Tag Archives: fun

Because Why Wouldn’t You Go Rollerblading?

If you want to know what I was like as a preteen, just imagine a glittery baby blue Limited Too cami, hair straightened with a clothes iron, too much eyeliner, and of course, Rollerworld. I ruled Rollerworld like it was Fangtasia and I was Pam. The Rollerworld of Saugus, Massachusetts is where I learned girl code, how to be Mexican (hey, I’m 25%),  and of course, how to grind while rollerblading. Friday night Rollerworld dances were my transition into the raunchy world of teenage desire, where shaking your booty to Lil’ Kim was mandatory.


Actual photo of Rollerworld — I can’t help but imagine the number of semi-boners that existed on this dance floor at one time.

I only wish I had tapes made of me and my skinny twig legs rollerblading around with an underdeveloped ass and overdeveloped boobs trying to twerk my way into a boy’s line of vision. It didn’t help that the two girls I always went to these dances were mostly Italian and had Beyoncé (from Destiny’s Child days) booties without even having to drop it low. Mannn, I dropped it low though; but it didn’t look natural — I looked more like Gumby with blossoming breasts bending over than an attractive young female purposefully making dance moves.


There I am!

So, obviously, when Anna asked if I wanted to go rollerblading tonight, I said yes. Because obviously I need to relive my raunchy youth more and as much as I loved almost dying after hiking yesterday, I’d prefer to exercise without realizing I’m doing it. (Ellen Page also really romanticized rollerblading for me in a kick ass way). Matti, however, when asked, did not understand the draw to rollerblading. My initial reaction to this was severe outrage which then obviously led to the questioning of our entire relationship and how I could be with someone who doesn’t see the inherit amazingness of floating on rollerblades in a giant indoor arena with a bunch of other adults trying to be kids. But then I realized, without Matti at our rollerblading adventure, I could TRULY relive my Rollerworld glory days. (Hey, babe, if you’re reading this, you cannot get mad at me if I bring home an 18-year-old rollerblader with an active spirit and a youthful disposition. You decided not to come and this is just who I am now).

Anyways, redoers, prepare for a literary feast of descriptions of me rollerblading to hip hop music with teenagers circling around me, chanting, “ROLL, ROLL, ROLL” tomorrow because that’s what us ‘bladers do. Tomorrow’s post will be rollerific (copyright?).

But now for truly important matters:

If you REALLY love me like you say you do, you will go right now to look at this picture of Sir Tengo, my princely pup, and comment with a caption for a chance to win amazingly unique and ridiculous prizes from me! (Seriously, where else can you win a homemade ninja star AND official US Postal Service postmaster junior stickers.) There are two awesome entries so far but we need more! You will also win my undying love and respect which, of course, is invaluable. Mostly though, Tengo likes to hear me read the captions to him out loud so he can imagine being on puppy adventures. You have till Friday, you animals.

Cute Dogs, Contests, and Prizes, Oh My!

Hello redoers (yes, yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on) in the middle of writing you a brilliantly entertaining review of that time I went out and got drunk off a margarita and a half, I realized I haven’t giving you anything recently (besides my relentlessly graceful wit). I also realized I haven’t bragged to you about how amazingly adorable my prince pup, Tengo is. So here’s our chance!

Now introducing the first annual Prince Tengo Caption contest! Can you feel the excitement? The anticipation? It’s pungent (most likely because Tengo hasn’t taken a bath in a while).

ninjastarI’m going to provide you with a picture of Tengo in one of his princely positions and the winner will receive — wait for it — the intricately crafted colorful ninja star from the first installment of What’s In My Purse as well as some of my official US Postal Service Junior Postmaster stickers (and of course, a personalized note from yours truly which, let’s face it, will someday be worth a lot more than we think)!

