Good, clean Midwestern fun

This is what we learned in school

Based on previous posts, I bet you thought I'd be writing about this article, and while I have many opinions on it, I am almost too depressed to blog about it now. As has been said by many of my hot, single chicas, "Avoid sarcasm if you hope to land a man? We're SCREWED."

Let's focus on the positive though. There are few things better in this life than than a good crisp, fall day in the Midwest--super green grass, red maples, and football. That is a key ingredient in the mix. So this past weekend I stumbled home for the Michigan-Northwestern football game at Ryan Field. I was not the only one to do this a Chicago is basically Ann Arbor Southwest, but the amount of people that showed up prompted me to dub this weekend as non-other than REUNION 2K5. You may remember Reunion 2K4 and all its hijinx and this weekend we only built on the tradition.

My parents being the random, somewhat unpredictable people they are, offered up the idea of using our house for a tailgate before the game. At first I was skeptical (I don't like hosting things) but eventually the amount of people swelled to a point where it became necessary.

So Saturday afternoon Reunion 2K5 descended upon my little ol' house and any semblance of my childhood was erased. Nothing about my house in Evanston says,"Libby's childhood" anymore. My room has been stripped of any childhood posters or keepsakes, and our family albums have been relegated to a cabinet next to the TV. But Saturday was really childhood's end. We played flip cup in my backyard. Flip. Cup. My mom took pictures like we were playing a game at my birthday party, but instead the game was, "get trashed at my house." My house!! (You'll excuse me if it takes me some time to get over this--my house was never on the party circuit in high school)

So four games of flip cup later we're hammered and three bridesmaids-to-be (me, Suz and Jo) and one bride-t0-be (Amy) get to the parking lot of Ryan Field and start making our way through various tailgates in search of more beer. I broke up a football game between four little boys in my quest for free food. I would feel badly, but they got the last laugh as one of them yelled, "try and catch this" and as I leapt for the ball I landed squarely against an SUV. I mean I hit the back windshield and trickled down Wile E. Coyote style. Luckily I was toasted and so the pain was minimal (the bruising however, is not).

We finally stumbled upon some Michigan fans and told them that we were a Bachelorette party and that Amy was getting married in two weeks (10 months and two weeks, but whatever) and they were more than happy to offer her their condolences and some beer.

The game itself was pretty anti-climatic ("And Michigan kicks another field goal") but it was good to see Michigan ruin someone else's homecoming, even if I do have a soft spot for Northwestern.

Thanks for a great Reunion 2K5 and we'll see you '06!

I am Libby, hear me roar!

Bad Libby

Ok, I thought I could keep quiet. If I just ignored it, it would eventually go away. But it appears the time has come for me to clear my name. That's right, Libby is a good name that is being slandered and libeled from here to kingdom come. "Libby might be indicted," "Libby's notes contradict previous testimony," and the worst one of all, "Libby is a trusted advisor of Vice President Cheney." At first, all this attention was okay. Jon Stewart was saying my name nightly. It was fun to see my name in headlines in the New York Times. But now that sh*t is almost hitting the fan I'm worried--what if I. Lewis Libby is to the Plame case as G. Gordon Liddy was to Watergate? I could be living in this guy's shadow (and shadowy use of my name) for years. Libby will start to have a negative connotation. Any use of Libby as a nickname for Elizabeth will cease. I will forever be associated with someone who is a criminal (possibly, we don't know yet).

Libby has always been such a cool name. My parents named me Elizabeth and Libby in the same moment, so I have as much, if not more, loyalty to Libby as I do to Elizabeth. There's no way that I'm going to start going by Elizabeth now that this Libby is making me look bad. I can no longer stand by while a Bush Doctrine-writing-Cheney-loving-Straussism-preaching man with an initial for a first name brings my name down with him.

Let's start calling him Scooter.

It's not like the Scooters of the world were that cool to begin with.

The power of a men's dress shirt

Snapshots from a great night out:

*Asking Eric to give me a hickey so as to give my walk of shame costume the right amount of authenticity.
*Applying copious amounts of dark berry lipstick so as to look as trashy as possible.
*Eric telling me that the length of my skirt made me look "classy." We obviously can't have that.
*Stealing someone's phone and talking to his friend in Texas for 40 minutes. I don't know his name, but damn if we didn't have good phone chemistry.
*Anchoring two rounds of flip-cup while simultaneously trying to locate everyone I came to the party with AND get the score of Game 1 on the nearby TV. Doesn't it go without saying that my team won?
*At a random, "Dress like a Metro stop" party having a guy say to me, "You must be Woodley Park/Adams Morgan! All you're missing is a big slice!"
*Sleeping in the bed of an absentee roommate at Matt's house. Well, he was absentee until he came in at 10am and asked who I was. I didn't have my contacts on, so I couldn't tell if he was cute, but if I had any game at that hour I should have hit on him--his bed was really comfortable.
*Losing my keys for half an hour this morning only to find them in the shower in Matt's house. Um, wha?!?!
*Scanning my phone this morning to realize that I had drunk dialed half of creation. DWI (dialing while intoxicated) damage control ensues.
*Having Horne tell me that she wishes she could clone me and make sure that my clone was at every party she ever goes to. I aim to entertain.
*Having a hardcore postmortem with Beds and Eric. Postmortems are key in the retelling and remember of a night like last night.
*Having Suzanne text me, "Mission accomplished?" this morning. Ha.


Tonight I plan to eat greasy food and watch TV until I pass out. Ahh, Sunday.

A Public Service

With Halloween fast approaching, that means there's only 64 shopping days before Christmas and Chanukah. Don't worry though-- you're getting the perfect present. Eric and I are busily working for your holiday edification. The sex mixes 2005 promise to be both entertaining and libido-heightening. To keep this semi-PG we have two mixes in the works: one for good old-fashioned lovin' for lovin's sake, and one for those sappy people who just want to "make love." We're putting ourselves on the line for you, our friends, because let's face it: ya'll need to get laid. (as do we, but let's focus on you guys for now)

Forget egg nog and mistletoe, this year we've got you covered.

Ok, so I'm not a psychic

Ok, when I made baseball predictions before they weren't so much predictions based on averages, ERAs, and momentum, as they were based on my own desires. But shockingly enough, I don't always get what I want and so what I'm left with is the White Sox (boo) vs. the Astros (BOO).

The choice is easy because while I'm not a White Sox fan, I am a fan of the city of Chicago and more importantly the enemy of the enemy is my friend and the 'Stros are definitely the enemy. It was so sweet to see Pujols drill them so they couldn't win the pennant at home, but the Cards were so lame and Oswalt was so good that the end was inevitable.

And thus ends my baseball postings for the year. This has been a long season full of high hopes (Cubs), disappointments (Cubs), and dejection (Cubs). But hope springs eternal. Eamus catuli!

*sigh* Go Sox!?!?!

He said, she said

Wow, I guess I have veered this blog towards the personal. I don't really have an addendum to my Ladder Theory post except to share a guy's opinion:

"If we try and hook up with a friend it's generally because we are attracted to them and are interested in possibly dating them. That's not such a bad thing. Getting along well with a girl is attractive. And the reason being is that while all men are interested in marrying an incredibly attractive, incredibly dumb woman (only joking), we really just want to be married to our best friend. Because that's who your wife will be-- your best friend. So conceptually, I think that's why men are generally attracted to their good women friends."

Well put.

I think I'm going to steer clear of this topic for awhile--both in my mind and on the blog.

Ladder Theory or how I learned to start worrying that all my friendships with guys are doomed

When two such varied individuals as my brother and Alex both refer to a certain website, I know that it is probably worth a look. So at 3:30am on Saturday night I took a gander at Ladder Theory. Ladder Theory is kind of a companion piece to the Nice Guy Rant that seemed to sweep its way across campuses a couple of years ago. Ladder Theory breaks down this way: women have two ladders--one for guys they'd date and one for guys they only want to be friends with. Men only have one ladder for women in general, and they are placed on the rungs in order of "who would I rather sleep with" priority.

Right away this sounds like a conversation right out of When Harry Met Sally, and the movie is quoted on the website: Men and women can't be friends because sex always gets in the way.

And it does.

Every woman I know, myself included, has male friends who are placed squarely on the friends ladder with little or no hope of making the jump to the date-able ladder. Based on Ladder Theory then, these guys would much rather sleep with their girl friends than be buddies with them. So the question becomes, if a guy is on the friends ladder, does a girl have an obligation to tell him that? Would having an explicit conversation about his placement on a specific ladder ruin whatever friendship you already have?

This theory pretty much dashes any illusions that girls have that they may have formed important friendships with guys. As one guy I know put it, "Guys already have friends--they're called other guys." However, most of the girls I know value their friendships with guys as highly as they value their frienships with girls. We look to these friend ladder guys to give us insight into male behavior, to explain the infield fly rule to us, or to put into perspective a petty girl fight.

But the fact is, there always seems to be something unspoken between girls and guys that are friends. And it's almost always sexual. Either you have a past, regardless of what your current status is, or one or both of you is contemplating a ladder change in the present. I've rearranged ladders in both directions and it only makes things more complicated, not less.

