Flu. Flu bad. Beth Hate Flu.

I swear Saturday morning I was FINE. Totally FINE. And then it hit me like a truckload of bricks. Really angry bricks. And then the sweating started. And then the freezing started. And then I wanted to sleep for four weeks. And then I realized I had the freakin' flu. I was totally incapacitated by 6:30 that night.

I went online to see what I should take for this and how long I was going to be out for....and that's when I saw this new Flu Facts campaign. Look, it was helpful and all finding out the various symptoms of the flu - it confirmed what I had already suspected, but a few questions spring to mind:


Why is the penguin from Happy Feet advertising anti-viral medication? I mean he's snuggly and all, but....What did it do wrong that it couldn't get on a Happy Meal box like every other Disney character in history?

Anyway. I'm better now. Two Nyquil-heavy days of moaning and aching and whining, but I'm better. I'm still confused about the penguins.

Surprise Gift Alert!

God, I love unexpected gifts!

Can I just discuss the surprise birthday/Valentine's Day care package I recently got from an old junior high amiga? Was it the Valentine's Day-themed Peeps that made it so awesome? No. The yummy smelling spa goodies? Eh. Oh don't get me wrong - it was all good...all of it.

But it was the bag of orange plastic-y "circus peanuts" that made my whole day because the minute I opened that bag and smelled that awful, plastic-y, marshmallow smell I was taken back to high school when we drove around eating those things by the bucketload in my classy glitter green Chevette rocking out to EMF's "Unbelieveable" (noting (siiiiigh) that was before that song become known as "Crumbelievable" and featured on cheese commercials).

Ah, nostalgia is good, folks. But having good friends who have stuck with you through the years is even better.

Thanks Slurpee Drinking Circus Peanut Eating Friend!

You Just Know Me So Darned Well

I love that someone notified me today about a recently-discovered 1,000-pound giant squid by saying:

"You know I can't resist sending you stories about giant creatures of the deep."

And YOU know I can't resist reading about them. Seriously. I still can't stop looking at that thing, no matter how much it freaks me out.

Thanks, alert World of Beth reader!

National I'mAOkayByMyselfTine's Day Coming Up, Folks.

It’s heading up on Valentine’s Day this week, or as we in the World of Beth refer to it, I’mAOkayByMyselfTine’s Day. See, it’s not about being bitter and angry and angsty about couples and soul mates and people who have someone to spoon with as they fall asleep at night (hi, there are 364 other days for that). It’s more about being….a-okay with yourself and your single guy/gal life for at least just one day a year.

QuirkyAlone.com even offers a lovely list of activities for us to do this coming Wednesday, which they’ve deemed “International QuirkyAlone Day.” (Harrumph, that’s got nothin’ on being AOkayByYourselfTIne’s Day in my mind, but whatev….)

Ten Ways to Celebrate International Quirkyalone Day

1. Explore a new part of town—be a tourist in your own city.
2. Throw a slumber party. Particularly fun to rent is Dirty Dancing.
3. Rearrange your furniture.
4. Buy yourself new underwear (throw out all the old ones form the 90s.)
5. Be creative alone, doing whatever it is you like to do (write, paint, sew, upholster furniture, surf, make art of out dryer lint).
6. Be creative with friends and/or a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse. Have an arts and crafts party or cook a meal together.
7. Buy yourself or a friend a bunch of daisies. Daisies are the official flower of the quirkyalone movement.
8. Volunteer for a cause you believe in.
9. Get cozy in bed with a book. Quirkyalone: A Manifesto for Uncompromising Romantics would of course be a good choice--and/or Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke (perhaps the original self-help book for quirkyalones) and/or The Vagabond by Colette and/or The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap by Stephanie Coontz and/or even The Flaneur by Edmund Wilson.
10. Come to or host a quirkyalone party!

Finally, there was this this piece in the Boston Globe a while back about the rising popularity of single folks, as well as an update from Newsweek on the 20-year anniversary of their famous statement that a 40-year-old single woman was "more likely to be killed by a terrorist" than to ever marry.

