Table Topic Tuesday. 7/7.

It’s Table Topic Tuesday time.

7.7.15

Which *other* culture would I choose to be born into?
Italian.
I’m 1/4th Italian which makes me a maestro in the culture, right? Magari!

First, there’s the language. It’s the love language. The language of the Renaissance and revival. If wine is bottled poetry, Italian is that wine uncorked. Each voluptuous sentence seems to promise love or music or the best pasta you’ve ever put in your mouth.

Calabria, Napoli. Gelato. Every Italian word tastes so good. Roll them between your cheeks. Just look at all of these vowels!

Italian vowelsAnd I love that Italian is not just the words that fall out of their lips. Italians feel each syllable all the way to their clenched, shaking fists. No matter what they’re saying (and unless it’s “cannoli” or “vino” I have no idea what they’re saying) it all sounds like kiss, kiss, hug, hug, let’s all go have dinner, have a smooch and have a nap. And that’s one happy serenade.

Speaking of happy, look at the paper scraps of passion blanketing the Wall of Love in Verona. Here, lovers leave letters a la Romeo & Juliet.

Verona

Wall of Love Shakespeare. Sentiment. Si.

And Italy is a coastal country, too. I’m a Pisces, so the sea sings to me. This particular pink beach, on the shore of Sardinia, is crooning my name (in Italian).

pinkCan you smell that briny-thick breeze? I imagine Italy smells like love, the sun-soaked Mediterranean mingles with whole plump garlic cloves bathing in hot golden oil, interlaced with almond, bergamot, cedar wood and vanilla. Plus pizza.

It’s just a yummy culture. But nothing is more lovely than this little nugget. An Italian mantra.  Delicious idleness. Sweet doing nothing.

sweet

What a magical old expression.

Disney Digression
Disney Digression

Now you need to hear from my friends.

Javi says:
If I could be born into another culture it would have to be in ancient Rome during its prime. You know, when Rome was referred to as an empire. This is how dinner party conversation would go:
“Where are you from? Oh, Wikachichi Florida you say… How interesting. I hear about that city often where I’m from. Where is that you ask? Oh. I was born in an empire. Yup. An empire. Just across the pond. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. The Roman Empire. You have heard of it! How splendid. It’s pretty great as far as empires go. If you’ve never visited an empire before, you must… They are deviiiiine.”
Then I’d take a long sip of my wine from my goblet as I touch their cheek gently with the back side of my hand, and walk away.
Other examples of dinner party quotables include:
“I have heard Wrigley Field is wonderful. Is it anything like the Colosseum or the Circus Maximus? You know, I saw a man riding a lion fight a bear there.”
“How was your Bar class this am? What! The AC was out!? Ooooh sounds rough. Well, I have Gladiator Training School this evening so I better get going!”
“This meal looks delicious… But I typically don’t dine at the table. I prefer to eat all my meals lying down on a couch.”
But best of all, the Romans made wearing a bed sheet out in public totally ok. These guys could get out of bed, wrap the sheet around them that they just slept in, throw on some flip flops and hit the town. The toga is like the elegant snuggie of yore. Plus, you can insta-nap everywhere. You’re wearing half a bed already.
Do you understand how many discussions I’d have to have with HR if I showed up to work in a bed sheet? Let alone the discussion about why I have a branch wrapped around my head like I’m king of the wood elves.

Matt says:
Which other culture would you choose to be born into?
I could say I’d like to be born into royalty. I’ve always liked laying around and doing nothing and imagine a staff of subjects, including a Court Jester, would be pretty baller. But, there would be no Netflix; the Court Jester would be my Netflix. (*Ponders writing a pilot about a Court Jester thrown into today’s culture. *Is immediately distracted by 37 episodes of 30 Rock.) Netflix is better than a Court Jester. Next.
I could say I’d like to be born into whatever culture it was that Shakespeare was doing his thing in. Seeing a Shakespeare performance with Billy in the audience would be like seeing Kendrick Lamar at SXSW in 2009 or something. I also just made a Shakespeare-Kendrick comparison and I think I should be commended for that. But, there are probably 4 or 5 really good Shakespeare options on Netflix and I wouldn’t have to wear a funny hat and pantaloons; I could wear basketball shorts and decided whether or not to change underwear that day. Netflix is better than Shakespeare.
I could say I’d like to be born into that culture Wood Allen captured in Midnight in Paris… the imaginary culture Owen Wilson traveled to, not like the ‘trying to sell a screenplay’ culture he actually lived in. It’d be dope to get first edition copies of Hemingway and Fitz’s books and go around to jazz clubs wearing busboy hats. I think I could do well in that culture… I look really good in those hats. But, Midnight In Paris will probably be on Netflix at some point… or at least HBOGo. Netflix is better than Paris.
Do you realized how amazing Netflix is? For like $10 you can watch ANYTHING. Ok, ok, the movies aren’t great, but at the push of an Apple TV button you can watch thousands of episodes of TV about ANY CULTURE EVER and you don’t have to be around people, you can eat food in your boxers, WHATEVER FOOD YOU WANT FROM ANY CULTURE.
I choose the Netflix culture. That is my culture of choice.

