Red Right Ankles

This makes perfect sense to me

2007-11-07T09:40:00.001-05:00

It would seem that Paul McCartney is dating a woman who's on the board of the MTA. In my mind, bugs + the subway = match made in heaven. Who ELSE would he be dating?

Now announcing a new bloggy side project...

2007-10-25T13:50:00.001-04:00

wewritehaikusnotlovesongs.blogspot.com

Cesca, Sean and I chronicle our lives through the greatest art form of all time - HAIKU!

Just so no one thinks I'm still deaf

2007-09-12T06:07:00.000-04:00

After getting to work n Monday and realizing it was going to be impossible to function, I went to my doctor, who looked in my ear, freaked out, and refused to touch it. Let alone the other one. Good use of a $15 copay. She then made me an appointment for later that afternoon with an ENT (also known as an Otolaryngologist - fucking great word) further uptown (but thankfully still on the West Side) so I went back to work for a couple hours, where I continued to convince myself that I was going to be deaf for the rest of my life. And made up obscene sign language with my friends.

So I get to the ENT, do the prerequisite waiting, and finally see the doctor. Who still talks too fast to really hear, which I don't understand, because this is her job, right? And she should be compassionate to my deafness? Either way, she gets the gist of what's going on and busts out what is essentially a vacuum cleaner, with a really small tube. Guess where that goes. Let the healing begin! Or sucking? Sucking. It was loud, and took a while (look, there was a lot of gunk, ok?), and let me tell you, when pointy metal things touch the inside of your ear further down than a q-tip could ever dream of going, it HURTS. So, of course, I tear up because I am a pussy, and the doctor freaks and stops. And I'm like, please finish this, and she's like no, I was just being extra thorough, and we basically go around in circles and she won't finish the job, but tells me it's basically done anyway. And then she starts inquisiting me about my nose, being all like 'are you stuffy? You sound congested' to which I think, 'duh, bitch, you just made me cry!' But I shouldn't be mean, she was actually really awesome and I can hear now. Anyway, she decides she needs to look around my nose, so spritzes this stuff up it and goes in with a camera. Now THIS freaks me out and makes me flash back to that time when I was like 4 and an ENT stuck a camera up my nose and all the way down my throat. Good thing I had already been crying, because there was no way this was happening easily. But it was actually relatively quick, despite the trauma, and I learned that I have a deviated septum. Which is really just such a shame. A Jewish girl, with a LEGIT deviated septum, who loves her nose. What are the odds, people!??!?

PS the new computer (specifically it's backlit keyboard, is AWESOME for posting at the asscrack of dawn when it's too dark to see in here.

Call me Helen Keller

2007-09-10T06:42:00.001-04:00

My first blog with my new computer, and I know that usually this would mean ridiculousness abounding, but really, we have an issue.

Basically, I (finally) made it up to my dad's summer rental house this weekend, in Sharon, Connecticut, and got my ass into a pool for the first time this summer. I think I seriously made up for lost time. In the 22 hours we were there, I mut have spent at least 6 of those in the pool. Maybe more. The pool was up hill from the house itself, nestled in among trees and all you can hear are crickets, it's just delightful. However, I had an unexpected side effect from all this swimming. I appear to have gotten a serious amount of water in my right ear, and a less serious amount in my left. Essentially, I have been completely deaf in my right ear since I woke up yesterday morning. The left ear seems to come and go. I woke up this morning and everything was completely silent, which was really strange, until I played with my ear for a few minutes and got some sound back in the right one. Add this to the fact that I am useless without glasses on and it was pitch black in the apartment, it was all a very odd expereince, hence the name of the post.

So now I have to figure out how to deal with this. I've tried closing every facial orafice and blowing, but got nothing (just as well, I had visions of earwax spraying out of my ear. gross). I tried sneezing while holding my nose and mouth closed several times, eardrops do nothing for me, just make everything even more gooey in there, which really is unnecessary, and q-tips are BAD, even though quite gratifying. Which isn't to say I haven't tried it. I know that the best way to deal with this would probably be to go to a doctor and have them flushed out, but I had a really traumatizing expereince with this process. My first year at Smith I had an earache and went to Health Services, presuming that they were just going to give me some sort of prescription for something to make the ache go away. I should be so lucky. The nurse on duty tells me "oh, this is noear infection, your ears are completely blocked. We'll clean them out for you" She made this sound like a great idea, a simple process, nothing that wouldn't be done in 15 minutes. Ohhh no. I had to lie on my side, with nothing to do, for half an hour, with hydrogen peroxide bubbling in my ear. Do you know how wierd (read: ticklish) a sensation that is? Essentially, you don't need to waterboard people at Gitmo, just tie their hands up and put hydrogen peroxide in their ears. They'll be talking in under a minute. Guaranteed. Anyway, after half an hour of this unique senstation, it came time to clean out my first year. There's a syringe and warm water invovled; basically the just flush everything out. So the nurse starts, and everything's normal, until I feel something large moving around and hear the nurse make sounds of disgust and neausea. She tells me she got it all out, but she was definitely ready to get the hell out of that roof and barf. Lucky her! She got to do it again! More peroxide torture, and even more gunk and nurse neausea. But. I could hear. Unlike now. Which is why I should probably do it again. But this would mean getting to the doctor with an hour and a half to kill, which, with my busy schedule, just is not happening. And, while it was EXTREMELY gratifying (if somewhat humiliating) to gross out a medical professional, I'm not sure the chemical bubble torture was really worth it. So, I am feeling like perhaps going new age-y, and getting my ears candled tonight when I go and get a pedicure. Unless anyone can tell me why I shouldn't, that is.

This is all very discouncerting and uncomfortable and I don't really like not being able to hear a damned thing anyone is saying, and I want it to go away, stat. I just don't really know how to deal with it from here.

But, in fun news, while looking for the photo at the top of this post, I learned that Helen Keller grew up to be a socialist suffragist. Which is awesome in a normal woman, but add being deafblind into that mix, and that makes Helen Keller even more awesome than I realized! The title of this post is a link to her Wikipedia page, so feel free to click on that and learn more about my new favorite badass. Helen Freakin' Keller.

Ugh, POSTSCRIPT - I just took a shower, and now I can't hear anything out of my right ear, either. On a more permanant basis than before. Wish me luck getting through my phone-reliant shift on the research desk today. Not cool.

How you can REALLY tell I'm back in school

2007-08-31T07:33:00.000-04:00

The last three titles of my posts were:

1. Back to School!
2. I love camp!
3. What I did on my summer vacation

If you know me at all, this is basically all I talked for at least the first month of school from about from the time I was 7, til, oh NOW.

Back to school!

2007-08-31T06:47:00.000-04:00

Having had a full week of class, I think it's fair to say that I am now officially a grad student, albeit a part-time one.

I think what's funniest, to me, about this expereince, is that in some ways it seems just like the High School, bears very little resemblance to Smith, and yet it's completely unique to everything else I've done before. It's most like high school, or some semblance of high school, because the academics are nothing like what I'd gotten used to at Smith. I'm taking two classes, one prereq, and another more advanced course. I had the upper-level course before the lower level one, which was as good a way to get my feet wet as any, I suppose. Of course, when we were handed the syllabus, I was a bit suprised by the amount of readings that it had in it; there was a list several pages long. Now, keep in mind that at Smith, each of those articles on that list would have been required, and each would have been 30 pages long. I sat patiently, waiting for this to be ridiculous workload explained to me, all the while wondering if my coworkers' estimation that library school would not be a problem for me was a lie. However, when the professor got around to explaining that segment of the syllabus, I was even more shocked. We are only required to read one of these articles a week, whichever interests us most, and do a one page write up. Oh, and no article is more than 3 pages long. The first thing that came to my head was 'Em, you're not in Northampton any more'. But, thanks to my time in Northampton, I could probably do this in my sleep (or do this while I'm supposed to be sleeping a la this entry that I started at 6:30 this morning because I ran out of gym clothes to wear because I went every day this week and I need to pack for going to New Ro this weekend and I'll go this weekend once I'm there AND I have to be at work at 9, not 10 this morning). Anyway, my only issue is that I don't really know how to go about finding the articles yet, and since my library doesn't really deal in paper (we have like 50 books, but they're hidden in a corner and most people don't even know they're there), and the library at SILS on 14th street is smaller than my library, and I hate going to libraries ever since I was asked at age 5 to never go back to the Eastchester Public Library, I am hoping that my excellent google skills will get me where I need to go. We'll see. I'm just hoping that I can do most of the readings while I'm in my apartment, rather than in the library on 14th street. Between this obsessive gym kick I've been on and school, I seem to be gearing up to spend about 13 hours a day out of the house when I have class, and I'd really like to keep that down to a minimum, because man, is it tiring.

ANYWAY, that's how it's completely unlike Smith, but the thing that most reminded me of being in the High School was the VERY detailed discussion of what does and doesn't constitute plaigarism. This was, without a doubt, overkill. I mean, I understand that not everyone in the program comes from schools like Smith, which I think is fantastic, but this really took it to a new level. Not only does every syllabus have to have a description of what plaigarism is, it also requires an in-depth discussion of the topic. At the risk of sounding like a snob, I really feel like if you're a grad student, you should really fucking know better. But, my professor for the core course showed us some examples of people really taking the whole thing to a new level. Which I just think is fucking idiotic, but whatever. Anyway, the professors, at least, really seem to know what they're talking about, and I am looking foward to the classes, and getting my learn on again.

My fellow students seem to run the gamut. Some are about my age (in my intro class, there's another Smithie AND a girl from New Ro - what are the odds?) and seem cool, there are some, shall we say, stereotypical librarians, and some who you just have to wonder what they are doing there in the first place. But I suppose a library could be a good refuge for a guy who just got back from spending a year in Korea being paid to play video games in order to advance the games of rich nerds here who are too lazy to do it themselves. But that's besides the point.

So, I know this probably wasn't the most interesting thing to read, but I just wanted to jot down my first impressions, while they were still fresh, and who knows, maybe I'll revisit them in a couple of years when you all can call me Master Schubert and see how far I've come. Since Pratt didn't do any of those stupid orientation exercises where you have to write down your hopes and dreams for the future (oh, I cannot explain how happy I am about THAT), I suppose that this will have to stand in.

Now, to rent Party Girl, it seems like it's a pre-req for library school attendance, and I seemed to have missed it.

I love camp

2007-08-22T19:43:00.000-04:00

Today, in a fit of lord only knows what, I tidied the apartment, a little bit. Sean told me something to which I replied "I know it!" and he goes 'Indiana know it?' and I did a happy dance because this is an allusion to my favorite camp song of all time, 'Dem Bones'. And then, because I am a nerd, professionally, I decided to try and find the lyrics to this song. And it took a little time, but I found them! And so now I needed someplace to put them where I could always go back to them if I needed them, and so I am putting them here!

So sometimes, I just have to embrace the fact that I am an unrepentant camper and bust out into song when the mood arises. Which is often.

What I did on My Summer Vacation

2007-08-19T22:47:00.001-04:00

Below are four emails I sent from the road during the last ten days, updating our families on our adventures during our epic 10 day road trip. If you didn't get the original emails, don't be sad, here they all are, and now they're upgraded, with photos!

Hello everyone! 8/11/07

Hello everyone!

I am writing this from the back seat of Rena's lovely Subaru, while driving through the desert of Nevada. There's a lizard in a tank sitting next to me, and Sean and Rena are contemplating the benefits of purchasing some billboard space along this stretch of route 80 in Winnemucca. We left from San Francisco this morning, and are steadily making our way towards Salt Lake City tonight. So far, we've seen lots of random stuff, but I have a feeling there is plenty still to come.

After spending two hours of yesterday afternoon lost in San Francisco, Rena met Sean and I at the very last possible minute to get on the boat to Alcatraz. We spent a couple of hours on the rock, and I even got over my hate of audio tours and found it quite interesting. We saw the fake heads that were props in the only successful breakout from the prison and heard first person accounts of what life in the prison was like. It was interesting, and I would say definitely worth the trip.

After hanging out with Allison and Aram last night, we set off this morning at 9 am. After about two hours of driving, we stopped at our first roadside attraction: the museum & statue dedicated to the Donner Party. We all agreed that the museum felt like a neglected wing of the Museum of Natural History, but on a lower budget. We learned a bit about the Donner Party, but Sean and I recently learned that there wasn't actually as much cannibalism going on during the winter of 1847 as previously thought. So we had the odd experience of knowing more about a topic than a museum dedicated to that topic. We also checked out the huge statue dedicated to the Party.

(Me, eating a Party member's face)

After leaving the Cannibal Museum, we continued on to Reno. After a quick lunch, we walked down the main street of Reno. We played a bit of slots (I insisted that we only use the kind that actually have the lever that you pull) and lost, and looked at some old cars that were parked along the main drag. It definitely is not such an impressive city, and we were probably in and out in under two hours. Since we left Reno, we've been driving steadily and we're probably half way to Salt Lake City.

(ok, I stopped writing in the car then, and I picked it up here just now...)

After a few more hours of driving, we made a stop in Elko, Nevada, to see the world's largest Polar Bear, Rena and I thought it was going to be taxidermied. It was instead a huge statue of a polar bear mounted to the side of a casino. We took lots of pictures, mostly of us imitating the ridiculous look on the beast's face.

