Blog Reference: Karma Officially Trampled (11.16.04); comment by German:
"hi leah,
if you still have problems with your new glasses after
the prescription is fixed, make sure that you take with
you your old specs, and bend the frame with the same angles
as your old one.
I actually had major headaches with my new glasses, then
I went back and the person there just said, oh, we need
to bend them the way your used to. I don't know if I'm
describing it well enough.. but the frames' bent position
can make a HUGE diference.."
I just went to the eyeglasses place.
I threw no fit.
When asked how I was doing ("LEAH! HOW ARE YOU?! We thought you were leaving today for Thanksgiving!" because now we are old friends), I said "I am quite cross, actually." I explained what was now wrong, how I felt about it, and said "I'd like my money back."
They said "Well, we already did two re-do's for no charge."
"The re-do's were not my fault."
"I know, I know, maybe we can give you a store credit..."
"That won't do."
They gave my glasses to the lens-making-man to look at. He claimed that the new glasses were the same exact prescription as the old glasses. I said "No, because I can't see out of the new ones and get crazy headaches."
He gave them to the doctor, who also said "These are the same prescription."
"But I can't see!"
"But its the same."
"But I can't see. See, I get bad headaches. And everything is wavy. And I can't see."
"I don't know. They are the same."
"BUT THEY DON'T WORK!"
"Maybe you need a different frame or something. We'll get a new frame." For the love of god. The lenses with the chip in that exact frame worked fine.
Then... like magic... a German shaped puppet appeared in my mind (think Team America)and I thought "Wait! German said that maybe... just maybe... if you bend your glasses a certain way, they will magically work!"
Just as I thought this, the doctor said "Or, perhaps its the angle..."
"Might you try to bend them?"
"We'll see what we can do."
He disappeared for about five minutes, returned, and voila! I could see.
They said "You're just very sensitive to your prescription."
Yes. I am very sensitive to being able to see appropriately. They said "Make sure you don't drop those because then you won't be able to see" as though its my fault that the angle was weird.
Whatever.
At least now I won't have to ever go back there or hopefully to any eye type place for the next few years.
And it has been confirmed, once more, that German is brilliant.
And that blogs are useful.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Rage
I rarely get mad. I'm more of a sad type. When I do get mad, I freak out, a lot, and yell about whatever's making me mad to people who aren't involved with the madness-inducing incident or person. People generally think this is cute and don't take me seriously, which makes me even more mad.
Because I don't get mad often, when I do get mad I can't really deal with it. Especially when I'm mad to the point where I feel like I should probably deal with it. And then I get freaked out, because I feel really mad and pissed and victimized and can't deal with that on top of knowing that I need to confront something in order to feel better.
Tonight I am extremely pissed off. Livid. Going fucking nuts. It's not serious. It's my fucking glasses. Again. I am pissed off because I gave these glasses people a ridiculous amount of money and they can't do their job. If your job is to cut lenses, then just cut lenses!!!!
The sequence of events:
Monday - purchase two pairs of glasses
Tuesday - pick up glasses but both glasses are incorrect prescription (and, both are different incorrect prescriptions, which is weird, because they're supposed to be cut from the same glass)
Friday - pick up glasses again and they are correct prescription!
Saturday - have to to back because glasses were incorrectly adjusted and are crooked
Sunday - have to go back again because noticed a chip in one lens and glue on other lens of one pair
Monday - pick up new glasses, again... note: this is the THIRD PAIR
Tuesday - packing for Thanksgiving and want to see self in third pair of conservative pair, start watching TV, and realize right eye is fucking WRONG PRESCRIPTION AGAIN
Now.
I have been to this place, which is nowhere near where I work or live, 6 out of the last 9 days.
I gave them tons of money.
Fucking inexcusable.
I went last week knowing that I'd be able to wear my new glasses which actually fit and are not disintegrating home for Thanksgiving.
I don't have time for this!!! Who has time for this!??!? And I paid LOTS OF MONEY for this!!!!
So now, tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving, I have to go back AGAIN. I will not be able to wear conservative pair home for Thanskgiving. I am pissed about having to do this, as it is going to rain tomorrow and as I will be rushing around trying to finish IP's and tissue culture in order to leave by 3 pm to get to my train in time.