Natalie says:
French Culture, and here’s (mainly) why:
1) French food. And I’m not just talking about expensive French restaurant faire; I mean just legit, amazing food. Have you ever had peaches from France in the summer? Amazing. Fresh baguettes and brie for lunch? Awesome. And let’s not forget the out-of-this-world pastries. But overall, the French culture has a different relationship with food. They don’t consume to be satiated; they consume with a love of the process and a passion for using fresh and homemade ingredients to create the finished product. In turn, they don’t have to worry about “eating healthy” because it just happens.
2) Urge to Explore. I think this is true for a lot more European countries vs the US, but there seems to be a stronger drive to travel and experience cultures different from your own. I was working with a young French producer one time and one of her goals was to move to China in the next year because she wanted to live somewhere where she didn’t speak the language. I thought that was pretty cool, and something I can’t imagine my friends here saying.
3) Quality of Life. Maybe it’s the all the wine, but the French seem to just have a more relaxed culture. Less worrying, more sitting at tables well after a meal is finished just to talk and connect. Sure, they still have stress with their jobs, families and have money issues just like the rest of us, but the French culture seems to operate with more of a “glass half full” mentality—maybe because it’s half full of champagne.

Your turn. Which culture would you choose?

Table Topic Tuesday. 9/9.

9.9

I’m going to skip the part about not posting anything for 3 months and roll right into this Table Topic Tuesday.

Here’s the question:

9.9

Because this make-believe movie is about my life, my mom will be played by Disney characters. First things first. Meet my Momma.

Mom
Mom, Lindsey, me. Lindsey thinks Meg Ryan should play our Mom.

Mom’s always been our family’s Tinkerbell because she’s a blonde bombshell, of course, leaving sparkles in her wake. But she’s also one moody little pixie.

Disney Digression
Disney Digression

15 - jXGuhH7 14 - md5eWpy 13 - LgQ3itA 12 - NYpZqsU 11 - d6HDH8O 10 - TeQEWQ6 09 - eO7XRNk 08 - K1uGbOw 07 - bM5zIMR 06 - 7EzTbQm 05 - RTdwOji 04 - ylcEtbg 02 - EdNYUdN 01 - I have quite the collection of Disney character reaction gifs decided to share with all of you

Mom always nudged our eyes Upward.

Up

She showed me–when you find magic in the everyday moments–real love will always out-forever any fairytale.

love

And this woman has inhuman, supersonic freak ears. Never mind that she could hear a whisper through a closed closet door, through a closed upstairs bedroom door, from the basement. My mom could hear the half-baked thought nuggets that prowled around my head.

ears

From french braids, side braids, fishtails and 100-bobby-pin buns, Mom was a hair musician.

hair

Unlike Queen Elinor, though, Mom didn’t exhaust a list every day nagging me into a little lady. Instead of rattling off dainty blueprints, laying down the rules, she lived them herself.

And music was a mandate. We knew her mood by the tunes that woke us up for Saturday morning chores. Our house had a melodic rhythm with kitchen concerts, unrehearsed dance parties and a style-your-own beat.

Franny

Mom is as hip and enthused as Winifred Banks.

 

Winifred Banks

But she was always present, always available, always leaning in. Messy imaginations were encouraged, so long as our rooms were spit spot.

Mary Poppins

Best thing about Momma? Every time I feel like this:

Alice

She makes me feel:

Practically Perfect

That is a gift.

