Most Bizarre Occurence Of Life Thus Far

I left work early on Friday afternoon in order to go home to clean my apartment in preparation for my parents' visit.

I was, of course, a stress case. I'd hoped to be able to take a nap, but I couldn't sleep. It was oppressively hot, and I kept wondering "When will they be here?" I knew they were running late, but I had no idea how late they'd be.

Instead of taking a nap, I decided to clean. A lot. My parents would be very impressed! I swept, dusted, even wet-jetted the floors. It was at least 90 degrees on Friday afternoon and apparently my apartment gets really hot in the middle of the day. It was not fun, but this is what one does in preparation for parents' visit.

After finishing cleaning, I decided to unwind and hopefully cool off by playing some piano. I played for about five minutes and randomly looked over my shoulder and out the window.

I don't even know where to begin with this.

How do I describe what happened?

Outside my window was complete white. I couldn't see an inch outside the window. It was smoke billowing up, but it didn't smell like smoke. It was almost like being on an airplane in the clouds. Total whiteness.

First thought: "Hmmm. Sometimes my apartment gets really dusty during the day. Maybe the gas station, which is right below me, does some sort of weird cleaning during the day and that's what has been causing the dust?" Originally I'd thought that perhaps the dust was due to construction in the apartment above me, but maybe it was this phenomenon happening every afternoon.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought "No, this can't be normal. I can't see at all. I can't even see my fire escape and I am standing a cm away from it."

"Come to think of it, I can't really see in my apartment right now." My entire apartment started filling with whatever the smoke was. I was standing at the window, and could barely see my piano across the room.

I took off my glasses and realized that whatever it was had accumulated on them as well.

I thought "Something has to be on fire. Is my apartment on fire? But it doesn't smell like smoke! What could be on fire? Is it the fan? Is the fan on fire and the smoke is going outside?"

"Is this is a terrorist attack? Fuck! What if this is a chemical attack? FUCK!!!"

"Wait. No. This will pass."

"But what if this is chemical?"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?!?"

"Now I am inhaling this stuff. This can't be good. Whatever it is, it's not good. Maybe I shouldn't stick around for this."

I quickly shut the windows and turned the fan, which was blowing whatever it was into my apartment, to reverse so that hopefully it would start to blow whatever it was out of my apartment.

I washed my glasses quickly, grabbed my wallet, keys, and cell phone and left the apartment.

I then ran back in to get my camera.

I really had no idea what was going on. I didn't know where I was going to go. I just knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to be in my apartment.

I expected there to be mad pandemonium in my building, but nobody was running around.

I thought "What if its only outside my window? What the fuck?"

Then I thought better of it, and realized that probably nobody was home since it was the middle of the day.

It felt like Terminator 2. You know the scene where Linda Hamilton is having the nightmare about the future and everyone gets blown away and turns into ash? That's how I felt. I felt like grabbing my window and screaming "Nooooooo!" as the pedestrians who were on the street during whatever this was were blown to bits.

Nuclear winter.

There was no sky.

It was just white stuff.

Outside of my building a crowd had gathered and the dust had literally settled.

A man was getting into his car, which was covered in the stuff. I asked him if he knew what happened. He was laughing. His friend soon joined us, and informed me that the gas station clerk who worked behind the counter accidentally pressed the fire button.

The fire department was already there.



At first I didn't understand, but then it occurred to me that should a fire break out at a gas station, that would be a very bad scene for obvious reasons. It makes sense that they need to be able to put it out themselves. And fast.

Apparently some asshole accidentally backed into the freaking button and set off whatever system is in place to put out a gas fire of gigantic proportions. This caused the entire gas station, as well as like two surrounding blocks, to be covered in freaking sodium bicarbonate.

This is the ground surrounding the gas station:



The owner of this car was getting gas when this all happened:



They called an ambulance for his wife, who was 8 and a half months pregnant.

Here are some more photos from the gas station:





I was irate. I realized, then, that my entire apartment was going to be covered. COVERED. I made demands. I said "I don't think you understand, PEOPLE. MY PARENTS ARE COMING IN A FEW MINUTES!!! THEY ARE STAYING IN NYC, IN MY MICROSCOPIC APARTMENT, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER AND I JUST FREAKING CLEANED AND NOW MY ENTIRE APARTMENT IS COVERED IN THIS SHIT!"

The manager was "on his way" for about an hour.

Nothing came of this.



I decided to go back into my apartment building. The windows in the stairwells were only open about half an inch each, and this is what the building looked like on the inside:







When I got back into my apartment, it was, indeed, covered in a layer of the stuff. Every single item I own. Everything. Each book. Each CD that was out. Each item hung on the wall. My parents were only about half an hour away (they actually got stuck in traffic for 2.5 hours but I was thrilled because had they not hit traffic they'd have been in my apartment when all of this happened). I went on damage control and swept and mopped what I could, rewashed all the dishes, sent D, who turned up shortly before my parents, to the laundromat with all of the sheets and bedding and towels, started to wipe off all of my hair products and books and everything else I had time for. Sweeping helped but now the stuff is in between all of the cracks in the newly renovated floor. Everything in my entertainment center is covered and I don't have the stamina to unplug everything and rewire everything and wash everything and blah.

In-fucking-furiating.

I didn't have the presence of mind to take photos in my apartment, because my main concern was getting the apartment in semi-presentable condition by the time my parents arrived. I did, however, take this photo of the fire escape outside my living room window, which is a good representation of the condition of the rest of my apartment:



My parents arrived and obviously I was a stress case. They arrived with enough luggage for 10 people to be on vacation for 10 days. It was chaos. I was so wound up and distressed and mortified. All I wanted to do was clean or relax or make more demands. I didn't want an army of people to deposit 43 pieces of luggage in 300 square feet of floor that was covered in dust. I hated that I had to be the person who was like "Can you take off your shoes before you walk into the apartment? I don't want you tracking that stuff all over the place."

I have a couple feelings about the timing of all of this:

1. If my parents weren't visiting, I'd not have been home for this and therefore my windows would have been shut.

2. If this had happened, like, five minutes sooner my computer would have been destroyed. It was sitting on the table in front of the fan while I downloaded music while I cleaned. I put it in my closet, which was the only place that was untouched by the dust because the door was closed, right before I started playing the piano.

3. If my parents hadn't been running late in the morning and hadn't therefore hit traffic, they would have been there for this and it would have been chaos. Mom most certainly would have thought it was terrorists and demanded hospitalization, and they'd have one more piece of data supporting their feeling that I should move back to MA. Not that they think I should move - they love NYC - but they'd like to have me home. I imagine had they experienced this they'd no longer be in love with NYC. Not to mention that both the couch and new air conditioner would probably have been destroyed.

4. But, what are the odds of this sort of freak occurrence happening right before your parents' visit that already has you extremely stressed out and right after you just cleaned your apartment way too thoroughly?

I guess it worked out for the best, but consequently I had an extremely stressful weekend during which all I wanted to do was rid my apartment of whatever sodium bicarbonate residue I could but during which I instead dragged my parents, who again didn't want to walk anywhere, around the city. And, to make matters worse, when we (five of us in my small apartment - two parents, Brother, D and myself) were in my apartment, we couldn't open any of the windows because the fire escape was covered with the stuff and I didn't want it to blow in anymore.

Ugh.

I gave my photos to the super so that they could submit an insurance claim to have the building cleaned. I am hoping that they will refund me for the laundry and will pay to have my floors cleaned. I really shouldn't have to do that.

I really shouldn't have had to do anything. My super said "Did you take pictures of your apartment? We can have someone come in and clean it." "No, I already cleaned it because MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE HERE IN TEN MINUTES AHHHHHHH!" It's not like you can wait for this sort of thing. The place was covered. Unliveable.

Ridiculous.