I have to go there and force myself to throw a fit. I should have thrown a fit last time. I just couldn't do it because Roommate was there and I felt calm. Some people are good at fit-throwing. I am just not the type. I try to be patient. Right now I am impatient. How do you good fit-throwers do it? You don't back down. You rule.
I have to demand my money back. I think what I am going to do is pay for the frames and demand the money back on the lenses and just have lenses made somewhere else, because this is fucking absurd. Hopefully they'll then say "No! Don't do that - we'll give you the money back on the lenses and we'll make them again for you. In fact, we'll give you the money back on the frames, too, for all your inconvenience."
Right.
I have to be firm.
Man am I pissed.
Because I don't get mad often, when I do get mad I can't really deal with it. Especially when I'm mad to the point where I feel like I should probably deal with it. And then I get freaked out, because I feel really mad and pissed and victimized and can't deal with that on top of knowing that I need to confront something in order to feel better.
Tonight I am extremely pissed off. Livid. Going fucking nuts. It's not serious. It's my fucking glasses. Again. I am pissed off because I gave these glasses people a ridiculous amount of money and they can't do their job. If your job is to cut lenses, then just cut lenses!!!!
The sequence of events:
Monday - purchase two pairs of glasses
Tuesday - pick up glasses but both glasses are incorrect prescription (and, both are different incorrect prescriptions, which is weird, because they're supposed to be cut from the same glass)
Friday - pick up glasses again and they are correct prescription!
Saturday - have to to back because glasses were incorrectly adjusted and are crooked
Sunday - have to go back again because noticed a chip in one lens and glue on other lens of one pair
Monday - pick up new glasses, again... note: this is the THIRD PAIR
Tuesday - packing for Thanksgiving and want to see self in third pair of conservative pair, start watching TV, and realize right eye is fucking WRONG PRESCRIPTION AGAIN
Now.
I have been to this place, which is nowhere near where I work or live, 6 out of the last 9 days.
I gave them tons of money.
Fucking inexcusable.
I went last week knowing that I'd be able to wear my new glasses which actually fit and are not disintegrating home for Thanksgiving.
I don't have time for this!!! Who has time for this!??!? And I paid LOTS OF MONEY for this!!!!
So now, tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving, I have to go back AGAIN. I will not be able to wear conservative pair home for Thanskgiving. I am pissed about having to do this, as it is going to rain tomorrow and as I will be rushing around trying to finish IP's and tissue culture in order to leave by 3 pm to get to my train in time.
I have to go there and force myself to throw a fit. I should have thrown a fit last time. I just couldn't do it because Roommate was there and I felt calm. Some people are good at fit-throwing. I am just not the type. I try to be patient. Right now I am impatient. How do you good fit-throwers do it? You don't back down. You rule.
I have to demand my money back. I think what I am going to do is pay for the frames and demand the money back on the lenses and just have lenses made somewhere else, because this is fucking absurd. Hopefully they'll then say "No! Don't do that - we'll give you the money back on the lenses and we'll make them again for you. In fact, we'll give you the money back on the frames, too, for all your inconvenience."
Right.
I have to be firm.
Man am I pissed.
Procrastination
I have never been the type to procrastinate. I've been accused of being "too productive." I always had the paper written weeks in advance and started studying for finals a month before finals.
I do, however, procrastinate one thing and one thing only. Packing. I can't stand it. I just did millions of dishes to procrastinate packing. I am now sitting on my bed blogging, submerged in a pile of socks and lip sticks and books I might bring and way too many shirts for four days, in order to procrastinate.
I don't know what it is about packing. I loathe it. I despite it above all else. And its only packing for trips. I didn't have issues with packing to move. I was all over it. I did it gradually over weeks so it never really got out of control.
But man. Packing for a few days is torture. I think its because you have to limit what you bring, and as a girl this is infuriating. I'd love nothing more than to bring three different pairs of shoes and all forty three pairs of glasses and every possible skin product and enough clothing options to cover whatever happens with the weather. Like sweaters, shirts, blouses, and two different coats just in case.
But no. It all needs to fit in one bag and can't weigh too much.
It's much easier in the summer because the clothes are smaller and there's not much variability with the weather.
OK.
Now I am going to, ahem, pack.