We just got into a motel outside of Salt Lake City. Apparently rooms are hard to come by, but I negotiated the night manager down to a reasonable rate, and we have free wireless and clean comfy beds. No complaints here, I am sure. We are going to be camping in Aspen tomorrow night, so we won't be able to check in then, but I will write again when I can.

Love,

Em

PS - Bub, please call grandma and tell her I'm alive. My cell phone died and between that and the time difference, it would be cruel to call her now, so if you could give her a ring in the morning, that would be great. MWAH!

Cheyenne, Wyoming - Population: 55,000 8/13/07

That's right. The population of the state capital of Wyoming is significantly smaller than New Rochelle. I think we expereinced all that Cheyenne had to offer tonight, but I will get to that later.

After we woke up in Tooele, Utah on Saturday morning, we raced over to Salt Lake City. I expected this to be the pinnacle of my Mormon Bender, as we were now driving toward Mormon Mecca. I obviously should have known better, since obviously holy rolling tourguides in Temple Square aren't going to actually give up the real info on their religion. So, while we took the 'official' tour of temple square, Sean and I filled Rena in on everything that the guides were glossing over. I also have never really been face to face with people who were so convinced of the legitamacy of their religion. Everyone had placid smiles on their face and were very eager to recruit, which pretty much cemented my feelings on the whole business. Don't worry, we all resisted the temptation to send mormon missionaries to our loved ones houses. We found SLC in general to be completely antiseptic and boring, and so pretty much beat it out of there ASAP and went on to our next destination; Redstone, CO & camping.

But, not to be completely discouraged by the blandness of Salt Lake City and it's mormons, we made a quick stop in Provo, Utah & the campus of Brigham Young University. We basically only stopped to get stickers to add to our quickly growing collection, but now we can say we've been to BYU, and we made it out of there alive, so there's something to be said for that.

one of many stops at a state line

We got to the campgrounds at about 8, to find Mia & Aaron and the three kids already set up. We had hot dogs & played with the kids, and pretty much found it to be a great relaxing night. I was wary of camping, since the last time I did it I was 14 and there was a camp-enforced rule that we weren't allowed to shower for the entire 5 day expereince. No wonder it took me a decade to get back to it. But it was great to be able to look up and see all those stars, and waking up in the morning in a beautiful valley was a great expereince.

When we left the campsite, we took Mia & Aaron's suggestion and went to Denver for lunch. We went to the Denver Art Museum for lunch, and after Sean and I walked around the newly-renovated & beautiful space and Rena hung out in the Denver library across the street. We left Denver after about an hour and a half, and I kind of wished we had more time (Bub - I saw a sign for Union Station and I wanted to see it, but we were already on our way out of town.) But I think I'd like to go back and see more of the city. I think that that's a first, that I felt like I could have stayed and seen more.

Rena loves Sinclair!

After Denver, we drove North to Fort Colllins where there's a Budweiser brewery. This is now my 3rd brewery tour in the last month, and I know that there's at least one more in store for me for this trip. So I think it's pretty safe to say I know a hell of a lot about beer, for somebody who doesn't really drink the stuff. However, all that said, it's quite an impressive setup. They brew an obscene amount of beer every year, and the tour was quite well set up. They also keep at least 8 of those huge clydsedale horses at each of their eight facilities, so we got to check that out, too. At the conclusion of the tour, there was a tasting, so I donated my tastings to Sean and Rena, and drove the last leg of the trip of the day.

It took us about an hour to get to Cheyenne, and found a coupon and got a dirt cheap motel room in a suprisingly nice Motel 8. We went out for dinner in Cheyenne, and it was dead. Like, creepy dead. And I understand that it's a Sunday night in Wyoming, but I think Sean put it well when he asked Rena and I, 'have you ever wondered what it would be like after a nuclear bomb went off?' So that pretty much summed up that expereince. We got back to the motel pretty much right after that and the conceirge told us that Cheyenne can actually be a pretty happening place, and that about a month ago there was a huge rodeo that quadruples the size of the city and attracts all sorts of big name acts. She also revealed that it's another 5 hours to Mount Rushmore, not 1.5, as we had thought. So the last few minutes have been a flurry of figuring out how to allot our time tomorrow, and what exactly it is we're going to do as we drive through Iowa. The current answer seems to be 'absolutely nothing', as that's all there is in Iowa. But, it's unavoidable, and we've all been good at keeping each other entertained, so it could be worse. Nevada was, as you may remember, pretty boring aside from the World's Largest Polar Bear, but we got through it, so it'll be ok. Perhaps in Iowa we will find the world's largest Wooly Mammoth, or some such.

Anyway, Sean and Rena are plotting out the next few days, and I should really go help. I realize this email is like ten years long, but I'm trying to write it all down as often as possible, so nothing gets forgotten. Anyway, I will probably check in again in a couple of days after Mount Rushmore and Milaukee, and will talk to you all soon.

Love,

Em

Hello from the highways of Wisconsin! 8/15/07

I feel like it's been about a year since my last email, even though I know it's only been like two days. Either way, you are now about to read a very long email about our travels over the last couple days. Believe me, they've been action-packed.

We left Cheyenne very early on Monday morning; no time to dawdle, we had to get through the corner of Wyoming, and all of South Dakota. There wasn't much in Wyoming, but the amount of random stuff to be done in South Dakota really can't be understated.

Our first stop in South Dakota was, of course, Mount Rushmore. Here's what they don't tell you about Rushmore; you know how everyone makes a big deal about the Mona Lisa and how everyone knows what it looks like because it's reproduced everywhere and therefore seeing it is really surreal? Mount Rushmore is just like that. It almost feels like you've seen it before because you've seen it so often. So you have to go up this huge mountain to see it, and pay, which is lame, but you can't see it until the very last minute, and it's just sticking out of nowhere. The rock is a different color in the monument than everywhere else, obviously, because it was carved away and no matter how much you look at it, it's still hard to understand that this is the actual monument, not another reproduction. Here's what I didn't know about Mount Rushmore that I know now: it's incomplete. We went down to the sculptor's studio, and they had a scale model of what it was supposed to look like, and all the presidents had overcoats and stuff on, I was sort of blown away. It was odd to see it like that, which sort of adds to the whole surreal thing I was talking about before.

After the Rushmore experience, we went to Wall Drug, which is like 'South of the Border' but in South Dakota. Wall, South Dakota is completely empty, except for this HUGE weird store that's really the only thing in town. There's a soda fountain, and a drug store, and literally acres upon acres of kitsch, and jackelopes, which are this weird phenomenon that basically involves taking a taxidermied rabbit and sticking antelope antlers on it. I feel that this basically summarizes South Dakota – there's nothing there, so people had to invent things to do. As a result, there was so much to do that we barely got across the state on schedule.

Back to the journey, our next stop in South Dakota had very little to do with human intervention; we went on a driving tour of the badlands. It was beautiful, and full of all different sorts of terrain – huge mountains that were striated with color, and amazing prairies, and we even saw some buffalo out in the distance. Oh, and prairie dogs, which somehow manage to be exponentially cuter in South Dakota than in the Bronx Zoo. Go figure. There have been moments throughout the trip where we've all had to consider what it had to be like to come across the country pre-air conditioning, this was definitely one of them. At one point, the thermometer on Rena's car read 110 degrees as we were driving through and the AC pretty much ceased to work anyway. It really was the hottest I've ever been. Rena and I refused to get out of the car, but Sean said he felt like it was more bearable than New York, since there was no humidity. At least there aren't rattlesnakes in New York, just transvestites hanging out (read: peeing) on our stoop. I'm better equipped at dealing with them, I think.

Badlands!

When we got out of the badlands, we tried to stop at a missile silo from the Cold War, but it was closed, so it was a lovely rest stop, and we moved on.

Out of the badlands, and thwarted in our efforts to learn Cold War history, we made a quick stop at the Mitchell Corn Palace, which we thought would be a huge palace made entirely of corn, but was in actuality a basketball stadium that has some ugly murals made of corn on the façade. Do NOT believe the hype on the palace! Dually disappointed, we moved on to Sioux Falls, at the very edge of South Dakota. Finding a room wasn't nearly as difficult as Salt Lake City, but it wasn't quite a cakewalk. Regardless, we got one and then tried to hunt down food. Burger King has never tasted so good. Full and tired, we called it a night.

DO NOT BELIEVE THE HYPE!

We woke up this morning and started again. After about 5 minutes, we crossed into Minnesota. We've been stopping at every state line to take pictures at the "Welcome to ______" signs. I would have to say that Minnesota's was the best yet, by far. Even though it was a complete hike to get to it, I would have to say it was entirely worth it. We stopped at a visitor center and got several suggestions on places to see in the state. Considering that we entered the center just trying to figure out ways to pass the time in the state that we were figuring was just going to be the easiest way to get to our next destination, we found a lot to do. Namely, we stopped to see a 60 foot statue of the Jolly Green Giant, and went to the Spam Museum. The JGG can really only be described in photos, so that will have to wait, but ohh that Spam Museum, it was a sight. I've never had a bite of Spam in my life, but still, I found that museum amazing. In my experience, I have never met anyone who honestly enjoys the stuff, but it apparently has quite the cult following. The museum was a great mix of history and tongue in cheek humor about the stuff, and I must say that I think I left the place actually almost appreciating it. And the parking spots were even labeled with the Spam logo, so really, how can you hate that?

Ho ho ho!

As we drove the rest of the way across Minnesota, we took a scenic byway through the "bluff country". In all honestly, it was mostly cornfields, but there were some beautiful vistas, and since my opinions of the place are still formed by 'Fargo', it was nice to see another perspective on the place. We also passed an old Amish couple in a horse and buggy, which was crazy, of course. I don't think that seeing Amish people can be anything other than that, it's just such a reality check.

Anyway, we got off the scenic byway and headed off into Wisconsin Dells, which is basically an amalgam of Wildwoods, Riverside, Lake George and every shore town ever. As we drove through, we saw a sign for the 'Tommy Bartlett Show' which we quickly learned was a ski show, and therefore a must-see. After a quick dinner, we headed off to the show. The arena was half-empty, and we were definitely witnessing a show that was well past its glory days. Despite this, the tricks were impressive, and there was a paragliding act that was just beautiful, who knew that a night-paragliding act in a tourist trap could almost border on awe-inspiring? Anyway, the water skiing was just the first act, and after the intermission, we were disappointed to figure out that we were only going to be seeing some budget circus acts. After watching an acrobatic couple flirt with death for far too long, and seeing a father and son act that bordered on child abuse and almost guaranteed therapy down the road for the younger participants, we decided to get back on the road. We booked a room outside Milwaukee tonight, so we're on our way now. We tried to get a room in the city itself, but apparently there was a Brewer's game tonight, so we'll be in a Milwaukee suburb. I have a feeling that the suburbs of Milwaukee are going to make New Ro circa 1995 look like a throbbing metropolis.

We've also realized that on the road out of the scenic byway, we crossed the Mississippi River, and therefore we are back in a populated part of the country, and are actually closer to home than not. We're going to check out a couple of sights in Milwaukee tomorrow morning, and then we're off to Chicago. After that, it's definitely the last leg of our journey, and we'll be home before we know it. I'm looking forward to seeing this last bit of our country, as it's definitely close to home, but I've never seen any of it. It'll be good to know what's nearby, in addition to now having first hand knowledge of so much more of our country.

Anyway, thanks for continuing to read our travelogue, and I am sure that I will check in once more before we get home. Talk to you all soon!

Love,

Em

Hello from North of the Border! 8/19/07

Yup, I am coming to you from Canada, where every minute has been an adventure. But I will get to that in a minute, as I have to finish the first American part of our adventure first.

We woke up in Milwaukee on Wednesday morning, with the intention of getting to Chicago after a couple of short stops in the city. Sean and I wanted to check out the Milwaukee art museum, and Rena obliged us, which ended up being way more impressive than I originally thought it would be. They recently renovated the building and added a wing that was designed by Santiago Calatrava. We got there right as it opened, which means that we were there when it opened, since Calatrava’s thing is that all of his buildings have moving parts. So that was very awesome, and the collection was also great, I think I would have enjoyed spending more time there. There was a good contemporary collection, and we also saw an exhibit about style and furniture, which left Rena and I rapt at a video presentation about the creation of Windsor chairs. It was 10 am and lathes are really entrancing, ok? Anyway, it was a great museum, which was a pleasant surprise.

The next stop after the museum was yet another brewery. The third since this voyage began, suffice it to say that I have now had my fill of breweries. This time, it was Miller, and from what I know of their product, the tour was pretty much on par with their beer. The gross majority of the tour focused on their bottling and packaging facilities, which is about as interesting as driving through cornfields in Minnesota. Not to mention that it was raining and when we got to the tasting portion of the tour, the samples were icky and all in all, Miller’s tour was just not worth it. So we set off for Chicago.

Here’s the thing about Chicago; we are big ole New Yorkers and have no interest in whatever it is that the city has to offer. We decided that we all wanted to see this bean thing, and maybe see the Sears tower, but other than that, there wasn’t much in Chicago that we couldn’t see in New York. Now, I know this was probably less than thorough of us, but I am sure we will all get back to it at some point in our lives. Anyway, rather than going to Chicago that afternoon, we hung around in Deerfield for an hour and relaxed. We stayed that night with Rabbi Prass and his family, and pretty much just sat around and talked and played with his adorable daughters and had a good time. I think we were all at the point where we needed to do a whole lot of nothing, so this was really perfect.