Various firemen said things like "You had a fan on? Why? Why don't you have an air conditioner?" and "If you had an air conditioner, you wouldn't have blown that stuff in" and "Yeah, but if she had an air conditioner it might have been destroyed" and "You should get the gas station insurance to pay to put your folks up in the Waldorf." I got yelled at by some lady in the gas station for "taking photos on the premises." Fuck off, lady. It's the LEAST I am going to do since my apartment is covered in this shit because some stupid employee of yours doesn't know how to lean correctly.

Only in NYC, folks.

I am so getting renter's insurance tomorrow.

What a stressful weekend.

Peach Daquiris

They are good, but not when you drink many of them and don't eat dinner.

Groan.

The weather has been disgusting. Hot. It's the kind of weather during which you feel disgusting so you take a cold shower after work, feel refreshed, get out of the shower and sit stationary for about five minutes, and then become disgusting again. Post-daquiris I decided to pay D a visit prior to heading back to my apartment to clean in preparation for Parent Visit #4. D coerced me into staying the night, but I was unprepared. I didn't have any clothes other than a tank top that was, well, a bit sweaty from having walked many miles the day before (not to mention entirely work-inappropriate) and the clothes I had on that day. I decided to hand-wash everything (hand-wash!) and let them dry overnight.

I woke up this morning sweating to death. My stomach was extremely unhappy. Bitchy. D said "Were you cold last night?"

"No, actually, I was really hot, which is weird, since it seemed like it was cooling off."

"Oh, yeah, well, I shut the fan off because I was cold."

Seething. R says that D is non-responsive to the heat because he is half-Vietnamese. D says "I think I am meant to live in a hot climate. I just love this hot weather." Summer is my least favorite season. I am a spring/fall girl, and I can tolerate winter, because there are always ways to get warmer. Getting colder, however, is not easy, which makes summer frustrating.

I think this could be a problem, and we may have to start doing summer hours or something. Regardless, I very calmly explained my philosophy on sleeping and said "You see, D, when sleeping with another person, it is easy to get warmer but not easy to get colder. For example, you don't believe in multiple blankets. If you did, you could easily regulate your temperature. In fact, we could regulate our temperatures separately and both be comfortable. In the current set up, we each have only one option. Really hot or really cold. Not good. If you are cold at night, you could leave the fan on and then either use a sheet (or blanket!) or utilize body heat to your advantage. Shutting the fan off when its 90 degrees outside and when somebody else who can't sleep when its hot is in your bed is just not nice."

He understood. Progress!

It was then that I realized that my clothes were still wet and that I therefore had nothing to wear to work. D said "You can wear my clothes." I said "Wearing your clothes is just as obvious as wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday." I ended up blowdrying my clothes. I am, however, wearing D's giant navy man socks, which makes me laugh and makes me no longer bitchy.

He also gave me a shirt to wear. He said "This shirt is small. It's tight on me. It will fit you."

I insisted "It won't."

"I think it will."

"It won't."

I wasn't even going to try it on (because, obviously, it wasn't going to fit) but I decided to humor him and said "This is going to look like a smock on me."

Then I started to laugh, because I haven't said "smock" in over a decade.

Smock. It sounds like a verb. Or a derogatory term for something.

It then started to pour, which is stressful because my Parents and Brother will soon be en route to New York City with a couch tied to the top of their SUV.

They will also be bringing an air conditioner. I asked them to pick one up for me because (a) it would be cheaper in MA than in NYC and (b) it would be easier for them to get one than for me to transport one and (c) there was no way I was going to get one prior to their visit and it is best for all of us that my apartment not be a raging sauna while four people try to sleep in it. They originally bought one that was a bit on the small side (I want to use one air conditioner to cool my entire apartment because it is a raging sauna) so they picked up another one instead and, gasp, kept the original one for themselves!

I was not raised on air conditioning. My parents are opposed to it - my theory is that its a financial opposition - and were hard-core fan users. Consequently I have been a hard-core fan user and am not fond of air conditioners. Over the years, though, I've gotten more used to air conditioning through more hotel stays etc.

Anyway, Father called last night to make sure everything was coordinated for Operation Remove Apartment Door to Deposit Couch and said "We kept that air conditioner and, well, it's cold! This is great! Wow." He just couldn't get over it.

Whatever guilt I had regarding asking my parents to find an air conditioner for me is now alleviated by knowing that their lives have been vastly improved by this experience!

I am working a half day today (half day Fridays!). I am going to run home and clean, read my mail, put the fan in the window, nurse my ulcer regarding my parents' visit and try to stifle my being convinced that they will hate my apartment and be very disappointed in me, and try to think of fun things to do with people who don't like to walk at all or be outside when the weather is less than optimal.

I am thinking street fairs! Flea markets! Coney Island! Wining and dining! MOMA! Will my parents enjoy these things? I have no idea.

I have decided that a potentially effective method to get my parents to walk is to say "You can either walk or, Mom, you can hail a cab." My mother will be afraid of this and will then be psyched to walk if it means avoiding the awkwardness of summoning a cab.

(Incidentally, people in NYC call them "taxis," but I have yet to incorporate this into my daily speech.)

(Incidentally, people were making fun of me last night for saying "wicked." Half of the people thought it was lame, but half found it endearing, so I have no feeling on this whatsoever. I wish they would just get over it.)

I am starving. I really want pancakes, but I can't go get any because I have to get tons of work done in order to get home in time for The Couch.

Allegedly The Chairs are being delivered to work today. How awesome would it be to have Couch and Chairs?

And, in the most exciting and bizarrely fantastic news of the year, Sid and Buddy Karaoke is now on Thursday nights at the bar we normally go to for Happy Hour on Thursday nights!!! This bar is right around the corner from D's apartment. I can now live out my fantasy of becoming a Sid and Buddy regular!!!!

Weeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In My Head...

.... right now, on repeat, is Lionel Ritchie's "Say You, Say Me."

I have no idea where this came from.

UPDATE: I do have an idea where this came from. I also have a Pinback song in my head that sounds similar. Well, not really. There's one measure of an instrumental in this song that sounds like the melody from the chorus of "Say You, Say Me." Thank god I figured this out!

Soup

I just braved the hot soup that is NYC to adventure into China Town on my quest for cheap lenses for my four pairs of eyeglasses that now require a new prescription.

Get ready....

Now, as you all know, most things in NYC are ridiculously overpriced. In fact, until two weekends ago, I was convinced that everything, from groceries to socks to bathroom accessories, was overpriced in NYC.

Then I found Fabulous Fannies, with their fabulous but cheap eyeglasses!

The fabulous people at Fabulous Fannies referred me to a place in Chinatown that they said was the best deal in the city.

This place is apparently the best deal in the world because...

Are... you... ready....

$65 for one set!

$65!!! I am getting four sets of lenses for only $20 less than one set at Evil Pearl Vision.

And they didn't even try to pressure me into getting anti-reflective coating!

Ah, New York, you have my heart again.

Topic: Human Pheremones

I think they exist. They are not universal, though. Perhaps pheremones attract us to certain people, but its not like those certain people are attractive to everyone.

A chemical basis of attraction isn't that far-fetched.

I remember seeing some weird documentary in high school or college about a pheremone-research lab. Apparently people in this lab didn't get along well with one another. The PI secretly left out some pheremones in a beaker or something and all of a sudden people started getting along.

Anyway, Human Pheremones are the Topic du Jour because I think I am experiencing something pheremone-related this week.

I look exactly the same as I looked last week.

I am behaving exactly the same as I behaved prior to this week.

I am carrying myself the same way that I have always carried myself.

Suddenly, people at work are coming up to me and saying "You look great!" and "Your hair looks wonderful like that!" and "Don't you look nice!"

Random people on the street have been talking to me. Men have been smiling at me. People in stores have been bizarrely friendly.