Ready to hear from the Table Topic Panel?

Lindsay says:

The lady who would play my mom in movie would have big shoes to fill. She’d have to be really fun–the kind that organizes birthday scavenger hunts in the mall. She’d have to be a really good pretend-cook who always manages to pull something out of nothing. She would have to dry tears–a lot–and make up songs on the spot. She’d have to magically sneak coins under my pillow when my teeth fell out and believe in Santa as much as I did. The best mom to play my mom would be a funny gal that doesn’t even know she’s a freaking riot. My movie mom would be the super-powered Mrs. Incredible, the frazzled and warm and loving Mrs. McCallister, and Ms. Kathleen Kelly, the big dreamer with a little bookstore. But no one is quite like my mom. Like I said, big shoes.

mom and binz

And Javi says:

In the movie of my life, my mother would be played by Oprah Winfrey, because my mother is Oprah Winfrey. My mom is Oprah “I Will End You” Winfrey. Oprah, “I don’t have a studio audience, I have an army of zealots” Winfrey. Oprah “I have the power to designate the fate of your world leaders” Winfrey. Oprah, aka my mother, don’t play. I love my mother dearly, but she could wipe me off the planet faster than she loses and gains and loses weight again. Would you mess with Oprah? Hell, no you wouldn’t. Oprah feels no pain. She knows know fear. My mother has looked into the endless, dark, maddening abyss – the eyes of Tom Cruse – seen the end of days and laughed in the face of the horrible nothing that stared back at her. My mother don’t need no man. She crushes men with her book clubs. Giant clubs made from only the heaviest of books. Books with the weight of a dead star. Book clubs that she wields like an extension of her own thunderous hands. But, my mother did indeed take a man. A man amongst men. The tallest, most powerful man in all the land. A man with a name so masculine and bursting with testosterone, that he only needs to go by ONE name. A name that is so wrought with raw vigor, his name actually contains the word “MAN” in it.  Stedman. Did she marry him, you ask? HA! I scoff at the idea of my mother even entertaining the thought of marriage. Oprah-mom will not be referred to as an equal to even the strongest mortal. Instead she and Stedman engaged in the seldom written about and never visually documented ceremony knows as a “Spiritual Union”  – an ancient war dance in which one warrior consumes the spiritual life force of the other so that they may live two lifetimes. Stedman never had a chance. However, my mother, Oprah, can be soft and sweet. She has, many times, referred to me as “one of her favorite things”. While she’s often tried to give me away to audience members as a result, in the end I always found my way home. To be called one of Oprah’s favorite things is to dance in the warm light of the lord, or be held in the bosom of Big Bird. It’s like both at once. Held tightly in a comforting, warm, lordy-light giving, feathery, muppet bosom. Yes, my mother is quite the woman. A woman who smells like pancakes and who’s laughter once deflected a giant asteroid from hitting the earth. A woman who’s true age is undocumented but many guess she is over 5,000 years old. My mother. Who’s name means “dragon baby” in the tongue of the ancients. Who once made me the most delicious pb&j by giving a firm look to a stone which turned into a diamond which turned into a sandwich. Who once forgot her wallet at the grocery store, and instead paid her bill by giving everyone a car. A woman who got me a bounce house for my birthday that was a modest three bed, two and a half bath bounce home. The best, scariest, most loving, monster of a mom. Oprah “I am the force of a thousand suns” Winfrey. Love you ma.

 

Your turn. In the movie of your life, who plays Mom?

Table Topic Tuesday. 6/10.

This Table Topic gets a little personal.

6.11

The real question is: What will I admit that I hoard?

I hoard emails. I knew it was bad, but it might be time for an intervention.

work email count
work email count

 

personal email count
personal email count

Did I just lose a few friends?

The next confession is just as embarrassing and not at all surprising. Most families have a junk drawer, right? That catch-all collector where you can stash all the stuff. We have one, too. But we also have a Disney junk drawer. You read that right. But calling it “junk” is a little harsh. We have a drawer where we keep the sorcery cards, old room keys, last year’s passholder guide and unused fast passes (which are now collectors’ items). Shameless.

 

Disney Digression
Disney Digression

 

I participate in normal hoarding, too. Take a peek in my office. I’ve held on to hundreds thousands of pieces of paper. Those scribbles are precious, y’all. And I’m partial to purple pens and pretty notebooks.

pens

 

notebooks

Let me get out of the hot seat and give my friends a chance to out themselves.