Genuine girl-guy friendships may not be impossible, but they may be improbably for the long haul.

Bloggers' dilemma

I think I've been re-blogging long enough to go a little meta on you in regards to blogging.

It's starting to feel like an addiction. Like I'll be letting down the 5 people who read this regularly by not posting. I feel like I've been posting at an heightened clip since I started again, but it doesn't feel like enough. What is enough? And how much should I really expose? Considering this is hardly an anonymous blog, what is the line between harmless anecdotes and journal-like intensity? I'm wavering at that line right now and I'm afraid that if I go with the former I will get tired of posting relatively soon, but if I go with the latter I'm afraid that you will know much more than I ever really intended.

Posting my innermost thoughts and feelings would make this blog a hell of a lot more interesting/melodramatic, what have you, but I don't know if I have the desire to have the entire blogosphere be able to search my life with the click of a button. Plus, no one is an island so anything that I blog about which is personal would concern someone else who, presumably, doesn't really have any interest in having me publish my thoughts about them.

But wait, they're at my mercy. They have no control. I could skewer you and you would have absolutely no recourse. Ahh, blog as weapon-- that has some interesting potential.

I guess stay tuned to see which way I end up leaning. But it's probably a good idea not to piss me off in the meantime.

Anger Management

I have anger. It bubbles just underneath the surface, which makes it readily accessible at almost anytime. Let's take today for instance: Michigan lost to Minnesota homecoming weekend. This in and of itself is sad, yes, but not cause for anger. But it wasn't just the loss, it was also the fact that Michigan lost to Minnesota homecoming weekend and I was supposed to be in Ann Arbor for the game but stupidly waited too long to buy my ticket and it became too expensive.

Now let's up the ante a little, shall we? Michigan lost to Minnesota homecoming weekend and it has been Noah's Arking for two straight days in DC. This is cause for frustration, yes, but not anger. Try again: Michigan loses to Minnesota homecoming weekend and it has been Noah's Arking for two straight days in DC, and because of the rain there is water damage in my living room closet which contains various coats, luggage, a box of computer peripheries, my Nintendo power pad, and my sleeping bag.

Ok, now it's anger time. I just get so pissed off and in order to reclaim some sense of order and control I start stomping around like a four year-old. I just want it fixed and cleaned up. In an attempt to clean things up, I called my mother for advice. The problem was that this apple does not fall far from the tree and Mama Rosenbaum was also bubbling with anger over her inability to develop a database at work. When angry Rosenbaum women collide, it is not pretty. We basically sniped at each other like the other was the real source of anger, and I hung up feeling more angry not less. Attempt #1 to quell the anger: failure

Attempt #2 was a little better. I was able to wash some coats and gloves that were soaked, and that at least made me feel useful. The real success of attempt #2, however, came with me smoking. I have not really smoked smoked since college, but damn if it didn't feel good. Standing in the rain smoking was fantastic. It allowed me to focus on nothing but inhaling and exhaling, and as my yoga video says, "Always come back to your breath."
Attempt #2 to quell the anger: moderate success.

Attempt #3 was born out of my (correct) belief that smoking and laundry was almost, but not quite going to fix everything. Attempt #3 was the Grandaddy of them all: organizing. And not just organizing anything, organizing bills. Nothing exudes more order and control for me than organizing bills. You're talking to a girl who's had Quicken installed on her computer since her freshman year of college. Utility bills, bank statements, insurance payments... this is true therapy. It's also quite pathetic, I realize, but isn't better that I organize my Comcast bills from the past year and a half than for me to call you and pick a fight? Yeah, I thought so.
Attempt #3 to quell the anger: mission accomplished.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Ode to a Friday hangover

Remember when Thursday was the start of the weekend? Remember when you would drink Tuesday (Rick's), Wednesday (Mitch's) and Thursday night (Rick's late night) and then stay in on the weekend to do homework? Damn. I tried to recreate that weeknight love tonight at Hawk 'n' Dove with Lizzie and let me tell you: it's just not the same. Friday is still as long as any other day of the week and in DC it just doesn't smell like a good, clean fall day that it does in Ann Arbor.

These days I am especially reminiscent considering that Saturday is Michigan's homecoming and the majority of my friends are going back for it. My friend Suzanne just drunkenly text-messaged me to tell me that they are playing our song at Mitch's as we speak. Nothing like listening to "Toxic" while groping the nearest guy and drinking $1 pitchers of Beast. You can't buy memories like that. I miss you Blue!!

