Maybe that isn't the best lead for this blog post. Look at the title, though. Awesome, eh? I got it from one of my five favorite people, Caroline (you might remember her from such blogs as "Mom and Dad, there's a girl I'd like you to meet" - which I was wondering just last night if I should rename it to something like "you hurt her, I hurt you"). On Saturday, she described her friend Kosher John (visiting from New York) as " so cosmopolitan like that" because you can hook up with him and it won't be weird when you see them in the future. (Marshall- Caroline and Kosher John were both among the folks I was hanging out with the day you called me a girl part.) The next day, I looked up the word cosmopolitan to make sure that when I start using it, I use it correctly. I also like the word because I developed a fascination for the woman who invented the 'cosmo girl' concept and made Cosmopolitan Magazine a big deal, Helen Gurley Brown, about a year ago. For real. I wrote this about her almost a year ago:
"Back in '65, Helen Gurley Brown said, "I am a materialist, and it is a materialistic world." Twenty-some years later, Madonna ripped her off. What's up with that?"
Have you ever heard that song by the Dandy Warhols called "Bohemian Like Me"? I don't love the Dandy Warhols a lot, but I like that song so much. The title of this reminds me of that song.
Anyway, the title also works for this blog because of something I have realized about myself that isn't very cosmopolitan. Over the past year, I have noticed that my shirts have become crumb magnets. My ignorance has always just chalked it up to the fabric of the shirt. Imagine the inner-monologue that came up with that theory: "Nuts. Crumbs again? These shirts I wear to work will latch on to anything." Sometimes, me and my brain don't make a good team.
Jeff the Dentist had also promised treats to go along with the movie. Surprising to even myself, treats weren't as much as a motivating factor as they usually are. Treats do motivate me, though. If I had two people of equal value inviting me over to their houses to do the exact same thing - like watch Pitch Black as Jeff the Dentist did - and the only difference was one was offering me dinner and the other was offering treats (treats = cake, brownies, cookies and the like), I would go to the treat house. Need more proof? Over the past few weeks, I formed an friendship on the linkup with a pretty girl that was based on talking about pie (the relationship seems to have died - and it is probably no coincidence that the death came when pie stopped being the subject of discussion).
The treats promised were cookies freshly made by Ellen and Rocky Road ice cream. Like I said, I wasn't as intrested in treats as I normally would have been, but the cookies looked so delicious. And they were. I had like four. I don't love Rocky Road ice cream (nuts in ice cream? ew), but I took Jeff the Dentist up on his offer and had a small portion. When I finished the ice cream, I decided to dip a cookie in the residue. Not a bad idea, except that I slouch when I sit and I was sitting in a comfortable chair while I ate and I got two drops of ice cream on my yello shirt. See?
Do you need everything pointed out to you? Okay:
I realized that my bad posture (or, is it actually good posture?) is the culprit for my crumbs because I sit on a couch when I eat at work too. (I should clarify, the crumbs aren't huge and maybe nobody but me can see them.) I don't plan on changing the way I eat at work, though, because it is too comfortable to kick my legs up and sit back and watch ESPN. But, maybe the next time I am dipping a cookie in ice cream residue, I will be more careful because that yellow shirt has been one of my favorites lately. Or maybe I will just say 'no' to Rocky Road ice cream.
The more I think about it, maybe I do kind of like the Dandy Warhols more than I let on. I just don't love them like some people. I think they are one of those bands that you have to be cautious about how you describe your feelings for them or you might get clumped into a category that you don't necessarily belong in. Not that it is a bad category, it just isn't for you.