It was perfect, except, well, for some wee willie wrinkles.

Wrinkle the first: I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s this little thing called the G20 this weekend in my fair city. Don’t feel bad, I had no idea what it was either until I got off the plane and every radio station was talking about this giant fence that was built around the downtown core and that companies were shipping their employees off to the suburbs of Toronto, or even to Montreal, because their buildings are all being evacuated. I knew nothing about it until I tried to maneuver my way downtown this morning and there was nothing but a sea of policemen and giant fences as far as the eye could see…and certainly no parking spots anywhere. It’s like some scene from Outbreak or something and the entire downtown is being quarantined. Only there’s no Kevin Spacey or ripped yellow spacesuits or even pre-Grey’s Anatomy but post-Can’t Buy Me Love Dr. McDreamys.

(And you all thought SARS was bad…)

So, we missed Big Bird. He came and went and I have nary a picture to prove it. It’s okay, though, I have some pictures from that time I interviewed Abby Cadabby to make up for it.

Wrinkle the second: SURPRISE! In order to make this yacht experience a little bit more fun, they decided to take us for a little three-hour tour around the harbor. Well, we all know how well that ended for Gilligan. The green began to wash over me as my fear of boats started to sink in and I began to hum a little no phones, no lights, no motor car, not a single luxury….and why YES I AM AFRAID OF BOATS. So, I tried to make Adam Stewart, the adorable accented CEO of Sandals Resorts, my focal point and pretend like we weren’t moving and that we were still docked while he spoke about the Beaches partnership with the Sesame Street characters and how ridiculously amazing a Beaches vacation sounded (and they are on the ground too! No boating required!) but then I saw a buoy or eight go by and there was really no question that we were moving at that point, which, of course, led to

Wrinkle the third: THE RAIN. It started to pour while I was aboard the ship, which meant that my exit plan was a plan no longer. I couldn’t escape outside to get some fresh air. I couldn’t escape anywhere. The nautical walls were closing in on me and, drumroll please, cue the panic attack just as lunch was served. (hurl) Where was the professor and his coconut phone when I needed him?

I did survive (barely)(thank you, Xanax) and I did manage to stuff my gob with two giant cookies and a brownie once the boat docked and I did manage to meet some really awesome people (and hang with some people I already know) but I do believe I will be keeping my sea legs OFF the boats in the future, or I will stick to things like, um, canoes.

We all have them.

If your woman makes you live in a city without a professional hockey team, that’s a deal breaker. This is the husband’s.

If your man makes you go on a cruise, that’s a deal breaker. This is mine.

Obviously, this wasn’t my one and only deal breaker. There are other ones involving toenail clipping in bed or wearing sweatpants in public or having weird hobbies like serial killing or taxidermy or something. But the no cruises thing? HUGE. And I’m not talking about the Tom kind, although that one is kind of a deal breaker too, unless he looks like Les Grossman. No, I’m talking about those giant germ-infested, vomit-inducing floating prison vessels.

Now, I’m all for cheesy entertainment and eating with random elderly travelers from Lansing, Michigan. I am certainly not above these things. And round-the-clock food? I am definitely a huge fan of this concept. Visiting several places on one trip is certainly enticing, especially since I have kind of been nowhere.

Alas, my anti-cruise reasons are two-fold:

The motion of the ocean. Now, all you cruise people are all…oh, it’s so not a big deal. You just take some medication or wear one of those patches and you are totally fine. And usually it’s only rough seas for, like, 2 days of the trip and really, if you just avoid the alcohol and things like reading, you should be okay. Uh huh. Two days of rough seas? Why on earth would I choose that? Why would I want to have to take MEDICINE that will make me sleepy? I can sleep at home, thankyouverymuch.  Um, and no drinking or reading? Those are very high on my list of things to do on vacation. Sounds awesome.

The (OMG!!!) Norwalk virus. I swear, I read a report of a norovirus breakout on a cruise ship almost daily. Yes, yes, yes I realize that there are places besides cruise ships to pick up these highly contagious stomach viruses and the percentage is actually pretty low and it only seems high because the CDC requires cruise lines to report all of their outbreaks. You can spit out all these facts all you want. I know them. I have researched them. But, you all, OUTBREAKS. Do I really want to chance it?