The next morning we stopped in Chicago, saw the Bean thing, walked around Millennium Park a bit, and left. Next stop; Toronto. It took us about 4 hours to get to the border of Canada, and we encountered a bit of drama when we arrived. Apparently, three kids with a whole lot of stuff in the car and not much cash on them set off some sort of alarms among the Mounties and we got pulled over into immigration. We were grilled about where we had been, where we were going, and just what we were doing with the lizard in a ten gallon tank in the back seat. They pulled apart the car a bit, and then sent us on to some more Mounties, who asked us more questions about who we were and what we do and where we were going and WHY ARENT YOU ALL CARRYING MORE CASH?!?!?! (apparently, this is a major issue, who knew?) Anyway, we finally got across, and continued on to Toronto. Our hotel there was sketchy, sort of, on the outside, but fine on the inside. Anyway, it was a place to sleep, so it did the trick.

We woke up this morning and went off to play in Toronto. Rena has a love of those duck tours, so Sean and I obliged, and it was actually sort of fun. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see of Toronto from the water, so that portion was short, but it was fun nonetheless. (Dad, if you make fun of me for getting on one of those boats I will stop talking to you for at least a week). We got a good overview of the city, and an hour and a half later we were on to our next adventure: the CN tower. Which obviously led to many CN/CNN related jokes, which helped to pass the time on the line, which was like an hour long. Anyway, we found ourselves at the top of the world’s second tallest structure (there’s some building in Dubai that just took the title like two months ago), with a great view of the city and Lake Michigan. We got down from the top of the tower and decided to set off for the Shoe Museum. We walked for about half an hour, but by the time we got there, it was about to close, so we decided not to bother. We walked through some more of the City, and then set off to our final destination – Niagara Falls. Our hotel tonight is about 20 miles away from the falls, and is just odd, for lack of a better word.

You can tell that the hotel used to be much nicer – the remnants of nice landscaping are everywhere, and there are parts of the place that are still nice. But we arrived and it was practically empty. I thought the architecture was more than reminiscent of the Bates motel, while Sean felt the interior hallways were more like those in ‘The Shining’. Let me assure you, it’s a charming combination. We asked the concierge, and she assured us that some groups would be arriving later, which we hoped would diminish the horror movie-like aspects of the place. Not really wanting to hang around here for longer than we had to, we set off for dinner. We found a bar and hung for a couple hours. We were without a doubt deep in the middle of nowhere, but it was fun. The people seemed all really nice, and so there were no complaints. After dinner, the bartender struck up a conversation with us. She told us about life up here, and it was actually really entertaining. She made the assertion that she didn’t realize how different life could be until we started talking with her, she felt that even though she had been to the city once (and ridden an elevator with Ricky Martin when he was in Menudo), that she still liked living up here. She also explained a bit of the hotel mystery. Apparently there used to be a HUGE water park right behind it, but it obviously closed at some point in the last ten years. So faded glory wasn’t in our imaginations, it really used to be a much more impressive spot. Anyway, we all had a good laugh, and left the bar ready for tomorrow; our last day of travel. We’re off to Niagara Falls and the Maid of the Mist tomorrow morning, and then we’re starting the long drive back down to New Ro. This hotel doesn’t have internet, so if you get this at some point before late Saturday night, that means we found a rest stop with WiFi and I was able to send this before we got to New Ro. Hope you all have enjoyed the letters, and I am sure I will talk to you all soon!

Love,

Em

PS - I didn’t manage to find any wifi from the road, and now I’m back in the apartment in the city, safe and sound. Niagara falls was beautiful, we rode the maid of the mist early yesterday morning, and then set off on the long drive home. The falls were beautiful, unlike Mount Rushmore, photos don’t really do it justice. They are so much bigger than you’d expect, and it was really the perfect way to end our trip. We got back to New Ro late last night, and after a bit of hanging out, Westchester style, we’re all back to our lives tomorrow. What a trip!

Bundle up!

ooooooooh

Rena already said it, so why should I have to....

2007-08-08T07:52:00.000-04:00

Click on the title of this post if you really feel the need to know where I am. Cell phone & email will be sporadic at best.

Everyone should read this

2007-07-17T13:43:00.000-04:00

As much as I despise Gawker and sort of resent everything they do, I cannot get enough of their new offshoot, Jezebel . Yesterday, they published the untouched photo of this month's Redbook cover, a photo of Faith Hill, beside the 'finished' product. It's gotten a bit of attention elsewhere, but I feel the need to throw in my two cents. In response to that attention, the Jezebel girls published THIS. Which I personally think should be required reading for pretty much every self-obsessed female in America. Which is to say, most of us. Even if you're not, it's worth the read, and certainly more enlightening to not. I would have to say that after this, I am unrepentant in my reading of Jezebel, and I am glad that I've been reading it since day one.

A list of things you can do at work when you're the only person there

2007-07-14T12:24:00.000-04:00

(In the grand tradition of Home Alone and Risky Business)

1) Pick your nose
2) Pee with the stall door open. Probably the whole bathroom door open, too.
3) Moonwalk unrepentantly
4) Dance in your tighty whities to Bob Seeger
5) Ride the video cart down all the ramps
6) Eat lunch in the screening room
7) Watch old movies at your desk
8) Think of 'The Office' style pranks to pull on Monday. Sending faxes to 'Future Tom' is leading, at the moment
9) Fart
10) Try and find the schwag closet.

I've done only two of these so far. I'm not telling which :)

Yes, you have reached a librarian's blog

2007-07-10T20:36:00.000-04:00

Yes, it's true. The NYTimes has confirmed that librarians, are, in fact, cool kids. Or at least the young ones like myself are. And, of course, since their article also points out that this is largely due to the fact that the younger among us are also quite tech savvy, the article that reaffirms our awesomeness continues to dominate the coveted 'most e-mailed' spot. See:

So although this isn't a library blog, per se, I obviously had to take this opportunity to point out that the general public now has no choice but to acknowledge that librarians are awesome, and submit to the fact that it's merely a matter of time til we're running the world.

Inspired by Rena

2007-06-29T11:14:00.000-04:00

Mingle² - Online Dating

Rena's blog is rated G. Rena taught me all sorts of dirty words on the 4th of July, 1990 (This event obv. looms large in my memory.) Rena's a good teacher, the student remembers everything, she, obvsiouly, does not.

Also hilair:

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

fucking (11x) fuck (7x) penis (4x) suck (3x) queer (2x) torture (1x)

Things about today which are better than yesterday

2007-06-21T08:45:00.000-04:00

Having had our last fumigation yesterday, S & I took it upon ourselves to finally put the apartment completely back together. No more sheets for curtains, or stacks of art on the floor instead of the wall, you know, things like that. After looking around at our apartment, we wondered whose it was, as it certainly didn't resemble where we'd been living for the last 6 weeks. Then I passed out at like 10 from exhaustion. Then I woke up this morning. This is where the fun starts. Because even though I've only been awake for like half an hour, I have already had several 'YES!!!!' moments. Here they are:

1. I slept til 8:15 because there's real curtains on (BOTH!) windows and it was dark in here & I could sleep. YES!!!!!
2. I sat on the futon and it was actually comfy because there's a real cover on the mattress & not harsh canvas under my tush. YES!!!!
3. I could walk over to my dresser without wondering who could see my ass because there's a curtain over that window. YES!!!!
4. I haven't walked over to my dresser in 6 weeks because I've been getting my clothes out of black plastic marauder-proof bags. But we put all our clothes back in drawers, so I know where everthing is. I can use my dresser. YES!!!!
5. I can wear my favorite purple skirt to work today because I finally got it back from the dry cleaner because we've fumigated three times and nothing can survive that, barely even us. AND now I have more than just three work-appropriate outfits. YES!!!!

And that was just in the first few minutes. This day is going to rock.

A thought on windows. And their necessariness.

2007-06-01T06:20:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, when you have bedbugs, you can't put your air conditioner in your window. Mostly because the thought of bedbugs getting in your air conditioner is gross, but also because your super is scared of your apartment because of the bedbugs and refuses to enter it to fix the window, which has been broken since about October. The thing won't stay open on its own, so you have to go to home depot & smile pretty at a crotchety old man so he will cut some PVC pipe for you so you can prop up the window. And you're pretty sure that the dude that's been using the same fedex box for the last three summers is probably really jealous at your ingenuity, so at least you have that. But then you realize that your curtains have to come down, because they're cloth and need to be dry-cleaned in order to kill any possibly bugs, and they can't really go up again until after the bedbugs are gone, lest you pay to have them drycleaned twice in two weeks, which would mean you're an idiot. So you use this cheapo "painting" as window covers so that at least you're not showing your street and especially your famous neighbor whos apartment would look directly into yours if she ever opened her shades, which she doesn't (which I personally think is creepy) your butt. So your life sort of revolves around stealthily changing your clothes, and not showing your bits to the world. And then you realize that you only have two screens for your windows, but because you have no air conditioner because of the bedbugs, both of your windows need to be open on the bottom and the top, meaning there are fours spots which require screens, and spending the cash on more screens is just dumb because this is the first time in over two years that you've wanted to have more than two screens and it would just be dumb to buy more. So, half your windows are without screens. And then, because it's summer, some bugs fly in. Not alot of bugs, just a couple. And a couple of those are undoubtedly mosquitos. And then you get bitten and wake up at 5:30 am scratching your arm because obviously itchiness early in the morning sets off all kinds of insane alarms to go off in your brain because you go "aw fuck me, not again" but then you realize that it's a mosquito bite, not a bedbug, but by that time you're completely wired and there's no way that you could ever fall back asleep and even if you did try to get back into bed you'd probably get pummeled because you were fidgeting and scratching your new mosquito bite instead of sleeping. So, in conclusion, I am very excited to get fumigated again on Tuesday so I can have my air conditioner back and know that a bedbug is a bedbug and a mosquito is a mosquito and perhaps sleep past 5:30 in the morning on a Friday. Stellar.

All of this, of course, is made better by the fact that I am now a full time staff member at my um, ahem, prestigious job (one day I'll write my thoughts on that, but not while I want to still have that job and have health insurance and have them pay for half of grad school. Mmmkay?). But, that said, WOOOOOOOOOO!

Things which are good about having bedbugs (A complimentary list)

2007-05-22T07:51:00.000-04:00

1. The opportunity to clean our apartment, which is full of nooks and crannies (snooks and crannies?) which are normally unreachable on a day to day basis. Of course, being able to access them now is a direct result of the exterminator ripping the apartment apart, but we are old hats at this by now and used it as an opportunity to destroy the dust bunnies that apparently were gaining momentum in preparation for a hostile takeover of the apartment.

2. A new mini vacuum cleaner (calling it a dustbuster would really be an insult, and it would seem that the literature refers to it as a 'handheld vacuum'). Either way, the awesomeness of seeing the aforementioned dustbunnies huddled in a mass in this contraption's dust chamber really can't be understated. Observe, our new cleaning companion (We named him Tommy):

3. The retail therapy I considered on Friday yeilded a really cute yellow hooded t-shirt. My love of the Anthropologie sale rack really can't be understated. And I still made it to work that morning with time to spare.

4. I found an earring under the couch that I only got to wear once before the apartment ate it. But now it's mine again. You better believe I will be building whatever outfit I wear to work today around them. It's a joyous reunion.

5. Creating all new outfits with the limited clothes I have in the apartment-the last time we had marauders I created all sorts of new outfits that quickly became favorites. I look foward to repeating this.

6. Sleeping with the windows open to make sure that we don't die of poison inhalation ensures lots of cuddling in order to conserve body heat.

7. Going out for breakfast with Sean after the exterminator, Benny (we're on a first name basis), got to our apartment yesterday morning.

Now, time to go fashion my first new and awesome Revolutionary Costume For Today (did I mention that we saw Grey Gardens this weekend with Grandma? We did. I loved it. Although considering my love for the movie, it was probably a no brainer that I would be obsessed with this. Either way, considering it was the first time I'd been to broadway in years, I was just a happy kid. And it can't be said enough; I love Little Edie)

This Week in Marauders.

2007-05-18T08:55:00.001-04:00

This will be a vain attempt to make bedbugs funny. Not because there are so many readers of this blog, nor because there is anything inherently funny about the little fuckers (there isn't) but because I am tired of dealing with them and need to find a way to find humour in the bloodsucking cocksuckers.

I currently have 7 (very very very) itchy bites on my body. Two on my back (so convenient!), four on my arms, and one that I just woke up with on the back of my calf. If someone can explain to me why none of these little motherfuckers decided to bite me on my scars so I wouldn't feel the itch, I would be super grateful. I have the prescription-strength cream from the last time it happened, but it's not helping. So I am sitting on my couch (which has been stripped of its covering - it's off to the fires with it like the Velveteen Rabbit) scratching and looking over my shoulder to see if I can see any of the little motherfuckers to crush with my bare hands.

And now, a list:

Things which are true but really too ridiculous for me to process at 8:30 on a Friday morning:

1. There are 15 (Not an exaggeration) garbage bags piled 4 feet high filled with me & Sean's clothing sitting in our apartment, which is barely big enough for anything, let alone a mountain of clothes. I would really like to stage dive into it, but I think our apartment it too small for that and I would crack my head open. Then all my perfectly clean clothes which irregardless have to be washed again would be bloody, and therefore actually warrant the washing. Perhaps this isn't such a bad idea after all...

