Since I've Been Talking About My New Glasses Non-stop....

.... Here they are!!! I picked them up tonight and they actually had the right lenses in them this time!


Fabulous old red glasses that I will always love!

New everyday conservative pair that I am wearing as I type!

Cheap pair I got because I am a guinea, but now that I've spent hours in that place, I realize that they give everybody deals for one reason or another, so it wasn't really a deal at all. I am so gullible. But I love the glasses, so I don't care.

I realize I am insane. I am going to spend no money for the next few weeks to make up for the insanity.

But you have to admit the new glasses are tres cute.

Wu Tang Is For the Children! (or Ear Infections Aren't Just For Children)

Hello friends.

Some observations:

1. The other night after the glasses fiasco I decided to assuage my disappointment by rewarding myself with a walk-through of DSW. If I found boots, that would be even better (incidentally, my horoscope today said that I should think about buying a pair of boots - weird). I walked in and saw very cute pocketbooks on display, and thought "I need a pocketbook and those pocketbooks on display are cute!" I went over to them and looked at the price tag and thought "Why the hell are these pocketbooks in DSW priced at $400?" Then I overheard these two women say "Oh, *there* are the Prada bags!" Now. Do the DSW's in MA sell Prada and Versace and I just never noticed, or is this a uniquely NY phenomenon? Ladies, help me! I just don't know!

2. "Tarnation" was total masturbation. I have been aching to see this movie for quite some time. In fact, I have been trying to see it for the last six weeks. I finally went to see it last night and was disappointed. Yes, he had an awful life. Yes, its cool that he had video from his youth. But the video didn't tell the story. What's the point of making a movie if you have to explain the story in text? Granted, he didn't have storyline footage from when he was 10. Granted, his life sucked. Moreso than I can imagine. The payoff was amazing, though. The last 20 or so minutes are phenomenol. The first 70 were torture.

3. The good thing, though, was that I cried during the ending, which made me realize that my mood-shift may, in fact, just be PMS. Woo hoo!!!

4. Or my mood-shift might be correlated with my ear infection. I spent three hours waiting today in a super sketchy clinic thing downtown. I was finally seen by a doctor who gave me 10-days-worth of antibiotics. Two a day. Awshummmm. M convinced me last night that sleeping a lot wouldn't make an ear infection go away, and that I had to go to a doctor. But I don't have one. Nor do I have any idea how to find one. I went online last night and wrote down the names of "providers," and called some this morning. They all have weird hours - like Wednesdays 2 - 6 or something. Then I called my health insurance and they were like "You should go to Urgent Care" so I'm like "OK, where?" and they could only find TWO and both were in NJ. I kept saying "But I work in Manhattan - you mean to tell me that there's no urgent care on the entire island?" and they're like "Yes, this is what we're telling you." Idiots. I ended up calling R and asking him if he has a doctor, which he doesn't, but he walks by a Family Care place on the way to work, which is where I ended up going, because they accept walk-ins. And why doesn't insurance tell people this? Idiots.

5. The doctor was like "When was the last time you went to the gynecologist?" and I said "I have no idea." "When was the last time you had a breast exam?" "I don't know, like 6 years ago?" "When was the last time you had your cholestrol checked?" "Dunno, but I know it was good?" When he was finished checking my ear, he said "You know, you should really make some appointments to have other things checked out." Yes, yes, I know. I know. Especially now that I'm, ahem, pushing 30. He's right. I got to thinking - why is it that I don't do these things? Other people do these things. Other people are concerned. I thought about it for a while, and realized it comes from being raised by a family of people who are health-obsessed hypochondriacs, who discuss health non-stop, and who adore failing health. Who's having what test, what symptoms they displayed, how they realized they were dying. Every sniffle could mean death. Not going to the doctor is some pathetic form of rebellion.

6. Which brings me back to *Tarnation.* There is a powerful moment in it in which Jonathan is talking to the camera (being melodramatic and masturbatory, but still powerful) and says something like "I'm afraid I'm going to end up like my mother."

7. So yes. I have an ear infection. Instead of rushing home to start the antibiotics regiment, I went out for drinks with my coworkers. While I was there all I could think was "Man, would I like to be in bed starting antibiotics!" I'm totally serious. Ear infections suck.

8. But not as much as kidney stones.

9. My boss went on a date tonight. It was very cute. I was stuck late at work and still do not have access to the radiation room, so I called him to ask when he would be leaving so I could borrow his badge to get in. He said "I can't stay late tonight because I have a date, and, unlike you, I am going to go on it." Heh. My boss and I don't really talk anything but shop. The other day when I was writing the email to Intimate Apparel about being in "friend mode" my boss came up behind me to ask me about something science and said "Are you ok? You look like you're in severe pain." I explained to him that I was lying to someone, and that it was causing me severe pain. Now, apparently, we can relate since we both "date."

10. My final thought of the day is that subway musicians in NY rock. After sketchy clinic today there was a FABULOUS doo-wop quartet singing underground. In NYC the musicians you hear in the subway stations are musicians you'd pay lots of money to hear. Oftentimes I let three or four trains pass before I get on, just so I can keep listening.

OK. My eyes are burning from being overtired and my ear is throbbing, so I must sleep. But how awesome is it that I can blog from bed?!?!? Yippee!!!

Sleep

I slept for ten hours last night and that worries me.

I am worried because either I am still sick (which is possible because my ears are really hurting, thus making me paranoid about ear infections, an experience I'd care not to repeat) or my mood is shifting. I don't know which is worse. I think its my mood, though, and I think its because I've been unproductive. I haven't worked on music in forever. I really need to get back to it. Nevertheless...

Ten hours of sleep is cool because you have lots of dreams.

The only one I remember is one where I was moving into a new apartment with two
new roommates - one was fictional and the other was Anna Nicole Smith. The house was a three story home with wall-to-wall carpeting (I think this is based on M's gigantic apartment, which has carpets) that I was orgasmic over. Like I was so thrilled about the carpets and was rolling around on the floors being like "You guys! CARPETS!!!!" The house was built by my fabulous former landlord Joe, who in real life is a saint and who in the dream built all sorts of wall storage for us. He also built an addition on the top of the house so that I had my own master bedroom and bathroom and recording studio. I thought my roommates would be jealous of my suite, but Anna Nicole said "No, don't worry, you need this. We understand." I was then supposed to go to a show at the Middle East or something so I took the train there and was stood up by whoever I was supposed to be meeting. (It also wasn't the Middle East as much as it was a Mexican restaurant.) And then there wasn't a show, but I did meet Jimmy Fallon. So I tried to get back to my house but couldn't find it! I was lost. I kept calling Anna Nicole and she kept saying "You know where it is. You'll find it" but I couldn't. And they were decorating without me and all I wanted to do was see the carpet again.

So I think this is a finding-yourself type of dream, and might be related to the mood issues. Don't know. I think it just indicates that I want "a home" - and that's what the carpets represent. The exact opposite of concrete floors, which is what I have in NY.

H.O.P.E.

The Knitting Factory (in NYC) and a group called H.O.P.E. (Horrified Observers of Pedestrian Entertainment)are offering to help out all of the stupid people who bought Ashlee Simpson's CD! In exchange for their copies of Autobiography, these people can get CD's of "higher entertainment quality" such as Elvis Costello and Ray Charles.

http://www.hopeinamerica.com

I think I am going to join! Woo hoo!!!!

Karma Officially Trampled (or The Future Is Now)

The Future is now! I am blogging via wireless internet in my bedroom!!!

I had hoped to post photos of my fabulous new glasses but, alas, karma is alive and kicking and my glasses were the wrong prescriptions. Both wrong. In different ways. I put them on and my eyes crossed and with insta-headache pounding I thought "Of course."

Allegedly I can pick them up on Friday if Karma is satisfied.

Friend Mode (or Trampled Karma)

So I am ignoring the results from the poll I took.

I know you all voted for me to go out with Intimate Apparel, but I have decided not to.

See. The thing is that I met him a month ago, wasn't too thrilled about him then, haven't actually spoken to him for more than 10 minutes since, and dammit, I have better things to do with my time, such as pick up my new glasses tonight!