 

Javi says:

Come in to the merry wonders of my mind where we’ve got shame of all kinds. In my brain I horde a veritable wonderland of shame! I produce embarrassment like a tragic Wonka Factory, and the shame business is a-booming. We’ve got all types of shame to choose from. Try out our Chronic Shame – the kind that bubbles up at 3 am to remind you of what you should have said to that one time to that one person when you were six. Timed Shame, packaged neatly in the form of a sad trombone noise that plays whenever you take your shirt off. And, Shame Bursts that shout across the recesses of your soul, championing your behavior with encouraging phrases like “congratulations on taking down that sleeve of Oreos like a wood chipper! Next time let’s charge the neighborhood children a nickel to see the amazing fatso huff an uncooked cinnamon bun roll from the cardboard tube!” Get in line to ride the various shame attractions. Slide down the dizzying Shame Spiral. Brave a long stare into the Pit of Shame. Climb the treacherous Mountain of Shame. And, stroll down the Walk of Shame lined with plenty of cringe worthy moments to reflect on like Every Second of High School, The Time You Butt-Dialed Your Boss While Singing Spandau Ballet In the Car, Every Time You’ve Tried to Ask a Girl Out, and soooo many more. Yes, if you’re looking for embarrassment, shame, or just a moment that feels like a train wreck happening in slow motion, you’ve come to the right place my friend. When it comes to disappointment, we don’t disappoint. We’ve got shame and we’ve got it in droves. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a shirt that needs tucking into underwear.

 

Lindsay says:

I used to have a problem letting go of things. Like when I graduated high school, but refused to join the notebook burning party with my classmates. What happens if I need those Trig worksheets someday?

I held on to letters from friends from gymnastics camp from the fourth grade. Sentimental value.

Pancake sneakers and racing flats with no miles left on them were shoved under my bed and wedged at the top of my closet. Some of my best runs and races were in those babies; every pair has a story.

Stationery. Oh, beautiful stationery. Everywhere I go I pick up a new package. The writer’s disease.

Blue ribbons and yellow ribbons and participant ribbons from Estling Lake Field Events. My home away from home, where I found and fueled my love of sport.

I’ve stopped collecting as much over the years because, well, my parents’ garage is running out of room, and my sweet parents are running out of patience.

Let’s hear it! What do you hoard?

Table Topic Tuesday. 4/29.

Tuesdays sneak up on me the way the boys creep in too early on Saturday mornings, silent stealthy boogers, and stand a half centimeter from my face (as if staring into my snores will get me up).

It’s already Tuesday again. Happy Table Topic Time!

Here’s our weekly DIY Therapy:

4:29

I wouldn’t say that I’m a control freak but, for an easy-going gal, I do have some freakish tendencies. My desk is usually a wreck, covered in leaning towers of paper and sticky note reminders. My closet is a cluster, more messed up than a pile of coat hangers. More often than not, I’m comfy in this chaos, a master of my mess. But if someone jumbles up my Tupperware cabinet, I feel like dropping a people’s elbow on someone. I like the utensils to be perfectly stacked in their respective slots in their designated drawer. I like each bath towel to be folded just like its brothers and sisters and facing the same way on the linen shelf.

No, I don’t care where we eat. Or when. I don’t need to map out the weekend. I don’t mind at all if you drive.

But if different foods are mingling on my plate, I may freak. I load grocery items on the checkout  belt by the order I want them bagged. I may listen to a new song I love 52 times in a row.

Enough of my crazy. Ready to hear from my fellow control freak peeps?

Lindsey says:
I’m a control freak in a lot of ways… Picture perfect type A. I don’t like to leave much to chance. I insist on paying bills individually – none of this automatic bill pay. I double and triple check my court files (that I prepare myself) before any hearing. But I think my control freakness tops out with planning. I have to plan out my day, week, month, year as early as possible. It can be as simple as planning out my work day to planning out vacations. Walking into disney – you better believe I know what I’m riding and when. Food and wine festival – no problem: the individual stands are marked with what day and in what order they will be visited on the map. It might be borderline OCD but anxiety attacks will happen if I don’t know what’s happening at what time. And while I know this habit can annoy my more laid back peoples (Mindy, I’m looking at you), deep down I think they appreciate this particular habit of mine.