Observe, Mount Marauder:

It's simply too big to fit in the frame.

2. I packed all my clothes away in aforementioned bags, except for one white t-shirt and one pair of not-quite work appropriate pants. I'll be wearing them to work anyway, because they're all I've got. Although the thought of doing a little retail therapy before I go to work at noon is sounding increasingly good.

3. That instead of going to Northampton this weekend and playing with all my friends and seeing all my tiny baby 07s graduate, I will be doing laundry at Sean's house. Now, while this means I will be able to take frequent trips down North Avenue to get horchata (and you'd best believe they'll be frequent), this simply does not live up to partying and seeing Gloria Steinem. This, out of all the shit which is pissing me off about this, is what makes me most pissed.

4. That in addition to all of this bed buggy ridiculousness, I got a phone call from Sean while I was walking home from the subway last night asking me if I had experienced any lock-related wierdness this morning. I realized I had, and asked why. I was informed that our lock was broken. To make a long story short, we spent an hour in our stairwell with a semi-hunky Israeli drilling the shit out of our door. He broke two drill bits and decimated our lock cylinder. Observe:

$250 later, neither Sean nor I really find this humourous. And we both spent the entire hour with our tushes going numb on the staircase wondering just why in the hell we decided to stay in this apartment. We know, logically that we would have had to deal with the bedbugs either way, but at least after this go-round it all would have been folded and essentially packed and ready for moving. Sean actually went so far as to speak ill of my amazing negotiating skillz, which have gotten us so much free shit in the past. I feel as though this woujldn't be the case had I been able to negotiate down semi-hunky Israeli locksmith. I got the feeling that he was unnegotiable, unless you spoke Hebrew. C'est la vie, I suppose. But you better believe that if someone told me they had an apartment willing and ready for us to move into it, we would be there in a heartbeat. It was also good to note that he was powerdrilling through steel for an hour, making an unholy hellacious racket and NOBODY came out to see what was up. Robbers, note: people are still callous in this city and mind their own damned business at all costs.

5. Someone, who shall remain nameless, but whose name definitely rhymes with Bobert, so generously decided to pay for half of all furniture replacement costs. Furniture that I can't afford buy half of since mostly all of it was given to me in the first place, and let's be real, I'm not willing replace. If two high-level chemical bombs can't kill these fuckers, then I suppose it's time to admit their dominance over my life:

Oh, Giant Cockroach We Killed this Summer, grant me the serenity
to accept the bedbugs which feast on my bod;
the courage to not scratch their bites until they bleed;
and wisdom to know they're boss.

(An addendum to this post: Sean would like me to add that while the Marauders are boss, they are not the boss man, nor the boss lady. That's us.)

6. Sean just woke up and told me that my idea to find some praying mantises and keep them as pets was not brilliant. I disagree.

7. After stumbling out of bed and scaling Mount Marauder, Sean just killed a "freshly fed" mosquito. Fuck me. He didn't save it like I saved the Marauder I killed on Monday. I was hoping to perhaps make a collage of all the dead bugs in the apartment.

I hope that everyone enjoyed this multi-media presentation on the Marauder Insurgency, and I hope I'll never have to talk about it again.

Fuck me.

2007-05-15T08:34:00.000-04:00

I just killed a bedbug.

Running sneakers fill me with self-loathing

2007-03-22T17:23:00.000-04:00

Lest we forget why I named this blog what I did, I went to the ankle doctor today. With the news that the second round of non-vicodin pain killers he put me on did nothing, he grabbed a doctor who happened to be in the office to consult me on my, ahem, issue. She proceeded to analyze my feet in new and fun ways.

Here is a list of things I know about my ankle now that I didn't know before:

1. Nerve damage. Major.
2. That clicking when I walk? Bad.
3. Chuck Taylor? The devil.
4. My new shoe of choice? Running shoes and loafers. Say goodbye fashion, hello frumpiness. See those amazing orange shoes? I bought them a week and a half ago. I can't wear them any more. I am heartbroken. I have wanted a pair of fluevog's for 3 years. I finally get a pair and now they become clost decorations.
5. I have the equivalent of carpel tunnel in my ankles.
6. Further surgery is probably inevitable.

At #6, I completely lost it and stopped listening. Burst into tears in front of this woman I've never seen before and now thinks I'm completely batshit insane. As I write this, I'm teetering again. All new (UGLY) shoes is shitty enough, cutting me open again is the epitome of not okay. Six scars on my feet is enough, thank you.

Good thing I'm going to play with my lovers in Boston, if anyone can relieve this (and make shopping for frumpy shoes fun), it's them.

Librarian overload?

2007-03-20T13:13:00.000-04:00

How I know that I'm really turning into a librarian:

1. I type in IMs like I'm logging tape with slashes and spaces so that it's easier to reference them in the future (my backspace key is getting a workout)

2. Whenever I am looking for information on the internet I use the search format we use here and get VERY upset when they don't work and get angry at google's inferior searchability.

3. I get REALLY excited about anything with the word "archive" in it.

1945

2007-03-13T18:37:00.000-04:00

For most of my life, I have liked the number 1945. It's always connoted the end of World War Two, in my history-major mind. I'm pretty sure you'd have to be insane not to like that.

Yesterday, my appreciation of the number diminished somewhat. It's less appealing when your lease renewal shows up and that it the number on it, represententing an increase of several several hundreds of dollars.

Expect Manhattan real estate angst to be forthcoming.

But, I'm ready. Let's go.

You know, now that i think about it, perhaps the World War Two analogy isn't all wrong. Consider me the allies, and every apartment in this city the Nazi hordes. See that photo up there? That's gonna be me, on June 1st, hoisting a new pride flag on my fire escape, in victory over the millions of people vying for the oh so many apartments in this city, and saying nana nana poo poo to the idiot who lives in this apartment for $2400 when I lived in it for 14.

Yes, let's go.

Shameless self-promotion

2007-02-27T17:47:00.000-05:00

I just did a guest stint on A Well Travelled Pup, everyone check it out!

Things which piss me off when I ride the subway (A list a lifetime in the making)

2007-02-24T01:21:00.000-05:00

1. People clipping their nails. Onto the floor. On the platform, on the train itself, anywhere, it is revolting and makes me want to projectile vomit all over them. Then they will be 1/10 as revolted by me as I am by them. (Full disclosure: the sound of nail clippers ranks NUMBER ONE on my least favorite things on the entire planet)

2. That dude who spat onto the floor of the Q train. Like, seriously? Swallowing is too difficult? He totally deserved to be mercilessly glared at for the next ten minutes.

3. That dude who flashed me. For the rest of my life I will wonder how his zipper against his totally disgusting flaccid penis wasn't uncomfortable. And then I will hope that he zips he totally disgusting flaccid penis into that zipper, causing irreperable damage.

4. I know this is repetitive, but people who take up 4 seats. I mean, it's impressive, and hats off to the skinny bastards who do it, but god damn it my ankles hurt and your pearl paint bag does not deserve priority.

5. Unthoughtful stroller drivers of both sexes. You live in the city, you were probably single in the city at some point (who the hell else would attempt to raise a kid here?), were you not pissed off by unthoughtful stroller drivers such as yourselves at some point? I assure you, you were.

6. That bitch who literally threatened to fucking kill me after I didn't get out of her brats' way fast enough. She was probably all talk and I won the fight with the closing words "good fucking role model you are." Thank god the conductor had seen enough at that point and decided to close the doors and ride away, because I'm pretty sure I'd be dead right now otherwise. PS-Bitch, if I ever see you again, it is ON.

7. The epically smelly dude that made a ride to Brooklyn one fateful spring night truly a night to remember, in that it was just as horrific as the night the Titanic sank. At least if you were my nose, which was telling my brain that it had just entered into a shit-filled crypt.

8. That time I saw a human turd in the West 4th Street stop. Although this raises the interesting point of what hobo was slick enough to drop that off in such a perfect coil and not get caught? Bravo.

9. People who went to NRHS whose faces look so fucking familiar but whose names are completely (and justifiably) gone from my head, if they were ever there to begin with. This sucks doubly if they call me out by name and start a conversation.

10. The Upper East Side.

AND

Things which make me happy when I ride the subway!

1. Those two person seats that no reasonable human would ever try to sit next to you on, but make for fantastic snuggling when you're with your boyf.

2. Those dudes with the pan pipes. I have an unnending and passionate love for these artists.

3. Seeing people who you forgot exist but whose faces genuinely make you happy.

4. Being the only person in an entire car and singing at the top of my lungs, just because I can. This only happened once, at mid-day, on a W train. It was fan-flippin-tastic.

5. Midwestern tourists that look like they've just seen Jesus. (Although I will say you fucking SUCK when you're walking 5-abreast down Christopher street. Then I want to shove you into the nearest bondage shop and hope you die of a massive coronary. Seriously.)

On another note, I watched the last ever episode of the OC this morning and have been unreasonably emotional about it all day. I just needed to get that off my chest.

Ok, just one more thing about Bleecker Street

2007-01-21T10:37:00.000-05:00

Ok, the last post I wrote about Bleecker Street had one glaring omission, because I thought I was dreaming things and it was too cold to go out and search for evidence. I felt like I had seen signs somewhere in the vicinity of my apartment where the C was missing. And now Gothamist has totally proved me right! Observe, this was linked to the site yesterday:

Do you see that? NO FREAKING C! Even the city can't get it's act together! Apparently this is happening all over the Village and it would seem that DoT has just as much trouble outside of the grid pattern as your average 300 pound Kansas Tourist Housewife.

Insomnia does wonders for this blog

2007-01-17T01:43:00.000-05:00

things people have searched for in google in order to reach my blog:

Transvestites
Male Genital Desensitizer

This blog's traffic would be nill if it weren't for the ridiculousness I see on my street.

In other news, I really would rather be asleep. it seems insomnia has decided to once again rear its ugly head. As has all my ankle pain. And I was starting to feel like maybe I wasn't living up to this blog's name, what with the lack of ankle talk. I'm going to go drink a whole fucking lot of water and see if maybe being fully hydrated will make me sleepy. It can't hurt, right? Good hydration is never a bad thing.

Anyone have any fail-proof insomnia killers? My age-old counting backwards from 1000 seems to have lost its effectiveness.

Wait, Where Do I Live?

2007-01-12T09:20:00.000-05:00

So a great Village anomaly has come to my attention. While dealing with the Great Gas Nastiness earlier this week, there was much discussion of Bleecker Street, which is about 30 feet from my front door. Observe, this was taken from our fire escape:

It has always been my opinion that the C in the word Bleecker is completely extraneous, perhaps a remnant of our Dutch past that could be gotten rid of, unlike the extra A that used to be present in Haarlem and I feel really adds a little oomph. Anyway, people's discussions of the gas leak on Bleecker made me realize that I am in no way alone. In many places, the C was nowhere to be seen. To the extent that I actually began to question whether the C was there all and I had imagined its presence on my corner. So, here's what I did. I googled the words "Bleeker Street." Google did not give me one of those Did you mean Bleecker Street? lines at the top of my results. Instead, it would seem that the results are split exactly 50/50 on whether or not the C exists.

GoNYC? It's got the C if you want to take a gourmet walking tour of this fine street (GO TO MURRAY'S!). None other than Simon and Garfunkel seem to have left the C out of hte title of their song "Bleeker Street." Now, I trust these guys, for christ's sake, my parents almost named me Cecelia, I have to give these boys some respect, they actually make a putrid name sound desirable. That's no mean feat. I'd like to see someone pull that off with Agnes or Minerva or Gladys.

Google's map has the C, but the various establishments listed along the side seem to be out on whether or not it should be there. Bleeker Street Pizza? It's got it. Bleeker Street locksmith? Lacking.

However, the best example of the mysterious C in my opinion goes to the famous (and in my opinion overrated) John's Pizza? It's perhaps the most confused of all-it's got no C on the sign in front or on the web page, but you better believe the URL is www.johnsofbleeckerstreet.com . So what the fuck is that about? John's is considered a Village institution, and I guess if they are straddling the fence on this one, we're all supposed to go along. But I will not stand by this! John's, your pizza is mediocre and so is your stance-I don't care what you think-you look like a fool in your own home, and it's your own damned fault! And in solidarity with Harlem's lost A, I am standing by the C, as annoying as it can be sometimes to remember to put it in there.

I feel better now that that's off my chest.

Oh god, already a post-script and I haven't even hit publish yet! I just spell-checked this beast and EVERY instance of the words Bleeker AND Bleecker was flagged as being wrong. Blogger adds another vote to the undecided column!

The gas smell reverbs.

2007-01-09T08:35:00.000-05:00

I mean, really. I understand that the mysterious gas leak's only known origin was right here on Bleecker Street, but really, jackhammering at 8am? It doesn't smell like gas any more, and there were all sorts of new holes in my street when I got home yesterday. Those weren't enough? You had to start again? I'm not really sure what you think you're going to find. And if you hit a gas main and either a) blow up or b) make me lose gas I am going to have to come out there and kill you myself (if you're not dead already, of course). And honestly, I will admit that yesterday's nastiness woke me up out of a very lovely sleep (as opposed to this morning's which involved various random NRHS faces-I think I need to get off all those social networking sites) and I would like for that to never happen again, so I encourage you to fix it, but if you could do it at a normal hour, that would be superb.

Really? THIS is why I've been up for an hour?