One more thing: Theo from The Cosby Show got HOT. I know this because I was watching the 80's Retrosexual nonsense on VH1 to procrastinate.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all if I don't blog tomorrow, and hope to see some of you this weekend!
I do, however, procrastinate one thing and one thing only. Packing. I can't stand it. I just did millions of dishes to procrastinate packing. I am now sitting on my bed blogging, submerged in a pile of socks and lip sticks and books I might bring and way too many shirts for four days, in order to procrastinate.
I don't know what it is about packing. I loathe it. I despite it above all else. And its only packing for trips. I didn't have issues with packing to move. I was all over it. I did it gradually over weeks so it never really got out of control.
But man. Packing for a few days is torture. I think its because you have to limit what you bring, and as a girl this is infuriating. I'd love nothing more than to bring three different pairs of shoes and all forty three pairs of glasses and every possible skin product and enough clothing options to cover whatever happens with the weather. Like sweaters, shirts, blouses, and two different coats just in case.
But no. It all needs to fit in one bag and can't weigh too much.
It's much easier in the summer because the clothes are smaller and there's not much variability with the weather.
OK.
Now I am going to, ahem, pack.
One more thing: Theo from The Cosby Show got HOT. I know this because I was watching the 80's Retrosexual nonsense on VH1 to procrastinate.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all if I don't blog tomorrow, and hope to see some of you this weekend!
Monday, November 22, 2004
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Genre: Emo Drama!
Date: 11.22.04
Description:
I think the song speaks for itself. I'm still sad about this so wrote a song that involves some really bad singing. Things got a little messy (complicated) when I recorded this. The high end is a little too high, and the low end is a little too low so sometimes inaudible. The actual version on an actual piano is much better than the recording. At some point I'll have to go back and record it live. Nevertheless, thanks ladies for listening, and special thanks to N and M for your advice and for, ahem, some of the lyrics.
Lyrics:
Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't tell
Remain delusional
We're chatting, we're sickening, one thing leads to another like it always does
From the way you're behaving I don't think to ask if there's anyone involved but us
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Ten years ago I was your world
Now I'm just a notch in your belt, some skanky girl, a story to tell
From the rooftop I told you I loved you
Then crawled into his bed knowing I'd never say those words to him
Still I pretended he didn't exist
I didn't let myself see your face but I still thought of you in his embrace
You must think I'm desperate, pathetic
I take back all the loving things I said and especially what I did
I trust noone else but you but not today
You're losing me
By forcing me to be who I used to be
Give me the choice, let me decide
I can't believe its come down to this
I never imagined something could end us
We're bad at being friends, cuz we can't be just friends
Lying and lying in a fight
To maintain this bullshit in our lives
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Date: 11.22.04
Description:
I think the song speaks for itself. I'm still sad about this so wrote a song that involves some really bad singing. Things got a little messy (complicated) when I recorded this. The high end is a little too high, and the low end is a little too low so sometimes inaudible. The actual version on an actual piano is much better than the recording. At some point I'll have to go back and record it live. Nevertheless, thanks ladies for listening, and special thanks to N and M for your advice and for, ahem, some of the lyrics.
Lyrics:
Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't tell
Remain delusional
We're chatting, we're sickening, one thing leads to another like it always does
From the way you're behaving I don't think to ask if there's anyone involved but us
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Ten years ago I was your world
Now I'm just a notch in your belt, some skanky girl, a story to tell
From the rooftop I told you I loved you
Then crawled into his bed knowing I'd never say those words to him
Still I pretended he didn't exist
I didn't let myself see your face but I still thought of you in his embrace
You must think I'm desperate, pathetic
I take back all the loving things I said and especially what I did
I trust noone else but you but not today
You're losing me
By forcing me to be who I used to be
Give me the choice, let me decide
I can't believe its come down to this
I never imagined something could end us
We're bad at being friends, cuz we can't be just friends
Lying and lying in a fight
To maintain this bullshit in our lives
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Never Will I Get Used to This (or I Am Absolutely Star Struck)
So after having a quick lunch today and dropping my purple pants off to be hemmed, I arrived back at work to see the street blocked off in front of my building and a bunch of bystanders standing around, not knowing what was going on.
I thought "Well, I might as well stand around for a bit since I'm in an incubation, and whatever it is will probably be more exciting than Freddie Prinze, Jr."
A jeep drove by with some cameras in it...