I sneezed outside yesterday in a huge crowd and someone actually stopped walking, turned around, concerned, and said "God bless you!"

D said "Maybe everyone's just in a good mood because its finally sunny."

Maybe. But I definitely look exactly the same and people are all of a sudden telling me I'm cute. Or maybe its the summer attire. But are people saying these things to everyone who is suddenly showing arm? I think not.

Or maybe its just because I am swollen in certain places, which is a much more depressing explanation of people's suddenly being nice to me than my sudden production of some sort of universally responded-to pheremone.

OK. Work now.

Nails on the Chalk Board....

... are nothing compared to the grinding metallic horror that is the sound of a key being made.

Dear god.

The poor boy at the hardware store around the corner not only has to listen to that sound all day but has to listen to it in the absence of air conditioning while being exposed to the fabulous aroma that is NYC in the summer.

I should bring him a popsicle or something.

Lenses

I buy eyeglasses like some people buy shoes. Or purses, depending on who you are.

I bought another pair of glasses this weekend (and was an evil enabler of LBF who visited from Boston and left NYC with not one but two fabulous pairs of cat eye glasses with rhinestones!) and thought "I haven't had my eyes checked in over three years. Perhaps it would be a good idea to make sure my prescription hasn't changed before I put lenses into the new pair."

I made an appointment with Pearl because, gasp, I get a $5 discount on the eye exam through my insurance! Yes!

I arrived late, of course, this morning and had to fill out much paperwork, indicating whether or not I experience various eye-related problems. The paperwork made me feel healthy because I haven't had any eye-related issues other than being basically blind, but whatever! No double vision! No weird tearing! I checked "Yes" for chronic headaches, but I know that those are not eye-related.

The eye doctor. Weird dude. Very socially awkward. Very nervous. I'm not entirely sure that he was not an eye-checking cyborg.

He robotically said "Put your things on that chair, sit on that other chair, and I'll be back in a moment."

While waiting for him, I started to look around his office and couldn't help but stare at this horrific collage of photos he'd arranged on two of the walls. First of all, the man has no eye for layout. It was unbearable to look at, and the frames were awful. There were about 50 or so shots of various people on a beach. The sun was setting. Who were these people? I have no idea, because they were all in silhouette.

Silhouette shots are fine. I dig a good silhouette. Sometimes they are even pretty. The sunset was lovely. But, endless silhouette shots = overkill.

And, endless silhouette shots in an eye doctor's office are just mean. Is he trying to make everyone think that they have macular degeneration? I was like "Wait, have I gone blind? Wtf is with these photos? Is there something weird with the light in here? Can he see who those people are?"

Also, is he trying to hide the fact that he's plastered the exam room with personal photos which is bizarre, or does he think that he's being aht-sy?

I have no idea.

When he came back, he was all "You'll have to excuse me for a moment. I was out on Friday and they brought someone in to cover for me and there is schmootz all over my desk." He proceeded to osbessively-compulsively clean the desk with Ethanol for five minutes, and then began wiping down everything this other guy could have possibly touched, including pens.

We chatted while he checked my eyes, and I explained to him that no, I don't want contact lenses, because I have worn eyeglasses since the age of 5 and therefore feel no urge not to wear them. I've never had clear peripheral vision and I've been just fine, thanks!

Smarmy and without hints of robot he said "So, I guess I'm one of the few priveleged people in the world who have gotten to see your face without glasses."

Ew.

Yes, obsessive-compulsive automaton eye doctor, you are amongst the priveleged!

It's true, and, well, that's just weird. Unsettling.

Ewwwwww.

When he was writing out my prescription, he had to get his stamp out from a drawer. He opened the drawer and said "HA! Looks like that other guy on Friday didn't find this stuff!" and then laughed maniacally and explained to me how there is another guy who sometimes covers for him who breaks all of the equipment and uses his stamp to write prescriptions.

I said "Isn't that illegal?" Yes, it is. Right.

I said "Might it not be easier to just not have eye exams on the days you are out?"

What I meant to say was "Maybe you shouldn't take so much time off to frolic on beaches with your oh-so-mysterious friends who exist only in silhouette!"

Anyway, the point of all of this is that lenses cost $210 even with the insurance discount.

THE HORROR.

I will not be purchasing four pairs of lenses from Pearl. I won't even purchase three. I was thinking I'd be willing to give up one of the old pairs, but man. NO!
I won't do it. $210?!?! For one set!?!?

I am considering not getting new lenses at all, but it was really nice to see well. When he handed me a weird spoon and said "Put this over your right eye" I was shocked to learn that I can't really see at all out of my left eye even with the glasses.

I am also pissed because the woman was doing the hard sell on the glare-resistant coating, which is (a) unncessary and (b) annoying because it makes you see worse even though (c) people can apparently see your eyes better. I hate that coating, and I said, before I knew how much the lenses would cost, "Can I get these lenses without the coating?" and the woman was all put out.

I hate people.

No, I'm lying, I don't hate people today because there were two friendly policemen at the laundromat this morning who were excited about my Mighty Mouse t-shirt and who sang "Here I come to save the day!"

I am excited about my Mighty Mouse t-shirt every time I wear it, and was thrilled to be able to share my enthusiasm with singing policemen.

And now I must pour plates.

Until we meet again....

Letters in an Inbox

Do you ever catch yourself reading old emails when bored at work?

This sort of behavior used to be reserved for lonely nights at home. Candles, Elliott Smith CD's, the never-to-be-looked-at-again box of notes and ticket stubs and pictures you couldn't quite tear up excavated from under the bed that reminds you of better times gone sour.

Now we can do this at work.

I just tried to do it, and realized I'd deleted the folder's entire contents. And instead of feeling sad after reading the emails, I felt sad because I couldn't read the 400 cute, flirty, optimistic, painful, funny, terrible, hostile, sentimental, and oozing with love emails.

Clicking "Delete All" is much easier than throwing letters into the fire, which requires both effort and drama, and a fireplace. Where can you even find a fireplace these days?

I decided to go back two levels of sadness, and read loving things like:

"If I see something now by myself, while it will be cool, the feeling will be nothing like the feeling that I would get if I could share that with you."

and then

"I know that everything will work out with us. We like each other too much
and have way too much fun together."

followed by

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO WITH WHOEVER, JUST DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME ABOUT IT."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach the first time I read that. I almost threw up. Again, I read it at work and wanted to curl up and die. How do you not cry at work when someone hurts that much because of you?

Reading it this time hurt again. The memory hurts.

Seeing things devolve in text is painful.

I went back and read every email D has ever written me and nearly started to cry, because what if things change? The writing is already changing. Beginnings are so cute. The effort, the creativity to woo, the constant reinforcement of "I love you" and "You were so cute this morning" and "I can't wait to see you tonight." Why can't things stay that way? Comfort ruins everything.

Sigh.

I can't believe we can do this sort of fucked up emo stuff while getting paid to work.

News

I am feeling a bit cut off from the world these days.

Living alone can cause one to be really introverted.

I don't have cable so I don't watch the news.

Instead of listening to NPR I listen to the CDs I bought on a binge this weekend.

Instead of reading the paper I read mostly useless magazine articles and try to find out what's going on in NYC that I won't do because I don't have any friends.

I cook dinner while D runs or cycles and wait for him to come over to indulge our new NetFlix obsession.

We're descending into habit, and that is not good. I like when we "play gender roles" but only when its the exception.

We've agreed to return to normalcy next week, when I am no longer swollen and when we will see people out in the world and will see things and walk and be productive. We will stay at D's apartment like the old days when I was not lopsided and we were not lame.

I am going to go to an open mic on Monday. I won't play, but hopefully I will be inspired and may even, gasp, try this again.