A little bit of background for creativity sake: Tengo has long battled his nemesis, Mirror Tengo (the dog living inside the mirrored sliding doors of our closet), upon realizing, however, that Tengo can go behind the other side of the mirror, Tengo revealed his true self:

tengo's eyes


  • The funniest, cleverest caption will win. Make me and Tengo laugh (it’s been a long week).
  • Winner(s) will be announced Friday, August 2nd.
  • Enter your caption by commenting on this post.
  • Feel free to campaign for your favorite caption through comments as well.
  • Enter as many captions as you want!
  • Entertain me, please, I’m asking very nicely.
  • Email me at aly.dixon210@gmail.com with any questions
  • Andddddd…. caption!

Reflections from the Fourth of July: Things that ALWAYS Happen

Growing up, the Fourth of July was the day everyone in my family was expected to drag their asses out of bed and do something patriotic. For me, it was the relay races. All the bitter resentment of never getting the most athletic awards at school brought out in me the ultimate relay race beast. And I was proud of it. I never went a year without medaling. I still have these morsels of accomplishment hanging from my old bowling trophies, because yes, I was once in a bowling league (Fair warning for anyone who ever bowls with me “for fun” in the future).

In Wakefield, MA we had this tremendously loud parade, chalk full of decorated tricycles, little league banners, and baton swinging band geeks in their time of glory. People would leave their chairs overnight on the streets to save seats. You would think these people were preparing to wait all night in line for the new Xbox, but in this case the Xbox was a ridiculously long flow of wailing fire trucks, dancing middle schoolers and retired firemen. So, you can see the appeal.

Inevitably, however, every Fourth, something inexplicably burdensome would happen. Like Grammie falling over at the parade, making it impossible for her to move without her walker, resulting in the entire family circling around her like a life force, charging the crowd like we were the Sharks and everyone else was the Jetts. But this is just one of the many things that happens on the Fourth.

This is what else can happen when you choose to be patriotic and leave your house on the Fourth of July:

  • Someone is going to get really anxious about parking. I can say this with confidence because this person is usually me. But of course, there’s always the worry: we’re not gonna get there on time, we’re gonna miss the fireworks, etc.
  • Someone is going to think they know-it-all about where to park. I dare you to tell me that on the car ride to wherever it is you’re going on the Fourth, there isn’t someone shouting, “we can get closer! I know we can get closer!”
  • Someone is going to have to stop on the way to pee. You’ve already parked your car and now you are walking. As a young girl who grew up with a mother who had Colitis, frequent bathroom breaks are par for the course. It’s either this or listen to your mother complain that she shit her pants. You will decide to stop at McDonald’s in fear of what the porter potties will have in store. There will be a fifteen person line at the McDonald’s women’s restroom. You and your weak-bladdered cohort will be stuck in this line as men briskly walk in and out of their bathroom. You may even explain to the little girl in line in front of you that this is how life will be from here on out — men peeing whenever they want while you, as a female, wait in the line at McDonald’s.
  • You’re going to wish you brought a chair for a moment but on second thought, you’re glad you didn’t have to carry a chair. On the way back to the car, you’ll relish the emptiness of your hands.
  • Someone is going to spill a drink all over the middle of the blanket you are on. Sometimes, this person is you. It is best to be very apologetic and remain calm in this situation just don’t get your hopes up that it will dry in time for the fireworks. You’re better than that.
  • The group you are with will get split up and you will be forced to find them in the middle of the fireworks. There’s nothing easier than finding your way back to a four-person group in complete darkness in the middle of a vast field lined with people on blankets looking up at the sky as fireworks blare overhead. Of course, your group will be reunited just in time to watch the fireworks finale.
  • There will be a baby crying somewhere, loudly, for the entire duration of the fireworks. You will not be upset but rather, amazed at the amount of babies that are not crying as tremendously loud bursts of fire explode in the sky.
  • You will take twenty, blurry, unimpressive, dark pictures of almost fireworks that you will end up deleting that night. You will realize you spent more time trying to take a picture of the fireworks than actually enjoying the fireworks.
...And this was one of the better ones.