I'm trading in Ryan Atwood for Steve Lyons

Alrighty folks, it is now officially fall. September straddles the divide, but it's October now and playoff baseball is ready to begin. I think of the regular season as kind of one looooooong warmup for the journey that is October. But I should tell you this now: there is no way it could be as exciting as last year. Sorry, but breaking curses and coming back from an 0-3 deficit is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and without my Cubbies in the mix, there aren't really any teams facing historical demons. That being said, this October still has some dramatic possibilities. Let's start with the National League:

The machine that is the Atlanta Braves managed to roll to a 14th consecutive NL East title. Uncle, Hot-lanta. I was never a doubter, but shit you are impressive. I am proud to wear my Braves Little League tee that I bought for $5. Now do yourselves a favor and actually win an LDS series. Divisional titles must be getting old, so I will be rooting for you to beat the evil Astros. The hatred my parents have for the Mets (re: 1969), I feel for the Astros. They always seem to be there, lurking, waiting for the Cubbies to do something Cub-like. And they're from Texas. And the used to play at Enron Field. Prediction: Braves in 4.

Next up: Padres vs. Cardinals. The NL Worst is so pathetic that having Barry Bonds come back in September almost put the Giants in playoff contention. But the Padres held on to win the division and the dubious honor of being the first casuality of the Cardinals march back to the World Series. Seriously Padres, you have no chance. I have a love-hate relationships with the Cards, but it has pretty much been a Wild Card race in the NL Central since June. Prediction: Cards in 3.

Ok, over the American League. The Yankees managed to eeke out the AL East title (Boston and New York have the same record, but the Yanks won head-to-head matchups 10-9) and they head out West to play The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The Angels should lose just for having the worst name in the history of baseball, but they also have Vlad Guerrero, Bartolo Colon, and the rally monkey. And don't underestimate that monkey-- remember 2002? However, the Yanks live for October. Grumble, grumble. Prediction: Yankees in 5.

Now the BIG one. White Sox vs. Red Sox. You would think that being from Chicago I would have at least geographical loyalty to the White Sox, and I could easily cheer for them with that reasoning. But I am not a bandwagon jumper. The White Sox have almost as pathetic a post- season history as the Cubs (last World Series Championship: 1917), but they are not my team and never will be. Sure, I'll be happy for them if they win, but I cannot cheer for them actively and remain in good conscience. But what about the Red Sox? I used to cheer for the Red Sox out of solidarity with the Cubs, but the Cubs now stand alone in the "wait 'til next year" category. I would like the Red Sox to prove they aren't a once-every-eighty-six-years fluke, though so when the Cubs win it all it will be that much more momentous, but the White Sox will not go quietly or quickly. Prediction: Red Sox in 5.

October here I come!

APPENDED: Nobody calls me yellow! Alright, boys and girls, here are your LCS and World Series predictions. The Yankees and Red Sox will match wits and uppercuts in the LCS and the Yankees will prevail. They're bitter and ready to rumble. They will never live down that choke from last year, so I can live with that. Yankees in 6.

People seem to think that the Astros have a better pitching rotation than the Braves. No matter, evil will always be smote. The Braves and the Cards will have a non-battle for the NL crown which will be over before you can say "Pujols is my hombre." Cards in 4.

So we're left with the Yankees-Cardinals. Both storied franchises with many post season heroes. The Cardinals are also vengeful re: 2004 and have ever right to be. They were the best team in baseball last year and got blindsided by the Boston Express. They have more fight and talent in them than the Yankees, so as annoying as the Yankees winning the AL is, having the Cards show them who's boss NL Central-style will be worth it. Cards in 6.

Don't say I never gave you anything.

I ♥ Coldplay

You knew that, but writing it somehow makes it more official. Neither traffic nor annoying teenagers could keep me from loving their show. Ok, well traffic definitely tried harder. I have been to Nissan Pavillon before and it took me 45 minutes. I left an hour just to be safe and got royally screwed. There were accidents, lane closures, construction--basically anything that can cause hard core traffic. 2.5 hours later Emily and I pulled into the parking lot (along with many others who were stuck in the same situation) and I could hear the band from there. Fuck. I think I missed like 25 minutes of the show which could have been at least five songs. Double fuck. Oh well, I could hear them playing Trouble and so I moved towards the light.

I got my seats so long ago (May) that I hadn't actually looked at the tickets for awhile. They were great: first level, row R. They played everything that I could have wanted, Scientist, White Shadows, Clocks (with an awesome light show), Talk, Kingdom Come, plus they played a cover of Johnny Cash's, Ring of Fire. For the encore, Chris Martin ran into the audience and sang In My Place from the middle of the pavillon. Take that Bono.