Lindsay says:
Control freaks are so annoying. They’re controlling in a freaky sort of way. But I’m the kind of control freak that everyone can deal with. I’m the controlling type that likes to control things as long as everyone else is ok with it, or when no one in particular feels a sense of responsibility for the situation. I’m a pushover and a default control freak.
School projects. Everyone in the group dreaded them, and no one would make a move until someone took hold of the reins. The reins-holder also ended up doing 95% of the work. That was me: pushover. I’m also controlling when it comes to where my family goes out to eat. But that’s because I get “I don’t care”-ed to death. Then when they realize I’ve brought them to a hippie noodle house, they start to care. Default control freak. I could be worse.

Javi says:
Control is something I barely think about any more thanks to all the lists I make. Making lists let me dabble in the feeling of control without ever actually obsessing over it. Being overly controlling is barely even a passing thought for me. It’s almost laughable to think about. Making lists really has been so great for me. Let me list out the reasons I love lists:
1. Because lists keep me from becoming, what some would vaguely classify as, a control freak. That was the old me. Thanks to lists, I’m just really easy-breezy. Lists allow me to be what I would call… more of a control enthusiast.
B: Because I don’t need my lists to be numbered. That’s how easy going I am. My lists can be lettered if I want. My lists don’t control me. I control them. If I ever even thought about control. Which I don’t.
C: Is for cookie. That’s good enough for me.
4. Because I can go back to numbers on a whim. Who’s the boss of you list? I am.
5. Because I have been told I need to “let go”. Lists allow me to scratch things off and remove thoughts from my life. And, in turn, through lists, I have learned to let go of grudges with people. Forgive people. People like Rick. Jerks like Rick. Rick you JERK. How does a person even manage to sell a CAT on ebay in one afternoon RICK! MY CAT! I seriously left you alone for two hours! TWO HOURS!
6. Seriously list. I run you.
%. Because lists give order to my life. Structure and purpose in an unruly world. Allowing me total control over the mundane day-to-day like some kind of list wielding demi-god, reigning down thunderous control in the form of lists from a mountain top.
D. If lists were people, I would amass an army of lists to do my every bidding. Life as we know it would be structured and ruled by my controlling iron fist. My dictating rule would cross the boarders of all lands, as I acquire control that bends nations to my will.
7. BOW TO YOUR MASTER! THE KEEPER OF THE LISTS! THE FORCE THAT GOVERNS YOU! THE PATH THAT GUIDES YOU! FOR MY LISTS ARE YOUR ONLY TRUTH! I CONTROL ALL I SEE!
Sorry. I blacked out… What just happened?

Lynda says:
I think the more appropriate question for me would be…what am I not a control freak about?  I am, by nature, a freak about most things, most especially “control.”  I mean, you’re talking about a girl who, while growing up, had to get dressed for school in the exact same order…every..single…day.  I could try and defend myself by saying that I had to wear a uniform, so the very nature of doing the same thing every day came naturally…but alas, I don’t think there’s a good excuse for that.  My poor mother had to endure many a Monday morning fight when clothes were still in the laundry getting ready for another week, yet not ready for my rigid morning routine.  The poor woman could not understand why socks had to go on before shirts and jumpers.  Obviously I started young…but I’ve become a little more lax in my old-er age.  Although, I still look back and chuckle.

I more than admit I like routine and I’m a creature of habit.  I think those naturally extend and grow into becoming a control freak in some ways.  But when I think about it, some of the stuff I control is slightly embarrassing.  For drinks, I like seven ice cubes in my cup at home.  I only do laundry on Sundays…all eight loads or so.  I play three games of Solitaire on the iPad before I go to bed, no more, no less.  I have set chairs I sit in for certain meetings and in all meeting rooms.  Stuff is arranged in the dishwasher in the exact same way…every time.  And that’s just a few of the highlights.  Spontaneity and I just don’t jive…I’ve got to plan and anticipate and arrange all the little boxes in my life so nothing is out of my control.  I just might be on the path to world domination…but in a weird, self-obsessed, obsessive-compulsive, neurotic kind of way.

Over to you. What are you a control freak about? Let me know.