I’d rather keep my sea legs and sea ass parked on land at an all-inclusive resort. Sure, you only get to see one place…but you still get all the cheesy entertainment and you get to meet the random randoms and you even get the round-the-clock food. And I don’t have to wear patches or take sleep-inducing medications and I can drink and read all I want.

Sounds pretty awful, doesn’t it?

So, according to me:

Dexter Morgan > David Fisher

Tim Horton’s coffee > Dunkin Donuts coffee > Starbucks coffee

Franny and Zooey > The Catcher in the Rye

Scratching mosquito bites > Calamine lotion

Old school sports cars > new school sports cars

email, gchat, texting, skype > phone

Real Q-Tips > generic cotton swabs

Class > crass

Playing real Scrabble > playing Words With Friends

Cereal for dinner > cereal for breakfast

Smelling like Shauna Glenn > smelling like my grandma’s nursing home, which, sadly, I sometimes do.

Edward > Jacob

Diet Coke > Coke Zero > Diet Pepsi

Biking > running

Dresses > skirts

Reading books > reading on a Kindle

Wint-o-green Life Savers > gum

Yoga pants > sweat pants

Heels > flats

Summer > winter

SUVs >minivans

On the Waterfront > Casablanca

Degrassi the Next Generation > Degrassi

Nice ass > nice rack

Cookie dough > baked cookies

Getting a card in the mail > getting an ecard

Bob > Jillian

Pools > ocean

Savory snacks  > sweet snacks

Sitting in the sun > sitting in the shade

Sweet potato fries > regular potato fries

Joe Cocker’s With a Little Help From My Friends > The Beatles’ With a Little Help From My Friends

Cupcakes > cake

Godfather II > Godfather

Working at home > working in a cubicle

The book > the movie

Private email if you have a problem with me > public slander of my character on a website that I write for

Public karaoke > public dancing

Mac > PC

Grilled cheese > mac and cheese

Dylan > Brandon

This dress

> any other piece of clothing I own

WHAT ABOUT YOU?

But last night we got a babysitter for no reason at all. At 6:15 we were out the door with absolutely no plans. The rainy city was our oyster. We ended up here because, dude, it’s Richard Blais, and because we had a gift card from a lovely honorary family member who wanted to make sure that the foodie got to eat there before we left the dirty south. But, if you’ve ever been there, you know that’s it’s kind of a busy and loud cafeteria-style place where the eats are good, but they really try to speed you through your meal.

By 7:30, we were done.

And because I’d rather lick a New York City cab than see the new Sex and the City movie

(ducks)

we had to come up with something to do. There was no way we were going to go home. At 7:30. I have my pride, you know.

So, we did what everyone does on a date.

We went to Super Target and Barnes & Noble.

(Too bad we couldn’t sign up for our AARP cards right then and there)

We walked up and down the aisles at Target, picking out things we need to have for our new home. We looked at hampers and bedding and mirrors and bar stools and towels. We bought a shower curtain for the kids’ bathroom.

Then it was books and coffee.

I am a compulsive book buyer. Yes. Someday I will have THIS room.

I blame it on the fact that I work in the book industry. “But, it’s not my fault…I am supporting my trade. The more books that are bought, the better chance of there being jobs in books.” AHEM. Yes, I realize it’s a lousy-ass argument, but I can’t help it. I can spend hours walking around a book store just looking at covers. I start in the fiction section and make a pile of twelve or thirteen six or seven books I want to read. And then, somehow, I always end up in the history section. And then, depending on my latest passion project, I will pick up a good handful of books.

Right now it’s The Pacific War. And last night it was Eugene Sledge at Peleliu and Okinawa.

(For the record, it was Bobby Flay’s Burgers, Fries, and Shakes for him)

We stayed until it closed.

(10pm! We are crazy!)

We went home, crawled into bed, and watched Dexter.

(Two of the kids were still up, of course.)

It probably seems lame. And I fully admit to having somewhat geriatric ways. I mean, sometimes I even steal condiments from restaurants. It’s usually only Chick.fil.a sauce, but still.

