Savory Does Not Apply To You OR Your Car

Here's a tip-- if the name of something you are buying starts with "Vanity" and ends with "Plate" then it's a pretty safe bet you probably should just leave it on the shelf at the DMV.

Maybe my memory is faulty, but it seems to me that when I was younger the personalized license plate wasn't all that common. Sure, you had your occasional spoiled housewife who felt the need to declare to the world that her new minivan was "DEBSTOY". And if you were in a small town, you were going to run into the occiasonal idiot that feels the need to let you know that "ILUVGUNS". But most sane people had their boring old car tags that made no sense.

Sadly there seems to be an unfortunate trend these days of anyone and everyone having a personalized car tag.

For example, you have Kenny Cashcow, proud new owner of a Hummer. Now, this is great news for Kenny who clearly has money to burn and a strong disdain for our natural resources. What better way to celebrate that than paying the government extra money for a little tin tag that says "MYHUMMR"? I mean, I realize the car says HUMMER about 50 times in different places on the body, but if you hadn't added that important vanity plate, I might never have realized that you-- the person sitting behind the wheel-- are in fact the proud owner. Well done, Kenny. Well done.

And then you have Tammy Tightpants who is so cool that she has to pay the DMV to tell you that she's a "WLDGRL" Good thing she put that on the back of her Chevy Cavalier, because otherwise I might never have noticed and given her the wide-eyed respect that she's so clearly due. She's a WIlDGIRL! Who am I to question the fact that she's smoking, talking on a cell phone and letting her five year old climb all over her front seat while she drives 80 down the freeway? Oh to be like Tammy. A girl can only dream.

The Truths of Boardwalk

Monopoly brings out the worst in people. I don't care who you are or how good your general attitude is in life. Someone puts little pieces of paper money in your hand and little cardboard cut outs of pretend properties, and an otherwise generous, loving person becomes the Donald Trump of their living room.

Ladies Night Out: Year 27

The Enigma That Is Me: January 2005


I know an unusally large number of single women. I don't know if that says more about me, them, or the men in our lives. (and by "men in our lives" I am being generous and including anyone who might possibly walk by)

When I was growing up, I didn't get boys at all (and by that I mean understand boys-- but to be honest, I didn't GET them either, so read it however you want). I didn't really understand why they liked to pretend to shoot each other. I never understood why taping our dog's ears together was a riotous good time. And I really never understood why they were mean to both the girls they liked and didn't like-- and we were supposed to somehow be able to tell the difference.

As I got older and started to believe that I did, in fact, know EVERYTHING-- I thought I had boys pretty well figured out. They liked to pretend to shoot each other because it made them feel adventerous. They liked to tape the dog's ears together because it made them feel powerful. And they were mean to the girls they didn't like to try and get a laugh out of the girls they did. Those were the keys-- Adventure, Power, and Laughter. Basically? It all boiled down to the fact that boys were attention whores.

Now I'm back in the camp of not understanding the boys who are now men (or at least should be, but that's another post for another day). Are they still attention whores? Well, some of them are. But then-- some of my female friends are as well. Do they like adventure? Some of them do.

But what I didn't understand until more recently is that some of them would much rather have the semblance of adventure than a real one-- and that's something a lot of us have in common at one point or another.

I suppose I should find the common ground reassuring, but I don't.