Funtalia (fun-tal-ya)

Here’s to ten years of adulthood!

A lot has happened since high school.  Within the last ten years, I have:

• Graduated from the college I always wanted to
• Found the man I always dreamed of
• Gotten married in the place I always aimed for
• Vacationed in Hawaii for the first time
• Volunteered at the Olympics for the last time
• Voted for President three times
• Lived in a foreign country
• Learned a foreign language
• Loved a foreign culture
• Stood up for my beliefs
• Stood by my family
• Stood out in my job
• Lost a grandfather
• Lost my father
• Not lost faith
• Gained perspective
• Gained friends
• Gained weight
• Bought a house
• Renovated a house
• Rented a bought and renovated house
• Gotten pregnant
• Gotten an epidural
• Gotten a little best friend
• Moved to a new state
• Moved to a new house
• Moved toward the future with optimism!

I’m especially optimistic this birthday will be better than my last one.  (That shouldn’t be hard.)  Now, go put on a little purple in my honor (see previous post) and think of me today.

Oh yeah, one more thing…Happy birthday to my two-years-younger, little red-headed birthday twin, C.H., with whom I have shared many birthday extravaganzas!  Try to have fun without me this year!

I just ran across this quiz and decided to take it since it was only five questions total.  (Now that I’m out of school, I refuse to complete anything longer than that.)  The test concluded that if I were any color crayon, I would be purple.

This is noteworthy since, until recently, I have almost always said that purple was my favorite color.  I have only stopped saying that not because I don’t like purple anymore, but because: first, it makes me sound like a four-year-old girl; and second, I came to the realization that I have different favorite colors depending on the item.  For example, there is not even a splash of purple in my house; I’m just not hippie enough for a living room with purple drapes and bongo drum ottomans.  However, my history with purple cannot be overlooked.  After all, I did have a purple party for my 11th birthday where all attendees were required to wear as much of it as possible.  (Consequently, my family likes to ask if they need to wear purple to my birthday party each year.)  However, despite their harassment, I’m thinking that maybe I should bring it back…I love a party with a dress code!  While you wait for me to get my guest list together, take a look at my quiz results below:

You Are a Purple Crayon

Your world is colored in dreamy, divine, and classy colors. You hold yourself to a sky high standard, and you are always graceful. People envy, idolize, and copy you without realizing it. You are an icon for those who know you. And while it is hard to be a perfectionist, rest assured it’s paying off! Your color wheel opposite is yellow. While yellow people may be wise, they lack the manners and class needed to impress you.

Can you do that?  The farmers and I want to.  Hawaii and Arizona already do.  There’s just something immoral about waking up in the middle of the night.  I so tie tie.  For this reason, I have decided to boycott DST today.  I’ll update the “VidPick of the Week” and write a better post tomorrow.  For now, I’m going back to bed to reclaim my hour.

Oh, if that were really possible…

If you have any good stories of how Daylight Savings has made you look the fool, do tell.  I love self-deprecating stories!

Thanks for reading (I really do appreciate it), but I was actually referring to all the people to whom I need to send thank you notes ASAP.  I still haven’t sent out thank you cards for Christmas or any event since.  I was tempted to say “Eh, too much time has passed.  Now it’s just going to look tacky,” but then I received two Christmas cards out of the blue yesterday from completely UNrelated parties (crazy coincidence, right?).  So I figured if both of these people were comfortable with sending out their season’s greetings in March, then I really shouldn’t be worried about being thankful only a few (okay several) weeks late.  Besides, I appreciated the senders’ thoughtfulness regardless of their timing.  (I only hope my thankees will feel the same way.)

Now I recently read an article suggesting planet preservation through sending out thank yous via email and scrapping the physical thank you card altogether.  Listen, I’m all for saving the earth, but I found this suggestion plain silly - don’t you agree?  Should we really cut out one of the few surviving formal acts of gratitude to save such small a piece of decorative cardstock?  Can’t we just outlaw junk mail instead?  (Of course, then I would probably encounter an empty mailbox more often than not and I wouldn’t want that…such a sad feeling.)  Going back to the virtual thank you though, please allow me to clarify that I, personally, do not mind receiving a thank you by email at all.  I was just raised by a woman who attended a private finishing school for girls (very hoidy toidy), so handwritten cards were the only acceptable way to go in my house.  Besides, the “World Wide Web” was just some computer nerd space term back then anyway.