I am looking forward to free things in the summer in NYC and playing outside and not being obsessed with finding a table. I am looking forward to more visits and summer blockbusters. I am looking forward to new exhibits and dinosaurs. I am looking forward to using my passport for the first time. I am looking forward to fireworks. I am looking forward to seeing old friends, or I guess to seeing friends at all. I am looking forward to half day Fridays on which I will hopefully find things to do.

I am really looking forward to the weekend - hopefully sleep will be had without the aid of Extra! Strength! Tylenol! and a visit from LBF with little white chocolate chip cookies in tow will brighten my spirits.

I am annoyed because CO detectors are being installed in my building tomorrow morning starting at 9am and "Please cooperate by being available!" Man. First of all, 9am on a Saturday!?!? Second of all, could they be any more vague? Like how long do I need to be there? How long will this take? Who are these people who will be in my apartment while I am in pajamas? What if I was going to be out of town?

It seems the New Apartment Building has been in transition for the past week. There are announcements of No Electricity! and then No Hot Water! for two days. Frustrating.

I'm tired. And Extra! Strength! Tylenol! makes me more tired and slightly less functional than normal. Boss gave me the ok to leave early even though I am not working a half day today because I combined two half Fridays into a Wednesday! Nothing better than using two free half days to spend a day having things cut out of your body and experiencing drug-induced amnesia.

I am using my half Fridays only for good for the rest of the summer. I theoretically have only one more doctor's appointment ever. Follow-up next Wednesday.

Oh. And I am going to have my eyes checked because I found yet another fabulous pair of cheap glasses! Apparently I could have gotten an additional $200 off the glasses I bought when I moved here in the fall. DRAT! I calculated that I can pretty much get the new glasses for free since I didn't use the benefits in the fall. This being said, I think my vision is changing so I will get my eyes checked and then get new lenses for all of my glasses, thus making the new glasses not free but they will still be cheaper than any pair I've ever bought and I'll actually be able to see, which is exciting. And I will feel like a Good Person because I will take this opportunity to donate all of the old glasses I've been keeping for no apparent reason for like the last seven years to some sort of Good Cause.

I will post a photo when I have the new glasses in my possession. Watch out, though. These are the best ones yet...

Charlie and The Chocolate Factory

So apparently Gene Wilder is all up in arms about the remake, and is criticizing it as merely a ploy to make money.

I, for one, am psyched about this. I am still, however, not psyched about Johnny Depp's creepy smile. I am, however, thrilled that the adorable and completely sympathetic boy from Finding Neverland is Charlie!

Check out the newly released long trailer here.

I seriously can't contain myself.

Thoughts on Thursday

1. The media should not be allowed to include the phrase "Cruise Control" in any article about Tom Cruise ever again. This needs to be stopped. It boggles my mind that people confuse trite with clever. I realize that the phrase is appropriate given Tom Cruise's behavior as of late, but really.

2. I had to wear a baggy or not-at-all transparent shirt today. When I was getting dressed, I realized that I own nothing appropriate. Nothing. Most of my spring/summer clothes are tight fitting, and the ones that are not are apparently semi-transparent. Ridiculous. I can't believe I am allowed to work.

3. Amnesia is a crazy thing.

4. For example, when you remember somebody reading you a really funny poem but you have no idea what the poem was about or why it was funny. You just know it was a poem and that your response to it was laughter.

5. And you know you got home, but how?

6. And you know you were given instructions, but you completely forget what they were.

7. Things familiar are powerful.

8. Alfie was suprisingly better than I'd anticipated, and not only because Jude Law is hot. D said "I resent him for being so beautiful." I don't. My life is greatly enhanced by the entertainment industry's giving me opportunity after opportunity to consume Jude Law's beauty.

9. Risotto is the new comfort food.

10. I like being taken care of by someone other than my mother.

11. Speaking of Tom Cruise, I was just updating my queue (how I love the word queue!) on NetFlix and thought "I'm in the mood for a good war movie!" so began searching the Military Drama subcategory to find a war movie I haven't already seen. I mention this because Top Gun is listed, and I just don't think of Top Gun as a military drama. I guess the volleyball scene (in the top five movie scenes of all time) sort of takes away from, ahem, the drama.

12. It is almost My Mundane Life In Song's first birthday! I am trying to think of what to do to celebrate. A Greatest Hits compilation? A photo montage?

13. I feel like I've been negligent with My Mundane Life In Song. I've been self absorbed and tending to things in my personal life and not making time for the blog. This needs to be remedied.

14. Although, this is hard to remedy when the wireless connection I am stealing in my apartment is unreliable! Hmph.

15. Tom Cruise is too short (and lame) for Katie Holmes.

That is all.

Notary

I can't believe I have to have something notarized in order to move out of my apartment.

My former landlord said "So, will you just rip up my phone number when this is all done? Is this it?"

I am confused by his sudden sense of humor.

Is this akin to a bad relationship ending? Now everyone can finally laugh about things!

I wanted to say "Well, I don't know if I can continue to have a relationship with you since you still insist on making me go to notary publics even after things have ended!"

Soon my keys will be in a padded envelope en route to Brooklyn and this will be over once and for all, the fabulous blue couch being the only casualty that resulted from this experience.

Soon I will have $4020 in my pocket. I'd like to think it will be that easy.

Soon I may no longer have to worry about stupid apartment-related things like light bulbs and paperwork and surfaces on which to eat.

Soon things will return to normal.

Spare Loft

I attended a party last night to say good-bye to a former VP from my company.

The party was thrown at a spare loft owned by an employee of my company who apparently started out small here but who made his way up and also made lots of money on stock. He still works, but owns all sorts of real estate throughout the city and rents out this particular space either for parties or for $10,000 a month.

It's interesting to see how the other half lives. It's hard to be jealous, though, because he started off working in facilities. Good for him. He made himself.

At any rate, it was a lavish party with remarkable food and dense drinks. I was trashed after drinking only 1/3 of my first rum and coke despite having stuffed myself with all sorts of food.

The loft was gigantic. There were probably 200 people there and it felt like there were no people. We decided that we could set it up orphanage-style and put like 20 sets of bunk beds and all split the rent. It's absurd that 40 people could, realistically, live in this space.

The conversation was good. Stiff drinks guarantee that.

Here is a picture from the party:



I don't know how I feel about this. On the one hand, belly dancing is cool and interesting and more of an art form than a display of sexuality. This being said, would they have hired a belly dancer had a female VP retired? Certainly not. Is this inappropriate at a work function? I think so. Do I care? Not as much as I'd predicted. I guess I just don't care about anything involving work.

Only in NYC.

You will all be happy to know that R, again, was drunk and saying things like "You know whatttt? I lufffff you...." and "You haf the mosht beautiful eyeshhhhh I've efer seen... doesn't she haffff the most beautiful eyessss?" to various women. D and I tried to extract (incidentally, this was all very cute because D and I became friends at the first company party I attended while escorting R home and we kissed for the first time at the second company party I attended) and R wouldn't have it. He grabbed D's coat and said "I haffff D's coat... you cantttt leave.... no kishing.... I haffff his coat... HAH! HAH HAH HAH. I haffff your coat. Wait - whose coat is thisssh? Why am I holding thisss coat?" and then threw D's coat on the floor.

Bench Buddy took R home this time. Well, they walked home together since they live near each other and Bench Buddy said "Hey, dude, let's go into my apartment and make mac and cheese!" so R joined him and immediately passed out.

D and I walked around the city for a bit but I was weepy and moody from the rain and from drinking too much and from missing my friends from home and from appreciating the few that I have here. He wanted to show me some hotels, but I wanted to get home safely (my neighborhood is sketchy at night so I don't like to walk around post-11:00 while alone) and take a warm shower and enjoy some much-needed sleep.

When I got home, a card had arrived for me from my friend MT, who I haven't spoken with in ages. It was a card with an Amish Man on it.

How much do I love mail? And the Amish? It made me more weepy, but in a good way, because I felt loved. Mail is good like that. I need to buy some stamps so I can send people notes. Well, I need to find a place in this damn city that sells cute cards with Amish people on them.

