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Archive for July, 2012

Rhymes with ‘Blorty’

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 9:52 AM
Tuesday, July 31, 2012

So I had a major birthday recently – I turned a number that may or may not rhyme with “Blorty”.  A few weeks before the big day, I started noticing new little gifts from the universe – my hearing appears to be fading fast (mom, don’t panic, appt with Dr has already been scheduled), skin here & there feels a bit looser than it used to be, and even my eyesight got worse for a couple days but then it got better again, so go figure.

A sneak preview, maybe?

Admittedly, I am in the best shape of my post-20 year old life. (Can’t compete with my pre-20 yr old self on that front: I was in rocking shape in my pre teens and teens thanks to my love of waterskiing, swimming and other crazy sports that kept my naturally – back then – skinny body in awesome shape, even while I ate the amount of food two teenage boys consume.)

But man, oh man, am I WORKING HARD to be & stay in this shape.

I mean, JAYSUS!

But even while I do about 45 minutes of crazy work out stuff about 5 days a week, and I’ve gotten stronger and leaner because of it, I’ve also developed this occasional whiplash thing with my neck that may or may not have to do with the seventy thousand “power push ups” that Sean T has me do every workout.

Whatever its origin, I decided to indulge myself bigtime for my blortieth firthday, and treat myself to a TWO HOUR MASSAGE.

Awwww, yeahhhhhh. (cue Barry White music)

And here’s what happened:

  1. 1. Massage was amazing.
  2. 2. I drooled all over my hardwood floors, promptly forgot about it, then nearly slipped on the small puddle on the ground the following morning.
  3. 3. I literally BRUISED MY CHEEKBONE from staying in one position for so long (face down into the face-holder thing). I guess I was so relaxed that it didn’t occur to me to shift my facial position until it was too late.
  4. 4. My neck hurt MORE, not less, the next morning.


I guess what I’m really trying to say, is…

Ain’t nothing free in this life, is there?

Still… I’m happy & grateful to be here for yet another year…. :)


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)


I think I look pretty great for 4-AHEM- blorty years old.

Flashback Friday! (Show Fun)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 9:49 AM
Friday, July 27, 2012

Every Friday, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – It’s Show Fun – the BLOG

Remember how I said I only like movies with Happy Endings? (My blog, last week. It’s okay, I’ll wait – go ahead, read it. Seriously. It’s short, just do it. Ok great, back?) Anway, I should have been more specific. I do hate movies that don’t have happy endings. However, just because a movie has a happy ending, doesn’t mean I’ll like it.

Case in point: While You Were Sleeping. This movie had all the elements of a GrownupGirl Fave: Sandra Bullock. By-the-numbers romantic comedy. Sandra Bullock.

But I didn’t get swept away – maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never found Bill Pullman or Peter Gallagher even slightly sexy.

So when I talked to my childhood friend on the phone and told him I didn’t like the movie, I was surprised when he retorted, “Sheva, that movie made 43 million at the box office last weekend.”

Wait – did I mention he was also the movie’s producer?

“I don’t care if the movie made 20 billion,” I continued. “It sucked.”

His furious reply: “It’s not called Show Fun, Sheva. It’s called Show Business.”

Ooooohhhhhh…. He got me there!

Ever heard of the term “failing upwards?” In showbiz, this is when a person produces a terrible movie, then gets promoted. Like, for example, my friend – who had impressed his bosses as an intern by producing an unwatchable comedy feature which lost money, and then promptly got promoted to junior executive status, with an assistant and all.

Maybe there is a good long term reason for allowing someone to fail upwards – in fairness, my friend has gone on to produces MANY amazing & awesome movies, as well as more crappy ones, each of which I’m sure made at least 43 million each weekend at the box office…

Still, it all kind of depresses me. I’m an artist: A writer. A singer. A Capricorn moon. Which all means I’d prefer things to be FAIR.