Followed by a bunch of NYPD and various other vehicles including...
A gigantic truck on which sat U2.
Now.
I am not a fan of U2, but Bono is a superstar, megastar, star star star.
The truck, which had a huge open bed and the entire band set up with instruments etc., stopped right in front of my building for a minute, during which U2 chatted with us.
Bono said "Hi" to us and I said "Hello" and the Edge nodded at me and sort of tilted his guitar in my direction.
And then they left. They were about 5 feet away. Freaking bizarre. Apparently they are filming at TV spot under the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon.
It's all very surreal, because this happened while I was at work.
Again, not a fan, but I'd like to say that Bono (and the rest) is larger than life (even in person) and is just a nice guy. They didn't need to stop and talk to us. They didn't even need to let people know that they were there. Instead, they decided to make a bunch of people's days and be friendly.
Many people were giddy (literally squealing) in the elevator after this happened.
This is the first time I ever thought "Why don't I have a camera phone!?"
New York rocks.
I thought "Well, I might as well stand around for a bit since I'm in an incubation, and whatever it is will probably be more exciting than Freddie Prinze, Jr."
A jeep drove by with some cameras in it...
Followed by a bunch of NYPD and various other vehicles including...
A gigantic truck on which sat U2.
Now.
I am not a fan of U2, but Bono is a superstar, megastar, star star star.
The truck, which had a huge open bed and the entire band set up with instruments etc., stopped right in front of my building for a minute, during which U2 chatted with us.
Bono said "Hi" to us and I said "Hello" and the Edge nodded at me and sort of tilted his guitar in my direction.
And then they left. They were about 5 feet away. Freaking bizarre. Apparently they are filming at TV spot under the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon.
It's all very surreal, because this happened while I was at work.
Again, not a fan, but I'd like to say that Bono (and the rest) is larger than life (even in person) and is just a nice guy. They didn't need to stop and talk to us. They didn't even need to let people know that they were there. Instead, they decided to make a bunch of people's days and be friendly.
Many people were giddy (literally squealing) in the elevator after this happened.
This is the first time I ever thought "Why don't I have a camera phone!?"
New York rocks.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Storm Troopers
I think I feel settled after this weekend.
I spent Friday night being "productive" after I got a bit sidetracked by a movie being filmed on the streets of Williamsburg starring Freddie Prinze Jr., who is not at all attractive in real life. I cleaned the apartment, wrote a song, and got nearly 13 hours of sleep.
On Saturday I completed writing the song and then went to the movies with E. We went to see "Ray," which I didn't particularly want to see, but had to see because E is a film student and sees everything the minute it comes out. One work to describe Ray: Amazing. I didn't expect to like it, but it blew my mind away. Jamie Foxx was exquisite. You should all see it. It was very powerful. We didn't go to dinner because the movie was really long and I had to get back to the Burg for a show at Galapagos. It was surf rock show that was supposed to begin at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and the show didn't start until around 9:45, which was agony because I was by myself just sitting there for an hour. The show began with a god awful "film" set to music by the opening band. More agony. It was an art film with scenes that not only didn't make any sense, but just went on and on forever. Like a bride in black and white on a swing set for 10 minutes. And then two brides! And then THREE!!! The film ended and they needed to set up for the opening band, which took about an hour. The opening band wasn't bad - they were sort of a not-as-developed Low - but I realized three seconds into the set that going to a show when you have an ear infection is a bad idea. I left three songs into it and called my friend D, who "met me" at the show but didn't actually meet up with me because he and his friends wanted to chill near the bathroom (where there were less people) and I didn't want to because I had a sweet spot with a chair. Yay adult rock show. D and his two friends came over and we hung out in the loft for a bit. It was nice to have visitors.
And today I slept late again and then went to the Comics Expo with Roommate. It was very overwhelming and full of wonderful toys, all of which we wanted. We decided that we will have to find loads of money before the next Expo, which is in January.
I was disappointed, though, because I really wanted to get a Flava Flav clock for cheap, but they did not have it. Nor did they have a Snoop Dogg action figure. They did, however, have Nelly. But I don't want Nelly.
On our way out, we met some storm troopers! We were so smitten and just generally flustered after having met them that we took the train uptown instead of downtown. Luckily we realized it and just backtracked. I wanted to go back up and get the storm troopers' phone numbers since we had to go back there, but we decided to go home instead. And now we are home, looking at the photo. Sigh.
I spent Friday night being "productive" after I got a bit sidetracked by a movie being filmed on the streets of Williamsburg starring Freddie Prinze Jr., who is not at all attractive in real life. I cleaned the apartment, wrote a song, and got nearly 13 hours of sleep.
On Saturday I completed writing the song and then went to the movies with E. We went to see "Ray," which I didn't particularly want to see, but had to see because E is a film student and sees everything the minute it comes out. One work to describe Ray: Amazing. I didn't expect to like it, but it blew my mind away. Jamie Foxx was exquisite. You should all see it. It was very powerful. We didn't go to dinner because the movie was really long and I had to get back to the Burg for a show at Galapagos. It was surf rock show that was supposed to begin at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and the show didn't start until around 9:45, which was agony because I was by myself just sitting there for an hour. The show began with a god awful "film" set to music by the opening band. More agony. It was an art film with scenes that not only didn't make any sense, but just went on and on forever. Like a bride in black and white on a swing set for 10 minutes. And then two brides! And then THREE!!! The film ended and they needed to set up for the opening band, which took about an hour. The opening band wasn't bad - they were sort of a not-as-developed Low - but I realized three seconds into the set that going to a show when you have an ear infection is a bad idea. I left three songs into it and called my friend D, who "met me" at the show but didn't actually meet up with me because he and his friends wanted to chill near the bathroom (where there were less people) and I didn't want to because I had a sweet spot with a chair. Yay adult rock show. D and his two friends came over and we hung out in the loft for a bit. It was nice to have visitors.
And today I slept late again and then went to the Comics Expo with Roommate. It was very overwhelming and full of wonderful toys, all of which we wanted. We decided that we will have to find loads of money before the next Expo, which is in January.
I was disappointed, though, because I really wanted to get a Flava Flav clock for cheap, but they did not have it. Nor did they have a Snoop Dogg action figure. They did, however, have Nelly. But I don't want Nelly.
On our way out, we met some storm troopers! We were so smitten and just generally flustered after having met them that we took the train uptown instead of downtown. Luckily we realized it and just backtracked. I wanted to go back up and get the storm troopers' phone numbers since we had to go back there, but we decided to go home instead. And now we are home, looking at the photo. Sigh.
Friday, November 19, 2004
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.
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!!!
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!!!
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
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.
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!!!!
http://www.hopeinamerica.com
I think I am going to join! Woo hoo!!!!
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
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.
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?
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.
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.
Monday, November 15, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Friday, November 12, 2004
French Toast
I don't know if there's anyone out there reading anymore.
If you are, you will be pleased to know that I had French Toast for lunch. French Toast, however, is not enough to kill a wicked bad mood. I thought it would, but it didn't.
It's been the worst science day ever. I could go on about radioactivity and broken cell harvesters and my missing boss and the girl who ran my blot through with my film, but I'll just say I'm glad its the weekend and next week is going to suck. And I was in a vile mood before any of this even happened.
My sister is coming this weekend, just in time. She will be enough to kill a wicked bad mood.
Last night I went out for drinks with the work folks. Their peer pressure is so effective. I shouldn't have. I haven't been this tired ever.
One interesting thing about last night: there is a girl with whom I work who is a liberal. We are all, obviously, liberals in New York City. So we're talking about Bush being a moron (as we always do) and JesusLand and I said "We really need to have another Bill Clinton." I was going on about charisma and intelligence and the
Al Gore Robot Quotient etc., and this girl said "Yeah, but Bill Clinton with more moral integrity."
Whoa.
It was suddenly 1998 and there we were screaming about Monica Lewinsky and blow jobs and sex in the office and whether cheating on your wife means you are also lying to the country. I felt sort of bad for her because it was 10:1, but really. Her bad for bringing that up now.
It's 5:15. Only 45... more... minutes....
If you are, you will be pleased to know that I had French Toast for lunch. French Toast, however, is not enough to kill a wicked bad mood. I thought it would, but it didn't.
It's been the worst science day ever. I could go on about radioactivity and broken cell harvesters and my missing boss and the girl who ran my blot through with my film, but I'll just say I'm glad its the weekend and next week is going to suck. And I was in a vile mood before any of this even happened.
My sister is coming this weekend, just in time. She will be enough to kill a wicked bad mood.
Last night I went out for drinks with the work folks. Their peer pressure is so effective. I shouldn't have. I haven't been this tired ever.
One interesting thing about last night: there is a girl with whom I work who is a liberal. We are all, obviously, liberals in New York City. So we're talking about Bush being a moron (as we always do) and JesusLand and I said "We really need to have another Bill Clinton." I was going on about charisma and intelligence and the
Al Gore Robot Quotient etc., and this girl said "Yeah, but Bill Clinton with more moral integrity."
Whoa.
It was suddenly 1998 and there we were screaming about Monica Lewinsky and blow jobs and sex in the office and whether cheating on your wife means you are also lying to the country. I felt sort of bad for her because it was 10:1, but really. Her bad for bringing that up now.
It's 5:15. Only 45... more... minutes....
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Tired
So. Very. Tired.
I got into work at nearly 8 am on Tuesday and Wednesday. Back in the day I used to get up at 8:45.
And then I left well after ten hours of work on Tuesday, and yesterday was 10 hours.
One of the many crazy things about this place is that people get alarmed if they see you after 6pm. Like "Whoa - do people know you're here? Make sure people know you're here so you don't get locked in! What are you doing here?" I remember the days of feeling guilty about leaving before 6pm.
And then I didn't get home until after midnight both nights.
I'm just not used to this anymore. Because I am an old lady.
The people in the bay, right now, are talking about cupcakes.
I intended to go for drinks tonight with Intimate Apparel, but I am a zombie and would be (and have) no fun. We have postponed until Tuesday. Which is hilarious, because we've been trying to set this up since the Red Sox beat the Yankees. Busy busy busy.
Oh! But now the people in my bay are talking about shoes! Which is acceptable.
Last night after class I went out for dinner with new friend E. It was nice. It was the first time I've hung out with someone non-work-related or non-past since moving to NYC. He said "Have you gotten to the point where you're like 'Where the fuck am I?'" which was fabulous, because I hit that point on Friday night when I nearly stood up in the bar and yelled "Where the fuck am I? Who are you people? What have I done!??!" It was nice to learn that somebody understood that. The person I was with on Friday night didn't understand the surreal quotient of such a situation, so I didn't get to stand up and yell those things. Darn him for being a more adjusted and less melodramatic person than I am. And darn him for having a job where he gets to discuss "villains." Again, jealous.
Last night E also said "I have a blog, and its weird because people don't call you as much when you have a blog because they think they know everything about you. And then when they do talk to you, they're like 'Oh, man, it was crazy when you did X' because they read about it, or they'll say 'Yeah, I know already, I read about it on your blog.'"
Preach on.
I got into work at nearly 8 am on Tuesday and Wednesday. Back in the day I used to get up at 8:45.
And then I left well after ten hours of work on Tuesday, and yesterday was 10 hours.
One of the many crazy things about this place is that people get alarmed if they see you after 6pm. Like "Whoa - do people know you're here? Make sure people know you're here so you don't get locked in! What are you doing here?" I remember the days of feeling guilty about leaving before 6pm.
And then I didn't get home until after midnight both nights.
I'm just not used to this anymore. Because I am an old lady.
The people in the bay, right now, are talking about cupcakes.
I intended to go for drinks tonight with Intimate Apparel, but I am a zombie and would be (and have) no fun. We have postponed until Tuesday. Which is hilarious, because we've been trying to set this up since the Red Sox beat the Yankees. Busy busy busy.
Oh! But now the people in my bay are talking about shoes! Which is acceptable.
Last night after class I went out for dinner with new friend E. It was nice. It was the first time I've hung out with someone non-work-related or non-past since moving to NYC. He said "Have you gotten to the point where you're like 'Where the fuck am I?'" which was fabulous, because I hit that point on Friday night when I nearly stood up in the bar and yelled "Where the fuck am I? Who are you people? What have I done!??!" It was nice to learn that somebody understood that. The person I was with on Friday night didn't understand the surreal quotient of such a situation, so I didn't get to stand up and yell those things. Darn him for being a more adjusted and less melodramatic person than I am. And darn him for having a job where he gets to discuss "villains." Again, jealous.