This morning I overslept because I had a hard time sleeping last night because I think I may have passed another kidney stone! Wtf? Dehydration will do that to you. Or, it could have just been a drunken tactile hallucination. I don't know. Either way, I was exhausted and decided to just sleep in.

Someone was buzzing my apartment all morning and I was pissed. There was to be no electricity or hot water in the building today, so I just assumed it was someone trying to get into the building by any means possible.

Not so. I ordered some light bulbs online and they arrived while I was actually home (when does that ever happen?) but I didn't answer the door because I was either paranoid about or irked by someone summoning me.

I am now doubly annoyed with myself. I have this fantastic floor lamp that I discovered while in Miami years ago and ended up ordering online. It takes little and extremely delicate halogen bulbs. When I moved to Brooklyn from Somerville, one of the bulbs ended up breaking so I bought one in the city. Each of these bulbs retails for $4, and the lamp takes ten of them.

Anyway, while packing for this move, I remember thinking "OK, I don't want them to break this time, so I will pack them very carefully!" I apparently also thought "I will pack them in an extremely clever and protected place where I will never find them again! Mwa ha ha!"

They are the only items I misplaced during the move. I am annoyed with myself, because how could I be so stupid? There are a few places I thought I packed them, but no. Gone. Vanished. Disappeared. I finally admitted to myself at the beginning of the week that the bulbs are, indeed, gone (well, not gone - I'll find them when I pack to move out of this apartment) and ordered new ones online. I found them for like $1.37 a bulb and ordered ten of them and then had to pay like another $8 for shipping. Ridiculous.

And now they are in New York City but I can't get them. Well, I can pick them up at the place they delivered them to but its rainy and disgusting and I don't want to go all the way to the very west side. I had them delivered to work, but I probably won't get them until next week. They were right there this morning but I was too much of a retard to take the chance of letting a potential serial killer into my building. I don't know why I didn't have them shipped to work in the first place.

Idiot.

I blame the weather.

Speaking of which, why is it winter?!?!?

And... in more exciting news... thank you, M, I think I am going to make a bid on EBay this afternoon for the first time!

A week of firsts. Coupons, Ebay, when will the madness end?

New Addiction

I'm looking for a couch and a couple chairs and possibly a table for New Apartment. I have been compulsively checking Craigslist for these items and am now certain that even after I've acquired these items I will continue reading Craigslist on an hourly basis to see what people are selling. "For Sale" is my new "Missed Connections."

It's fascinating.

I want to buy all of this girl's stuff, because she rules:

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/fur/74977226.html

Puppets

I just ate lunch in the, gasp, cafeteria, and someone said "I'm already discouraging my child from liking science."

Someone said "Isn't your kid like 9 months old?"

"Yes, but you can never start too soon! As soon as he's old enough, I am going to take him to Wall Street and make him look at tall buildings and watch the stock exchange."

Others chimed in, and said "If I had kids, I'd do the same thing" and "I'd NEVER let my kid become a scientist."

Heh.

It's comforting to know that there are many people who are stuck.

It's sad, though, because I rarely meet anyone who's like "Science! YEAH!"

I suspect that this sentiment is unique to my particular field, in that my particular field is not only extremely frustrating but is notorious for not paying well.

Then again, do any adults actually like what they do? Does anyone feel like they chose the right major? Is there anyone who can say "If I had it to do all over again, I'd do it exactly this way?" Is there anyone who hasn't thought about completely starting over?

If I had tons of money, I'd start over.

But would I then get it right? I have no idea. Maybe people just hate working, and learn to hate whatever they do because its work.

Yesterday I was thinking "What I should have done was become a puppeteer. That would be an awesome job."

Yes, folks, puppeteer. I consciously thought "My life would be far better if I worked with puppets." Damn you, Team America, for forcing me to rethink my entire life!

Grown Up

Last night, I used a coupon.

It is the second time I used a coupon in the last week.

It is also the second time I've ever used a coupon in my entire life.

I don't know what this means.

I think I am... gasp... growing up.

"Stereotypes... there must be more to life..."

When I wasn't thinking about couches this weekend, I spent a great deal of time thinking about the nature of stereotypes, and how stereotypes can be valid assessments of people.

I saw Former Roommate who said "I am thinking of getting a motorcycle! Isn't that crazy?" I said "Yeeeeeeeahhhhh!" to appropriately echo her enthusiasm, but inside was thinking "It's not at all crazy, because it was only a matter of time before your made this announcement, as you are so the type of person who would own and ride a motorcycle."

I decided to volunteer for a certain festival for a certain organization that shall, at this point in time, remain anonymous. I thought "It would be nice for me to help them out, since it seems that not a lot of people know about this and I bet they could use the help." In the back of my mind I thought "I might be a little out of place, since I don't have a lot of knowledge about this" but then countered my doubt with "Regardless, they will be appreciative and happy to have me, because they need help."

I arrived at the volunteer's meeting and immediately knew it was going to be a bad scene.

Why?

It was a textbook case of phenotypic stereotype. I thought "Oh god, I am not like these people!"

I then thought "How is it that a personality stereotype can produce a phenotype and how is it that this occurs across the board? Like regardless of where you grow up, you end up looking like this and talking like this because you have a certain hobby. How is that possible?"

Brother does this hilarious impression of himself as a Young Fanboy, in which he talks with the accumulation of saliva and with an urgency that is, well, I hate to say this, typical of even Adult Fanboys. Brother never talked like this, but he knows this subset of the population well enough to know that certain vocal nuances somehow accompany the reading of comic books.

You can tell a theater person from a mile away. For whatever reason, there's a collective sense of humor that isolates them from the rest of the population.

Oftentimes the Fanboys and Theater People run together.

I know I am being overly general. I know that not all Fanboys are like this, and that not all theater people are like this. I am just saying that stereotypes often exist for a reason, and this meeting was a prime example of this.

There's nothing wrong with any of these things. Groups are good. I believe in groups. Groups are nice ways for people to feel comfortable being who they are.

I don't like that I felt like an outcast because I was, well, wearing makeup. I don't like feeling like a dweeb for not knowing about the status of the upcoming Babysitter's Club graphic novel. I don't like feeling like I have nothing to say because I can't speak Simpson's.

I thought "Perhaps I will join the audio visual group, because I bet I could communicate with those guys on some level."

I couldn't, though, because there was much talk of "Well, last year we did..." and "Oh, you should have been there last year..." and "I spend so much time in a dark theater..." and more Simpsons speak.

I felt completely isolated and literally had nothing to say, because I speak in a rather reserved manner and without theatrics and without a lisp and without thinking I am really, really, really funny. I don't make loud declarations to draw attention to myself, nor do I roll my eyes around and wear a black t-shirt and wear a different shoe on each foot.

I was really looking forward to this volunteer opportunity, but now I am dreading it. I am so out of my league.

I tried. I really did. I overheard one of the AV boys talking about the T-Rex 3D Imax movie, which I'd actually seen like 7 years ago in New York City. I thought "Oh! I can totally talk dinosaurs!" so I interjected and said "I saw that... it was awesome." He said snidely "Well, yeah, in an after school special IMax sort of way." I agreed, but said that I thought the 3D was cool. Everyone got mad at me. I was like "No, it's not like 3D effects. The whole thing is in 3D. It's different. The story is lame, but I swear its cool anyway." Blah blah blah and more theatrics. I said "No, seriously, when I took the glasses off I was disappointed that the world was flat. I wished it was still 3D."

OK.

I realize that was a stupid thing to say. I was nervous. Cut me some slack.

Beat.

Theater girl, ever sarcastic and theater-like and proncouncing this to the world, "Isn't the world IN THREE DEEEEE?"

Laughter. Cackling.

