resenting a dog for taking time away from my social life, or - god forbid - stop having a social life.  So, I’m still straddling the fence, wavering back and forth between rescuing a million puppies and continuing my pet-free life.

Luckily for me, Nikki had to go on a business trip to Providence, leaving me with the cutest pug ever.  Or, as The BF has taken to calling him, the shedding pig.

Now, he may be a cute shedding pig, but Bailey is kind of a brat.  He is a total momma’s boy, crying and whining every 15 minutes for the first few hours after Nikki left.  Now that he has adjusted to her absence, he seems to think that there’s nowhere else in the apartment to sit except for my lap.  In fact he’s helping me write this as we speak. 

He bites.  He sheds.  He makes completely bizarre grunting noises.  And he stinks. 

But I couldn’t be happier.

As a recent convert to Netflix, I’ve been obsessively stalking the website; adding new movies to my queue and re-arranging the order as if my life’s happiness depended on it.  And after watching this week’s movie, I’ve realized that in some ways, my happiness does depend on what Netflix sends me. 

I watched “Van Helsing” this week, and was both appalled by the ridiculousness of the film, and hysterical about the unintentional humor.  How decent actors could create such garbage is beyond me.  It reminds me of the horror I felt when I finally saw “How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days.”  (How I could be appalled by Matthew McConaghey, the hottest guy EVER, and Kate Hudson, one of the cutest, coolest girls out there, is beyond me.)

In other movie related news, I just saw “V for Vendetta” and LOVED it.  Perhaps I’m biased, since I love Natalie… but either way, check out my review on The Better Drink!

Does anyone else think it’s completely bizarre when you’re walking down the street, and out of nowhere you smell the unmistakable aroma of pot?

Who on earth gets high in the middle of the street?  Or do I just have a sense of smell with a really active imagination?

So my site’s been down for the last few days, giving me an undesired break from blogging.  But now that it appears to be back up, my mind is more blank than George W. Bush’s.  Zing!

Anyways…

Last night I went to the Lakers/Celtics game here in Boston.  Now, as y’all know, I’m a huge Lakers fan (if you didn’t know that, you are clearly not paying attention).  In spite of the fact that I grew up hating the Celtics, ever since I moved to Boston I’ve rooted for them - when they’re not playing my Lakers, of course.  It’s fun to root for the hometown team, and since I hate every single non-Laker NBA team in existence (except for the Clippers, who I am curiously ambivalent about), I figure I might as well root for the Celtics when I go to their games.

Of course, this does not hold true when they play the Lakers.  And I don’t bother trying to hide my allegiance, which makes for an interesting experience.

Boston fans have a reputation for being… umm… how do I put this nicely?  Hmmm… I don’t think there is a nice way to say this. 

They’re loud. 

And angry. 

And rather than cheering on their own team, they like to scream obscenities at the team they are playing against.  

In general, I find this extremely annoying.  But when people are screaming AT my team, or cheering when one of my players gets knocked to the ground and stays down, I get a little fired up.  So it was nice when one of the Massholes sitting two rows behind me got kicked out last night.  And even nicer when my boys kicked some Celtics butt.

Y’all can keep hating on Kobe.  And keep wishing he was on YOUR team.   

I got my hair cut yesterday (four whole inches off, and an actual style!), and was so happy with the results that I immediately tried to call Nikki to thank her for referring me to the fabulous Jeanne. 

I dialed.

It rang.

And I heard, “Your call has been redirected to Cingular for nonpayment of services.  Please pay your bill to reinstate service.”

What?!?!  I always - always - pay my bills.  I obsessively balance my checkbook.  But I somehow managed to avoid paying Cingular since November.  Whoops.

Hopefully my cell is working today.

NOOOOOO!  Chef, don’t leave me!!!

Where will I get my salty chocolate balls now?

It’s bizarre to watch your friends grow up more quickly than you do.  Strange to see people that you’d think would be at the same place in life as you are, suddenly surpass you in maturity. 

My friends Jen & Alex have been together for five years and, in addition to having two puppies that I keep trying to steal, just bought the cutest house.  We had an impromptu housewarming gathering yesterday, six friends hanging out all day and night in their living room.  It felt so… adult.  I live in a three room apartment, and they have a 7 room house PLUS a finished basement.  It’s crazy.

Having a realtor for a friend isn’t helpful - after assisting Jen & Alex find their house, John immediately turned around and found a two-family home for another friend, Josh.  If everything goes well, that deal will close at the end of this month, and I’ll have yet another friend who OWNS A HOUSE. 

This is in addition to my married, home-owning friends, and friends who are already talking about having babies.  And I just can’t keep up.  How did everyone around me all of a sudden get so… grown-up?

Ah well.  At least most of my New York friends are still happily unsettled. Makes me feel a little more normal.

I always thought that I knew myself really well.  That I had a great sense of self.  I’ve always prided myself on it - I knew who I was, and I was happy with who I was.  But lately, I’ve been wondering if I really do know myself that well.  What if everything that I think is true about me isn’t?  What if my interpretation of self isn’t accurate - what if, instead of looking into a full-length mirror, I’ve been looking at a fun-house mirror?

I have no idea how to find out… am I really the person I think I am?  Or am I just fooling myself? 

I’d just like to state, for the record, that Dash can drink me under the table.  He easily drank twice as much as I did last night (maybe more, actually…), and still managed to walk in a straighter line. 

Nice work, Dash.  Perhaps you remember more about the bar-hopping than I do…

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to keep drooling over George Clooney at the Academy Awards.