…And this was one of the better ones.

  • You will be jealous of all the kids will cool light wands that their parents bought for them. There’s just never a time I don’t want a light wand.
  • The fireworks will end and you will inevitably sigh and think out loud, “that’s it?” It will seem like you got to the park to watch the fireworks like five minutes ago because the show only lasted fifteen minutes. You will make your way like a sheep to the park exit like all the other thousands of people. You will think, “well, what’s more patriotic than sitting in traffic for an hour to get two miles?” 

By the time you get home, the Fourth of July will be over.

Keep Your Imagination; It Makes You Look Cooler

Teach me how to Heely...

Teach me how to Heely…

While at Thundercloud Subs the other day, a future punk strolled by on Heelys, forcing Matti (my nicer half) into a mini rage: “I fucking HATE kids with wheelies, I wanna clothesline them every time.”

I wondered what it was about Heelys that make so many people upset–you know those magical wheels that pop out of what seem to be normal shoes but are only socially acceptable for kids to use (because normal adults just rollerblade). It reminded me of a story I would tell the third and fourth graders I worked with about flying:

“Hey guys,” I pulled them aside as if to say I’m going to be cool now so you loudmouths better shut up, “I want to tell you the story of when I almost flew.” As Adam* began leading the group in a makeshift Gangnam Style routine I decided to try again.

“GUYS! Did you ever think maybe you could fly…”

Peter* was interested. He loved when I got into this mood and also when I was silly and talked with a lisp: “Can I have a ssship of your sssshoda for ssshussshtenance” was his favorite.

As their little, creepy eyes focused on me I told them how I used  to stand on my picnic table and flap my arms super fast and jump off.

“I swear you guys, I got a little higher every time.” And then I dropped my mic on the floor and walked away. 

Whenever I told the kids this story they half looked at me like I was crazy (which was fine) and half like I was the coolest person in the world. Who could blame them? As upper elementary schoolers they were entering the prick stage of adolescence where make believe wasn’t exactly cool anymore. Well, I want make believe to always be cool and I wish I still believed I could fly. Also, stop playing Minecraft on Gameboys you assholes (Okay, Minecraft is actually better for kids than most of those games).

So I think the hating on Heelys thing has something to do with us adults being super jealous of kids and losing our own sense of wonder. And no, letting your child still believe in Santa Claus doesn’t mean you still have a sense of wonder–it means you’re just like every other person that celebrates Christmas.

It may also be the fact that kids on Heelys are often punks that fly by you in the grocery store, forcing you to drop an Amy’s Chili on your bunion toe. I would laugh in Matti’s face if he were to start rolling around Whole Foods like an overgrown pre-punk with facial hair, but would it be that jealous kind of laughter where secretly you wish you were the one people were laughing at? Definitely yes. Always yes. I want to be the person rolling around in Heelys in Whole Foods, forever. Envisioning this makes me happier than most things.

Who knows, there could be an adult Heely gang out there I don’t know about and that makes me super happy. Let’s all jump off picnic tables together and roll off into the sunset.

How do you keep your wonder as an adult and would you join my Heelys gang?

*These names are made up due to the fact I don’t want to be sued.

“Ipad Time” and Other Ways to Make Your Child an Adult at Age Four

This is the best thing that happened today. As I lay by the pool contemplating ways to enhance my twitter following the sweetest angel child was swimming while singing, “motorboat motorboat go really fast motor boat motor boat put your foot on the gas!” as a woman gently circled him around her, creating the cutest baby waves. Of course, he was about five or six and couldn’t pronounce his r’s correctly which immediately forced me to fall in love with him. But the real best thing ever was this:

(Unknown mom/nanny/auntie figure): “You know you earned 30 minutes of iPad time for going right to bed last night!”
Angel boy: “Ipad time?”
Mom/nanny/auntie: “Do you wanna go use your iPad time? (Homegirl was clearly done playing the motorboat game.)
Angel boy: “I don’t want iPad time I wanna keep swimming!”