"That's not what I meant." Come on. You know what I mean. 3D on film looks different than actual dimensions. I tried to explain this, and mentioned the fabulousness that was the Viewmaster, but they ignored me in order to make fun of me and say things like "Oh, I wish the world was in hologram!" and then snort snort snort at my expense. I wanted to scream "Um, hello? You do not make fun of me. No no no. You are annoying and are wearing all black!"

Instead I just sat down and said nothing for the remainder of our time at the meeting. We left the building as a group. I said nothing in the elevator on the way down while they were all exciteable about something or other about Indiana Jones. As we departed, I walked in the opposite direction from the rest of the group despite the fact that I had to walk the same way.

I was just like "Bye?" and everyone just walked away.

Hmph.

They're like "That girl thinks the world is in 2D! HA HA HA!!!!"

Now. I feel bitchy about bringing up stereotypes.

Do stereotypes exist for a reason?

I think I fit a couple stereotypes.

Is that something to be proud of?

I don't think so.

I don't think it really means anything at all, really.

I'm just disappointed that this encounter went exactly as I'd feared, because the stereotypes actually did play themselves out.

Oh well.

Cafeteria

Now that I am poor and therefore monetarily reponsible, I am trying to be better about bringing my lunch to work.

I calculated that since starting this job, I have spent nearly $1000 on lunches.

Yes, the soft, gooey, white chocolate chip cookies from Subway are priceless but with $1000 I could be well on my way to purchasing my very own adult purple velvet loveseat!

Since I've started bringing my lunch to work, there have been fewer trips to the ATM, less activity on the credit card, and a sudden obsession with tupperware sizes.

This would all be fabulous if I didn't have to suffer from a middle-school-like fear of the cafeteria.

It's not that I am afraid of eating lunch with other people.

I'm just aware of the fact that I could be trapped with someone I don't particularly like, or worse, trapped with someone with whom I get along just fine but to whom I have nothing to say.

I admit that I am deathly afraid of small talk.

I am attached to my introverted lunchtime behavior.

I like to read the paper. I like to get out of the building. I like to people watch and walk and not have to dread who I might be trapped with in the cafeteria.

I am starving but don't want to eat yet because I bet there are tons of people down there eating and discussing the weather right now.

I am afraid that I'll walk down there and everyone will be friendly! and happy! and laughing! I'll be even more of an outcast than I already am.

Is a purple couch worth this strife?

Are peanut butter sandwiches really subsitutes for slices of pizza?

Sometimes I really miss Cambridge.

REVENGE OF THE SITH - My Preliminary and Incoherent Thoughts

OK. This isn't really going to be a review so much as my general first impressions. I definitely need to see it again. I was tired after having stood in lines for the greater portion of the evening, and am just tired in general from life being in a general state of chaos.

Here are my preliminary (tired) thoughts:

1. Natalie Portman is the worst thing that ever happened to movies.

2. Hayden Christensen, while still terrible, is a little less terrible that in Attack of the Clones. His acting, like Mark Hamill's, improves over time. Like Luke transitioning from whiney and uncertain farmboy to stoic and confident Jedi, Hayden Christensen is far more believable in this one.

3. The Jedi really have no idea what's going on. Like I expect them to kick more ass, to know what's going on, to be able to predict destruction! I guess the whole thing is that the Dark Side was clouding their visionary abilities and tainting their physical prowess. Right.

4. Yoda, as always, is the best. In fact, as I was leaving I overheard someone say "Yoda is the best."

5. If you need to use the restroom when you see it, please leave any time Natalie Portman appears on screen.

6. Visuals - WOW ZOWIE AMAZING OH MY GOD AMAZING INSANE!!!!

7. The first hour and a half felt like six hours.

8. The last 45 minutes will be burned into my brain for the rest of time. This is some of the best filmmaking I've ever seen.

9. I cried during those last 45 minutes. It was extremely intense. It was amazing.

10. I feel closure.

11. There was an extremely cheesy and inconsistent Darth Vader scene at the end that I am very mad about.

12. Definitely the best of the prequels.

13. Very dark.

14. The opening sequence felt very much like the originals, which was nice.

15. I don't know. Depending on what minute it is, I might say "It was awesome!" or "It wasn't very good." But mostly I'm leaning towards "Mostly it was bad but the payoff was definitely worth waiting 6 years and enduring awful love scenes for. Go see it, but don't wait in line for hours because this movie feels like an eternity."

I'll probably see it again this weekend and will have more coherent thoughts next week.

Now am I going to eat lunch, which I brought.

REVENGE OF THE SITH!!!!

After the Aimee Mann show, I headed uptown to the Ziegfeld to get in line for 9:30 showing of Revenge of the Sith.

I was slightly concerned about the line. When I arrived at the "megastore" earlier that evening, I encountered hundreds upon hundreds of people waiting in line for the 8:15 showing at the Union Square theater.

I arrived at about 7:00 and already there were hundreds upon hundreds of people in line.

These were the people in front of me:



I was excited, because one of the people in front of me was Shandi from America's Next Top Model. You might remember Shandi as the girl who cheated on her boyfriend with a hot male model in Milan and who then experienced all sorts of televised drama that scandalized the entire world:



I was dejected when I first arrived, because I thought "Man, I am at the end of the line. I should have arrived here like four hours ago." The line wasn't a line so much as it was a mob of people in a semi-organized state.

The overall vibe was good, though, and people were excited.

D couldn't take standing anymore and was the only person who sat down:



He was hoping to start a movement that all would follow. I had hope, too, as I wanted to sit down. But I didn't want for us to be the only ones. He kept saying things like "Standing, unlike walking, has no health benefit at all. The only thing it does is help you get better at standing, and, really, who wants to do that?"

After another hour in line, I didn't feel so bad because there were a lot of people behind us:



I overheard someone in the ladies' room say that The Ziegfeld holds 1900 people or something. It's an old, classic theater with velvet seats.

Getting into the theater wasn't as dramatic as I'd feared. It took about 5 minutes to get everyone inside, and it flowed quickly.

We ran up the stairs and decided to head straight for the balcony.

We got seats in the fifth row and couldn't contain our excitement.

I am annoyed because my camera died during my attempt to stealthly take pictures of Shandi, so I don't have any photos of the chaos in the theater.

The vibe was amazing. I said "D, it is so important to do this, because whether or not you want to admit it, we are part of this group."

He laughed and said "Yes. Yes yes."

D had been soliloquizing in the line about identifying oneself with a group - either by ethnicity or hometown etc. and the philosophical assumptions that this self-identification carries and how people will take the good but not the bad assumptions associated with the group they're mentioning blah blah - and I was like "Yes, dear, yes, but can I just watch the people and be excited about Star Wars?"

I admit it. I am a nerd. I am a huge Star Wars nerd and I was proud to be amongst my people.

There were a bunch of Jedi in the audience and two kids that staged a light saber duel at the front of the theater.

It was electric.

I decided to use the ladies' room, and it was awesome because the line for the ladies' room was about 1/10 the size of the line for the men's room. Justice!

The gender ratio was about 10:1 male:female in the line, and I know all the nerd-boys were like "Dude, we can't miss one second of this movie!"

They showed the previews and people were rowdy. I love a rowdy audience. I love digital projection. I love the way the 20th Century Fox drums sound when you know Star Wars is to follow. I love knowing you are about to have a religious experience.

I love that people starting screaming when the Lucasfilm logo appeared and I love the dude behind me who yelled "Wait for it... wait for it...."

And then: REVENGE OF THE SITH.

Aimee Mann at Virgin Megastore

I hate to use the word "megastore." I'd never even been in the "Megastore" (despite using it as a good place to meet people outside of) until yesterday, because I prefer to buy CD's used or from wicked cool places such as Newbury Comics, although I've found no equivalent thus far in NYC.