I took a brief poll of coworkers, and their suggestions were:

1. Lie
2. Lie or
3. Lie.

Now. I see the benefits of lying. I really do. But. I didn't want to lie by saying I was sick, or that I double booked, or that I had to work late. These things are all implied lies and he'd know I was lying, so what is the point? Plus, by saying any of those things I'd be implying that there might be a point in time when I wasn't sick, or didn't have other plans, or got out of work on time.

Various voters at work said to tell him "I don't want a relationship" or "Anthing serious" or "I only want to be friends," but these things are not true. Really, what I should say is "I don't want any sort of relationship with you" or "I seriously don't want to see you" or "I only want to be friends with people who aren't you." If I said any of the lie variants, he could counter and then I'd have to lie again. And again. And then again. One voter at work said to claim that I am in "friend mode" right now, which I liked, and which is mostly true. I think people who are new to places really need to find where they fit in before they start dating - and that involves spending time with friends and picking up two new pairs of glasses.

So I emailed him and said I suck and am scattered and told my coworkers I'd go out with them which I think that I should since I am in "friend mode."

Friend mode. Heh.

I said things will be crazy during and after the holidays, but that I could call him after the craziness settles down but I'd understand if he didn't want me to.

See!!! Now he gets to reject me by ignoring the email I sent! And everyone feels fabulous!!!!

Everyone except my karma, which is shot to shit. But how many times have men done this to me? And at least I didn't ignore him completely like I would have in the old days!

I don't know what my problem is. Is it intimacy issues or the fact that I desperately want my new glasses? How am I to know?

Glasses, glasses, and then more glasses

After work last night I went into Union Square to replace my somewhat broken glasses. I first went to a place called Union Square Optical which accepts my vision insurance. They were utterly disinterested in helping me find glasses, which is absurd when all of the glasses are in cases. Frustrated with the salesforce, I walked across the street to a less-than-sophisticated place with many deals on glasses.

Their selection wasn't fabulous, but the salesforce was hilarious. I was initially working with one chick who was annoyed that I wanted to try on more than five pairs of glasses. Now. This woman wears glasses so she must understand the importance of having a good pair. It's your face. You have to see it every day. It is crucial that you have glasses you like. The five I tried on were all hideous. She dished me off to another woman.

This woman was a riot. There was a very well-dressed and attractive British man in the store who I kept asking for advice about my glasses since the women in the store weren't, well, the most stylish of folks. He disappeared around the corner to have his eyes checked, and this woman says "Man, would I like to do him!" Heh. I said, quietly, "Me too, actually." She said "Yeah, but his lips are thin. I have no use for thin lips. I'm Italian." I agreed. Then she said "He's gay, anyway, and has thin lips. Who needs 'im?"

She was patient with me and told me her life story while I stared at myself for hours in different pairs of glasses. I narrowed it down to two. I chose the pair that most people in the store preferred and had her charge me for it. After she charged me, she whispered "Because you're a guinea I'll cut you a deal - I'll give you that second pair for $200." Shit. That is a good deal, but the first pair wasn't a good deal. I talked them down on the first pair by threatening to go elsewhere with my vision insurance. And its not like I need more glasses because I clearly already have too many. But $200 for an adorable pair of glasses? You can't beat that!

I gave in and she whispered "I'm only doing this for ya because your Sicilian," which is weird, because I never told her I was Sicilian. I said "How can you tell?" and she said "I've dated your kind."

She ran my credit card through again, and it wouldn't go through. She tried many times with no luck. She finally called Master Card and the Master Card dude wanted to talk to me on the phone. He asked me my mother's maiden name and then said they just wanted to make sure everything was fine since there'd been an unusual amount of activity on my card that day. I confirmed my Amtrak purchase (Thanksgiving!) and then my double glasses purchase.

So how awesome would it be if someone stole your credit card and used it to buy tons of glasses? I'd be psyched. A glasses-buying rampage scheme of mass proportions! Purple frames! Wire frames! Perscription sunglasses! Freaking awesome.

After my purchase I grabbed a slice of pizza at Pronto Pizza and Chinese Food. While there, a homeless man approached me and asked me for some money. Since I'd just spent a ton of money, I thought "Well, I can't be that selfish. I'll give the dude a dollar." I gave him a dollar and then watched him walk around the rest of Pronto asking for money, and realized the dude had a really nice walkman and a better coat than me. Right.

