Meg Cabot - Every Boy’s Got One

You do have kind of a lot.

Excuse me. Nine out of ten people found dead after getting lost in the desert actually have water left in their canteens, they were just so concerned about conserving it, they didn’t drink enough of it to survive. It’s true. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.

Okay, okay. But what do you think of him???? Do you like him? He’s cute, right? I told you he was cute.

He seems very… smart.

The Blackberry thing. I knew it. I told Mark to tell him to put that thing away. I know nothing freaks you out more than guys who are smarter than you.

I can’t believe you just wrote that. First of all, it’s not even true, and second of all, in no way is Cal smarter than me. I mean, yes, he has traveled all over the world covering news stories about grisly wars and Ebola outbreaks and has written a book and stuff, but that does not mean he is smarter than I am. I mean, can he draw a cat?

Besides which, I happen to like smart men.

Right. Like Malcolm.

Oh, that’s low, even for you. I will have you know that Malcolm can do a 360-degree spin in midair and not lose his board.

You have got to stop dating snowboarders and musicians, Jane. You’re 30 years old now. You’ve got to start thinking about the future, and date people who will actually stick around for a change, instead of going off to their next X-Game or gig.

Maybe I don’t WANT a boyfriend who sticks around. Have you ever thought about that?

Then why did you cry so much those first couple weeks after Malcolm moved out?

I just felt bad for The Dude. You know they’d bonded.

Yeah, well, there’s that, too. The Dude needs some stability in his life. He might not bite people as much if he had a positive male role model in his life. The same could be said of you. Plus, financially, you’d be much better off with a partner who actually has steady employment. As a freelancer, you are paying a premium for health insurance. If you married a guy who had his own insurance— through, say, the paper—that’d be a big chunk of change saved. Plus you’d have security. And a 401K.

This is pretty funny coming from a woman who once spent an entire month’s rent money on a pair of purple leather pants.

Hello. Can we talk about things that happened in this millennium, please?

Fine. You know what? It’s very unfair of you to throw all that stuff about 401Ks and all of that into my face, when you know perfectly well that I HAD all that when I was dating DAVE, and you saw how THAT turned out.

OK, well, I’ll admit walking in on your boyfriend in bed with your HR rep can be psychologically scarring. Especially considering it was Amy Jenkins. But you’ll recall that I ALWAYS told you it was never a good idea to date a foreigner. You can never tell when they’re lying.

Hello. Dave was BRITISH.

Yes, but that accent had us fooled. If he’d been from this country, we’d have known right away he was an HR rep—who re monger. But really, Janie, just because things didn’t work out with Dave is no reason  to start dating unemployed losers half his age—

Need I remind you that Malcolm is not unemployed? You know he got that big Winter Cal Games contract. That’s the only reason he left. I mean, he had to move up to Canada. For the snow.

And the fact that he was a chronic wake and baker had nothing to do with you ENCOURAGING him to move.

Well, at least he isn’t an anal-retentive control freak like SOME people who happen to be sitting next to me, HOGGING THE ARMREST.

Jane, your bedroom still smells like the inside of a bong.

It is so typical of you to bring this up at a sensitive time like this. After all, YOU’RE the bride. I’m only the bridesmaid. Or witness. Or whatever.

Well, other than the “smart” thing, what do you think of Cal? Do you like him?

I get fan mail from Wondercat readers in SRI LANKA, Holly. SRI LANKANS have heard of Wondercat. But not Mark’s friend Cal.

So? Have you ever read any of his articles on land-mines?

At least I know what a land mine is!!!!!!!!!

Just try to get along with him, will you? Because otherwise it’s going to be a really long trip.

No problem. Now stop writing to me, please, my food is here.

___________________________________________

Benvenuti in

(Welcome to)

Alitalia Inflight Menu

Durante il volo da New York a Roma verra servita la cena e, prima dell’ arrivo, la colazione. I piatta che gusterete sono stati preparati per voi. Buon appetito.

(During the flight from New York to Rome we will be serving dinner and then, prior to arrival, breakfast. The dishes on today’s menu have been specially prepared for you. Enjoy your meal.)

~~Cena~~

Farfalle al pomodoro pachino e foglie di basilico Rolle di tacchinella e broccoletti accompagnata da caponata de melanzane e patate

(Farfalle pasta shapes in a fresh pachino tomato and basil sauce Turkey roll with broccoli stuffing served with aubergine stew and potatoes)

Oppure

(Or)

Filetti de pescatrice con potage de zucchine e insalata Catalana

(Monk fish fillet with green zucchini potage and Catalan style salad)

Assortimento dei fromaggi, accompagnali da composte di frutta e cruditees Caffe “Espresso” e cioccolatini

(Cheese assortment accompanied by crudites and fresh fruit compote Italian “Espresso” coffee and chocolates)

___________________________________________

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Oh my God. The Italian food on the plane is better than the Italian takeout around the corner from my apartment. And I thought their insalata caprese was to die for.

The movie is starting. It’s the new Hugh Jackman! OH MY GOD, I HAVE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN! I AM GOING TO EUROPE WITH MY BEST FRIEND AND THEY ARE SHOWING A HUGH JACKMAN MOVIE ON THE PLANE.

