trish bendix

Is that Johnny talking?

Posted in Uncategorized by trishbendix on December 27, 2007

I’ve been on the hunt for gray nail polish ever since I read that such a thing exists. It never occurred to me before that I might enjoy wearing nail polish again, but for some reason gray strikes me as the worthy color. I wasn’t been able to find it yet, as I was in Michigan until late last night. I couldn’t see any movies I actually wanted to see in Saginaw, so I definitely can’t find gray nail polish. Instead, my nails remain naked and I joined my parents in seeing Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. My favorite parts of the film include cameos by Jack White as Elvis and Ghostface Killah (who plays himself.) I also enjoyed when they showed a bunch of naked women on screen my mom said nothing, yet as soon as a penis was exposed she asked “What’s this rated!?”

Christmas itself felt like it was over before it happened, after several previous celebrations of the holiday. It was odd to be at home with only my parents (and grandma, who joins us some of the time). It’s too quiet without Kate around, or without Jamie and Stella to entertain me while my parents watch sitcoms starring Charlie Sheen. I did manage to watch two holiday movies (Love Actually and The Family Stone) and participated in other family traditions such as helping my dad pick out my mom’s gifts (Macy’s, not Sears for Estee Lauder) and wrapping presents poorly while making them passable. (Digression: When I lived in Los Angeles for an internship my first year of college, I worked at Borders on the weekends. It wasn’t until after I was already on the job that I learned gift wrapping would be part of our free services, year round. No one had bothered to inquire if I was any good at wrapping, or to teach me a proper method of wrapping. Christmas reminds me of disgruntled customers and the C-list stars who shopped there.)

We don’t have too many surprises under the tree, as my family are all notoriously fickle and generally without too many ideas for their Christmas list. I picked out a couple of books for myself (including Riot Grrrl: Revolution Style Now) that my mom wrapped and put under the tree despite my telling her it was unnecessary. Even though I’d given her most of her gifts when she came to Chicago, I purchased her a Rod Stewart CD for her weekday drives to work, and a “fashion carrying case” for her new digital camera. For my dad, practicality: car wash, a pint of Johnny Walker, oil change gift certificates and a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. Apparently my dad was a huge Scotch drinker back in the day, though now his poison of choice is Miller Lite. His old coaching buddy used to ask him “Bruce, is that you talking or is that Johnny talking?” so I adapted this all weekend, even when he hadn’t been drinking.

My mom drove me to Kalamazoo for my late night train, and we figured out that neither of us know all of the lyrics to “Borderline,” both of us have at one point had a crush on Justin Timberlake (me, 1999; her, 2007), and to Michigan radio stations, Everlast’s “What it’s Like” will never get old.

Before my train left, we went to Sushiya with my aunt and uncle to meet my cousin and his new fiancee.

I wish I had more time and reason to stick around Kalamazoo. I used to visit on weekends with Mckenna and Beth until they relocated to Philly, and I miss it. I was able to whiz by the huge Santa Claus standing downtown by the Radisson and Bronson Park all lit up with their candy cane-lined pathways.

On the train, the girl next to me listened to Billy Joel off of the “13 Going on 30” soundtrack and the Goo Goo Dolls. I read my book and waited patiently to get home an hour after schedule.

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