Table Topic Tuesday. 4/22.

Another Tuesday. Another topic!

4:22

My inner child isn’t super funny. Some things never change. And she does not want to think.

Disney Digression
Disney Digression

 

But she does want to be petted.
She wants her hair brushed and braided, shook loose and brushed and braided again and again.

She wants an unlimited supply of bubble gum in the pouch–you know the sugar-dusted string kind? She wants two cheekfuls of bubble-blowing ammo.

She wants to dance to every thumping beat, whenever she hears it, even if it’s on a crowded aisle 6, smack in the middle of the grocery store rush hour.

She wants to go to Disney and run from ride to ride so not a single second is wasted. She actually wants to ride It’s a Small World, because it is a small world, after all, and she wants to shamelessly scream-sing along, at the tip top of her lungs. She still loves the People Mover, the Carousel of Progress, Dumbo. She wants to meet every character (although she does not want to wait in line) get their autograph and trace each letter of their signature with her pointer finger.

She wants to go back to school, learn something and prove it, get a 100 on a test and feel the fleeting high of near-perfection.

My inner child wants to swap her lunch for her friend’s dessert, roller blade around and around and around a rink to Color Me Badd, go a day without a stitch of make up.

And she kinda wants an afro.

Enough about me. Here’s what my friends think.

 

Javi says:

My inner child is a little jerk face. There. I said it. He’s has no volume control. He questions every decision I make – tirelessly persuading me to do things. And, he’s constantly pressing me to get his way. His demands are relentless and he is unwavering in his fortitude. “CAKE IS MY FAVORITE KIND OF BREAD!”, he decrees. I refute him. “LIVE ON A DIET OF CEREAL ALONE!” he orders. I fight him away.  “WEAR A CAPE! DRESS FOR THE JOB YOU WANT!” he commands. I deny him. “ADULT FOOTIE PAJAMAS ARE ON SALE!”, he proclaims. And, I shove his hand away from clicking “Add to cart”. “MAKE A BOUNCE HOUSE, YOUR REAL HOUSE!”, he mandates. I stand strong against his convincing argument, despite the many obvious bounce house benefits. “BRING ME A JET PACK!” he exclaims. And, because of the gross lack of jet packs available to the general public, I cannot oblige him. Luckily, I cannot. Luckily for all of us. For the world. Because, if my inner child had a jet pack he would be virtually unstoppable. With a jet pack, mooning a flying plane would no longer be an issue. In fact, it wouldn’t even be a question. On a whim he would travel to beautiful lands to see stunning sights, historic monuments, and wonders of the world… and he would TP them. And, at night, he would silently fly through your bedroom window, and draw wieners on your face while you slept. He would basically be like awful Santa Claus.

Lindsay says:

I’m not sure I understand the question. And that’s probably because I’m an adult now. Children have an answer for every question, no matter what it is. No matter if it’s crazy or zany or makes no sense at all. But I bet my inner child wants Beanie Babies to come to life. I bet my inner kid wants a snow day in the middle of the summer. I would bet money that my inner child wants Mickey and Minnie Mouse to have breakfast with her every single morning. I bet my inner (fat) kid wants candy for breakfast and to never touch a vegetable ever again. But I think what my inner kid really wants is just to be a kid forever.

Lindsay

 

Your turn. What funny shenanigans does your inner kiddo want to get into?

Table Topic Tuesday. 4/15.

It’s Table Topic Tuesday time!  And here’s the question:

Table Topic 4.15

I’ll give y’all a few.

1. Gum. I go through a lot. I’m not picky, but Orbit Sweet Mint is my favorite. It tastes just like a Thin Mint cookie. I obsessively, compulsively throw gum in my mouth after most meals and before most conversations.

2. Coffee. The smell, the steam, one swirl of cream. I’m full-on addicted. Is it bad that one sip of this liquid boost actually calms me down? I drink way too much in the morning, so much it does nothing to wake me up. Now, it’s nothing but a hot cup of comfort.

Birch Coffee, NYC
Birch Coffee, NYC

 

3. Disney. I get a little twitchy when I don’t get my fix. A movie or a few songs can get me by for a bit, but there’s nothing like being in a park. The first step is admitting, right?

Disney Digression
Disney Digression

 

My friends fessed up, too.