If only the Armrest Nazi would MOVE HIS ELBOW.

PDA of Cal Langdon

As usual, the food on this flight is barely edible. And what passes for entertainment in this country these days is truly depressing. The in-flight movie appears to be yet another romantic comedy about a harried young career woman who finds love in a completely unexpected place. My traveling companion is watching it with rapt attention, as she swills from her many, many bottles of water. She is clearly envisioning herself in the role of the harried young career woman.

I think I can say with a certain amount of confidence that she is NOT picturing me in the role of the handsome young leading man. In fact, her marked lack of enthusiasm for me borders almost on the comical. She is taking great pains never to allow her elbow to touch mine on our mutual armrest, as if she fears she might contract some sort of deadly virus from doing so.

And all this, because I happened to remark on her rather remarkable penchant for bottled water.

Oh, and the Crazy Cat thing. Or Wondercat. How was I to know Wondercatis a comic strip, and that she is its creator? I haven’t read a comic since Mark and I were kids, and used to shell out 35 cents a week for the latest edition of Spider-Manat the Big Red Food Mart. I certainly have never made a habit of reading comic strips in the newspaper—not since I turned ten. The newspapers I choose to read don’t have comic strips in them.

Although I don’t suppose it would be politic to admit that, seeing as how the tome we all work for features two pages of comics daily—not to mention horoscopes and Dear Abby. In fact, now that I’ll be living in one place for an extended period of time, I suppose I’ll have to start subscribing. So I have that to look forward to. In addition to so many other joys I’ve missed while I’ve been living out of a bag, such as apartment hunting, buying various electronic devices like a toaster and stereo equipment, and waiting all day for the cable guy who promised to come between ten and two, and then didn’t show.

Ah! Domesticity! How I haven’t missed you!

But I suppose domesticity can have its benefits. Mark is happier than I’ve ever seen him. He seems almost to welcome the noose that awaits his neck at the end of this journey. Although I suppose when the noose looks like Holly…

And she does, I’ll admit, seem to think about topics outside of her nails and yoga and Must See TV, unlike most of the American women I’ve encountered lately. I even had an intelligent conversation with her last week about Gore Vidal.

But I had intelligent conversations with Valerie in the early days, as well.

And as for this friend of Holly’s… I don’t know. I suppose allowances must be made because she’s an artist.

But is cartooning really art? My mother would surely think so.

But Mom thinks the lint she picks from the dryer and hot-glues to clothespins is art. And sadly, she is supported in this belief by the art community of Tucson, where she’s lately set up a studio.

Still, though she may be an artist, Ms. Harris does have very shiny hair. It’s brown, like her eyes.

The tattoo of a cat head—Wondercat, I’m supposing—she wears just above her right ankle is somewhat off-putting, however. And her mouth never seems to stop moving. Now she’s telling the flight attendant how much she enjoyed the male lead’s last film, in which he played some kind of mutant.

This seat is so uncomfortable. I can just fit into it, if I don’t inhale.

Oh, well. I’ve slept in worse places. At least there aren’t any guerrillas hiding in nearby undergrowth, waiting for the opportunity to slit my throat. Or snakes.

God, I hate snakes.

So that’s something, anyway.

___________________________________________ 

Benvenuti in

(Welcome to)

Alitalia Inflight Menu

Colazione

(Breakfast)

Spremuta fresca di arancia

Omelette alle erbe fini con funghi, pomodori e bacon ala griglia

Assortimento di tieviti e pano tostate caldi

Caffe, te, latte

Freshly squeezed orange juice

Herb omelette accompanied with mushrooms, grilled cherry tomatoes, and bacon

Assortment of pastries and croissants

Coffee, tea, milk

___________________________________________

Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine

Jane Harris

Cell Phone Guy was right. There is plenty of water on board this flight. There’s also a lot of wine. Being drunk by the very loud group of people behind us. Who keep yelling to the flight attendant in Italian so I don’t know what they’re saying. But it doesn’t sound very nice.

I also don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate to drink wine with breakfast, which is what they just woke us all up to have. I would have preferred to sleep for the rest of the flight, since it seems like we just had dinner after all.

But they came around with the cart and asked us all if we wanted breakfast and that woke everybody up, and now we’re all cranky. But especially me because I fell asleep with my mascara still on and I guess it got kind of gunked up underneath the sleeping mask they gave us, and when the flight attendant woke me up to ask me if I wanted breakfast and I took off my sleeping mask, I still couldn’t see him because my eyelashes were all stuck together. And then he said, “Oh, no, I think not,” about me wanting breakfast in a kind of horrified voice.

So then I had to hurry to the bathroom to try to pick the chunks of mascara from my eyes before Cal could see it. Which he didn’t, thank God, because he was still asleep.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that Cal woke up while I was gone, and I guess went to the other bathroom, where I suppose he brushed his teeth with the little kit they gave us just like I did, because his breath was minty fresh when he replied to the question I asked him, which I only asked him to be polite and make conversation, something I’ll be sure not to do again where he’s concerned.