Ultimately, because of my mom’s insistence (aka twice daily nagging until the note was written), I gained a testimony of thank you notes and much interest in the cute stationery industry.  I have yet to purchase any fancy personalized cards, but I’m really considering splurging on some cute ones soon.  You might want to do the same.  Since gratitude is always in fashion, go here, here, or here and say thank you in style.

Merci.  Grazie.  Danke.  Gracias.  Obrigada.

I’ve never seen the original Freaky Friday with Jodi Foster when she was a little boy, but I read the book when I was younger and I own the DVD of the new version, and I must say I LOVE IT!  My favorite part?  When the mom trapped in her daughter’s body pulls down her friend’s shirt to cover her midriff.  It makes me laugh like a crazy person.

I was trying to think of a clever post about what it would be like to swap spots with my mom when I came to the shocking conclusion that I have already begun morphing into her.  I see it even more in my older sisters.  Over time, I guess you just slowly start to become your mother.  Thankfully, my siblings and I have rubbed off a lot on her as well.  My little sister and I pretty much forced her into watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Dawson’s Creek with us every week as teenagers.  She’ll pretend like she wasn’t that into them and she makes it clear that she did not approve of some topics they addressed, but who shed tears during the last episode of Dawson’s Creek?  You guessed it.  Mama.  (And pretty much everyone else in America - that show was SAD.)

I was quite pleased to receive a call from her this past Tuesday morning to discuss the shameful events that took place on the season finale of The Bachelor the previous night.  Of course, we kids can’t get all the credit; she is the one who passed her passion for pop culture down to us in the first place.  The woman knows every TV/movie star and to whom they’re related from the black-and-white era.  (Coincidentally, they’re all of our current stars’ moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas.)  It’s amazing the connection you feel to celebrities once you understand their pedigrees.

I really do feel sorry for most outsiders when they enjoy any type of entertainment with more than one of my family members present; it’s like we’re speaking a different language.  One year, my little sister’s boyfriend at the time sat down to watch Freaky Friday with us.  He had apparently been raised inside a hollowed out tree because he was completely clueless when it came to pop culture -  and we were loving it.  (I mean, we had to explain the concept of Full House to him.  Incredible, right?)  We asked him if he was familiar with any of the stars in Freaky Friday, and he replied that he thought he recognized the mom (you mean Jamie Lee Curtis?), but he had no idea who Lindsay Lohan was.  Can you believe that?!  In the end, he was probably better off for it, but it was seriously like watching a movie with an alien.  So awesome!

So what would your typical day include if you were to change places with your mom?  Would it include running to the store for milk and a fieldtrip to Big Lots?  Mine would.  Mine does.

You may have seen the “#1 Song” note going around if you inhabit the virtual (and very friendly) world we call Facebook.  All you do is go to this website (http://www.joshhosler.biz/) and select a date to find out what the #1 song was on that day in history.  On Facebook, the task is to look up the top song on the day you were born, but I’ve decided to take it a little further and look up a few more special days.

Disclaimer: I’ve posted links to all of the following songs for your listening pleasure.  I don’t remember any of them being particularly inappropriate, but I don’t always have the best memory and I was somewhat clueless to content as a teenager since I was rarely really paying attention to the lyrics - it was pretty much all about the beat, baby.

The glorious day of my birth: “I Love a Rainy Night” by Eddie Rabbitt
(I had to play this song to know what it was, but I did recognize it upon hearing it - I guess I was a hip baby.  It’s not bad, and I must say that I really do love a rainy night.)

The day I officially became a teenager: “The Sign” by Ace of Base
(So fitting.  My nickname used to be Lace of Base because I loved them and this song so much.  One day shortly after my oldest sister broke up with her boyfriend, she sang and danced to this song on repeat for me and my little sister while wearing my completely-sequined baseball hat - definitely one of my favorite memories.)

That terrifying first day of high school: “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio
(Everyone would let out a good scream when this song was played at school dances - we LOVED it!  It made us feel so hard core - a regular bunch of dangerous minds.)

My Super Sweet Sixteen: “Wannabe” by Spice Girls
(This makes sense since my greatest memory associated with this song is of blaring it with my windows rolled down as I drove out of the school parking lot right after I got my license.  It didn’t take long before it became very UNcool to like the Spice Girls.  Even so, I still (secretly) loved this song.)

The senior prom: “No Scrubs” by TLC
(An anthem for women - “we don’t want no scrubs.”  Poor grammar had never been cooler.)