 

Lindsey says:

While there are lots of things I like and lots of things I do repeatedly (like going to disney) there is one thing that stands above the rest when it comes to addiction; one thing I can’t go one day without – mint flavored Chapstick!

I mean, Chapstick in general is quite addicting (rumor has it the more you use it, the more you need it). Mint flavor is on another level. It is the perfect flavor; refreshing, cool, minty. I have stashes of these babies everywhere. It’s the small things, ya know.

chapstick

Lindsay says:

The easy answer: Running.
The hard answer: The running I could do before I came down with a nasty, incurable neurological disorder.
But that’s a bit heavy for a Tuesday, yeah? Other than running, I could never go too long a stretch without a bag of trail mix full of salty raisins. There are worse things to be addicted to, I think.

Javi says:

I’m addicted to cold turkey. I can’t stop myself. It is so hard to quit cold turkey. Especially if you’re trying to quit cold turkey, cold turkey. It’s almost impossible. I’ve tried to talk to people about my addiction to cold turkey, but no one understands. Conversations usually go something like:
ME: I need your help. I’m trying to quit cold turkey.
YOU: What are you trying to quit?
ME: Cold turkey.
YOU: I applaud your conviction, but what is it?
ME: What is what?
YOU: Ok. I get it. You don’t want to talk about your problem. Some substances are rough. I understand. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.
ME: I agree. It’s been really rough. That’s why I’m trying to talk about it with you now.
YOU: So, go ahead and tell me about it.
ME: About cold turkey?
YOU: We can just talk about the process if that’s where you want to start. But, maybe quitting whatever it is you are trying to shake all at once, might not be the answer.
ME: So, you think I could quit cold turkey gradually?
YOU: Thats not how quitting cold turkey works. When you quit cold turkey, that’s it. You quit cold turkey.
ME: I know what cold turkey means.
YOU: I don’t think you do…
And, so it goes. I’m in a spiral of cold turkey addiction, all the while wrestling with the fact that only by going cold turkey, could I truly quit cold turkey. It’s a constant battle I must fight alone. The curse of being a fan of tryptophan.

Lynda says:
Well…lots of things I suppose.  I mean, who isn’t?  But I even went so far as to create an entire blog about all the things I’m addicted to, which I lovingly called “my passions.”  Addictions can seem like bad things because they sometimes lead you down dark paths, but at the end of the day, I like to think of them as all the things that make life worth living, that I love, and that bring me joy, excitement, and something to look forward to.

So to truly answer this question, I suppose I’m addicted to White Cheddar-flavored popcorn.  And cinnamon-scented things.  And British television, and books, and travel planning.  Cadbury Mini Eggs, left-handed people, and sauces. And anything and everything related to France – wine, cheese, and the Eiffel Tower.

But what is my number one passion…I mean, addiction?  Queso.  Melty cheese dip that is like nectar from the gods.  It’s delicious, it’s warm and comforting, and you can pretty much eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Yep…queso.  I will be addicted to it for life.

Confession time. What are you addicted to?

Table Topic Tuesday 4/8. Meet the team.

Today, I’m introducing y’all to my Table Topic Tuesday peeps. I started this little game without proper introductions. Now you can connect a face to the funny.

Every Tuesday, I’ll pull a table topic conversation starter and send it to my pals to get their take.

To help you get to know the panel that will be answering a weekly question, I asked my friends to answer a few, yup, questions (I get to answer first).

What song do you listen to more than any other song? (Me? Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby. Foolproof for any mood. Dare you to try it.)

What’s your favorite writing utensil–pencil, sharpie, etc? (Purple pens. I don’t like slippery, smudgy ink. Black and blue are too legal and red is way too angry. Purple is just right.)

What’s your favorite quote? (I have a bunch of favorites.)

What’s your favorite dessert? (Pecan (that’s pee-can) pie, salted caramel, coffee ice cream)

What’s your biggest pet peeve? (mouth noises, pity parties, mean people)

And the best for last: What is your all-time favorite Disney ride, attraction or movie?
(Magic Kingdom: Big Thunder & Wishes. EPCOT: World Showcase. Hollywood Studios: Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster. Animal Kingdom: Expedition Everest. Movie: Beauty & The Beast)

Now, the panel’s up.

Meet Javi.

Meet Javi
Meet Javi

Javi says:

Song? U2’s For the First Time.