Last night E also said "I have a blog, and its weird because people don't call you as much when you have a blog because they think they know everything about you. And then when they do talk to you, they're like 'Oh, man, it was crazy when you did X' because they read about it, or they'll say 'Yeah, I know already, I read about it on your blog.'"
Preach on.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Wednesday
I had a dream last night in which I got my hair dyed pink. It was adorable. It matched my coat. I was very cute and very Gwen. I am wondering if you can bleach your hair, then dye it black twice, then bleach it again and then dye it pink without your hair falling out.
Last night Roommate and I went to see Modest Mouse at Radio City Music Hall.
Roommate said "It's weird that Modest Mouse is at Radio City Music Hall."
I said "It is weird that we are at Radio City Music Hall." Because it was. It was very festive and holiday-ish and bizarre and NY. Roommate said that she once saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular Whatever and was mortified first by a nativity scene and then by a wise man in said nativity scene whose robe was decorated with the American flag. Sadly we didn't see any rockettes or reindeer or Jesuses or anything.
My review: crisp. Amazing live band. Elegantly and perfectly executed. Totally wrong venu, though, and the new album must be really bad. I only recognized two songs (which were old and therefore good) and the rest I was either lukewarm about or hated. Roommate said "Man, I know they have a lot of mellow shit, but I really wish they rocked more" whereas I was thinking "Man, I know they have a lot of rock shit, but I wish they played more of the moody and chill stuff." Which suggests to me that the new album is an intermediate and therefore inferior hybrid of old stuff. The lead singer - I think his name is Isaac? - was a spazz, though, and the definition of rock star.
Also.
I must be at that age where I get annoyed with people very easily. When R and I went to see Aimee Mann, there was this weird phenomenon at the show - people making out. Now, people making out at a show isn't weird unto itself - but at Aimee Mann? That music makes you want to slit your wrists, be introverted, sad, alone, etc. Not make out. It is not make out music.
Last night, there was a makeout session going on in front of us between two people who had to have been from New Jersey. They were not from New York. No way. The girl had atrocious hair and really big glasses and no sense of style. The dude had a mullet and too-tight jeans. When they weren't making out, the boyfriend was tapping the girl's ass to the beat. And not light tapping - like slapping her ass. Roommate claims that at one point the chick yelled "You are so coooool!" to the band. It would have been entertaining to make fun of them if this hadn't been constant, but an hour plus of this is unbearable.
Also at the show were many dizzy bitches who were dancing frenetically for no good reason. Hippies. Yeah.
And also at the show were many pompous music dicks, such as the dude behind me who was saying things like "Isaac's placement on the stage is always so interesting - see - he tends to position himself on the right which suggests blah blah fru fru shi shi wah wah..." Ugh.
One other thing: this past Friday I went for a drink with a friend. During the conversation, he said "I'm really excited about the villian in our next movie... he's blah blah blah." I immediately interrupted him and said "Did you just say 'villain?'" I don't know what it was that struck me about the word villain - I guess its that its a fabulous and loaded word that you don't get to use in every day conversation, unless, of course, you are my friend and you have the sort of job that involves "villians." (Me = JEALOUS)
I want to use the word "villain" now, so here you go:
Damn you, Al Gore, for creating this internet!!!
The internet has really left us all quite vulnerable to slipping into psychotic behavior really easily. Within the last week, three people (myself included) have become aware of certain information we were not meant to know through the internet.
As my fabulous friend R said yesterday "Back in the day, you had to be clever about these things - lipstick on the collar, a found earring - but now?!?! NO! It's all out there!"
And it is. There's no subtlety. There's no questions. We can all be stalkers now and its so damn easy!
In my case, I wasn't stalking. It was a total mistake. Totally blindsided.
The other cases involved stalking. As in "He's been online for hours and he's ignoring my emails!" or "You will not BELIEVE what he posted on MySpace!" or "I am going to fucking KILL MY EX. The internet is EVIL!" or "Why is he online? What is he doing?!"
Back in the day you went out with a guy and then you talked on the phone a few days later. Or maybe the next day. I don't know. I suck at dating. But now, its like you go on a date and then you ask yourself "Are they still dating? What is the status of their profile? When was the last time they were online? Why are they online? What are they doing!??!?! Are they still other profiles?" Angst, psychotic behavior, stalking.