Aimee Mann was doing an in-store appearance at 6:30. I left work at about 5:15 despite having sauntered in at around 10:05. I wanted to see, dammit! There was no way I'd be able to see if I got there any later than 6:00.

Despite having arrived early, I was still unable to see a thing.

Luckily I had my camera with me (for somebody's going-away lunch and for REVENGE OF THE SITH). Otherwise I'd never even have known what Aimee Mann was wearing.



As always, Aimee Mann was amazing. Her voice is so clear and perfect. She's probably one of the best live performers ever.



She played five new songs and all were amazing. I'd have picked up the new album from the "megastore" and had her sign it had I not had to run to get into the line at the Ziegfeld for the 9:00 showing of REVENGE OF THE SITH!!!!

Anyway, Aimee Mann. Awesome. Grab the new album and see her if you get a chance. Actually, I'd recommend seeing an in-store instead of seeing her live, because, unlike her show at Avalon, nobody was making out in the "megastore."

Revenge of the Sith Activities - Part II

I was so excited after having experienced Star Wars fever in the afternoon that I decided to go back to The Ziegfeld at night to see more!

I knew it would be torture since I did not have tickets to the premier, but decided to deal with the torture since this would be the last time this would ever happen!

When I arrived, The Ziegfeld was prepared for Revenge of the Sith:



There was a spotlight, red carpet, and Storm Troopers loitering:





At one point the Storm Troopers sang "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" or whatever that song is to some girl who was dressed up as Princess Leia. It was adorable.



Here are some photos from the line:















This guy was confused:



At 10:00, they let the people who had been waiting forever walk the red carpet:



All of the costumed people who were part of the original bunch then got to walk the red carpet:









The Average Joe people were going to be allowed to enter the theater at 11:10, but I didn't want to stick around to see them walk the carpet. I had met a lot of them that afternoon, but couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to show my support.

I wanted to make sure I got a good night's sleep so that I'd be completely lucid tonight when I see Episode III!!!!!

YEAH!!!!

I have my camera with me today, so if anything interesting happens tonight, you will get to see.

Revenge of the Sith Activities - Part 1

I had to go for bloodwork yesterday afternoon. It was a beautiful day and I happened to have my camera with me, so I decided to swing by the Ziegfeld on 54th to see if there was any Star Wars related insanity going down.

On my way to the Ziegfeld, I encountered this guy:



I knew I was in for a treat.

The Ziegfeld was busily preparing for the red carpet that night:



There were lots of people camping out:





Some of these people were part of a non-profit organization that was raising money for charity by waiting in line for months. They apparently were going to get into the movie first.





The non-profit people sponsored things for the campers, such as massages:



Geek Squad also had this thing, a Fully Operational Workstation:



The inside of the workstation was set up to look like "the Death Star." A very cute boy told me I could go inside. I don't know if it was open to the general public or if he let me inside because I looked tres official with my camera. Inside they had a bunch of computers with wireless internet connections so the campers could keep in touch with the outside world, as well as what looked like a kitchen.





After the non-profit line was the line of regular people who were hoping to get a good seat:



















On my way back to work, I passed a little souvenir shop. It's window looked like this:



I had to go inside. I took some photos:



Because I felt guilty about taking pictures in the store, I bought Star Wars temporary tattoos that we are still showing off today!

Jawas

Why is it that every time you're applying a Star Wars tattoo at work your boss appears at that very second and shrieks, in alarm, "What happened? Are you OK!??!?!" At first you are confused. You then have to say "Oh? You mean why am I sitting here hunched over while holding a wad of wet paper towels against my arm?" If you are Bench Buddy you then say "Because, oh really, its nothing, I just, its minor... it's a... it's a small gash..." And then, if you're me, and you assume that everyone in their right mind is scrambling for an opportunity to apply a Star Wars tattoo at work, you start giggling like a maniac and offer Bench Buddy's extremely conservative and hardworking boss a Princess Leia tattoo which she refuses.

The Jawa tattoo on my forearm is awesome.

I know. Try not to be too jealous.

Collective Sigh of Relief

You can all sleep well tonight knowing that my laundry, all of it, has been returned to me without issue.

It is all there and it is oh so clean.

And miraculously compressed into 1/8 its original size, so I didn't break my back carrying it this time.

They folded everything into amazing little square packets. My clothes have never looked so beautiful!

People in New York say "Once you drop off laundry you'll never do your own laundry again! You will be hooked! Don't do it!!!" I thought "How uptown girl! I'll never drop off my laundry! I will never be that person!" I determined that it was acceptable to drop off my laundry this one time since I just moved and am without clothes or free time to do laundry but dear god! My clothes are all little squares! It's fabulous!!! Not only do you not have to do laundry, but it takes 1/10 the time to put it away because it is already folded, and folded professionally in a way that I can never even hope to duplicate.

I think I am addicted.

Drat.

Ex-Factor

I have another question for you, dear readers.

Is it completely irrational to feel unsettled about your significant other spending time with his/her ex?

I feel that it is irrational, but only slightly.

Is it normal not to want to meet your significant other's former lovers? I can't believe I just wrote "lovers." I am a dork.

Ah, to be secure. It's hard to explain these sorts of issues to someone who is completely secure.

I feel like I'd be thinking, the entire time, "You slept with my boyfriend!" and "I wonder what they were like together" and "She's way hotter than me" and "Why is he looking at her like that?" and "What are they saying to each other?" and "They seem to share something that we don't have!" and "Damn, she is infinitely cooler than me."

Secure people would think "What a nice girl" and "I'd like to be her friend" and "Isn't it nice that my boyfriend has such a hot friend who he's not interested in at all, even though they used to sleep together constantly, because he loves me!"

Right.

How do you just become secure? What needs to happen? What snaps that allows you to be like "Nothing can jeopardize this"?

I don't know. I don't know why I'm uncomfortable with the idea. I guess its because I've had many sordid encounters with various ex-es and I don't trust ex-es one bit.

Why, if you are a person with millions of friends, must you keep your ex around?

In my experience, people keep their ex-es around for one of three reasons:

1. source of comfort
2. source of self esteem
3. as a backup

If you're in a good relationship, why have your ex be a presence?

Unless you dated a million years ago. Fresh ex-es are scary.

Unless the ex was substantial. Then again, if the ex is super meaningful then you're tied together forever, which also makes me nervous, and is another reason the ex should not be in your life.

Unless the ex is insubstantial. Then again, if the ex is insubstantial, then the ex should not be in your life if it is a cause of stress to your significant other. What's the point?

I suppose you are supposed to trust the judgment of your significant other to know what is and is not a good idea for the relationship.

D said "I don't care if you hang out with Former Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend" and I was like "It's not a good idea." He didn't understand why. I said "Because, Former- Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend and I had something really special, whatever it was, and when I talk to him I am reminded of it and it's not good for the relationship I am in now. This relationship is more important to me than having dinner with Former-Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend." D's like "But I don't care if you do" and I had to say "But I do and you have to just accept it."

D said "But it's important to me that I show my support to Ex-Girlfriend" and I wanted to be like "Doesn't she have other people to get support from?"

Why is this so important?

Blah. I am an irrational loser.

What do you think?

Legs

Does anyone know why people cross their legs while sitting?

Is this something that's been socialized or does it provide some sort of biological function?

D argues that it's biological. I think its social. He said "But I cross my legs when I am by myself." I said "But why?"

He said nothing.

Anyone? Anyone?

Sheets

I nearly broke my back this morning dropping off 20 pounds of laundry for someone else to do for me.

All I need now is a small dog to put in my bag and the transformation to New Yorker will be complete.

More to come when my brain has resumed normal functionality.

Dogs

Why must people in NYC bring their dogs to work and then bring their dogs in the elevator, thus causing all of the people to be squished up against the sides of the elevators, while the dog runs around freely?

Why?

The Kid From Third Rock From the Sun....