My high school graduation: “If You Had My Love” by Jennifer Lopez
(I oddly don’t have any fond memories of this song.  My love of Jennifer Lopez peaked at her portrayal of Selena; it’s all been downhill since then.)

Okay, your turn.  Post your results in the comment box.  No need to include your memories (unless you want to), and you don’t have to list all the occasions I did (especially since you may not have even experienced some of them yet).  Just start by looking up the day you were born and then add whatever other dates (if any) you’d like.  This is fun, right?  Old people aren’t the only ones who can reminisce.

Move over Guantanamo.  There’s a new form of torture that’s making headlines.  In New Zealand, a mall has decided to blast Barry Manilow songs from its speakers as a way to ward off destructive teens.  Apparently, it’s not just Mandy who Barry knows how to send away.  Go ahead and read the whole story here.

If you’re young, then you may not know who Manilow is.  To catch you up, the classic crooner began making hit after hit during the seventies when I think he was actually popular among some teens.  (I can’t say for sure -  I’m not that old - I haven’t seen a day in that decade.)

I WANT to make YOU miserable!

I think this type of torture would work on me.  Even if music and passion were always the fashion at Copacabana, too much easy listening makes me nauseous - turns my insides into mush.  Of course, I don’t think this is the first time this tactic has been used to deter the unwanted.  Hot Topic does a great job blasting its frightening music to keep the likes of me out.  (It’s okay; I haven’t felt the need for a punked out Hello Kitty shirt in quite some time.)  And my older sister and I can’t even stroll by the doors to Hollister (”private club for teens” as my little sister calls it), let alone enter them because of the awful aroma wafting from within its parameters.  (Only teenagers can stand a store that dowses each individual piece of clothing in its signature scent.)

So would this torture treatment work on you, too?  Which song or artist would keep you away?  Do you think Barry is scary?  Or just his fashion sense?

I want some more!  Comments, that is.

Like a little orphan boy, I too hunger for more…feedback.  Thanks to a special wizardry tool called Google Analytics, I know that many more of you are reading my blog than the few of you who are actually commenting.  You don’t understand; your responses are what fuel Funtalia!  I don’t care if you don’t know me personally or even if you have a different opinion than the one I offer, I just want to hear from YOU!  So come on, humor me and take the bait I offer at the end of each post.  Don’t be embarrassed.  From your taste in blogs, I can already tell that your response is going to be the coolest!

Okay, now that my request is known, let’s move forward.

So on a semi-related note, have I told you that I am in love with musicals?  Les Mis, Phantom, Wicked, Moulin Rouge, Chicago, Across the Universe (despite some weird parts in the middle)…classic or new…I love them all!  I always have.  A spicy game of “Girl Talk” in elementary school once caused me to call the boy I liked that week and sing him the song, “I’d Do Anything,” from Oliver!.  I had to.  I couldn’t risk the sticker zit.

(Now they only sell "Hannah Montana" and "That's So Raven" editions, but this is the original "Girl Talk" that I knew and loved. One challenge from the original game: "Tell each player her best and worst features." No wonder they changed it.)

Anyway, enough about girly games.  Are there any other Broadway lovers out there?  I am searching out some kindred show-tune-loving spirits to offer me up any extra tickets you might have! Then after showcasing your extreme generosity, let me know: Do you think Kristen Chenoweth is awfully adorable or absolutely annoying as G(a)linda in Wicked?  Yeah, I go back and forth on that one, too.

Apparently, I am not the first “Funtalia” to grace the Internet’s presence.

Allow me to introduce Lil Bratz “Sno Fun Talia.”  She’s just your typical snow bunny!  While I’ll confess that Bratz dolls have always slightly terrified me with their colossal heads, heavy makeup, evident attitudes, and urban-spelled names, there’s something about them that clearly command your respect.

And now I feel a special kinship with them knowing that one shares this name that I hold so dear.  Besides, Fun Talia and I have more in common than you would think…we both obviously care about fashion.  I wonder if she would let me borrow those furry snow chaps of hers someday.  You don’t see any American Girls donning those babies.

So what was(/is?) your favorite type of doll?  Is it as cool as Fun Talia?  Could anything be as cool as her?  Hmmm…maybe just this blog.

Okay, I try to avoid voodoo magic, but I can’t help but pass this link my little sister just sent me on to you guys: http://paulsadowski.com/numbers.asp.  All you have to do is type in your full birth name and you will receive an instant personality assessment based on numerology.  Let me know if it is as eerily spot-on for you as it was for me.  Creepy.  Cue music please: doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo.