Last night I left work early because I was hungover and ineffective. Ineffective to the point that my head kept nearly crashing down onto my computer keyboard.
I went home and was like "Wow! I can watch TV for the first time since I've had TV!" so I watched MTV.
And then I realized one of the good things about not having TV is that you don't have the knowledge that Lindsay Lohan has busted into the world of professional singing. Like a zombie I watched the MTV Linsday Lohan making-the-video of her new smash single Rumors. I realize she's sick of people saying what they want about her and she really just wants me to back up off her, but really. Is this necessary?
I just don't see what the big deal about Lindsay Lohan is. She has very thin lips. She is dating Fes from That 70s Show and this is infuriating. Apparently she is now singing.
MTV2 was showing Eminem videos and only Eminem videos. I don't like the new Eminem song, so I couldn't bring myself to watch any Eminem videos because it just depressed me. So of course my only alternative was to watch MTV.
But really. Does the world need another thin-lipped pitch-corrected teen-y girl singer singing about how opressed she is now that she's famous? MTV is such an enabler. At least the cookie cutter vocalists now come with different color hair so us brunettes can feel like we're worth something. And now the thin-lipped girls of the world can feel special too!!!!
Linsday Lohan. Her next song will be about how she's so overxposed and how she feels so bad about it.
I've been listening to Howard Stern in the mornings because there is no good music being played in NYC in the mornings. I actually happened to catch his "announcement" the other day and it made me really sad. Not because I will miss Howard Stern but because I feel like free radio is good and how threatening could a radio show really be to society? He had some really good points, and, well, why should only the rich be able to listen to his program and get to watch The Sopranos? It just ain't right.
Anyway, the reason I mention this is because Howard Stern keeps having Lindsay Lohan's biological father on the program, and its really funny, because the guy is a total screw up and he also feels so oppressed. He's the polar opposite of Jessica Simpson's amazingly put together gay agent father. He's like "I had to be dragged out of that bar because I got belligerent because of an interaction between that one drink I had and the perscription drugs I was taking!" And then the bouncer from that bar called and they had a fight over the phone about it. I have to admit, and I swear I'm not a fan of Howard Stern, that I laughed really hard.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Three Cosmos and a Forkful of Mac and Cheese - Part 2
The party was great. It was just what I needed. I identified potential friend material, drank lots, relaxed, danced to killer hip hop. (Aside: it saddens me that I don’t know any lyrics to hip hop songs anymore. I am an old lady!) Couldn’t have asked for a better night. I am madly in love with New York City today.
We got to the party at 5:30, and by 10:00 I was sort of like “Wow, I’ve been here a long time.” People were leaving, people were getting sloppy, and I was actually getting tired. Curse these 9 – 5:30 hours!!!
I located my friend D, because there was talk of heading out to Williamsburg for a show afterwards, and I was like “Dude, wanna head out?” and he’s like “Wanna go to that show?” and I’m like “Sure.”
So we’re on our way out, but, of course, “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” was playing so I had to dance to it. And then another song I liked. Then I was drinking more cosmo and having that conversation with J and lost D. I was semi-irritated about it, but only semi, because I sort of just wanted to go to bed. So I said “Word” to J and walked upstairs out of the bar where I found D.
D was basically holding R up. R was TRASHED. Obliterated. Ridiculous ridiculous insane level drunk. Beyond even college-level. Running out into traffic drunk. Falling on the street drunk. Falling over tables in the bar and nearly lighting himself on fire drunk. Taking a nap on the street drunk. Unable to hold himself up drunk. Huggy drunk. “I lufff that you werrrrrkkkkkk here….. yerrrrrr awshummmm……” drunk. I really know how to pick em.
Apparently HR had called “a car” to come and get him, and D was going to take him back to his place. I offered to join him, because the car would make many stops, so why not? Plus, I felt bad for D and figured he could use a backup to do things like search for keys while he basically carried R from place to place.
The Lincoln eventually appeared. It was weird. It was like having a limo driver, and we were the pimped out wasted hip hop stars in the back. D knew the block R lived on but not exactly where. The whole ride to R’s apartment R was like “I’m so f-ing DRNNNNKKKKKKKKKK….. whrssss my bedttt…… I just want to shleeeeppp…. Whass…. Wherrr……” Etc.
We’re like “Dude, where do you live?” Or course he didn’t know. He basically flies out of the car and is, like, flinging his body all over the street and onto people. I can’t even explain this – you know what I mean, though. Like when you’re drunk and the earth will shift and you’re unprepared. Like he took a light step and violently ran four steps in the direction opposite the original step and crashed into a brick wall. And then after crashing into the wall, recoiled and crashed into some people. And all the while D is trying to pull him up. Awshummmmm…..
He told us the number of his building, but it wasn’t actually his building. Finally he located the right one, but didn’t remember what number unit he was. Then he remembered he lived on the fourth floor, but D and I were too drunk to count and just had no idea what was going on. Luckily R was with it enough to identify his door. Then he couldn’t find the keys. Then I was like “Wait! That’s why I’m here!” so I had to go through all of his things to find the keys. Awkward. And then there were millions of them. And two locks on the door.
Yeah.
And then I spent the night worrying that R had drowned in his own vomit and that my new lab best friend was dead and it was all my fault.
But he is here today. Albeit in a very dysfunctional state. D and I are going to make R get us tickets to the newly added Pixies show to make up for this.
After the drop off, D came back to the loft to check out the infamous big white building. He was very jealous and rode one of Roommate’s bikes around in the apartment after playing some piano. Then we went out with Canadian Jon for a drink, but neither of us drank because, well, we really didn’t need to anymore.
And now I am here.
The commute this morning was great! because there was nothing to hold on to and I was hungover and it was really. fun. trying to balance myself. It was one of those weird instances where the train is not crowded but for whatever reason people suck and don’t let short people have access to any of the bars, so I couldn’t even support myself in the mass of bodies.
Now I need lunch. And some advils. Advils are awshummmmm.
We got to the party at 5:30, and by 10:00 I was sort of like “Wow, I’ve been here a long time.” People were leaving, people were getting sloppy, and I was actually getting tired. Curse these 9 – 5:30 hours!!!
I located my friend D, because there was talk of heading out to Williamsburg for a show afterwards, and I was like “Dude, wanna head out?” and he’s like “Wanna go to that show?” and I’m like “Sure.”
So we’re on our way out, but, of course, “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” was playing so I had to dance to it. And then another song I liked. Then I was drinking more cosmo and having that conversation with J and lost D. I was semi-irritated about it, but only semi, because I sort of just wanted to go to bed. So I said “Word” to J and walked upstairs out of the bar where I found D.
D was basically holding R up. R was TRASHED. Obliterated. Ridiculous ridiculous insane level drunk. Beyond even college-level. Running out into traffic drunk. Falling on the street drunk. Falling over tables in the bar and nearly lighting himself on fire drunk. Taking a nap on the street drunk. Unable to hold himself up drunk. Huggy drunk. “I lufff that you werrrrrkkkkkk here….. yerrrrrr awshummmm……” drunk. I really know how to pick em.
Apparently HR had called “a car” to come and get him, and D was going to take him back to his place. I offered to join him, because the car would make many stops, so why not? Plus, I felt bad for D and figured he could use a backup to do things like search for keys while he basically carried R from place to place.
The Lincoln eventually appeared. It was weird. It was like having a limo driver, and we were the pimped out wasted hip hop stars in the back. D knew the block R lived on but not exactly where. The whole ride to R’s apartment R was like “I’m so f-ing DRNNNNKKKKKKKKKK….. whrssss my bedttt…… I just want to shleeeeppp…. Whass…. Wherrr……” Etc.
We’re like “Dude, where do you live?” Or course he didn’t know. He basically flies out of the car and is, like, flinging his body all over the street and onto people. I can’t even explain this – you know what I mean, though. Like when you’re drunk and the earth will shift and you’re unprepared. Like he took a light step and violently ran four steps in the direction opposite the original step and crashed into a brick wall. And then after crashing into the wall, recoiled and crashed into some people. And all the while D is trying to pull him up. Awshummmmm…..
He told us the number of his building, but it wasn’t actually his building. Finally he located the right one, but didn’t remember what number unit he was. Then he remembered he lived on the fourth floor, but D and I were too drunk to count and just had no idea what was going on. Luckily R was with it enough to identify his door. Then he couldn’t find the keys. Then I was like “Wait! That’s why I’m here!” so I had to go through all of his things to find the keys. Awkward. And then there were millions of them. And two locks on the door.
Yeah.
And then I spent the night worrying that R had drowned in his own vomit and that my new lab best friend was dead and it was all my fault.
But he is here today. Albeit in a very dysfunctional state. D and I are going to make R get us tickets to the newly added Pixies show to make up for this.
After the drop off, D came back to the loft to check out the infamous big white building. He was very jealous and rode one of Roommate’s bikes around in the apartment after playing some piano. Then we went out with Canadian Jon for a drink, but neither of us drank because, well, we really didn’t need to anymore.
And now I am here.
The commute this morning was great! because there was nothing to hold on to and I was hungover and it was really. fun. trying to balance myself. It was one of those weird instances where the train is not crowded but for whatever reason people suck and don’t let short people have access to any of the bars, so I couldn’t even support myself in the mass of bodies.
Now I need lunch. And some advils. Advils are awshummmmm.
Three Cosmos and a Forkful of Mac and Cheese - Part 1
Last night was my company’s semi-annual drinkfest. It was held at a bar a block away from where we work. It was very New York – loungy, white furry walls, pink lighting, mirrors, sheets draped from the ceiling.
I think that it was, most likely, the most surreal night of my entire life. Every now and then, between sips of Cosmo, I’d think “Wait – where am I? Who are these people? What’s going on?” and then I’d have another sip and everything was fine.
It started at 5:30. I headed over with my new friend R. He’s cool. I really like him. He’s into photography and guitar and songwriting and show-going and does science for a day job. He’s one of those people who make me feel honest.
In there, I mostly clung to R and other people I already know, and met a few new people, which I will get to in a few paragraphs.
By 7:00 I was trashed and was dancing with a bunch of people I didn’t know. We were frantically moving lounge furniture out of the way to make space. It was awesome.
By 8:30, the party had turned into a raging hip hop / reggae dance party and I was blissed out. Again, every now and then I’d be dancing with someone and I’d think “Wait – who is this guy? What department does he work in? Have I already forgotten his name? Wait – I’m in New York City dancing to hip hop with my new coworkers!”
But it was good because I was drunk and could be like “Hey, dude, I know I’ve met you 40 times, but what’s your name again?” and that’s endearing to people when you (and they) are drunk.
I think I may have been Insane-New-Girl at the party, but I think that’s what needed to occur. Needed to show my true colors. Figure out who I might click with when I’m actually being myself instead of being my suspicious, overwhelmed, underimpressed science self.
One of the coolest things about this party was, pardon the cheesy use of the word, diversity. Definitely a more diverse crowd in NYC. And therefore a, ahem, better dancing crowd. I’m used to being a minority in science, but this was different. It was nice to see different colors and different personalities and, well, personalities.
There’s this one dude who works in legal – I finally asked him his name and said “Dude, I know I met you on my first day and also again tonight, but in my mind I can’t stop calling you Lord of the Lab Notebooks.” So H (his name starts with H and his actual name is very very very unfortunate and not at all indicative of his personality) rocks because at work he is all uptight, shirt tucked in, hair perfect, glasses-wearing legal person. Last night, he removed his glasses, unbuttoned his shirt, mussed up his hair, and just let loose. H is an amazing dancer. The women were rabid. He said to me “You’re good.” And then he pointed to me and said to other people “She’s good. It’s about time someone’s good.” That made me smile. I need to go dancing more often.
I also met this guy, J, who was a riot. He is a recent (and obvious) transplant from CA and kept calling me “Laura.” I wanted to be like “I’m sorry, my name is Leah, but you can call me ‘Val.’” Anyway, J was all wide-eyed and thrilled about NYC, and I said “But aren’t you freaking out?” And he was like “No, man, no. This is all divine intervention. Everything’s working for me. I moved here not knowing anyone, and the first day I started I walked out onto the sidewalk and turns out my best friend from high school, who I hadn’t seen in a decade, works in the building next door. And then my mother was reading the New York Times and said ‘Your high school sweetheart is getting married in NY! She’s in NY!’” Then he’s like “There’s so much here. So much to do, to see. Every morning I want to roll the dice.”
I’m like “Roll the dice?”
And he’s like “Yeah, man, I have this girlfriend in CA, but man, there are SO MANY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN NEW YORK I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
I’m like “Dude, I just met you, and I don’t know anything about you or your situation, but my advice is to, well, go enjoy NY and its beautiful women.”
I said this partially because I was drunk and was like “This man is beautiful.” Heh. But also because I meant it. I feel like moving to NY is like going to college – like you don’t want to come here with anything, because if you do, you might not be able to take full advantage. Earlier in the evening, R said “Did you leave anyone behind in Boston?” and I was like “No, I don’t date effectively, and I wouldn’t do this unless I literally had nothing to lose.”
Then J is like “I can’t believe you’re from Boston.” “Why ever would you say that?” “I’ve seen you around – and when I saw you, I thought ‘That girl is so New York.’ Just the way you dress, and your vibe. Or CA. I could see you on your skateboard and then mixing music at night.” That made me happy. I am “so New York.”
And the reason I mention this conversation at all, really, is because of the following exchange. We were talking about my boss (this guy actually saw my resume and was apparently desperate to hire me, and I’m saddened about the timing of it all, because it would be very very fun to work with him) and this guy also made me honest so I said “I feel like I might be a bit much for him. Like he’s so cute and old and conservative and I’m, well, me” and J said “If you just be 100% you this company will be an infinitely better company.”
That will be in the movie too. J will be played by Jude Law (he doesn’t look like Jude Law but in the movie version I think Jude Law would do a good job with this character) and in the movie we will have this conversation and then my character will be like “J, I like you. I’d like to continue this conversation. At my apartment in Williamsburg.”
When I was leaving he’s like “Where do you work?” “7th floor. Come visit.” And he’s like “Cool, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I’m like “Word.” And he’s like “Did you just exit by saying ‘word?’” and I’m like “Yeah, word.” “That’s a Boston thing?” “No, just me” and he’s like “My friend who’s doing his post-doc in Boston says ‘word’ too” and I was like “No, you apparently just know the only two people on the planet who say ‘word.’ Word.”
Word.
I think that it was, most likely, the most surreal night of my entire life. Every now and then, between sips of Cosmo, I’d think “Wait – where am I? Who are these people? What’s going on?” and then I’d have another sip and everything was fine.
It started at 5:30. I headed over with my new friend R. He’s cool. I really like him. He’s into photography and guitar and songwriting and show-going and does science for a day job. He’s one of those people who make me feel honest.
In there, I mostly clung to R and other people I already know, and met a few new people, which I will get to in a few paragraphs.
By 7:00 I was trashed and was dancing with a bunch of people I didn’t know. We were frantically moving lounge furniture out of the way to make space. It was awesome.
By 8:30, the party had turned into a raging hip hop / reggae dance party and I was blissed out. Again, every now and then I’d be dancing with someone and I’d think “Wait – who is this guy? What department does he work in? Have I already forgotten his name? Wait – I’m in New York City dancing to hip hop with my new coworkers!”
But it was good because I was drunk and could be like “Hey, dude, I know I’ve met you 40 times, but what’s your name again?” and that’s endearing to people when you (and they) are drunk.
I think I may have been Insane-New-Girl at the party, but I think that’s what needed to occur. Needed to show my true colors. Figure out who I might click with when I’m actually being myself instead of being my suspicious, overwhelmed, underimpressed science self.
One of the coolest things about this party was, pardon the cheesy use of the word, diversity. Definitely a more diverse crowd in NYC. And therefore a, ahem, better dancing crowd. I’m used to being a minority in science, but this was different. It was nice to see different colors and different personalities and, well, personalities.
There’s this one dude who works in legal – I finally asked him his name and said “Dude, I know I met you on my first day and also again tonight, but in my mind I can’t stop calling you Lord of the Lab Notebooks.” So H (his name starts with H and his actual name is very very very unfortunate and not at all indicative of his personality) rocks because at work he is all uptight, shirt tucked in, hair perfect, glasses-wearing legal person. Last night, he removed his glasses, unbuttoned his shirt, mussed up his hair, and just let loose. H is an amazing dancer. The women were rabid. He said to me “You’re good.” And then he pointed to me and said to other people “She’s good. It’s about time someone’s good.” That made me smile. I need to go dancing more often.
I also met this guy, J, who was a riot. He is a recent (and obvious) transplant from CA and kept calling me “Laura.” I wanted to be like “I’m sorry, my name is Leah, but you can call me ‘Val.’” Anyway, J was all wide-eyed and thrilled about NYC, and I said “But aren’t you freaking out?” And he was like “No, man, no. This is all divine intervention. Everything’s working for me. I moved here not knowing anyone, and the first day I started I walked out onto the sidewalk and turns out my best friend from high school, who I hadn’t seen in a decade, works in the building next door. And then my mother was reading the New York Times and said ‘Your high school sweetheart is getting married in NY! She’s in NY!’” Then he’s like “There’s so much here. So much to do, to see. Every morning I want to roll the dice.”
I’m like “Roll the dice?”
And he’s like “Yeah, man, I have this girlfriend in CA, but man, there are SO MANY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN NEW YORK I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
I’m like “Dude, I just met you, and I don’t know anything about you or your situation, but my advice is to, well, go enjoy NY and its beautiful women.”
I said this partially because I was drunk and was like “This man is beautiful.” Heh. But also because I meant it. I feel like moving to NY is like going to college – like you don’t want to come here with anything, because if you do, you might not be able to take full advantage. Earlier in the evening, R said “Did you leave anyone behind in Boston?” and I was like “No, I don’t date effectively, and I wouldn’t do this unless I literally had nothing to lose.”
Then J is like “I can’t believe you’re from Boston.” “Why ever would you say that?” “I’ve seen you around – and when I saw you, I thought ‘That girl is so New York.’ Just the way you dress, and your vibe. Or CA. I could see you on your skateboard and then mixing music at night.” That made me happy. I am “so New York.”
And the reason I mention this conversation at all, really, is because of the following exchange. We were talking about my boss (this guy actually saw my resume and was apparently desperate to hire me, and I’m saddened about the timing of it all, because it would be very very fun to work with him) and this guy also made me honest so I said “I feel like I might be a bit much for him. Like he’s so cute and old and conservative and I’m, well, me” and J said “If you just be 100% you this company will be an infinitely better company.”
That will be in the movie too. J will be played by Jude Law (he doesn’t look like Jude Law but in the movie version I think Jude Law would do a good job with this character) and in the movie we will have this conversation and then my character will be like “J, I like you. I’d like to continue this conversation. At my apartment in Williamsburg.”
When I was leaving he’s like “Where do you work?” “7th floor. Come visit.” And he’s like “Cool, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I’m like “Word.” And he’s like “Did you just exit by saying ‘word?’” and I’m like “Yeah, word.” “That’s a Boston thing?” “No, just me” and he’s like “My friend who’s doing his post-doc in Boston says ‘word’ too” and I was like “No, you apparently just know the only two people on the planet who say ‘word.’ Word.”
Word.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
I Am The Only Person In the World Who This Has Happened To
In the neverending DirectTV / Cingular saga, I decided yesterday that instead of jumping the gun and immediately buying a new phone to rectify the sudden lack of cell phone reception in my apartment, I would make some phone calls from work to figure out what my options were.
Phone Call 1: called Cingular. The college kid on the phone thought my complaint was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He believed me, though. He was joking with me and said that my cell phone was acting out because it wasn't getting as much attention anymore now that I have TV. He said they would send me a new phone in the mail, but then realized he couldn't because I've had my phone for over a year. Curses. He said "I will put you in touch with Samsung and see what they can do."
Phone Call 2: called Samsung. This guy was very helpful but hadn't heard of DirectTV interfering with a cell phone. He did understand, though, about how my phone runs interference with electronics on a regular basis and gave me some tips. He tried to change a setting on my phone, but couldn't because my phone was set up in such a way that made the change impossible. He suggested that I call DirectTV and ask them to put "a filter" on the incoming signal.
Phone call 3: called DirectTV. This guy was a bastard. He totally didn't believe me and kept saying, really slowly, "I've never heard of anyone having a problem with their cell phone because of DirectTV." I said "Look, I don't know if its really the problem, but I'm just wondering if you can put a filter on the signal." He said he'd never heard of filters, and basically told me I was an idiot. The only useful thing he said was "Have you unplugged the receiver to see if you get signal?"
Uhhh.... no.
Hadn't done that. It had occurred to me to do that over the weekend, but I didn't because (a) I was concerned that unhooking the receiver would somehow obliterate DirectTV and given the drama it took to install it I didn't want to risk it and (b) I completely forgot.
Last night when I got home from work I unplugged the DirectTV receiver and instantly had 5 bars on my phone. Wtf? Granted, reception in the apartment wasn't as good as it was before, but unplugging it did have an affect on my phone.
So now I am torn, because I think my only option is to unplug the receiver whenever I want to use my cell phone. The good news it that the landline is installed, so I can take calls on it. But I can't make calls on it, because we are cheap and don't have long distance. But I don't want to opt out of my Cingular contract (money I don't have! and a pain in ass) and I don't want to opt out of the DirectTV contract (money I don't have as well as scheduling and surviving another cable installation which I just don't want to do).
And I don't know if I should call DirectTV back and be like "Fyi - I did my experiment and lo and behold you're freaking receiver interferes with my cell phone, bastards!"
Phone Call 1: called Cingular. The college kid on the phone thought my complaint was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He believed me, though. He was joking with me and said that my cell phone was acting out because it wasn't getting as much attention anymore now that I have TV. He said they would send me a new phone in the mail, but then realized he couldn't because I've had my phone for over a year. Curses. He said "I will put you in touch with Samsung and see what they can do."
Phone Call 2: called Samsung. This guy was very helpful but hadn't heard of DirectTV interfering with a cell phone. He did understand, though, about how my phone runs interference with electronics on a regular basis and gave me some tips. He tried to change a setting on my phone, but couldn't because my phone was set up in such a way that made the change impossible. He suggested that I call DirectTV and ask them to put "a filter" on the incoming signal.
Phone call 3: called DirectTV. This guy was a bastard. He totally didn't believe me and kept saying, really slowly, "I've never heard of anyone having a problem with their cell phone because of DirectTV." I said "Look, I don't know if its really the problem, but I'm just wondering if you can put a filter on the signal." He said he'd never heard of filters, and basically told me I was an idiot. The only useful thing he said was "Have you unplugged the receiver to see if you get signal?"
Uhhh.... no.
Hadn't done that. It had occurred to me to do that over the weekend, but I didn't because (a) I was concerned that unhooking the receiver would somehow obliterate DirectTV and given the drama it took to install it I didn't want to risk it and (b) I completely forgot.
Last night when I got home from work I unplugged the DirectTV receiver and instantly had 5 bars on my phone. Wtf? Granted, reception in the apartment wasn't as good as it was before, but unplugging it did have an affect on my phone.
So now I am torn, because I think my only option is to unplug the receiver whenever I want to use my cell phone. The good news it that the landline is installed, so I can take calls on it. But I can't make calls on it, because we are cheap and don't have long distance. But I don't want to opt out of my Cingular contract (money I don't have! and a pain in ass) and I don't want to opt out of the DirectTV contract (money I don't have as well as scheduling and surviving another cable installation which I just don't want to do).
And I don't know if I should call DirectTV back and be like "Fyi - I did my experiment and lo and behold you're freaking receiver interferes with my cell phone, bastards!"
The Commute
I was running a bit late to work this morning anyway. Not for any particular reason. Just because I felt like sleeping an extra ten minutes.
Took the L to 6th Ave, as I do every day, and waited to transfer to the red 1 or red 9 downtown to Houston Street. Like I do every day.
The 1 and 9 arrive on the right side of the tracks. There's a 2 and 3, also red, that arrive on the left side of the tracks. I don't really know where the 2 or 3 go, I just know the 2 and 3 don't go to work.
So I'm waiting there and a 9 comes on the left side of the tracks. Very confusing. I thought "Well, its a 9, so it must be a 9 even though its not where the 9 usually arrives." I got on, as did a bunch of people. The doors didn't close for a while, and people started getting shifty and confused a bunch of people jumped off of the train before the doors closed.
So this 9 wasn't actually a 9. It was 2 or 3, because it went express to somewhere. I don't know where it went. I just know it went right by Houston. And then right by a bunch of stops after Houston. Many mini heart attacks were had.
I realized, though, that this was a very crafty thing for the MTA to do because:
What had happened, apparently, was a 9 train had stalled on the right side of the tracks after Houston, thus making it impossible for trains to travel on the right side of the tracks. I know this because we blew by the stalled train while I was on my train. Instead of announcing that there were no 1's or 9's anymore, they sent a 9 on another track so people would mistakenly get onto it, go express to the next available stop, and then be able to get off at that stop, cross over to the uptown direction and take a 1 or 9 on the tracks that were actually working.
Crafty, yes, but I was having a fit because I had no idea where I was going, how long it would take, how long it would take to get to work from wherever I was, would I even be able to get back, etc. I checked out the map and I was pretty far downtown, but it only took me about 5 minutes to get to work once I got on the 1 downtown. I did not call in late, however, because it wasn't my fault and I figure everyone was having the same problem. Right. No need to call in late two times in less than a week and a half.
Took the L to 6th Ave, as I do every day, and waited to transfer to the red 1 or red 9 downtown to Houston Street. Like I do every day.
The 1 and 9 arrive on the right side of the tracks. There's a 2 and 3, also red, that arrive on the left side of the tracks. I don't really know where the 2 or 3 go, I just know the 2 and 3 don't go to work.
So I'm waiting there and a 9 comes on the left side of the tracks. Very confusing. I thought "Well, its a 9, so it must be a 9 even though its not where the 9 usually arrives." I got on, as did a bunch of people. The doors didn't close for a while, and people started getting shifty and confused a bunch of people jumped off of the train before the doors closed.
So this 9 wasn't actually a 9. It was 2 or 3, because it went express to somewhere. I don't know where it went. I just know it went right by Houston. And then right by a bunch of stops after Houston. Many mini heart attacks were had.
I realized, though, that this was a very crafty thing for the MTA to do because:
What had happened, apparently, was a 9 train had stalled on the right side of the tracks after Houston, thus making it impossible for trains to travel on the right side of the tracks. I know this because we blew by the stalled train while I was on my train. Instead of announcing that there were no 1's or 9's anymore, they sent a 9 on another track so people would mistakenly get onto it, go express to the next available stop, and then be able to get off at that stop, cross over to the uptown direction and take a 1 or 9 on the tracks that were actually working.
Crafty, yes, but I was having a fit because I had no idea where I was going, how long it would take, how long it would take to get to work from wherever I was, would I even be able to get back, etc. I checked out the map and I was pretty far downtown, but it only took me about 5 minutes to get to work once I got on the 1 downtown. I did not call in late, however, because it wasn't my fault and I figure everyone was having the same problem. Right. No need to call in late two times in less than a week and a half.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Open Up Your Chest
Yes, M, you are right, because Jimmy is straight out of a movie.
In the movie version he is played by Morgan Freeman. He is smaller and older than Morgan Freeman, but he has that vibe. Think of a 5'7'' and thinner Morgan Freeman aging jazz musician talking really slowly and wisely kind of guy.
He just stopped by and said "How's the lonely?"
I told him I was feeling better because I'd gone to the movies, which was a normal activitiy for non-lonely people. I told him about Saun of the Dead, which obviously he hadn't heard of.
He said "Just what you need. Open up your chest and laugh a little."
Yes, Jimmy, yes.
He told me I was looking better today. When I asked him how he was doing, he said "I'm still here. Last night, I got out some food for dinner. Then, found myself a bag of potato chips and two tootsie rolls and that was my dinner."
Awesome.
I don't know who should play me in the movie, though. Hmm... things to think about.... but Ione Skye is going to play M. Or maybe Mary Louise Parker because I haven't seen Ione Skye anywhere lately.
In the movie version he is played by Morgan Freeman. He is smaller and older than Morgan Freeman, but he has that vibe. Think of a 5'7'' and thinner Morgan Freeman aging jazz musician talking really slowly and wisely kind of guy.
He just stopped by and said "How's the lonely?"
I told him I was feeling better because I'd gone to the movies, which was a normal activitiy for non-lonely people. I told him about Saun of the Dead, which obviously he hadn't heard of.
He said "Just what you need. Open up your chest and laugh a little."
Yes, Jimmy, yes.
He told me I was looking better today. When I asked him how he was doing, he said "I'm still here. Last night, I got out some food for dinner. Then, found myself a bag of potato chips and two tootsie rolls and that was my dinner."
Awesome.
I don't know who should play me in the movie, though. Hmm... things to think about.... but Ione Skye is going to play M. Or maybe Mary Louise Parker because I haven't seen Ione Skye anywhere lately.
Bollocks
Roommate and I went to the movies last night. We saw "Saun of the Dead." You all must see it. I haven't laughed that hard in a while. The first 1/3 of this movie is absolutely exquisite.
The previews included "Seed of Chucky," "Blade 3" (and I swear Parker Posey is in this - wtf?), some ghost movie with Michael Keaton, I forget what else. Something I wanted to see. My brain is so on overload right now.
But yes. "Saun of the Dead." Hilarious British Zombie Romantic Comedy. I wish I was British because then I'd be inherently interesting and witty and charming. It had its cheesy moments, but, again, brilliant idea and brilliant Act I.
The best thing about going to the movies was this: when it was over, I felt completely normal. For the first time since I moved here I feel like I live in NY! I pointed this out to Roommate, and she said "That is because we went to the movies, which is an activity people do where they live, and not when they're on vacation. " Good point.
OK. All of you must now run out at see "Saun of the Dead."
The previews included "Seed of Chucky," "Blade 3" (and I swear Parker Posey is in this - wtf?), some ghost movie with Michael Keaton, I forget what else. Something I wanted to see. My brain is so on overload right now.
But yes. "Saun of the Dead." Hilarious British Zombie Romantic Comedy. I wish I was British because then I'd be inherently interesting and witty and charming. It had its cheesy moments, but, again, brilliant idea and brilliant Act I.
The best thing about going to the movies was this: when it was over, I felt completely normal. For the first time since I moved here I feel like I live in NY! I pointed this out to Roommate, and she said "That is because we went to the movies, which is an activity people do where they live, and not when they're on vacation. " Good point.
OK. All of you must now run out at see "Saun of the Dead."
Metro Animal Story
Did anybody read this animal story in the Metro this morning?
Man mistakenly cuts off penis, dog eats it
Bucharest An elderly Romanian man mistook his penis for a chicken's neck, cut it off and his dog rushed up and ate it, the state Rompres news agency said yesterday. It said 67 year-old Constantin Mocanu, from a village near the southeastern town of Galati, rushed out into his yard in his underwear to kill a noisy chicken keeping him away at night. "I confused it with the chicken's neck," Mocanu said. "I cut it... and the dog rushed and ate it."
Wrong on so many levels. So many. Ear plugs, sir. Ear plugs. No chicken-neck-cutting.
Man mistakenly cuts off penis, dog eats it
Bucharest An elderly Romanian man mistook his penis for a chicken's neck, cut it off and his dog rushed up and ate it, the state Rompres news agency said yesterday. It said 67 year-old Constantin Mocanu, from a village near the southeastern town of Galati, rushed out into his yard in his underwear to kill a noisy chicken keeping him away at night. "I confused it with the chicken's neck," Mocanu said. "I cut it... and the dog rushed and ate it."
Wrong on so many levels. So many. Ear plugs, sir. Ear plugs. No chicken-neck-cutting.
Monday, October 04, 2004
No, You Don't Know
So older-than-dirt Jimmy just came by and said "What's what? You look beaten down."
I said "I'm, well, I'm lonely."
He said "I get lonely myself at times. Then I just jump straight up into the next thing."
Yes, Jimmy, yes.
He explained to me that only 3/10 of his family remains, and that his father, mother, and a bunch of siblings all died one after the other. He told me that he never cried until this one day at church, not too long ago at a Mother's Day mass, the preacher was going on and on and on about mothers. Jimmy left the church in the middle of the sermon, went to his car, and started to cry in his car.
People came after him. People said "We know how you feel."
Jimmy said "No, you don't know. You don't know how I feel."
Then he said to me "But I know how you feel. I know how it feels to be lonely. You'll find the next thing soon."
I said "I'm, well, I'm lonely."
He said "I get lonely myself at times. Then I just jump straight up into the next thing."
Yes, Jimmy, yes.
He explained to me that only 3/10 of his family remains, and that his father, mother, and a bunch of siblings all died one after the other. He told me that he never cried until this one day at church, not too long ago at a Mother's Day mass, the preacher was going on and on and on about mothers. Jimmy left the church in the middle of the sermon, went to his car, and started to cry in his car.
People came after him. People said "We know how you feel."
Jimmy said "No, you don't know. You don't know how I feel."
Then he said to me "But I know how you feel. I know how it feels to be lonely. You'll find the next thing soon."
Alphabet of Nations
They Might Be Giants is like an intravenous injection of HAPPY.
I think "Birdhouse in Your Soul" might be one of the best songs ever. Although, you can't jump to the entire song once you've, ahem, hit a certain, ahem, age. Such as 28. Oh well.
So M & A came to visit this weekend and we had a lovely time. It was so nice to have company and to actually interact with people. They brought me the Star Wars Trilogy on DVD as a housewarming gift, but, sadly, A determined that my DVD player/karaoke machine is, in fact, broken so I can't watch them. Sadness and weeping. Need to buy: DVD player, karaoke machine, couch, walls, coffee table, lamp, adaptors for power supply, new cell phone, friends.
We went to see They Might Be Giants at the Irving Plaza on Saturday night. I wore my fabulous new and truly outrageous Jem t-shirt that I bought in Soho on Friday night. M copied me and wore her hair in buns. We looked adorable and like we were 15 years old.
I was kind of nervous about it because I was afraid the show would make me feel old, but it didn't, because They Might Be Giants themselves are old and their fans are therefore old. If anything, I'd say we were average age there, if not on the younger side. I was thinking that it must be hard to be They Might Be Giants, because they have so many songs that span so many years to choose from for their set list. How could you ever decide?
Irving Plaza was ok. Sort of like Avalon only deeper and with $9 Captain and Coke. It was cool before the show because they played Spaceballs without sound. Not a good venu for the short, though. There are things about being short that are good - such as the fact that you can look cute in hoodies and sleep on trains easily because you can curl up. But when it comes to shows, as a short person you really just go to listen. M was very nice and told me what was going on onstage.
The show was good. Again, They Might Be Giants just make you happy happy happy! Being at the show reminded me of why I moved to NYC.
Yesterday we went out for brunch and then went furniture shopping in Williamsburg, where M & A found this very cool Chinese buffet thing and/or a vintage bar to buy for their new apartment. They didn't buy either because both items are expensive and they needed to think about it. But I am thrilled for them, because now they are dual income and can actually consider buying these sorts of things. While they were doing this I bought an ice cream from an ice cream truck for $1 and kept wishing I was rich. We also found this amazing used book store
(well, more of a kioske) around the corner from my apartment.
After they left I wanted to make phone calls, but couldn't for obvious reasons. I ended up recording a new song which I hope to have up this week if our phone works and we can then get internet. Roommate and I also watched "Desperate Housewives" which was actually pretty good. Terri Hatcher is obscenely hot. If I could look like anyone in the world, it might have to be Terri Hatcher. She's a good combination of hot/adorable. That show also has many people from "Melrose Place" - Kimberly plays this uptight and perfect housewife type and The Gay Guy plays someone's husband. I think this could be this year's guilty pleasure.
A good weekend. Now its back to reality. Hmph.
I think "Birdhouse in Your Soul" might be one of the best songs ever. Although, you can't jump to the entire song once you've, ahem, hit a certain, ahem, age. Such as 28. Oh well.
So M & A came to visit this weekend and we had a lovely time. It was so nice to have company and to actually interact with people. They brought me the Star Wars Trilogy on DVD as a housewarming gift, but, sadly, A determined that my DVD player/karaoke machine is, in fact, broken so I can't watch them. Sadness and weeping. Need to buy: DVD player, karaoke machine, couch, walls, coffee table, lamp, adaptors for power supply, new cell phone, friends.
We went to see They Might Be Giants at the Irving Plaza on Saturday night. I wore my fabulous new and truly outrageous Jem t-shirt that I bought in Soho on Friday night. M copied me and wore her hair in buns. We looked adorable and like we were 15 years old.
I was kind of nervous about it because I was afraid the show would make me feel old, but it didn't, because They Might Be Giants themselves are old and their fans are therefore old. If anything, I'd say we were average age there, if not on the younger side. I was thinking that it must be hard to be They Might Be Giants, because they have so many songs that span so many years to choose from for their set list. How could you ever decide?
Irving Plaza was ok. Sort of like Avalon only deeper and with $9 Captain and Coke. It was cool before the show because they played Spaceballs without sound. Not a good venu for the short, though. There are things about being short that are good - such as the fact that you can look cute in hoodies and sleep on trains easily because you can curl up. But when it comes to shows, as a short person you really just go to listen. M was very nice and told me what was going on onstage.
The show was good. Again, They Might Be Giants just make you happy happy happy! Being at the show reminded me of why I moved to NYC.
Yesterday we went out for brunch and then went furniture shopping in Williamsburg, where M & A found this very cool Chinese buffet thing and/or a vintage bar to buy for their new apartment. They didn't buy either because both items are expensive and they needed to think about it. But I am thrilled for them, because now they are dual income and can actually consider buying these sorts of things. While they were doing this I bought an ice cream from an ice cream truck for $1 and kept wishing I was rich. We also found this amazing used book store
(well, more of a kioske) around the corner from my apartment.
After they left I wanted to make phone calls, but couldn't for obvious reasons. I ended up recording a new song which I hope to have up this week if our phone works and we can then get internet. Roommate and I also watched "Desperate Housewives" which was actually pretty good. Terri Hatcher is obscenely hot. If I could look like anyone in the world, it might have to be Terri Hatcher. She's a good combination of hot/adorable. That show also has many people from "Melrose Place" - Kimberly plays this uptight and perfect housewife type and The Gay Guy plays someone's husband. I think this could be this year's guilty pleasure.
A good weekend. Now its back to reality. Hmph.
Cable TV
On Saturday morning we got cable.
The cable dude called at 8:30 and said he was on the way and would be there in half an hour.
At 9:30 he called and said he was lost. He wasn't actually lost. He, like my parents, had driven by my building multiple times not thinking people could conceivably live in it.
He called again because he couldn't find the door.
Then he didn't call and didn't turn up, so I called him and found out he'd taken the wrong elevator and was locked in a stairwell. Who knew you could be locked in a stairwell in my building?
We had a dish already outside our window, which was good because we couldn't have had access to the roof due to the fact that the management and superintendent of our building do not work on Saturdays. I thought to myself "This will be so easy! He will just plug in the receiver and we will have cable!" Then I thought to myself "Wait a second - nothing about NY is easy so of course there will be drama."
At first there didn't seem to be any drama. Things seemed relatively straightforward. The cable dude was taking his sweet time and being all chatty, though, because he was a Computer Engineering Major at UMass and was psyched that I too went to UMass! He was amazed! I couldn't understand why he was so excited, but then it occurred to me that I've lived in an area for so long where pretty much everyone went to UMass. He just couldn't get over it. He said "You must have some crazy stories" and I said "Not really - unless you consider stories about studying CRAZY!"
He plugged in the receiver, and of course, no signal. None. Nothing he could do. He unscrewed something on the dish which involved his hanging out of the window and swearing for about 15 minutes. He was clearly afraid of heights. I was afraid for him.
When unscrewing the whatever didn't work, he announced that he was going to his truck.
He returned a few minutes later and decided that "someone played with this dish" and that he would take it out and put it back. Fine. This, unfortunately, involved my help and therefore my hanging out the window. I thought I was going to die. It was kind of funny, and kind of fun, since I was actually socializing with someone. But I was seriously freaking out.
Eventually the cable got hooked up and that was that. But let the stick beating begin - when the cable dude was leaving, he was all "Can I call you?" Heh. I said he could, not because I want him to, but because I couldn't really say "no" because he had just undergone a ridiculous amount of stress to install cable in my apartment. Like potential-life-ending stress. Plus, he already has my number and knows where I live so I figured I'd keep in amicable.
The reason I tell this story, though, is because as soon as he turned on the receiver in my apartment my cell phone stopped working. Like it went from 6 bars to none, maybe one, sometimes the grey bars that allow only emergency phone calls. And when I have one bar, I can't actually make phone calls. Like it will drop the call as soon as it starts ringing. I am pissed. I don't know if its a total coincidence or if the cable signal is actually now interfering with my cell phone. I called my cell phone carrier and they "sent a program" to my phone that "might help."
Ergh.
Nothing in this city is easy!!!!
It was extremely frustrating because I was waiting for M & A to arrive, and had no way to talk to them since our land line doesn't work either. I had to leave the apartment and walk a few blocks to call them. Then, when I got back, my cell phone miraculously worked again. I was relieved until the following morning when, of course, it no longer worked. It didn't work at all yesterday. It doesn't work only in the apartment.
In other tragic news, the inputs to my fabulous power supply at work do not accept the leads from my fabulous gel box, so that sucks. I think they make adaptors, but what a pain! I can't seem to get anything right in this city!!!!
The cable dude called at 8:30 and said he was on the way and would be there in half an hour.
At 9:30 he called and said he was lost. He wasn't actually lost. He, like my parents, had driven by my building multiple times not thinking people could conceivably live in it.
He called again because he couldn't find the door.
Then he didn't call and didn't turn up, so I called him and found out he'd taken the wrong elevator and was locked in a stairwell. Who knew you could be locked in a stairwell in my building?
We had a dish already outside our window, which was good because we couldn't have had access to the roof due to the fact that the management and superintendent of our building do not work on Saturdays. I thought to myself "This will be so easy! He will just plug in the receiver and we will have cable!" Then I thought to myself "Wait a second - nothing about NY is easy so of course there will be drama."
At first there didn't seem to be any drama. Things seemed relatively straightforward. The cable dude was taking his sweet time and being all chatty, though, because he was a Computer Engineering Major at UMass and was psyched that I too went to UMass! He was amazed! I couldn't understand why he was so excited, but then it occurred to me that I've lived in an area for so long where pretty much everyone went to UMass. He just couldn't get over it. He said "You must have some crazy stories" and I said "Not really - unless you consider stories about studying CRAZY!"
He plugged in the receiver, and of course, no signal. None. Nothing he could do. He unscrewed something on the dish which involved his hanging out of the window and swearing for about 15 minutes. He was clearly afraid of heights. I was afraid for him.
When unscrewing the whatever didn't work, he announced that he was going to his truck.
He returned a few minutes later and decided that "someone played with this dish" and that he would take it out and put it back. Fine. This, unfortunately, involved my help and therefore my hanging out the window. I thought I was going to die. It was kind of funny, and kind of fun, since I was actually socializing with someone. But I was seriously freaking out.
Eventually the cable got hooked up and that was that. But let the stick beating begin - when the cable dude was leaving, he was all "Can I call you?" Heh. I said he could, not because I want him to, but because I couldn't really say "no" because he had just undergone a ridiculous amount of stress to install cable in my apartment. Like potential-life-ending stress. Plus, he already has my number and knows where I live so I figured I'd keep in amicable.
The reason I tell this story, though, is because as soon as he turned on the receiver in my apartment my cell phone stopped working. Like it went from 6 bars to none, maybe one, sometimes the grey bars that allow only emergency phone calls. And when I have one bar, I can't actually make phone calls. Like it will drop the call as soon as it starts ringing. I am pissed. I don't know if its a total coincidence or if the cable signal is actually now interfering with my cell phone. I called my cell phone carrier and they "sent a program" to my phone that "might help."
Ergh.
Nothing in this city is easy!!!!
It was extremely frustrating because I was waiting for M & A to arrive, and had no way to talk to them since our land line doesn't work either. I had to leave the apartment and walk a few blocks to call them. Then, when I got back, my cell phone miraculously worked again. I was relieved until the following morning when, of course, it no longer worked. It didn't work at all yesterday. It doesn't work only in the apartment.
In other tragic news, the inputs to my fabulous power supply at work do not accept the leads from my fabulous gel box, so that sucks. I think they make adaptors, but what a pain! I can't seem to get anything right in this city!!!!
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