I then went to see The Incredibles which was perfect. And timely considering the class I am taking right now. I got a lot of the comic jokes that I'd probably have missed had I not taken this class.

Normally I like to go to movies by myself (and will most likely be doing a lot of that here), but I noticed last night some bad things about going to movies by oneself. Such as:

1. You can't multitask - I got there a bit later than I'd have preferred, and when that happens, you usually say "You get seats, you get food, while I run to the bathroom." But I could only do one of those things at a time, which caused me to ....

2. End up sitting on the side of the theater (no aisle seats remaining!) where I was seated under one of those overheard lights and felt like I was either on stage or going blind and I had nobody to complain to!

3. When you are by yourself, you look even more ridiculous spazzing out to the preview for Revenge of the Sith than you would if you were with your dorky friends.

4. You have nobody to say "Man, I can't freaking wait for the Johnny Depp Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" to.

And as far as more glasses go, today is our Health and Safety Fair where I will be getting prescription safety glasses! And a cholesterol test, if there's enough time.

ODB R.I.P.

A piece of me has died along with the knowledge that Ol' Dirty Bastard, aka Dirt McGirt, aka Big Baby Jesus is dead.

In honor of ODB, I will take this opportunity to remind you of the following link. Enjoy. And feel free to post your results in honor of ODB.

http://www.recordstore.com/wuname/wuname.pl

(Incidentally, I am reminded of our original discovery of this website and how some of us tried to figure out the algorithm. Man were we cool back then!)

Word from Superintendant God-Botherer.

Sniff.

Fung Wah

My sister came to visit this weekend. We had a marvelous time. I'd forgotten just how lovely it is to have close girl friends in your proximity. I guess I successfully managed to forget how much I miss her. It was great to see her, but incredibly sad to see her go.

She arrived late on Friday night due to stupid weather. We opted not to go out and instead sat up late catching up (my sister is even worse than me at the phone, which is hard to believe!) and drinking bad wine and eating good cheese and strawberries.

On Saturday we went for breakfast at Relish, where I had amazing onion rings. Hmmmm. We then walked aimlessly around Williamsburg (I'd hoped to cross one of the movies off my list of Seven-Movies-To-See-Before-Thansgiving but by the time we motivated to get out of the house there was no way we could fit one in) and then around the Village, where, drum roll please, I acquired purple pants! They were far too expensive and don't actually fit, but they require only a hem so there is hope!

We then ate dinner at the vegetarian restaurant in Williamsburg. Why is vegetarian food always so dry? I don't understand. We went back to the loft feeling bloated and tired, but managed to rally to go to a show with Roommate and her friend L in SoHo. Roommate has been so excited for this show and was therefore devastated when we arrived to the 8:00 show at 8:30 to find out that the box office closed at 8.

When does that ever happen? Since when do shows start on time? Like we got there and the show was going on and there wasn't even a door! We had to press a buzzer and we were like "We're here for the show?" and they were like "The Box Office Is Closed." It was all very Wizard of Oz. Then a dude appeared and said very zen-ly "Why didn't you get here at 7:30?" Why ever would we have done that? We ended up grabbing a few drinks at some lame place in the East Village, where my sister and I felt like imposters. I felt really really really lonely.

We journeyed back to Williamsburg where we met up with some of Roommate's friends and a friend of mine from work, D, and his friends. Some weird kid approached my sister and I the second we were alone and said "What do you guys do?" and then "Are you guys Jewish?" and "How do you know each other?" We told him we were both 25% Sicilian and from the same area but still he had no idea we were sisters. I admired his courage, though, and have to admit it was cute when he yelled across the bar to his friend "We have two Italians here!"

My friend D, his friends, my sister and I then went back to the loft to chill, drink some water, eat some sesame sticks, decompress. We tried then to meet up with Roommate et. al. at a party at our realtor's loft. Now. I am not a big fan of the realtor. In fact, I just don't like him. I don't like him because he is smarmy and exudes desparation and is a lovesick puppy towards Roommate. He thinks he is ultra cool and he is not.