Of course the entertainment industry doesn’t care what I’d prefer. It exists to be a source of money, an outlet for talent & ambition, and a place for creative suckers like me to get stomped on by those with more connections and less fear.

Still, a girl can always dream, can’t she?


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

...where all your dreams come true! (That is, if your dreams are about people making shitty movies and then making craploads of money off those shitty movies.)

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Scared at Target

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:28 AM
Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE Target. Tar-jeh. Tar-Tar. Targety-Wargety.

When I found out they are planning to put a Target just a few blocks up from me (come on, 2013, let’s GO ALREADY!), I nearly peed my pants.

They have EVERYTHING. Just bought our home phone there. Groceries, toiletries, kids stuff, clothes, shoes, housewares, toys… it’s a mommy wonderland!

And yes, I buy Up and Up EVERYTHING – from their $1.99 hand soap bottles to their $19.99 GIANT PACKS OF 83 AMAZING LEAK-PROOF DIAPERS.

You heard me.

Eat it, Toys R Us.

But no place is perrrrfect… and Target does have one major flaw.

It appears to have a vortex black hole within it.

Because everyone once in a while, I’ll be happily shopping, finding all sorts of unplanned for candy-colored goodies as I seek out my planned-for bargains, when…

I get lost.

Really lost.

The first time it happened, it took me a full FIFTEEN MINUTES to find my shopping cart which was nearly full.


That’s like, three hours, in Target Time.

I admit, I started to panic and felt like I wanted to cry when it happened.

It is possible I was also PMS-ing and late to pick up the kids.

But still!

The other day when I went, the black hole got me again. I was happily shopping, almost finished, ready to bring it all to the register, when lo and behold, an item fell out of my cart. When I leaned down to retrieve it, I remembered I had covered the hole in the cart with the little plastic board that flips up when there is no kid in the seat (moms know what I’m talking about, let’s not waste time and skip to the point, which is the revelation I then had:)

This was not my cart.

It was filled with my things. But it also had 2 Tides and a Downey that I had not bought. (UP and UP brand detergent does me just fine, thank you very much! Though I do stand by Downey, no me gusta Suavitel.)

Then I understood that my cart had SOME of my things in it, but not ALL of them – I must have gotten hit by the black hole mid-way through my shopping excursion, grabbed someone else’s shopping cart instead of my own, and continued on, completely unaware.

Whoops! Sorry, Tide & Downey shopper. My bad.

It didn’t take me too long to track down my original cart and combine my items (half an hour in Target Time), and the trip back to my original cart bore fruit – it brought me past the coffee filters isle, which I would have forgotten to buy otherwise.

So I guess even the Target black hole serves its purpose…


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Seriously - stare at this target for one minute without blinking. Is it just me, or do you begin to fall into a Time Warp! Right??

Flashback Friday (Acid Trip, AKA Food For Thought, Part Deux)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:30 AM
Friday, July 20, 2012

Every Friday, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Food For Thought TWO – the BLOG

Staring at the title of my last blog, I realized there is ANOTHER story that same title reminds me of, that perhaps bears telling… The story of the last time I ate at a restaurant of that very name – Food For Thought – in Washington, DC, when I was seventeen years old.

The story of the one and only time I ever tripped on acid.

KIDS? If you are reading this, Mommy means “fell down when I tripped over some dangerous spilt liquid. Now, TURN OFF THE COMPUTER AND GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK!

Have they gone? Great. Here’s the story:

Back when I was seventeen, for some idiotic reason, I got it in my head that it would be a brilliant idea for me to try acid. Then, for an even greater idiotic reason, I decided not to do it in a safe environment with a group of close and trusted friends like I learned later it’s best to do, but instead, just to take a couple tabs while hanging with my best friend Ingrid.

SIDE NOTE: Mucho props to Ingie for navigating me through that entire night. Girlfriend, you were a trooper!

I can’t remember exactly when I took the acid – whether it was in my car or at the restaurant. I do remember that the first thing that seemed strange was my hands – they looked like they were digital, like they belonged to a computer program.