So, yes, lame. But, I don’t know. It was such a nice night. And it was exactly what I needed. I got to eat a meal, buy a shower curtain, have a coffee and read without cutting someone else’s food, without getting anyone a drink, without my coffee getting cold, without having to read the same page 45 times, without yelling “JUST BECAUSE WE ARE IN TARGET DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE BUYING BARBIES OMG!”

Perfection.

…I pay and bring the suits home. Emily’s 8s are huge. Josh’s 6-7s are huge. Isabella’s 4s are huge. So, tomorrow I will be returning to Old Navy to lather, rinse, repeat.

2. I stop at a fast food restaurant and am almost at my destination before I realize that they didn’t give me the four drinks that I ordered.

3. I am at the park with my kids and there’s really no one else there because it’s 95 degrees and 12:30 in the afternoon (and, you know, we don’t have any drinks because I left that at McDonald’s) with the exception of the first HOT DAD to ever be spotted at Hammond Park and while I am lifting my child onto this giant contraption thing and…then…I pop a tit out of my dress. Just popped right out. I carefully tucked the sucker back in and all red-faced and mortified-like was all, “It’s so hot out here! Let’s go home RIGHTNOW!”

4. I am talking about Ricky Gervais and how I had high hopes for The Invention of Lying because I thought the premise was awesome and the cast was amazing, and OMG Ricky Gervais is so fucking sexy. ONLY what I meant to say was that Ricky Gervais is so fucking funny and Rob Lowe is so fucking sexy. Only, you know, I didn’t say what my brain wanted me to. AND  NOW I WILL NEVER LIVE IT DOWN.

You know, because her five million followers got to see this:

(PS. My real list is full of delicious hotness that includes such people as THE HAMM and Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Ryan Reynolds)

5. I watch one of the worst movies to ever be made (DEAR JOHN)(no matter how good Channing Tatum looks shirtless)(not as good as Ricky Gervais, obviously. hahahahah) on the airplane while sitting beside two of the drunkest travelers to ever travel (drunker than the dude who told me I should get an award for coloring My Little Ponies) who managed to spill their wine all over themselves and then, even though the movie is horrific, I do the goddamn UGLY CRY because there is a scene in there that is classic Nicholas Sparks and is just plain old mean and I sniffled my way through the last 30 minutes of the flight. Good times.

2. Not everyone likes Swedish Fish as much as I do. And that kind of makes me want to cry. Silly Canadians. BUT, Canadians are privy to the wonder that is the Wunderbar, and, of course, the right kind of Smarties, so I will cut my northern comrades a little slack. Also, you know, there’s that free health care thing I enjoy partaking in. See: The Wisdom Tooth of Doom that I need to get taken out. AND TIM HORTONS.

3. I am starting to panic a little bit. I only have about 70 or so days left in the country and I am trying to pack it all in before I cross the border and get stripped of all the things I have taken for granted over the past 10 months. Daily trips to Target. Department store shopping. The Cheesecake Factory. The giant cupcakes at Fresh Market. DSW. Hulu. Decent cell phone plans.

4. I am so bad about taking important pictures. I mean, my god, I got to spend time with Kristin in Chicago and Heather (AND ANNABEL OMG) in LA, and what do I have to show for it? A picture that I’m stealing from Heather’s twitter stream (totally without permission) and she’s not even in it. Also, I kind of look ridiculous. But, be thankful that you can’t see the matzo ball-sized pimple that I’m sporting on my upper lip…she ain’t pretty.

5. Also, clearly, babies LOVE me.

6. Also, you see that dress I am wearing? It totally looks Anthro, right? Well, $20 at Dillards. BOOYA.

7. I probably just should have told you that it was Anthro. Also, I probably should never say the word booya again.

8. Fancy hotels needs to have real Q-tips because the fake ones are ridiculous.

9. You know you have a LOST addiction when your entire group is on the rooftop of your hotel getting sauced and discussing celebrity gossip while you are in your room watching LOST on Hulu. PS. totally worth it. Also, see #3.