... got hot.

I went to see Mysterious Skin last night.

It was difficult but good.

Prostitution on film is never easy. I was thinking, though, that there's this whole element of people who are into this sort of thing and I have no idea who they are or how they know about their options.

In movies, people always seem to just "know" who is a prostitute. And they're like "Hey, you, I'll pay $50." Like how do they know? Is it really just writing on bathroom walls? Is there some signal I don't know about it?

Nevertheless, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is beautiful. The movie was challenging. It dealt with a horrific subject matter in a non-melodramatic and interesting way. It was understated and sentimental without being cheesy.

I don't know if you should see it. It drains you. It hurts. It's lovely.

I am going to get my hair cut now so I can look cute for N's first wedding this weekend!

There Are No....

... hipsters in my building!

In fact, there are no hipsters anywhere near my building.

My area is very old timey.

There are ancient, charming people who I imagine have many stories living in my building.

I love New York again.

When You Live Alone....

... you have to get the mail every day.

Crazy.

I Now Live in Manhattan Part 3 - The Aftermath

3. The Aftermath

I actually feel quite settled.

I need many things, but all of the essentials are taken care of. Tonight I will go to Pier 1 to return the oversized silverware tray and will buy plates and bowls and glasses. I need a kitchen table and chairs and perhaps a love seat. I need a kitchen cart and a colander and a toaster oven. I need a more aesthetically pleasing alarm clock. I need tupperware. I need reasonable groceries.

I woke up early yesterday because I was excited. I made lists and unpacked shoes while D unpacked books and videos and CDs. His goal is to eliminate boxes. Whatever he wants is fine with me as long as progress is being made.

I took my first shower in the new apartment yesterday. It was an adventure. At first it wouldn't get hot, then it was too hot, then it was freezing. The shower curtain, which is too small, kept smothering me because I'd opened the bathroom window for a cross draft. This left me with about a millimeter of width in which to shower. Another good thing about being small is that you can take showers in ridiculously tight spaces. Although, I did drop the soap this morning and it was not easy to pick up, but I did not have to step outside of the shower to do so.

D and I went to Home Depot and bought shelving and brackets and other goodies.

We then went for breakfast at this adorable place on 9th and 35th that serves breakfastallday and had a special involving scrambled eggs with cream cheese and scallions! Yes!

We then headed out to Brooklyn to see the Basquiat show at the Brooklyn Museum. I was very tired and the show was overwhelming. Any Basquiat painting or drawing in a group of other work is a superstar. An entire show of Basquiat is a bit much to handle, especially when you're tired. You could look at one of his paintings for five hours. It's hard to digest 100 of them in an hour and a half.

After Basquiat, we headed back into the city where we went to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought more fabulous things such as a curtain and curtain rod for my bedroom, bathroom shelves, and hooks for the kitchen. I went to The Container Store afterwards, my new favorite place on the planet, and bought a reasonably sized silverware tray and some other space saving miracles.

After our errands, we saw Kingdom of Heaven at the 34th Street Theater, which is a 5 minute walk from my new apartment. Orlando Bloom. Yes. I said "If Orlando Bloom played Anakin Skywalker the world would be a better place." It was surprisingly good. I had no desire to see it but D, a fan of all movies epic, really wanted to. It is weird to me that back-in-the-day, kings would just fight battles with the troops, and seemingly without extra protection. I wish W had to do that. If he did, I imagine things would be very different.

Back at the apartment, we put up shelves and hooks and I cleaned the floor with the new wet-jet-whatever-thing (not Swiffer - I forget what it is) I bought at Home Depot.

We finished watching Star Wars while eating Mint Chocolate Cookie and then went to bed.

Phew.

Busy. But feeling settled, which is not a feeling I've felt since moving to NYC.

Tonight we will put up more shelves and organize books on them. If ambitious, we will hang things on the wall. If not, we will watch episodes of The Muppet Show on DVD.

Regardless, we will have fun in the new apartment because it is an awesome apartment. And it is all mine.

Mwa ha ha!!!!!

I Now Live in Manhattan Part 2 - The Unpacking

Just got off the phone with worst health-insurance provider on the planet. In addition to the potential $850 I found I may owe for the kidney stone surgery I didn't have, I may owe even more money because they are claiming I have a pre-existing condition and that I was uninsured prior to having this particular insurance.

Obviously I was insured. Obviously I will be able to prove this, since I was insured.

It's just annoying since things need not be this difficult. And costly. I hate my health insurance. I hate health insurance in general. I hate that I have to pay all sorts of deductibles and for all sorts of procedures that were once covered by my monthly premiums.

Nevertheless....

2. The Unpacking

While I was meeting the piano movers, D stayed behind to hold down the fort and to do adorable things like unpack the kitchen boxes and move around the remaining boxes so as to clear an appropriate trajectory for the piano.

He couldn't put the bed together because the bed suffered a freight elevator-related injury. The frame was stacked against the wall, so that when the elevator went between floors it basically hit the wall, and, at times, got pulled up and nearly smooshed between the elevator and wall. I can't quite understand why the superintendent said "Grab your bed" instead of saying "Let me stop the elevator for a second while you grab your bed." I grabbed the pieces of the frame that I could and nearly broke my arm in the process. Luckily the frame (and my arm) didn't break. We both came away with cuts and bruises, and a piece of the frame got pulled off of the wood and all of the screws went missing.

D and I went to the hardware store to buy screws, a drill bit and sand paper. We then grabbed a late lunch and headed back to the new apartment, where D did things like sand down the bathroom and where I made the following discoveries:

1. Free internet! YES! I don't know the owner of the wireless connection I am using, but they are my new favorite person on the planet.

2. My clothes all fit in my closet!

3. My apartment has expanded in size with the addition of "stuff."

4. My stove is too small for the baking sheets I own.

5. My new silverware tray is too big for the drawer.

6. The Brita was too tall for anywhere in the refrigerator, although that was remedied by moving the refrigerator across the kitchen in order to remove a shelf.

7. My former kitchen shelves look perfect as an entertainment center.

8. My toilet is really low and my bathroom sink is really high.

9. My shower curtain is too short.

10. I am a much better packer than I give myself credit for.

When we got home, I did fun things like organize my clothes by color in the new closet. D, who slipped back into perfect-boyfriend-mode, sandpapered the bathroom and swept and unpacked boxes. Together we hooked up the TV and DVD player and VCR and stereo and Ipod.

Putting the bed together proved more difficult than we'd imagined. The preexisting holes in the frame were apparently drilled arbitrarily, which may or may not explain why my bed squeaks if you look at it too long.

Amidst the bed reassembly I realized I was completely and utterly exhausted. I couldn't function. My body was aching and I just completely shut down. As soon as we got the bed together, which took about an hour, I hastily threw sheets on it and we meant to take a nap.

D then went back to work on the bathroom while I dealt more with clothes and bedroom-related tasks. He left to do whatever D does when he is alone and I stayed behind and unpacked and organized kitchen things, bathroom things, bedding, and more clothes.

I then went to buy groceries which, in typical NY form, proved challenging. There seems to be only one market within a 5 block radius, and they don't have things like fruit. They don't have any cereal I like. They only have meat-flavored sauce. They do, however, have Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream, which I suppose is all that matters.

On my way home M called and left a message asking about the move, in which she said "You're probably asleep." I laughed because I really wanted to be asleep.

I got home and made myself a peanut butter sandwich which I promptly ate while sitting on the floor. I talked with my parents and was psyched that my mother received her flowers and candy while on the phone with me! Woo hoo!!!!

D came back and we unpacked a bit more, inflated the air mattress, grabbed some throw pillows and watched as much of Attack of the Clones as we could before passing out. The last thing I remember is "I killed them all!"

Random Aside

My new lab notebook's number is the zip code of the town I grew up in!

Will the insanity ever cease?