2007-01-05T07:28:00.000-05:00

I woke up at 6:30 this morning, out of a dream that made me SO excited that I simply could not stay asleep any longer.

What was it, you ask?

Obviously is was that my landlord told me that there was a Christopher Street-side one bedroom available that Sean & I could take---and here's where the excitement kicks in---we would be paying the same rent we are now. Why am I dreaming about this NOW? My lease isn't up for another 6 months! Jesus!!!

Thanks, Manhattan Real Estate Insanity, for taking over my day time & my dreams.

Not my apartment.

YEAH!

2007-01-04T11:23:00.000-05:00

New glasses day is my most favorite day of the year!

It's better than the good old days, which weren't so great to begin with.

2007-01-03T20:59:00.000-05:00

It's 9pm on a Wednesday, and I'm still at work. So I figure it's as good a time as any to catch up on life.

This coming Friday marks my last day as an employee of Turner. Starting Monday, I get several weeks of severance pay (which is totally fucking sweet, since...) I will still technically be an employee of the company, in a semi-new and wonderful capacity-an archivist at everyone's favorite newsmedia organization. Which is, of course, why I am still in this hellacious building. The news never stops, does it? And even though the last lowly PA has left for the evening, I have another hour to sit here and wait just in case someone calls needing footage of Gerald Ford falling down those damned steps, or needs footage of people doing dirty things at work fed down to another bureau. But, I will say that this is the first time I have been honestly bored here since I started working here in August. Which is a wonderful change from my previous place of employment and leaves me filled with happiness and exhaustion at the end of every day. I am learning lots, and this has even inspired me to apply to grad school which is the other fun thing in my life. Now if my lovely professors would just mail me my reccomendations I could mail in the damned application and I would get in and my life would be superb.

Fun things in my life which aren't work related but I am not in the mood to discuss in depth:
Boyfie (such things should not be taken for granted)
new glasses (in colors not listed there, because they are new new new and I am shiek shiek shiek) (And if you actually thought I would repeat the leopard print LaFont thing you are MISTAKEN!)
Anthropologie gift certificates (if my wallet were stolen this is what I would miss the most, as they are irreplaceable, as opposed to my ugly license)
Walking home from work and not limping by 50th street
Rena coming home in less than two weeks
Fun eye makeup
Male genital desensitizer boxes on Christopher Street
Andrea making me laugh at work late at night

Things which should die a painful death:
The holiday lights display in the Time Warner Center which insists on going off obnoxiously every night
The line in whole foods when I went to buy dinner there tonight
Jackhammers on Christopher street at both 11pm and 8 am
The aeron chair I'm sitting in
My futon mattress which makes my ass numb.

Point, Counterpoint

2006-12-30T03:05:00.000-05:00

How I spent my friday night:

First: At this movie: Read that, contemplate how wierd it sounds, now multiply it by 10,000 and add 3 life-size bunnies that are NOT Frank. but possibly demonic.

Second: at the slipper room. Where there was a 7 foot bunny who thought Sean was hot and was very verbal about it. And where there were also tassels and striptease and all other good things which are burlesque-y.

Third: Sleepin'

Night!

I love my street and never ever want to leave it ever

2006-12-28T11:51:00.000-05:00

On my way to work this morning the trash that I walked by included:

1 box of tahini mix that was bloated with botchilism (mine)

1 baggie of spice muffins in a ziploc (mine)

1 male genital desensitzer box (NOT MINE)

I have been contemplating how a male gential desensitzer works and what it looks like ALL MORNING.

My love for Christopher Street grows exponentially by the day.

A (call to) Apple a day is going to give me a fucking coronary.

2006-12-21T08:13:00.000-05:00

In all fairness, I don't know who I should blame more, Apple or FedEx. Originally, the blame lay with FedEx and particularly this one cunty "customer service" representative who turned me into a raving maniac one night a few weeks ago. But today, and today may be the most important day of this issue thus far, the blame lies with a "customer service" (in quotes not because I don't know how to use them, but because the last thing I have gotten out of this is anything remotely resembling service) representative of Apple Computer, Inc.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. As some of you may know (and if you don't I'm sorry to enlighten you) my ears suck. One time in college I went to Health Services because I thought I had an ear infection. Turns out that my ears are perfectly designed for keeping lifetimes worth of earwax stored in their cavities and it had to be purged. Through this process, I succeeded in making a RN completely visibly disgusted. I consider this a personal accomplishment. ANYWAY, I also happen to be partial to in-ear headphones, I can't have the big ones fucking with my 'do (curls+huge headband from headphones=I look a little more than ridiculous when I get off the subway). I currently have a pair of Sony ones that I bought two years ago, the wires of which have turned yellow with age, the sound quality continues to descends inot the depths of hell, and as a result of the aforementioned ear wax issue, are just plain disgusting to look at. SO, on black Friday, my dear and loving hero of a boyfie tells me that Apple is having a one-day sale both in their stores and online. I am no idiot, I do it online, if I know anything, I know that a trip to the apple store the day after thanksgiving is a death wish. So I purchase a new pair of headphones. Considerably more expensive, but considering that I am loathe to use my ipod because of the nastiness of the current headphones, I figure this is a logical investment.

Now, this is where I need to put in a mea culpa. When asked for the shipping address, I put in my apartment. Honestly, I didn't think it would be an issue. At that point my freelance hours were such that I figured it would come while I was home. WRONG. For 3 days, it arrived approximately 1 hour after I had to leave. After the first day, I called FedEx begging them to change the address. Apparently FedEx & Apple have some sort of cabal where customers can in NO WAY change the shipping address EVER. Therefore, despite my begging after day one to immediately have the package sent back to apple who could then change the shipping address, FedEx tried two more times and then, despite me calling on a freakishly regular basis, it sat in a warehouse in Brooklyn for two weeks, while the tracking website taunted me with "package available for customer pickup." Except the fedEx people couldn't tell me where the warehouse is, nor could the website. FINALLY, two weeks after the 3rd attempt, it gets sent back to Apple.

Now, as soon as this became an issue, I called apple and had them change the shipping address for the second shipment to my address at work, a mere 3 miles to the north of my home. I spoke to at least 3 seperate customer service representatives who assured me that the address had been changed.

This morning, when I get a confirmation email that my headphones will now be making their THIRD cross-country trip in the next 24 hours (at least I get free overnight shipping!) what does the shipping address say??? MY FUCKING APARTMENT!!!!!!!!!! Which, of course, means that this is going to happen ALL OVER AGAIN, because as we've learned, the FedEx/Apple shipping cabal states that customers can not change their shipping addresses EVERRRRRRRRR. All attempts to call Apple with the last piece of my sanity intact were brutally rebuffed because "their offices are currently closed."

I can not put into words just how fucking pissed off I am right now.

Thanks for listening, bloggy baby, Sean's still asleep and if I didn't get this out my head was going to explode and rather than an alarm clock he would have been woken up by the sound of the contents of my head hitting the walls.

POSTSCRIPT:
I got my head phones. Yesterday. 34 days after I originally ordered them and they arrived to my apartment, where no one signed for them, and they sat in my hallway all day, after FedEx swore to me 10 times they were coming to the Time Warner center. They're totally sweet, and apple gave me an extra 25 dollars off, but I'm pretty sure that that doesn't make up for the several months this took off my life while trying to get this delivered.

Downsized!

2006-10-06T13:36:00.000-04:00

So, if there are any readers here who I haven't spoken to in a) ever b)more than 4 years, or c) since I graduated from New Rochelle High School, or if you went to New Rochelle High School and we don't still talk, this is your official invitation to either a) make yourself known or b) stop reading this blog forever. Because frankly, it creeps me out that you could potentially be reading this and that you even found it. Ok, now that that's out of the way....

I got fired! Okay, officially, I got downsized. They eliminated my department here in New York, and I was put on severance pay. I am going to be working extremely part time hours and still be getting full time pay until January 5th, and then after the 5th I get 6 weeks of full time pay. That is, unless I get another job, at which point I am cut free. I am not going to speculate on that aspect of my future, but will say that CNN is making my life right now.

More bedbug Haiku

2006-09-28T15:51:00.000-04:00

I. So much to do. Marauders

make life difficult.

Clean out closet, vacuum shoes.

II. Exterminator in mi

casa manana.

Will marauders die? I hope so.

The huge roach's revenge?

2006-09-27T10:41:00.000-04:00

I have bedbugs. So itchy.

Call them marauders.

My arm itches. I hate bugs.

If you're going to take up so much space in this apartment, you're going to have to pay rent

2006-09-19T09:25:00.000-04:00

That's right, you wierdly disgusting HUGE roach that Sean and I dispensed with last night. You weren't pulling your weight in the apartment, you weren't cleaning up after yourself, and judging by your size you had been living there QUITE some time. For you to show your face and HUGE body just as I was getting ready to go to bed really just wasn't very nice. And right by my bed no less! You've got some nerve. You obviously had to go.

Yeah, so we had a major run in with an epically proportioned roach last night. The little fucker was climbing up my air conditioner right as I was going to get into bed last night. Sean tried desperately to kill it with a shoe while I stood like a wimp on the futon holding a flip flop for my own defense. He chased it from beneath our bed to beneath the futon, at which point I remembered that I had a handily huge can of roach poison under my sink in case of just such an event. At which point, I got off the futon, grabbed the can, and started spraying like a maniac. This proved to be a move of pure genius because even though the said poison did not kill the roach on contact, as it promised it would, it did manage to slow the fucker down enough so that Sean was able to kill it with his shoe (although the thing was so big it took two resounding ::crunch::es to send it to the great roachy beyond.) After the prehistoric pest was dealt with, and we high fived each othermaniacally every 30 seconds or so for five minutes, we were able to relax and breathe in the sweet scent of roach poison and fall off to sleep.

And just so no one thinks I am exaggerating the size of this thing, Sean and I took a photo:

Also, the flash totally picked up the reflection of its gnarly guts on the floor, I did NOT see that last night. I will be mopping that shit up with my swiffer wet jet tonoight! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEW.

One last thing-I just measured the dime on my screen against a real life dime, that bug that you are looking at is completely and utterly accurately life sized. Unreal.

Do you like pandas? I do.

2006-09-15T16:48:00.002-04:00

In fact, on days like today, they're pretty much what gets me through my day. How could you possibly be entertained by a cute furry panda while sitting in that shithole known as your office, you ask? It's easy! My employer hooked a bitch up.

Watch on, lovers, watch on.

(for all you internet idiots, click on the title of this post, prepare to be killed by cuteness)

They like me, they really like me!

2006-07-31T15:03:00.000-04:00

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/179331455.html

I've achieved immortality...Thanks craigslist!

Dear Transvestite Sitting On My Stoop,

2006-07-07T10:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Transvestite Sitting On My Stoop,

It was so nice to see you last night! To see a warm smiling, deer-in-the-headlights face looking up at me from my one step stoop as I staggered back to my building after an exhausting day of doctor's appointments and other various emotionally draining activities was simply a pure joy. And then! You gave me the gift that I never could have hoped to receive! From beneath your oh-so-fashionable mini jean skirt, what did I see? Oh! Could that be?? Your penis?!?! Why, yes, yes it was! Oh, and were you sitting on my step, my lucky lucky step and using it as a toilet? YOU WERE! How wonderful! My, you really did have to go, didn't you? You just couldn't stop yourself could you? I mean, really, I understand, I often feel the need to sit in the middle of one of the busiest streets in the whole fucking city and use it for my own toilet. I regularly just sit down whenever the mood strikes and let 'er rip. I can understand that a trash can or sewer wasn't good enough, really. And I know that even though the Hudson River is just a few hundred feet away, my stoop was obviously the MOST perfect place for you to take that 5 minute leak. Yes, I understand, you couldn't risk your oh-so-fashionable outfit getting mussed in any way by walking down to the water, or anyplace that wasn't my stoop, really. I can't blame you, it is engineered just perfectly to double as a toilet. Maybe I'll try it some time myself. Thanks for the idea! I hope you don't mind!
And while I'm at it, Transvestite Sitting On My Stoop, I'd like to thank you for whispering to me about how you have a weak bladder as I was trying to desperately to get into my building without stepping into the huge puddle of piss growing at my feet, and simultaneously begging me for five dollars and pleading with me not to call the cops. Your dulcet tones so close to my ear, well, they sent shivers down my spine. It was an expereince unlike any other I've had yet living in this city. And also, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for showing me your penis so completely, it's all I see when I close my eyes now, with its full stream of urine falling like a little sterile waterfall upon the sidewalk, I surely will be having dreams about it for weeks. Thank you so much, Transvestite Sitting On My Stoop, really, I hope we meet again soon.

With all my love and devotion,

Em.