Get out there and be A Okay By Yourselves, folks!

You are OUT OF CONTROL, Extreme Makeover Home Edition

Tonight "Extreme Makeover Home Edition" took the "Extreme" part way, way, WAY too seriously. Can I just offer a summary from this week's 2-part episode?

• A Marine needs a new home. (Really, this should be enough, but wait...)
• This Marine saved the lives of two police officers on 9/11. (but wait, there's more)
• After saving the lives of these two cops, the Marine just disappeared, and they were unable to ever thank or acknowledge him. (oh MAN...)
• While working on a sculpture for the Marine's house, (a sculpture, incidently of the American flag) a staffer is injured. (the American flag, people)
• The injured staffer is actually British, making it all the more poignant that he's injured while working on the American flag. (i.e., "We are all Americans...")
• The injured staffer is understandably scared and weeps for most of his ride to the hospital, confessing that his wife is pregnant with TRIPLETS. (Jesus, triplets, people)
• While in the hospital, the injured British worker bravely and sternly tells Ty that he has to promise to "finish the flag" for the Marine. (Again, the injured British worker with TRIPLETS on the way that has been injured while carving an AMERICAN FLAG...)
• Back at the work site, Pauly is presented with a set of flags from the local Marine recruiting group to honor the hero. (This actually isn't too extreme, Pauly cries in Every. Single. Episode.)
• A gospel singer sings "God Bless America" while the local police department raises these three flags on this guys' front yard. (Kleenex is being pulled out by the dozen at this point...)
• On the day of the unveiling, the crowd waiting for the family chants "USA! USA! USA!" There are are American flags up the wazoo and Marines march in formation to escort him to his front door. (I....I....just...)
• When the marine gets to see the new house, he WEEPS. (Yes, he weeps. A big, burly stoic Marine loses it and weeps)
• For the big finale, Ty presents a carved foot locker that he built for the Marine which holds the boots this guy wore on September 11 that still have dust on them from the buildings. Ty then points out that the soles of the shoes are melted. From the heat of the rubble. The shoes. That the Marine. Wore. When he anonymously saved the lives of two police officers. On 9/11.....

Seriously, Extreme Makeover Home Edition, it's TOO MUCH this week. You need to step off for a month or so so that I can pull myself together after this one.

What a difference a day makes

As the story I read this morning states, "Archaeologists in Italy have discovered a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, hugging each other."

My first reaction was "AWWWWWWW. That's adorable."

But now, later in the day, I've had time to think (and let the bitterness sink in) and now I'm realizing that apparently EVEN SKELETONS HAVE SOUL MATES AND I DON'T HAVE A SOUL MATE.

t's time to check out Match.com or something before the next headline reads, "Skeleton of single, bitter Seattle woman buried a thousand years ago found surrounded by twenty obese cat skeletons and dozens of bottles of vodka."

The World of Beth Becomes a Character on thirtysomething

So I'm 33 as of yesterday, making me officially "thirtysomething." This makes me think about that awful show from the 80's with the same name. Are we really as old as they seemed on that show? With my rickety self-assembled Ikea furniture it just doesn't seem like I'm able to put myself in the same category as Hope and Michael. They seemed so...adult. She wore pearls for frick's sake.

Ironically for as much complaining and philosophizing as I did leading up to the big 3-0, now that I'm actually in my thirties, I'm feeling pretty young and carefree. Get me, bein' able to eat popsicles for dinner if I want to! Get me, consciously not flossing! I'm on a rampage, world be warned...viva free spirit-edness! Here's to happy hours and twelve dollar manicures and overspending in used book stores!

Anyhoo. I'm babbling.

After celebrating my bid day yesterday over brie, Prosecco, fondue AND an assortment of lovely "pampering"-themed gifts, its time to chill out this weekend and do a bunch of errands....peace out peeps.