Roommate told us she'd meet us but didn't appear for a while. I didn't want to go to the party without her because clearly I know the realtor and clearly he did not invite me. That's crashing. That's not cool. Our hatred for each other is mutual. We waited in the lobby of his building for a long time, while everyone except me became increasingly frustrated. Finally Roommate appeared, and we all walked up to the third floor.

There, we were asked to remove our shoes. There were hundreds of shoes in the hallway. There was a dude there who was paid to watch our shoes. Ridiculous. Realtor thinks he's so cool. We removed our shoes after throwing many fits, and then walked into the party where a dude checked our coats for us. Also ridiculous. Realtor's loft is fanastic - its called The Green Room and has green stained hardwood floors and amazing lighting and furniture and atmosphere. He'd hired three DJ's. There was a disco ball and lighting and fog. It was a rave inside. Realtor was wearing black silk pajamas and being ultra-smarmy and ultra-desperate. He has an 8x10 shag rug in his apartment and sitting on it were about 20 catatonic drugged-out hipsters doing nothing but looking angsty and tired. The party was awful, but worth the stories.

Yesterday we slept in too late again and went for breakfast and then did nothing all day but discuss what sort of guinea pig my sister should get.

Last night she was slated to take the Fung Wah bus out of New York. Last time she tried to do this, she missed the one she was scheduled for and had to take one an hour later, which was late, so it was a fiasco. This time she swore getting there half an hour early would solve all of the problems.

We got there 15 minutes early, but there were, no joke, at least 300 people waiting in line for the next bus. And no bus came. And when no bus came, I said "When is the bus coming?" and nobody knew. I said "All of these people are holding tickets - so there will be more than one bus?" and they said "No" and I said "What are they to do?" and they said "They will all get on the bus."

I said "Yes, but, they all have tickets for the 6:00 bus and there's only one bus."

They said "No, 7:00."

I said, "No, 6:00."

"6:30!!!!"

"OK, well, its 6:30 and the 6:00 bus hasn't come nor has the 6:30, so when do you suppose these buses are coming?"

"6:00!"

"No, no, see, these people all have tickets for the same bus that was supposed to come half an hour ago and we're just wondering what you intend to do."

"Just wait in line..."

"NO! But see, we're just wondering if they should make other plans to get home, because this is freaking ridiculous."

"I'll find you in line..."

"No, but really, like, is the bus actually coming at all?"

"Don't know. Ask the window."

I went to the window and said "Listen, when is the 6:00 bus going to get here?"

"How should I know?"

I nearly lost my mind.

This all took place over 45 minutes in the freezing cold in a line of 300 irritable, anxious, teeth-chattering people.

I just don't understand how they can't be communicating with the buses. Like really. How hard could that possibly be?!?!? And I don't understand why they refuse to give out any information. At least at Peter Pan, when they oversell a bus, they tell you and try to keep you calm and explain to you your options. Fung Wah apparently oversells their buses 3-fold and then expects nobody to care. Why can't they just be honest?

After trying to deal with these people I found my sitser in line and found that a group of Bostonians around her had been calling other methods of transporations, and there were no flights or Peter Pan buses that weren't sold out. I felt their pain. They decided to take the Acela, but too late. They said "We will take the 7:00!" and I said "No you won't, there's no way you're going to make it." They said "But we will take a cab!" and I said "No way. Not going to make it. Traffic."

I have so much expertise now in the public transit woes of the New York/Boston commute.

My sister jumped in a cab with three other people from Boston and they went to Penn Station without getting a refund from fucking Fung Wah.

At 7:45 she called to say she'd be taking the 8:00.

At 9:00 she called to say that the 8:00 had been delayed indefinitely in Newark due to mechanical problems.

At 9:30 she called to say she was on the train and that she'd be getting to Boston at 1:30. She said they'd joked with the cab driver who offered to take them to Boston for $400. They should have just done that.

In response to my text message "Did you get home ok?" this morning, my sister sent the following message:

3:30.

Fuck.

I feel awful. But mostly because I am afraid this experience will deter her from ever coming to NYC again.

So, dear readers, when you come to visit, do not take the Fung Wah. You get what you pay for.

I haven't done a minute of work today. Mondays suck.