Archive | February, 2012

To squee or not to squee

27 Feb

Last March I adopted a puppy and named him Porter.

Recently, we were playing and I realized just how ridiculous the things are that I say to him. For example, this morning when I woke and saw my dog, I changed my speaking tone and said, “Ooohh, look at hiiiiimmm! Hims a widdle boy here! Hims a boy here with me and I love hiiimmmms face!” Then, I kissed his little nose and hugged his sweet head. I don’t know why I say those things, but I am acutely aware that applying this to any other situation would make me absolutely nuts. This is him by the way:

 

My cuddly, sweet fwiend and his cutest puppy face!

 

This, I learned, is called pet-directed speech and there is research that investigates features which differentiate the two speech registers, neutral and intimate, within different constellations of speakers and addressees (such as infant-, pet-, foreigner- and lover- directed speech). Usually we change the way we speak without even thinking about it, but it’s only acceptable in certain situations and is a very funny concept.

This is how Porter responds when I speak with a silly voice:

 

 

He either loves it or it’s driving him insane–I can’t decide. I have a friend who used to make a high-pitched sound and iterate something that sounded like “SQQUUEEEGGIIEE!” whenever she saw her dog. Most girls I know do the sounds and/or say nonsense things when it’s a small or baby animal. I imagine that if there was a show that consisted only of baby animals playing with each other, that millions of ladies would be in their homes just making sounds. I would get nothing done. I would watch and clap and jump like a damn idiot, despite being a sarcastic, grown ass woman. I try to hide this side of myself, but if you were to hand me a puppy and a cookie (I like cookies), I would absolutely lose it.

Men are a different story. If they choose to talk to animals with voices, it tends to be a dumb or dorky sounding voice that is meant to be the voice of the animal and it is often accompanied by sound effects. Men really are just large kids, after all. Out of context, how funny would it be to see guys doing that kind of crap?  You know, like in the workplace? Or while watching football? I’d pay to see that shit.

So, I’m curious, do you talk to animals in a silly voice? What do you say? Does the animal have a goofy nickname? Porter’s nickname is “honey bear” and when he is wet he is  “little baby seal.” I did not choose these names, they just came out of my mouth one day.

Perhaps I just need to get laid, but…

24 Feb

Baltimore is just not turning me on these days. Look at this mundane, lifeless lab. I’m editing a paper about T cells. The only sound I hear is the humming of a centrifuge. This feels like the longest day of my life.

This science lab does not turn me on.

I’m sick of dead grass and brown buildings. I’m tired of seeing prostitutes, crazy people and sidewalk syringes.

I could use a stimulating conversation. Switch me on. Give me visuals. I want colors and life.

This is where I was 7 years ago….

Scotland turns me on.

Now that’s sexy. Even just the memory of this place flushes my cheeks and fills me with light. It makes me want to run as fast as I can and use the full capacity of my lungs. I want to scream loud and hear my echo. I’ll be back for you, rolling hills, and you better ravish me just as you did upon our last meeting. Or else.

Until then, I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination while I search ever so desperately for some Charm City inspiration.

a date worth mentioning.

20 Feb

Two years ago, I decided to join the Baltimore dating scene. I didn’t know what to expect. I met a lot of strange men that summer, including the male version of myself, an extreme racist, a horny firefighter, a douchey baseball coach, a comedian, a dude who looks exactly like Kevin James, and a guy who actively uses dollar signs to replace the letter “s.”  However, the weirdest date was with the hottest, tallest one of them all:  Matthew.

We met for happy hour at Brewer’s Art. He was a tall, dark and oh so handsome lawyer. Throughout the entire date he stared at me intently, listened to everything I had to say and was quick-witted. It was sexy. He had such an interesting life and we talked and laughed for hours. However, around drink number 4 or 5, the mood began to change slowly and the atmosphere got intense. He pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “like Helen, you have a face that could launch a thousand ships.” I laughed nervously. What an odd thing to say. Then he asked me to “make him immortal with a kiss.” Was he being serious?  “Heh, maybe later,” I responded.  He started petting my head. Things were getting weird and I decided it was time to leave.

Matthew walked me to my car (which was of course parked about a mile away). During the walk he told me how beautiful I am. Repeatedly. He was just naming random parts of me that he thought were beautiful, such as my collarbone. Who says that? Then he complimented my “strut,” which was odd because I really had to go to the bathroom. He was complimenting my pee pee walk! The more we walked, the less I liked him and the more I had to pee. When we got to my car, it turned out that I was parked right in front of his apartment building. Perfect. I really didn’t want to pee my dress on the ride home. Thank god, I thought, I’ll go right in his apartment, use the bathroom, and come right out. No big deal. Friends, I was wrong.

We went upstairs and I ran for the bathroom. Heaven. Just as I flushed, I heard some sassy R&B music coming from the other room. My heart began beating rapidly and I looked at myself in the mirror. Just walk out there and say no thank you and leave. You’ve got this. 

I took a deep breath.

When I opened the door, I was startled to find him standing right there, all 6’4 of him, completely naked and ready to go. Before I could even think, he picked me up and started kissing me in a way that felt like he was trying to suck my soul from my body. His tongue was everywhere, like even licking the air and stuff. It was so weird. Then, he grabbed a folder from the top of his refrigerator that was packed with magnum condoms. “PUT ME DOWN!” I yelled.

He put me down and frowned. He was out of breath from all that air licking. “Don’t you like what you see?”

That thing was huge and menacing. I have never seen anything like it. “Um, I have to go,” I said, and I turned and ran like the wind.

He ran out after me into the hallway. “Can I still take you to dinner next week!?” he called out. When I got to the bottom I looked up the spiral of the steps and saw him standing naked at the top. “No thanks!” I yelled back, and I never saw him again.

The lesson here, folks, is that if you are in a weird situation and you have to pee, fuck the unknown. Pee your dress.

my medieval valentine: part 2.

15 Feb

Well, the good news is that I didn’t have to go to Medieval Times on Valentine’s Day. However, at 5:30 yesterday I received a text saying, “I picked up the tickets!” along with this picture:

So I put on a slutty medieval barmaid bodice costume that I have (that’s a whole other story), per the cleavage advice of Carrie Rubin, and sent a picture message saying, “Oh good, because I’m ready to go!” He then caved immediately and told me I needed to change because “medieval minx” would likely be frowned upon at a nice restaurant. Hooray! We weren’t actually going to Medieval Times! This wasn’t a competition or anything, but I’m pretty sure I won.

my medieval valentine.

14 Feb

Ladies, I have some advice. The day before Valentine’s Day is not a good day to argue with the guy who has, for some crazy reason, chosen you as his Valentine. Why? Because I made fun of my Valentine during a heated argument and now he is threatening to take me to Medieval Times:

Really, Medieval Times, a $200 value?

Good god, is the person in the middle photo proposing?! I would be mortified. I could have just said sorry, but I’m stubborn and instead I yelled, “FINE, SOUNDS FUN, CAN’T WAIT!”

As I stomped out of the room he calmly said, “Okay, then I’ll reserve those tickets.”

So, of course now I am worried we are going to Medieval Times. Well, he would be the one going. I am not “too cool” for a lot of really, really dorky things, but this?  It will be a damn cold day in hell when I go to Medieval Times on Valentine’s Day.

I’ll let you know what happens.