An open letter to the NYPD

2006-06-26T10:01:00.000-04:00

Dear NYPD officers who were in the Christopher Street subway station checking bags this morning,

I know that you consider this task to be of the utmost importance, and generally, I can understand why you would think so. HOWEVER, AND I KNOW YOU NOTICED THIS, yesterday was, indeed, the Gay Pride Parade. And I understand that you might not have been on duty, considering you were up with brass buttons shining at 8 am, so let me clarify something for you. Everyone who lives anywhere near that subway station was CRUNKED OUT OF THEIR MINDS yesterday. Probably anyone who is queer in the least who lives anywhere near anywhere was crunked out of their minds yesterday, you know? Like, look at this photo:

These people are ALL crunked. So, I just don't understand why you picked the Christopher Street stop to search for terrorists today. I really don't. I know that I, personally, was hung over before I even went to bed at 9:30 last night when I took tylenol PM and tried to forget how much sangria I had, so I can only imagine that the rest of the people who live in this queer epicenter felt equally or more shitty as I did this morning. I just really think that you efforts, and piercing looks when you were trying to determine whether or not my tote bag was filled with WMD's rather than an ipod and some old junk mail, could have been better served at ANY OTHER STATION IN THE MTA SYSTEM (except for maybe West 4th street). I know that I looked suspicious, that I was wearing sunglasses at 8 am on a very overcast morning, but really, it was necessary, okay? Don't you understand that delicioius sangria made with cheap wine can do vile things to a girl? I just really could have done without the accusatory looks. Why don't you go bug the B&T bitches up at Penn Station? Leave me alone!

A typically New York nightmare?

2006-06-15T10:32:00.000-04:00

I woke up the other night from a terrifying nightmare, that I think I can only blame on the real-estate-obsessed nature of my city.

I dreamt that two girls moved into a two bedroom apartment in my building. Approximately my age, they invited me upstairs to hang out. I walked in and was faced with the most gorgeous, huge apartment I have ever laid eyes on. I got lost in the lush interiors, marveled at the sun-soaked perfectly painted walls, and ached to sleep in their bedrooms, perfectly appointed and jealousy-inducing in their design. Of course, this being New York, the conversation turned to rent. How much were they paying? $450 dollars less, total, than I was. I woke up in a state of panic.

Of course, considering that no New Yorker is ever not thinking about real estate, this made perfect sense. S and I walk around the village pointing at beautifully redone carriage houses and saying in front of each door, "fuck you." Jealousy over real estate is what keeps this city moving, I'm convinced. The only reason people work as hard as they do is so that they can live in something marginally larger than their bedroom closet in their parents' homes (full disclosure: my apartment is in fact 3x larger than my closet in New Rochelle).

And just to make matters worse, the dream I described above actually did happen to me recently. I met a very nice late-30's aged man who just moved into a one bedroom upstairs last week. He's new to the city from Arizona and was more than willing to chat and talk about his experiences here so far. And, of course, the conversation came to rent. His one-bedroom is 200 square feet larger than my studio, and he's paying $45 dollars more than me a month. Even typing this out a week after the conversation makes my blood boil, my heart thump, and makes me exert huge amounts of self-control to not throw myself onto the floor and have a temper tantrum.

But I liked being a freak of nature...

2006-05-22T12:39:00.000-04:00

Beneath this ace bandaged exterior...

Is a completely normal ankle.

So, of course, my second surgery is complete. I now have as many bones in my body as the average human being. Which, let's be real, is sad. Sean and Dmo say that I've lost a certain glimmer in my eye, that I no longer have that j'ne sais quoi that until recently was extremely mysterious but obviously was a direct result of my extra bones.

This makes me feel like this...

But, that being said, the second surgery went much more smoothly than the first. I was putting weight on it almost immediately, and I have ditched the crutches. I'm going to go out later today and do errands, because I can drive. And, of course, the best part of this recuperation period, like going to the Bronx Zoo last time, was our Saturday afternoon jaunt up to Smith. It was great to be there without feeling pressure or stress, and to only see people who I wanted to see. I decided I was up to going on Friday, so no one really knew I would be there, so there were many suprises and shocked faces, which is always fun. Basically, it was the first time I went back up to Smith since graduation that actually made me miss being there. But not enough to actually want to go back. It was a perfect day, and it made me realize how much I love it up there, and how great my friends are. There are photos of the day on flickr.

Packing continues, sort of. I made a huge scrap book while I recuperated, so now I know that the things I have kept and valued while I lived in the gumdrop won't be lost. My dad packed up his workshop, which is difficult for him, but I could have done without the bad mood and attitude problem. But, I'm sure that while I clean out my closet I will be in no better a mood, so I guess I shouldn't talk yet.

Gumdrop party is next weekend. If you're reading this, know me, and weren't invited and would like to be, let me know, I'll see what I can do. I'm actually really looking foward to it. My dad got it catered, and it seems like theweather is finally starting to improve, so I hope that it will prove to be a really nice afternoon. Although hofacebitchmouthdogbreath and her kid the troll will be there, I know that there will be many more people there to see me than people who could ever want to speak to her. So I have nothing to worry about.

Okay, I think I'm going to go try to rejoin the human race, get dressed, and go out and do some errands. Thrilling, I know. Here's hoping Leftie holds up to the stress.

14 hours til show time.

2006-05-15T15:42:00.000-04:00

So my second surgery is tomorrow morning. I have to be at Beth Israel at 5:45 am, and will probably be back in New Ro about 11. I know that logically, I should not be concerned. I should, instead, be calm, knowing that this will all go smoothly, just as it did last time, that I will be up and at 'em again in a week, and that I have the next week to myself, to drink fribbles with S and hang out with friends who are home for the summer, and perhaps even pack a little. But, I am worried. And nervous. I have a pit in my stomach and I have convinced myself that at some point in the next week my right ankle is going to cave and I am going to be crippled. I am aware of the ridiculousness of this, simultaneously, but it is the overriding emotion at the moment. I don't want to go through with this again, my right ankle is finally feeling good, the thought of going back to square one is just terrifying. I wanna go home and go to sleep and wake up in a week. Is that okay? Can I go do that now?

Gumdrop Party

2006-05-11T10:27:00.000-04:00

So as this amazing invite designed by S. indicates, we're having a goodbye party at the gumdrop over Memorial Day weekend. I'm pretty stoked for it, as it will be a good way to get (hopefully) all of my friends in one spot, and should make for an afternoon of excellent food (I've seen the menu-it's catered!) and fun. If you're reading this and we've spent more than an hour in the same room, chances are I want you to be there, and I'm hoping I'll get some Israel people (hi, Amanda!) and maybe even some Smithies to come down, if I'm lucky. I am completely wrecked over having to leave the house, but I think that having all of the people who I love and adore there for one last time will really make a difference. I'm trying not to get bogged down with all the insanity that's going to be going down over the next month (Two weddings, an ankle surgery and a possible cameo at my college reunion, in addition to the move) but I think this will be a good way to slow down for a day and just enjoy having a good time. If nothing else, it will make for some excellent meeting and blending of personalities and I can't wait to get everyone together for a good time. Secretly, eventhough the invite only says 4-8, I'm hoping people just linger all night, and it turns into one huge amazing pink couch party, because god knows the New Ro crew is attatched to those couches. I'm considering stealing one of the pink pillows that goes with them, it's just too comfy! So yeah, all in all, I'm excited for the party, now if my dad could just get his act together and send out an invite (admitedly not this amazing invite pictured above, he is an old fart and wants something lame and boring. Shocker.) then we can get this show on the road.

Round Two!

2006-05-09T15:21:00.000-04:00

So, since I know all 3 of my readers are sitting on the edge of their seats about what's been going on in my life, I suppose I'll write an update. My second surgery is a week from today, May 16th. My life is so hectic otherwise that I have absolutely no opportunity to process how I feel about being cut open again. Here's why I feel okay about being cut open again: my left ankle has always been in better shape than my right, and since I've already expereinced the first surgery, I ostensibly know what's coming. I will have 6 scars total, and lots of physical therapy, and the ability to walk on my own two feet. However, on the down side, I am still a little nervous, and I'm really feeling inconvenineced by having to go through this again. Although I am excited to not have to work for another week. Unfortunately, I will be spending most of this week packing up the gumdrop and figuring what I do and don't want to keep from the last 23 years of my life. I'm not looking foward to this.

As a result of the fact that we are moving out of the gumdrop, people have started giving me their opinions on a variety of topics regarding the things which are in the house, and specifically the things which belonged to my mother. I understand that this is a touchy subject, and that everyone has opinions as to what is important, but I have had the last three years to decide what's important, and I am damned sure that the dining room table doesn't qualify. 15 feet of mahogany really means nothing to me, especially in terms of my mother and memories of her, other than being forced to pull the thing apart to add leaves solo and setting the table for 12. Good riddance, table! My dad and I have tried to solve this problem by having a party at the house; we're going to allow the members of our family to go through and tell us what they'd like to keep. However, this seems to be translating to people telling me what they'd like ME to keep. As if I don't have enough. On any given day, I am probably wearing upwards of two or three things that belonged to my mother that she either gave to me or I inherited. Taking much more will turn my tiny apartment into a shrine to her, and that's just morbid and creepy. I want nothing to do with that. I am happy to share her things with my family and her friends, but I can't take anything else. So I know that was a side rant, but I have had two of these extremely uncomfortable conversations in the last 3 days, and it's frustrating. I feel like I'm not being trusted to make my own decisions, and being told that the proper way to remember my mom is to take the ugly dining room table just isn't cutting it.

Rant over.

Yess!

2006-04-21T11:29:00.000-04:00

Apple fixed my computer, free of charge. Freaking awesome. My faith has been restored. I can't wait to have it back!

Writing for the sake of writing...

2006-04-21T09:50:00.000-04:00

Because I'm bored, and it's Friday, and I have nothing to do, as always. Nothing too exciting has gone on in my life recently. My ankle is coming along well. I've started physical therapy, which is good. Up through today it's mostly just light stuff, stretching and icing and massage and getting electrocuted, but starting Monday I'm going to be doing some more high-intensity stuff, to make sure I can actually survive without this bone they removed. I bought a pair of sneakers to get me through. And who doesn't love new sneakers? I mean, they're not my typical awesome Pumas, but they're cute NB's and I'm okay with that. Sean and I went out for dinner last night, had some mediocre Mexican and then got some ice cream wandered while we finished our cones. I was able to actually handle the wandering, even though my left foot randomly started spasming after I got home. The scars on my ankle are pretty much healed, and vary in color from day to day anywhere from bright red to a lovely lavender. I wonder if those scar creams would actually do anything in this case? It's funny though, when I touch the biggest scar, I can't feel it, but underneath that it's still pretty sore and tender and icky. This is obviously why PT is essential.

In other fun news, my harddrive in my powerbook died. Shoutout to Sean & Dmo for teaming up to help me get the data off (who knew holding the thing at an 80 degree angle could make it work? Love it.) Anyway, the thing is at the Apple factory type place, where they're assessing the damage. I spoke to Apple on the phone this morning, and hte guy was SO much nicer than the shmuck with a chip on his shoulder in SoHo who told me that there was very little chance that hte thing would cost less than $900 to fix. So much for Apple Care. But the guy on the phone was much more encouraging. So it seems like there's actually a possiblity that the MacBook of my dreams may just stay that way for a little while longer. Which is fine, I don't really need to be owning a new $2000 dollar computer at this point. The plan is to keep this one for at least another year. And anyway, if it turns out that Apple can't fix it for free, I'm going to take it to TekServe and see what they can do. Because while Apple won't give me a bigger Harddrive, TekServe will. So I am not without hope. I have all my data, the computer isn't necessarily a goner, and I have pretty pink and gray sneakers to admire while I'm unable to use the internet at home. Life is good.

As promised, photographic ridiculousness

2006-04-03T15:53:00.000-04:00

If you click on the link provided in the title of this post, you can see all the photos. Be warned, there are some of my ankle unwrapped just a few days after surgery. Not for the faint of stomach.

Recouperation since then has had its shares of ups and downs. There are some times when it feels fine and dandy, and there are others, like yesterday and today, where I can barely stand it it hurts so much, and it feels the same as it did before this even started. It's discouraging, but I know it probably needs more time. The effects of all this have really begun to wear me down. I've gained back a little of the weight that worked so hard to lose last year I because of not being able to move around like I used to, only being able to be out of my apartment on beautiful spring days for a few hours at a time before I have to hobble back inside and sleep and rest my throbbing legs, and basically general unfunness. And I have to go through this all again. So, as you can tell, this whole process really has me down. One part of my brain is telling me this is doing nothing, while a much smaller part is continually trying to convince me that that's not the case. I'm ready for this to be done already. My now-weekly orthopedist appointment is on Thursday. Hopefully we'll be able to scheldule the next operation, I'm done with this bullshit already.

How you know it's Spring in New York

2006-03-31T14:44:00.000-05:00

My office smells like B.O.

(Link to pictures from surgery week insanity forthcoming)

1 down, 1 to go

2006-03-22T09:08:00.000-05:00

Operation was yesterday. Having come downstairs while no one else is at the gumdrop and being too lazy to go back up, I am siezing this as one of my few opportunities within hte next week to be able to write without vicodin being majorly in my system.

Here, for your enjoyment, is a list of things that will probably answer any questions one could have about the fun and games that occurred yesterday morning.

What time I had to be at the hospital: 5:45.

Who's an angel for coming with me/meeting me there: Sean and the Bub.

What information the hospital already had on me: My address from when I lived in Chelsea 23 years ago.

Here's where I was born: The same place they yanked out my bone.

Here's what they took out of my ankle: a bone roughly the size of a marble, which they WOULD NOT LET ME KEEP! (Fucking state law cocksuckers)

Here's how long the incision was: 3 inches.

Here's what the anesthesiologist did: put me completely under, and put up with me holding onto his finger as I fell asleep.

Here's how many stitches I have: Good question!