Writing utensil? A keyboard, headphones and my iTunes library.

Best quote eva? Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. – Calvin Coolidge

Yummiest dessert? Cookies and milk.

Pet peeve? Any denial of my right to failure Disney highlight? Peter Pan:  “think of all the joy you’ll find, when you leave the world behind and bid your cares goodbye.”

 

Meet Lindsey.

 

Meet Lindsey
Meet Lindsey

Lindsey says:

Song? That’s really tough. It varies all the time. Right now “stronger than me” from the Nashville soundtrack.

Writing utensil? Blue ink pen. (distinguishes originals from copies). Lawyer thing.

Best quote eva? “be a best friend, tell the truth and overuse I love you. Go to work, do your best and don’t outsmart your common sense. Never let your prayin knees get lazy. And love like crazy”

Yummiest dessert? Root beer float or pecan pie

Pet peeve? When people don’t follow through with what they say they’ll do.

Disney highlight? Because I can’t decide: Ride: rockin roller coaster, attraction: world showcase, movie: Cinderella

 

Meet Lynda.

 

Meet Lynda
Meet Lynda

Lynda says:

Song? Who Wouldn’t Want to Be Me…Keith Urban

Writing utensil? Definitely a black roller ball pen…always. Unless I’m doing a crossword puzzle, then pencil all the way.

Best quote eva? “What we leave behind is not as important as how we lived.”

Yummiest dessert? Rice krispie treats, because who doesn’t love a little gooey marshmallow in their life

Pet peeve? People who don’t know how to drive. Road rage is a fault of mine, which is why I maintain a 5-minute commute to work.

Disney highlight? Spaceship Earth…hands down. With the Norway movie coming in a close second.

 

Meet Matt.

 

Meet Matt
Meet Matt

Matt says:

Song? Probably a tie between “Carousel” by blink-182 (My friends and I all take our hats off during the intro, out of respect), “The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows” by Brand New, “Pursuit Of Happiness” by Kid Cudi and “Halftime” by Nas

Writing utensil? Whatever is in front of me. I do usually write out scripts, headlines and posts on paper before typing them out.

Best quote eva? “You’re not useful to me until you’ve made three momentous mistakes.” – Dan Wieden; “Everybody is wrong about everything, just about all the time.” – Chuck Klosterman; “You idiot, the Boston Tea Party was in England” – My friend Noah; Everything Bill Murray has ever said

Yummiest dessert? Pinkberry original with fruity pebbles, almonds and gummy bears

Pet peeve? Having to declare one pet peeve as the biggest. (A few highlights: People who call the Nike ‘swoosh’ a check; cotton balls; cats; drivers who don’t use blinkers; every person in every airport, ever)

Disney highlight? Somewhere at my parents house I have a full set of Disney trading cards, every issue of the short-lived Chip N’ Dale Rescue Rangers comic book series and a 3rd grade yearbook picture of me wearing a homemade Pluto Christmas sweater. Top 5 Disney movies: 5. Peter Pan 4. Snow White 3. The Great Mouse Detective 2. Beauty and the Beast 1. The Rescuers Down Under

 

Meet Lindsay.

 

Meet Lindsay
Meet Lindsay

Lindsay says:

Song? This changes every few months, but I love Burn It Down by Awolnation

Writing utensil? Black pens because I’m boring.

Best quote eva? “If you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it.” –Andy Rooney

Yummiest dessert? Cookie dough ice cream

Pet peeve? “Literally”

Disney highlight? One from each park:
Epcot — Spaceship Earth
Magic Kingdom — Space Mountain
Animal Kingdom: Everest
Hollywood Studios — The Osborne Family Spectacle of Dancing Lights

 

Meet Erika.

 

Meet Erika
Meet Erika

Erika says:

Song? Depends on the week!

Writing utensil? My laptop. How unromantic, right?

Best quote eva? “I don’t think any day is worth living without thinking about what you’re going to eat next at all times.” ― Nora Ephron

Yummiest dessert? Publix’s Carrot Cake. To. Die. For.

Pet peeve? When my husband throws his towel on the bathroom floor instead of the hamper.

Disney highlight? The Little Mermaid!

Your turn! I want to hear about your favorite song, writing tool, quote, dessert, pet peeve and Disney highlight.