10. The new Shrek movie is pretty friggin’ funny. Also, when you DO see the movie, and you hear the kid…I think his name is Butterpants…say “Do the roar, Shrek” don’t pee in your pants like I did. Trust me on this one, it’s a little embarrassing.

“I LOVE your glasses.”

“I just had to stop and ask you about your glasses. WHERE did you get them?”

“Are they real? Like, are they vintage, or just retro replicas?”

“I wish I could pull off glasses like that!”

“I had those exact glasses when I was young.”

“You need to be wearing pearls and a shirt dress, you look so Mad Men.”

“Those are amazing.”

I always enjoy giving the answers, it never gets old. Yes. They ARE amazing. Yes. They are actually from the 50s, no replicas here. Yes. I did pay a lot of money for them. Yes. They have real lenses in them. Yes. I DO need some pearls and a shirt dress.

Honestly, I am kind of enjoying the attention. I have never been the kind of girl who stops traffic or gets noticed in a crowd. I’m kind of a blender, I’d say. So, it’s nice to stand out a little. I smile now when people stare and me, as opposed to before, when I’d get all fidgety and worry if people were staring at a giant booger hanging from my nostril. Or something.

My glasses are making me a more confidant person. It’s interesting, that. Because when I got my glasses at age 12, they kind of did the exact opposite.

So, you can kind of see my surprise when I ran into someone at the school parking lot this morning, and while I thought she was going to make a comment about my glasses, instead, she looked at me and said,

“ARE YOU WEARING A NEW WIG?”

without a single hint of irony.

AHEM. A new wig? As opposed to my old wig? WIG? Why does she think I wear a wig? Maybe she thought I was someone else? Maybe my new 6-inch haircut looks like a wig, omg?

So, I turned to her and said YES. Then I hopped in my car and immediately pulled down the mirror to make sure I didn’t have a booger hanging from my nose and to adjust my hair to make it as UNWIGLIKE as I could.

I mean, obviously, if I WAS going to get a wig, it’s gonna look like this…

Because of this, I have stopped running. Because, I mean, seriously. No amount of running is ever going to give me Halle Berry arms or a Jessica Biel belly. An asthma attack and sore calves maybe, but that’s about it. So, that’s it. Done. Also, I’m pretty sure I might have quit running because it was plum becoming too trendy. Everyone is running these days. 5ks, 10ks, half marathons, marathons. Hell, even my kids are running at school. You aren’t somebody unless you are getting off the couch and getting a good running mix for your ipod and buying water bottle belts, OMG. (Obviously I was high when I bought that thing) It was like that time in 2007 and I was all, “You all, you need to listen to Fans by Kings of Leon,” and you were all “stop throwing your crappy music at me Ali” and then all of a sudden the whole world was all hopped up on Sex on Fire and they were like, “Ali, you need to listen to this great new band called Kings of Leon” and then I stopped listening to them because they were too popular. Running is kind of like that for me.

Only not really. Mostly I’m just jealous of runners who have actual legs and can walk into a store and buy jeans without having to spend an extra $20 to take them to a tailor who can lop off 6 inches and do a wicked original hem.

Well, either way, I’m starting a new trend.

BIKING.

(or, if we substitute an “a” for an “I”, Shauna Glenn is totally on board for the bAking trend.)

You heard it here first.

2010 is the year of the bike.

So, just as soon as I put down my fork and stop shoveling this, um, red velvet cheesecake into my gob, I’m going to run walk right out and get me a shiny and fancy new bike. Yes! I need a bike! Remember when I totally shredded my ankle and couldn’t continue my run and hopped on the stationary bike and had a gay old time and burned a crapload of calories and actually felt good after biking 15 miles and not how I felt after, like, 3 mile runs which was mostlydead?

I mean, they DO make bikes for midgets, right?

And maybe I’ll start a fashion trend while we are at it because I have this fancy fuel belt that needs to be put to good use.

If you want to see more of me – and, I mean, obviously, you do – you can read my latest entertainment news over at Juice, my latest outfit over at The Urban Closet, my latest advice over at So You Want It, and my latest blathering over at Aiming Low.