Here's why I don't know how many stitches I have: The incision is covered in gauze which is covered by an ace bandage (They close with velcro now! Such advances! Those old school pins on the end hurt and were very loseable). The ace bandage (who is this Ace?) is covered by tubular gauze which acts like a sock. The piece d'resistance is that over this whole lovely ensemble, I am wearing one of those booties that upon first glance I said OH LOOK ITS ONE OF THOSE WIERD SHOES THAT HOMELESS PEOPLE WEAR SO YOU CAN SEE HOW GROSS THEIR TOES ARE!

Here's what I'm better at today than yesterday: Using crutches

Here's who's worried sick about me 24/7 eventhough she's trying to play it cool: Grandma.

My life, as you can tell, is: SO EXCITING.

When I get up the motivation, I will grab my dad's digital camera and throw a few pictures on here. Just because I find this whole thing funny.

Drive-by blessings

2006-03-08T15:12:00.000-05:00

You know how there are some days where there are definite themes? Where things happen over and over and they're totally unrelated incidents but they all happen at once so it's weird and makes you look over your shoulder all the time? Like the weird looking semi-effeminate bald dude who I see in the subway all the time. And not on the same trains or at the same time of day, either.

Today's seemingly unrelated incidents are blessings. Not sneeze-induced blessings, but random ones, out of nowhere, for no reason. Today's examples:

1) When attempting to cross Columbus Circle this morning my eye catches this dude standing amidst construction. I didn't really think anything of it, I just figured he was standing there waiting for the light to change, too. But then he offers me a Mountain Dew. (I can think of nothing more revolting than Mountain Dew at 8:30 am on a Wednesday, but that's neither here nor there). I say, "oh, no thanks." And he goes, "No, problem, God bless you!!" I obviously hurry away, feeling freaked out by this unasked for invocation and rather wishing it hadn't happened. My mind immediately thought back to the time this summer when this crazy voodoo witch lady hexed me when I wouldn't give her a nickel. She proceeded to barrage me with some crazy prayer, much to my amusement. It didn't bother me. But...a prayer makes me go EW and scurry and a hex makes me laugh my ass off. Someone I don't know is forcing their deity and their beliefs onto me against my consent and as far as I'm concerned, it's offensive. Anyway, onto example number...

2) While going up the escalator in the mall in this belly of the way-uhl, I witnessed an interaction between a woman so poorly coiffed she could only be lost and a rather normal looking man about whether the bags he was carrying from Gracious Home were from inside this ridiculous establishment. He informed her that no, they weren't, indeed, the closest Gracious Home was on 67th Street. They lamented the distance (7 blocks, a shandah) and he got off the escalator. Upon his departure she yelled "GOD BLESS YOU!" Over some fucking directions.

So what is this with the blessings? Why do people feel the need to bless people who they don't know, over things which mean nothing at all? Do I have the right to be offended? To be unhappy about being blessed because I don't believe in god? That I'm being blessed without my consent? Indeed, if I were in a church, or synagogue and the clergy threw a blessing in my direction, I would understand; I was there willingly and therefore subjected myself to any potential protection that they would offer. But on the street? I just don't like it. I don't feel protected, I feel violated. Call me cynical, mean, hedonistic, but for Christ's sake, people, keep your blessings to yourselves!

My novel idea

2006-03-02T16:31:00.000-05:00

Here's the thought:

Every time your high school has a snow day, you, too, should have a snow day. Yes.

In other news, I got the air casts, and since having put them on my legs have transformed themselves into clubs which I would really like to tear off and beat myself with. My legs are hot, and swollen, and ever since I went to the doctor on Monday they've been hurting and/or throbbing nonstop. I'm taking advil, but I don't like taking it 24/7 because I feel like that can't really be good for you. Not that advil would help the perpetual claustrophobia that I am feeling because of my legs.

As predicted, none of my shoes fit now that I have these things, with the exception of my hiking boots, which aren't really work-appropriate. So, I think I might cave, and buy a pair of uggs, because I saw a pair that are not that ugly, and since something tells me I'm gonna be logging a lot of time in air casts, so...

We'll see.

I wonder what the chances are of me getting the test results back tomorrow afternoon and going into surgery on Monday are. Because I can't handle too much more of this. I'm itching to get out of my skin.

And now, why this blog is named what it is.

2006-02-27T14:59:00.000-05:00

Because, frankly, my ankles (and particularly my right one) SUCK.

Having had my first run in with miserableness at the cost of my ankles in the first grade, it goes without saying that waiting until I was 23 to do something about it was not the smartest move. That being said, I went to my 4th orthopedist for the same problem since 1998 today, and it seems that I'm finally on the way to doing something about the chronic pain which IS my life. The prognosis is NOT that I have tendonitis, as was stated by the previous 3 orthopedists that I have seen, but instead that I am MISSING AN ENTIRE JOINT IN MY ANKLE. Which explains SO much. It seems that when we are babies our bones resemble cartiledge much more than they resemble bone. As we age, the bones fuse and/or seperate to become, you know, our skeleton. So, basically, a bunch of bones in my right ankle didn't do that and I am therefore missing a joint and my legs have had to compensate because of it. My right leg compensated by chipping in various parts of my ankle and becoming generally ridiculous and my left compensated by actually developing tendonitis and becoming tight and rigid to support myself since my right leg can't. This prognosis required TWO doctors poking and prodding me at 8 am this morning, including one delightful moment that involved me seeing STARS and screaming it hurt so bad, several x-rays which had me wondering what was worse, being exposed to xrays or covering myself in a lead shield, and having an awkward conversation with my dad about his imminent purchase of a new home with his ho.

Anyway, I'm getting a CT scan on Wednesday morning, and by Monday they should know what's definitely going on in terms of surgery. But, as it stands, they will do orthoscopic surgery on my right ankle and then my left to remove the bone spurs, bone chips, and general detrius from the damage I have inflicted upon myself since I started dancing in 1990. After surgery I will have to take a few days off of work (what a shame) to recover, and then will have to hobble around on crutches and wear some sort of cast. As soon as rightie heals, then it's lefty's turn. So crutches are going to be my new fashion statement this spring. Maybe they'll make my arms buff. I'm not exactly thrilled about this whole thing, especially since it's not a permanant fix; since the problem is congenital, inevitably the problem will return after a while. I've known that for quite some time, and that's what's kept me from going any with this further before. But the problem has gotten to the point where I'm in pain all the time and swimming has become virtually impossible (it turns out it was never so great for me to begin with). So, there's no time like the present, it seems. Amusingly, the doctor told me that after I heal, bike riding would be great and not painful. Too bad I can't ride one, dipshit.

Upon leaving the doctor's office, my dad gave me a whole tirade about insurance companies and how I'm really going to have to stay on top of my claims, because otherwise I'm going to end up losing a whole mess of money. I had my first taste of it already; the doctor wrote me a perscriptions for air casts to be worn for the next week or so, which theoretically will help to diminish the pain that I'm in. Apparently nowhere near my office takes my insurance, and Bigelow, which is near my apartment, takes no insurance whatsoever. So that's helpful. But I've got the situation under control-I called Almarc and the air casts are being delivered to the Gumdrop so I will get them from my dad tomorrow. But dealing with my insurance company on the phone made me wonder, do you think customer services representatives ever get pissed at other customer services representatives who they have to call for whatever reason? And wouldn't you think that would make them want to be better CSR's so that they don't single-handedly make ALL of America hate them by virtue of their incompetance? I really think it's one industry where people should really be striving for excellence. Or, do they inherently think they are better than whichever CSR they're dealing with? These are the things I ponder while at work and bored. I need a new job.

(incidentally, does anyone read this other than Kate with whom I am going to Katz's tonight?)

Just curious.

Jealousy rears its ugly head

2006-02-21T10:04:00.000-05:00

No, not over someone's apartment, or job, but instead, over the stomach flu. That's right, puke your brains out stomach flu.

I woke up this morning and my dad had sent me an email telling me he wasn't coming in to work today because he had the stomach flu. My first reaction? Not, oh I hope he feels better, but oh that lucky bitch, he gets to stay home from work today. I don't even care that if I had a stomach flu I would feel like hell, it would STILL be preferrable to being here.

I feel very trapped here. Prospects for a new job are not forthcoming, and although it seems like the trip to Europe is more and more likely, waking up every day and coming into work is getting harder and harder. And I didn't think that was possible.

I really don't know if it's possible to be happy at a job. Honestly, I've never had a job where I felt like I could spend long amounts of time doing what I was doing. I'm always bored, or unhappy, or something.

I randomly spoke to someone in HR on Friday, and she offered to pass my resume around, but this stresses me out because if she somehow manages to get me a job elsewhere within the company, what happens to Europe? Because that's what I really want to do. I need to get out of here. But when I come back I have all of these expenses to take care of. And paying my exorbitant rent becomes a problem when I don't have a job. So oh well. I guess we'll just have to wait and see, I guess.

But yeah, my brain is a bit of a jumbeled mess at the moment, because all these options are continually bouncing around, and I would really love for everything to miraculously resolve itself, but I don't think it's happening.

I guess this might count as the beginnings of a quarter life crisis, but I don't know, and I don't care, qualifying what it is doesn't interest me, resolving it does.

So I guess I'll try to get on that.

Bout time.

2006-02-13T10:40:00.000-05:00

I had one of the best weekends I've had in a while this weekend. It was all the right parts relaxing and fun and interesting, and different.

Friday night I went to Jen Brown's apartment in Brooklyn and had a great time at our Olympics-themed shabbat dinner. Although there was much more Olympia than Shabbat, thankfully. It was great to see everyone, and it was fun to be those loud obnoxious kids on the subway on the way home.

Unfortunately on Saturday I had to go back to New Ro for the afternoon to start the task of cleaning out the Gumdrop. My dad's planning on moving out some time in June or July. No one's happy about it, him included, but it's time, so we're doing it. A lot of my stuff from when I was a kid is going to get donated to hospitals and stuff, so I feel good about that, but I don't really want to leave the house. It's been good to me, and it will feel wierd not to have a real home base. But fear not, Captain Fantastic already has a new home at Sean's house, so Elton and I won't have to be seperated. Anyway, come this Spring there will be a fantastic opportunity for everyone to buy my old stuff at a tag sale. In the meantime, feel free to drive by on the weekends and see what we've thrown out. This past week we enjoyed carving up my bat-mitzvah sign-in board and tossing it out the attic window and onto the driveway below. Anyway, the process of moving out is going to suck, and I haven't really dealt with it, but c'est la vie.

Onto happier parts of the weekend, Saturday night I went uptown to Eli's housewarming party. It was quite an adventure to go up to Harlem alone at 11 at night in a blizzard, since I'd only been to his apartment once before, and it was not in white-out conditions. But the party was a lot of fun. Olivia was there, who I hadn't really seen in years. We have a lot more in common than just a less-than-thrilling ex-boyfriend and it was great to hang out and catch up. And play a thrilling game of ridiculous scrabble. When she and Eli walked me back to the subway at 3 am and we spent 15 minutes on the corner of 116th and Frederick Douglass Boulevard talking to just about everybody who walked by. We were told the merits of pot over cigarettes (it costs you less in the long-run, according to the old philosopher) and got an impromptu concert from someone who I swore was a dude until the end of the concert when she introducted herself as Josephine. Rock on, Josephine. All in all, I give Harlem two hearty thumbs up and look foward to returning there soon.

Of course by the time I left Eli's, it had been snowing for hours, and there was a good 3 or 4 inches on the ground. I crawled into bed with S and when we woke up at ten there was at least a good foot on the ground. This of course called for an adventure. After a lovely filling breakfast at Manatus, we went on a trek to SoHo. Normally a ten minute walk, yesterday it took us easily 45 minutes. We tried to go to the Puma store to buy awesome jeans, but the store, while fully staffed, was locked. So we consoled ourselves at Vosges and drowned our tears in vials of exceedingly expensive and delicious hot chocolate. I also got him a valentine's day present. because eventhough I think Valentine's day is a load of hooey (ha! hooey!) I always enjoy an opportunity to get him something that he enjoys, and maybe even is tasty. So that was fun. We went back to the apartment and watched Coffee and Cigarettes but discovered that it was a much better movie to nap to than to actually watch. But I love naps, and I rarely get to have a co-napper since S isn't much of a napper, but I think in this case mono worked in my favor. So we napped for a couple of hours, hung out and basked in the glory of the TiVo, commiserated about the misery of canker sores, ate burritos and went to sleep. All in all, a great weekend.

Israel wrap up, for those of you who wanted to know

2006-02-08T12:28:00.000-05:00

So I will have been back from Israel two weeks tomorrow. I suppose this is as good a time as any to wrap up the trip, since I just uploaded all my photos onto Flickr

So all in all, I have to say that in retrospect, I had a good time. While I was there, I was homesick like mad, probably more home sick than I've ever been before, but I came out of the trip with some great new friends, and saw things that I've never seen before, which is always enjoyable. I think the best thing that I got out of the trip were my friends. I have seen people from the trip both weekends I have been home, and will see them again this coming weekend. It feels great to really have a crew again, I haven't had that since Smith, and that really has been the only thing I've missed about college. I really feel like I have the opportunity to keep getting to know these people, and it's exciting. I digress. I'm supposed to be talking about the trip.