I went to the bathroom, and on my way back to my table, a guy came up to me. Blocking my path to my table, he proceeded to talk my ear off about my friend Ingrid – how he wants me to introduce him, he has a crush on her, can he sit with us, etc., etc.

Listening to this barrage of crush-talk through my acid-soaked ears, he struck me as supremely hilarious. So, naturally, I started to laugh. And laugh. And LAUGH. I laughed so hard that tears began streaming down my face. And then – the tears streaming down my face must have confused my acid-saturated brain, tricking it into thinking I must be crying, because the next thing I knew? I was sobbing.


Thus began my whacked-out acid trip ride. Ingrid helped me, got me out of Food For Thought, and got me laughing again. She took me downtown to the Vault and the Fifth Column – nightclubs which – as anyone who remembers those places will know – one should NEVER go when tripping. Full of fake, crazy people, too much music and stimulation, lights, people, movement, sound…

After that, Ingrid got me out of the club kid scene and over to her boyfriend’s apartment or his friend’s apartment, I can’t remember which. All I remember is a bunch of high school boys I didn’t know very well, kind of sweet, geeky boys, hanging out, doing nothing much. Maybe getting stoned. Waaaay too mellow for my crazy acid self.

So she got me out of there too, and brought me finally to the most Twilight Zone place in the metro Washington, DC area: Tastee Diner. (Did they name it that, knowing that stoned & tripping kids would endlessly freak out about the spelling of “Tastee”?) This would be the place you could take a SOBER kid and make her think she’s going insane… so tripping, I kind of felt at home.

The old waitress with the caked on makeup looked like she was wearing a mask that was partially flaking off. The salt and pepper shakers entertained me endlessly. People walking by were in my video game, blipping and bleeping as they walked past and sat down or paid their bills. I don’t think I was actually able to eat the food.

I do remember wishing that I could just stop tripping already, and when I DID finally stop tripping (the next morning, after sleeping it off), it was an easy vow to make, to never touch the stuff again.

Hey – thanks, Earlier Blog, for the memories!


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

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I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Girl

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:28 AM
Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Downton Abbey.

Okay, I admit, that alone does not excuse my lack of blogging (and not even bothering to re-post old blogs) for the last month+. But it is my latest obsession. And it may not be a coincidence that I watched season 2’s finale episode yesterday, and today is the first day I’ve been compelled to write another blog, despite numerous kind encouragements from friends and fans.

It may also explain why I feel an overwhelming urge to blog in a pseudo-English accent. O, Madonna, how I understand thee!

(PS. Madonna, I also am forever grateful for… uh… thee… specifically, for being 10 years older than me. Thanks to you looking hotter than a teenage Vogue model, I am less afraid to turn – gulp – FORTY – in one week than I would otherwise be.)

(Plus, I don’t feel quite so ridiculous about my newly adopted English accent, albeit it’s only used while I’m writing, not during my actual use of speech.)

So what have I been up to, this past silent month-point-five?

No great excuses for neglecting the blog, I’m afraid. Other than slight burnout, indulgence of my “free time” (BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Whew, that was a good one! Wiping tears now, continuing on…), a rigorous workout discipline which includes a 5-days-a-week Insantiy workout, and perhaps most significantly, getting plenty of sleep… which as any writer will tell you, may very well be the number one enemy of getting shit written.

Sleep, that is.

I see I’m still dropping the occasional curse word as I write, despite the good influence of my Merchant-Ivory-ish friends over at Downton Abbey.

Well, let’s see what this next month-point-five brings us… since it WON’T be bringing us the next season of Downton Abbey (until September, I’ve heard), then maybe, at best, it will bring us some more inspiration, and accordingly, more new Grownup Girl blogs. Probably not 3 new ones a week, tho – probably more like 1-2 per week.

Here’s hoping!


Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Who needs Brad and Ange with these 2 magnificent and tragically paired lovebirds?

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