The look on nanny mom’s face was that of perplexity. How could this boy not want to hop into virtual Minecraft world like every other kid?

Little background here: I worked as site director of an afterschool program for mostly privileged white kids (most of whom I absolutely loved) who couldn’t entertain themselves with a game of twister and some cool beats. Who doesn’t love twister? These kids died for the opportunity to bring in their electronics. Which I realize was probably because they had such a variety of electronic goodies they didn’t want any to not be used and feel left out. Which, to me, is eerily comparable to the way I treated my beanie babies in second grade. In me and my generation’s defense, however, creativity is actually involved in playing with beanie babies.

With these kids I found myself constantly stopping and catching myself sounding EXACTLY like my mother when it came to their electronics: “Put that DS/ipad/gameboy away right now or it’s mine for the day!” But I would not lose this battle due to my inability to be in touch with the world of gadgets. I’m Gen Y! I’m young and hip! We invented Facebook! I used to have a V-Tech laptop that would sing me the alphabet, c’mon! And these kids were often ruthless. When one of the little boys who didn’t have many friends brought his gadgets in, he’d end up loaning them out like library books to kids who promised friendship in return, for the hour they were allowed to play at least. Turdy mean kids was what they were. (Mind you, most of these turds were no longer allowed to bring in their electronics because they were TURDS). What pissed me off the most was getting these kids to accept the rules of games like musical chairs and actually play was like getting them to pay their taxes (which I also had to do but we’ll talk more about this some other time). Most of them could not except the idea of not winning at the end. They were too used to have their own personal computers where if they lost, well, they could turn the damn thing off and start again.

In reality, I’m scared. Just like I’m sure my mother was when we bought this crazy new thing called the computer. My mother still does not think she can use a computer because she doesn’t know “how to get into the thing once she’s looking at the screen.” What she means by this is, she can not understand that the mouse leads to wires that hook up to a monitor that you can move and click to get to places and sites (and yes, this is by the way, the technical way to explain how a mouse works.)

I refuse to be my mother though, at least in this aspect (because she’s pretty kick ass in a lot of other ways). I will not mess up social networking sites names by called them “FaceSpace” or give up on technology without ever trying. Come to think of it, even my mom eventually learned to Google. Her first search was for Charlie Sheen–she had no reason whatsoever, she just really likes the show Two and a Half Men. She even called me to tell me about it; it was an extremely exciting day for her.

Anyway, this little swimmer angel had my respect, especially since when I was five, the only thing I wanted to do was show my dad how well I could keep my head above water in our pool. So, we need to not forget about that whole creativity thing that kids are supposed to cherish and be really good at it. Like when I babysat two boys that only wanted to do Star Wars reenactments all day with guns made from legos. There is a picture that exists of me with a stormtrooper helmet on that is nowhere to be found and that I will use as an example of why no one is allowed to delete pictures off my phone ever again (Also, I didn’t even have to look up the name Stormtroopers. I totally knew it). Playing Star Wars with kids is fun. Sitting next to a kid looking at a screen while you also look at a screen and virtually kill each other isn’t fun (because I said so!).

Look how fun all that stuff looks! Those kids are having fun! I love this commercial because it’s sort of teasing kids that sit and stare at a computer screen all day, even if its not meaning to. I mean, you don’t have to go to California to play soccer on the beach with your friends but I get it. We need to cut it out with the “Ipad time.” Why can’t it be “imagination time” or “write in your journal time.” I even choose television over Ipad time because at least some shows make an effort at promoting creativity and moral values. Angry birds is a menace with no meaning. Why should “Ipad time” be the prize? Aren’t kids sitting around enough at school all day?

I’m sure I’m going to read this when I have kids and laugh in my own face but still, turn off the damn Ipad already!