So, I think that it got off to a rough start because we started the trip in the middle of fucking nowhere. We spent two days in the middle of the desert at Mitzpeh Ramon, a town centered around a military base and an inferior crater (inferior because it was not caused by an asteriod, not because it was lacking in size.) So, I felt sort of lost there. The first night I woke up in the middle of the night, I had no idea what time it was, no idea where I was, and I bugged out. I called Sean in a panic and learned that it was 4:30 am in Israel and that I was, indeed, in a former military base whose owners could not spell the name of their hotel coorectly (I was informed that I was not staying in the "Clab Ramon" as the sign next to the door claimed, but instead the "Club Ramon," an only slightly more logical name. There was nothing club-like about the place. But after this conversation my nerves were significantly calmer and I started to loosen up a bit. But I think the fact that the next morning began 12 hours of high intensity Jewish goodness, I got a little bitter again. Schwarma eventually calmed my nerves on this front.

Anyway, after the initial bout of homesickness things got better. It remained somewhat, but by and large I dealt with it. And as I said, I made friends, and it made the trip so much better. I don't feel like going into details about every day. I came on the trip with a cynical outlook on the thing. I know that the trip is designed to make you love Israel, and I certainly don't hate it, but I won't be returning any time soon, either. Like I said, the best thing I got out of it was definitely the friendships.

After the trip ended I spent a few days with Rena. It was great to see her, and to play with Asher, and meet everyone who's important in her life there. It was nice to see the way that life really is in Israel, as opposed to the way Birthright shows it during those crazy ten days. Karen and I had a good time together and I'm looking foward to her being in NY next year so we can get into some trouble.

So yeah, I think that's just about it. Hope everyone found that enlightening.

The Holy Land?

2006-01-11T12:36:00.000-05:00

So I'm off for two and a half weeks of fun and trouble making in Israel tomorrow. I am nervous, but only because I have psyched myself out and have decided that everyone on my trip is going to be horribly JAPpy, judgemental and mean. I know this is unfair. But, in my own defense, the last time I spent any amount of unadulterated time with a large group of Jewish people of my own age was at Ken-Wood, and let's be real, it doesn't get more JAPpy, judgemental and mean than Ken-Wood. And Ken-Mont. Which isn't to say that I wasn't completely happy there, because I was, but I am apprehensive of it being a similar mileiu, which I think is not completely unfounded. So the first ten days are supposed to be this life changing expereince. I don't have any interest in having my life changed (at least not religiously). I am apprehensive about this aspect as well. I know that the point of the trip is to make you love Israel, and I can understand that, but I hate guitar sing-in NFTY-type of events with a burning passion and I have a feeling that that might be the major way that they go about trying to convince you that we all should move to Israel for good. Further, I anticipate being a godless heathen in this group will put me in the minority. But who knows. Perhaps I'll be pleasantly suprised and EVERYONE on the trip will be godless heathens. One can only hope.

But, of course, the real reason I'm going is to see Rena, who also happens to be the reason that I even have this blog in the first place. So the last 7 days pf my stay will be filled with unadulterated insanity and goodness. and Puppy! So maybe I'll check in once I'm at Rena's, since she's going to have classes in the mornings, but maybe not. Let's be real, my readership is tiny and I like it that way, so it's not like it matters.

So, here I go....

It was actually a nice day.

2005-12-15T11:09:00.000-05:00

So, for the first time in 7 years, my birthday was uniformly great. I heard from all sorts of people who I love and adore, and some who I hadn't heard from in a loooooooooong time, and Someone Who's Real Cute baked me a yellow cake with chocolate frosting. No one has baked me a cake since I was like 5 and it was so sweet and also tasty. He also got me this and we played with it, shot a roll of film and dropped it off to be developed. However, I had no idea how expensive printing it is! The film is medium format and there are 12 or 16 shots on a roll, depending, and it's $20 just for a contact sheet, and even worse, $3 for each print. EACH! So I told the guy in the camera shop to just develop the negatives. The camera is finnicky, has a ton of light leaks, perhaps most importantly the entire back fell off of it at one point. So it's possible that nothing will come out. Which would be sad. But I have lots of film and I am really excited to learn how to use this camera and make real photos with it. I'm thinking about taking it to Israel, I think it would be a good thing. I am also thinking that turning my bathroom into a darkroom would be a reallllly good idea, considering the price of developing, etc. At least I could process the film on my own and then decide what to print. Finally, having no window in my bathroom has a benefit.

I normally hate my birthday for understandable reasons, but I really took efforts to turn that around, and I think that it actually paid off. Mind over matter, I suppose. To further that point, I'm actually having a party this year. I am a small bit nervous that no one will come, a point being furthered by a possibly imminent transit strike, but even if there is a strike I am hoping that no matter who comes it will be a good time. Even if it's a small party, a party is a party and it will be fun. I am trying to keep a good outlook on these things. I think I just am thinking too hard about it because I am bored. Someone recently told me that they think it is harder to be bored at work than to be busy and engaged. I would certainly agree with that. But next Tuesday will mark one year since I started this job, and hopefully things will begin to work for me as I'd like them to here.

Here's to another year, I know this one will be even better than the last.

Ugh

2005-12-06T21:48:00.000-05:00

And I just got cat call number four. I didn't kick the dude, as promised, since he was SIGNIFICANTLY larger than I was, but I did scream the shit out of him.

What is with today, today, people?! GOD DAMN.

Ew, take two.

2005-12-06T14:28:00.000-05:00

I've been cat called 3 times already today, each one more icky than the last. If I hear one more comment about my "hot ass" I'm gonna kick said offender in the balls. To that end, see the above link.

Ew

2005-12-05T08:51:00.000-05:00

Being lazy, I did not eat breakfast in my apartment this morning, I ate it at work. A little yogurt a little granola, a little honey, life is good, right? Wrong. The yogurt definitely spent the weekend next to veggie cream cheese, and took on its flavor. Gross. I never want to eat again.

-Post cut short, big boss just arrived from Atlanta.

At least it was something to do

2005-12-02T10:17:00.000-05:00

I got an email yesterday telling me that I had until today to fill out my employee self-review, which came as news to me, since I thought I had done it months ago. I just spent an hour on it, being really thoughtful and trying to make myself sound super duper, only to be told by a co-worker that we were erroniously copied on a CNN email. Super. As annoying as doing that was, it was nice to have something to do. In a similar vein, I applied to a job off Craig's List yesterday, for a position at a new network devoted to food and I wrote this cover letter that tried to convey how super I am, we'll see if it worked. I mean, it was witty, snarky in all the right spots, and well written. Hopefully, something will come of it. (bonus: even if I don't get a job, somewhere else to get my cooking show fix while that dumb bitch Rachael Ray is on foodtv.) But both of these things just remind me that I really do enjoy writing and it would be great if I could get a job that would allow me to think creatively and do something productive with my time. I think that's all I need to be satisfied just something that lets me feel stimulated from time to time. I mean, that and a $20,000 pay raise would be super, too.

But, at least it's Friday. I don't have any definite plans for this weekend, I got an email from the Brooklyn crew about a concert over there tonight, which might be fun. All these thoughts about a birthday and who I would invite has really made me realize that while I haven't made any super close friends in the city, and certainly no friends at work, I do have a whole lot of random friends all over the city who I would love to see at any given time. I need to be more proactive about making plans with people. I don't ever really feel lonely, which admitedly is largely thanks to S (and believe me I don't know what I would do without him), but I don't think it would be a bad thing if I tried to make what is now mostly casual friendships into a few that are a bit more concrete. It's funny, while I was at Smith, I often found myself thinking or saying that I really didn't need any more friends, I felt that I had enough, and was more than satisfied with who I had. And those friendships still are among my closest and my best. Sadly, they're all in Boston, or in some cases even further. I don't feel that cliche that people often do about being in the center of the universe and feeling all alone, thankfully, but I think that getting myself a bit more together on the friends front is certainly within the realm of possibility for me. Not a bad thing, no? So, onto another weekend, and another chance at some fun in the city. And with new glasses, to boot. Life's good.

Let's make it interactive!

2005-11-30T10:28:00.000-05:00

Okay, now that my cover has been blown, and Kate has linked my ass on her blog, it's time to make this bitch interactive. I figure that my readership will go from Sean and Rena (Rena is even questionable) to whoever is attentive to kate's links. So here's the issue: I have approximately 15 days until I turn 23. Gag. I'm too young to be 23. But, that brings up the eternal question-What do I want for my birthday???

Here are my thoughts thus far:

A long down coat to keep my ass warm so I dont' get any more colds
A new ipod (which can be traded in for cash to be used toward loose women and liquor with Dmo)
Money for Israel (totally unoriginal and unnecessary)

Ok. Those are all of my ideas. I don't really like any of them, with the exception of the first, but I hate asking for clothes for my birthday. I enjoy getting something frivolous and useless which i would never ever ask for otherwise. Although a floor length down coat does fit within those parameters.

So here's part two of this question (and where my birthday being in December comes in handy):
What are YOU asking for for Christmas? Inspire me!

And Part 3: anyone know any good bars for throwing a birthday fete at? Keep in mind, this is going to be my first real birthday party since I was 16 and I want it to be chill.

Okay, interactive. let's go!

Smooth

2005-09-27T08:59:00.000-04:00

I came to work today with my shirt on backwards. But at least the dude giving out the free newspapers on Christopher Street said I look cheerful. I do so enjoy being a mess.

But...in a moment of non-messiness, pictures from the wedding, at which Sean and I looked impeccably put together. (PS-on the first one, what's with the guy looking at me?)

Friday!

2005-08-26T09:21:00.000-04:00

Finally this very odd week is almost over. I feel like I was tricked into coming today. Stupid Action saying he's not coming and then saying he's coming and then getting to work this morning and having a voicemail that he wasn't coming, so ridiculous. I was on the subway this morning and thought to myself "there's going to be a voicemail from him when you get there." I could have stayed in bed. I should have stayed in bed. Whatever, I'll just leave early, take a nap, clean my apartment for when Stinky comes tomorrow and then go out and have fun. I'm looking foward to seeing Vickie again, and who doesn't love a night of East Village bar hopping? I'm just writing in this because it's too early for anyone else to be online, or even awake. This is just cruel and unusual punishment, this job. But the Turner jobs website seems to be working again and I've been applying for new things for the last couple days. Hopefully, one will pull through. That would be great.
Okay, I'm ready to go home and get back into bed.

Would you still love me....

2005-08-19T09:31:00.000-04:00

This just needs to be posted, and it's best when it's shown without ANY explanation whatsoever.

I love Grad School.

2005-08-11T10:33:00.000-04:00

So, as promised, I went and bought a GRE book last night. I went with S to shake shack, fortified myself with cheeseburgers against the impending stress and went to B&N and bought myself a GRE prep book. Hundreds of pages of math problems, practice tests, and vocab words. But the grad school application process is now a group effort and I look foward to studying like mad while S makes the internet his bitch. I'm feeling good about the prospect of this, but I'm still not going to start studying until this afternoon.

This might require a lot of cheeseburgers.

My desk makes me anxious

2005-08-10T09:57:00.000-04:00

I'm so conflicted about my future. But only in the employment sense. At this point, I really feel like it's impossible for me to find a job in which I'll really be happy. So I want to go to grad school, because I just don't feel like a BA is enough to really be successful, which is insane if you think about it, and I don't know if that's really true, or if I'm just a striver. I really miss the academic environment, and I hate that the most stimulation that I get out of a workday is doing a crossword puzzle online. I didn't think it was possible to miss have course readers, but I do. So eventually, grad school it is. But that requires taking the GRE, right? And I haven't taken math since high school. That's like, a lifetime ago. So how am I going to get into grad school if I have a crap GRE score? So I keep not taking it, because I'm petrified of math, but the longer I wait, the more I forget that a squared + b squared = c squared. Actually, that's about the only math I remember at this point. And then, even if I do apply, what if I don't get in? And then I'm really stuck in a boring job forever. See, this is what really gets to me, I feel like I'm stuck in this horrible environment, and I hate it, but I don't know how to get out of it, because I don't know what I ultimately want to do, so even grad school is just pushing this same feeling off, I will come back to it in three years. Like going to Tisch is even going to get me out of this. It's feelings like this that just make me want to jump ship, leave NY altogether. I guess all I can do is buy a gre book and prepare. I guess that would be a good thing to do while I'm bored at work, since I have all day to do whatever I want. I could just sit and study, it would help with the boredom, I guess. So maybe that's a plan. Go down to borders, buy a book, study while I'm bored, take it, get in to Tisch, and not worry what I'm going to do with my life for the next three years.

But then, which Tisch program do I apply to? The cinema studies one, which basically means that I have to become a professor, since I can't think of what else I would do, or the film preservation one, which sounds like so much fun, and spend my life in a museum with old movies. Oh, that pretty much sounds perfect, right? I don't know, that's what I've been thinking this week, that I want to spend the rest of my life playing with old film. It just sounds so interesting, and gratifying, and perfect.

I should buy a GRE book. I'll do that today.

Who's dumber? The terrorists or the police? Let's find out!

2005-07-27T10:24:00.000-04:00

There were cops in the subway this morning checking people's bags, supposedly. The table aws clean and it looked as if they hadn't stopped anyone for a while. They looked at me funny but let me go.

Do they really think the West Village homos are a threat?

The whole thing is ridiculous. I have found that I'm often bracing myself for the worst while at work. And not from Action, either.

How's that for a first real post?

That's my face!

2005-07-19T09:43:00.000-04:00

pic08-1
Originally uploaded by smee32.