But this is different. I won’t be leaving her. I am not the one jet-setting. It’s her. She is leaving me. Going on a plane – without me. Going to another country – without me. Having the time of her life – without me. and the truth is, I know she’ll be more than fine. She’s in the capable hands of her father and his parents and all three of his sisters. And I know that she’ll be fine when I put her on a plane to NYC to spend a few days with my sister. And I know she’ll be fine when I put her on a bus to go off to sleepover camp.

clearly someone is ready. Also, possibly 16.

But me, I’m popping copious amounts of tums. And stressing like hell.

Because, like the girls over at Girl Talk Thursday, I’m afraid to do many things. Like…

Travel by boat. I don’t much care for boats. It’s not just the emetophobic anxiety I get about getting the barfs; that is a big part of it, though. I mean, honestly, how often are those huge cruise ships in the news for outbreaks of the norwalk virus? OFTEN, I tell you. TOO OFTEN. And don’t get me started on motion sickness…why would I willingly get on a vessel that I would need to wear a goddamn anti-vomit patch. I am also terrified of open water. Yessiree, I have seen Jaws and I can tell you that there’s not a chance in hell I will ever swim with sharks, or scuba dive, or even snorkel. It’s just  not for me. I’ll stick to the pool thankyouverymuch where I can see the floor.

Watching static on the TV. Oh, that friggin’ Samara kid from The Ring. Scarred me for life. I’m usually not all that scared by horror movies. Mostly, I laugh through them and talk incessantly about how ridiculous they are, especially when they throw people like Jessica Biel or Ryan Reynolds into them…oh, and remember when Paris Hilton was in a scary movie? Yeah…she was the scariest thing about that picture. There are a few exception, of course. The Shining. The Ring. IT. Psycho. The Birds (fucking birds, man. kids and birds and clowns).

Getting a tattoo. I’m not scared of the pain, or the permanence of it. I have already discussed this ad nauseum with my sister. We would get matching snowflakes on our ankles. I mean, we did grow up in Wisconsin. it’s perfect, right? No…what I am scared of is my mother. There are only so many times you can hear your mom’s voice in your head saying, “Jewish girls don’t get tattoos! You can’t get buried in a Jewish cemetery!” before THE GUILT sets in.

Going into the basement alone. Mostly because I think there are clowns down there. Totally rational, yes?

Driving my stick shift in the snow. I drive stick. YES I DO. I’m pretty great at it and I feel kind of a tremendous sense of satisfaction while I’m driving. A somewhat I’m-sexier-than-you-are feel, even though I’m driving a Honda Civic. But, in the snow? I am a big giant sweatball. I am scared to death. Seriously, I drive, like, 8 miles an hour with my hands at 10 and 2.

Showering when no one is home. Jesus, I have seen Psycho. I’m not taking that chance.

BAWK!

Fancy.

Everyone seems to be lemming it up and jumping on the ole bandwagon. I have been enjoying seeing who people *think* they look like. Some are dead on. I mean, she totally looks like Maggie Gyllenhaal, don’t you think? And my sister? Dead ringer for Kyra Sedgwick. If you know me at all, you know I love a good bandwagon jumping.

Obviously, my picture will be changed to Marcia Brady.

I mean, hell, this, friends, is my future. Except, you know, without all the coke. Unless you are talking about the diet coca cola variety.

You totally see it, don’t you?

But, alas, it still doesn’t stop people from coming out of the woodwork.

NO! I do not look like KIRSTEN DUNST. And, for the record, neither does SHE.

NO! I do not look like Nina-fucking-Webster from The Young and the Restless.

NO! I do not, even though I do a mean Kevin from The Office impression, look like him, Meghan. (Oh, Kevin, how we all love you)

Even my dad weighed in with an opinion. He thinks I’m a dead ringer for Anna Kendrick…which I only sort of kind of maybe see…but I’ll take her Oscar nomination and, you know, the fact that Robert Pattinson licks her sometimes…

And NO! no matter what the stupid myheritage site tells me…I do not look like GEORGE HW BUSH ZOMG…

boom chicka wow wow.

74% George Bush.

FANTASTIC. And I’m not the only one who hates myheritage, either.

Have you changed your profile picture? Who do people say YOU like like?