People are driving themselves crazy.
Or, as another friend pointed out, internet dating is like alcoholism. As soon as things get bad with life or the relationship you're in, you post your profile (or, to carry on the analogy, hit the bottle, off the wagon, etc.) or email someone to make yourself feel better. And then all hell breaks loose, because your ex sees you, or your current significant other sees you, or whatever else.
Nonsense.
It was so much easier when we didn't have the ability to see what people were doing every second of the day.
Then again, some of us just blatantly expose ourselves every second of the day by having a blog, which is fine. ;)
Last night Roommate and I went to see Modest Mouse at Radio City Music Hall.
Roommate said "It's weird that Modest Mouse is at Radio City Music Hall."
I said "It is weird that we are at Radio City Music Hall." Because it was. It was very festive and holiday-ish and bizarre and NY. Roommate said that she once saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular Whatever and was mortified first by a nativity scene and then by a wise man in said nativity scene whose robe was decorated with the American flag. Sadly we didn't see any rockettes or reindeer or Jesuses or anything.
My review: crisp. Amazing live band. Elegantly and perfectly executed. Totally wrong venu, though, and the new album must be really bad. I only recognized two songs (which were old and therefore good) and the rest I was either lukewarm about or hated. Roommate said "Man, I know they have a lot of mellow shit, but I really wish they rocked more" whereas I was thinking "Man, I know they have a lot of rock shit, but I wish they played more of the moody and chill stuff." Which suggests to me that the new album is an intermediate and therefore inferior hybrid of old stuff. The lead singer - I think his name is Isaac? - was a spazz, though, and the definition of rock star.
Also.
I must be at that age where I get annoyed with people very easily. When R and I went to see Aimee Mann, there was this weird phenomenon at the show - people making out. Now, people making out at a show isn't weird unto itself - but at Aimee Mann? That music makes you want to slit your wrists, be introverted, sad, alone, etc. Not make out. It is not make out music.
Last night, there was a makeout session going on in front of us between two people who had to have been from New Jersey. They were not from New York. No way. The girl had atrocious hair and really big glasses and no sense of style. The dude had a mullet and too-tight jeans. When they weren't making out, the boyfriend was tapping the girl's ass to the beat. And not light tapping - like slapping her ass. Roommate claims that at one point the chick yelled "You are so coooool!" to the band. It would have been entertaining to make fun of them if this hadn't been constant, but an hour plus of this is unbearable.
Also at the show were many dizzy bitches who were dancing frenetically for no good reason. Hippies. Yeah.
And also at the show were many pompous music dicks, such as the dude behind me who was saying things like "Isaac's placement on the stage is always so interesting - see - he tends to position himself on the right which suggests blah blah fru fru shi shi wah wah..." Ugh.
One other thing: this past Friday I went for a drink with a friend. During the conversation, he said "I'm really excited about the villian in our next movie... he's blah blah blah." I immediately interrupted him and said "Did you just say 'villain?'" I don't know what it was that struck me about the word villain - I guess its that its a fabulous and loaded word that you don't get to use in every day conversation, unless, of course, you are my friend and you have the sort of job that involves "villians." (Me = JEALOUS)
I want to use the word "villain" now, so here you go:
SuperVillain of the Week = THE INTERNET
Damn you, Al Gore, for creating this internet!!!
The internet has really left us all quite vulnerable to slipping into psychotic behavior really easily. Within the last week, three people (myself included) have become aware of certain information we were not meant to know through the internet.
As my fabulous friend R said yesterday "Back in the day, you had to be clever about these things - lipstick on the collar, a found earring - but now?!?! NO! It's all out there!"
And it is. There's no subtlety. There's no questions. We can all be stalkers now and its so damn easy!
In my case, I wasn't stalking. It was a total mistake. Totally blindsided.
The other cases involved stalking. As in "He's been online for hours and he's ignoring my emails!" or "You will not BELIEVE what he posted on MySpace!" or "I am going to fucking KILL MY EX. The internet is EVIL!" or "Why is he online? What is he doing?!"
Back in the day you went out with a guy and then you talked on the phone a few days later. Or maybe the next day. I don't know. I suck at dating. But now, its like you go on a date and then you ask yourself "Are they still dating? What is the status of their profile? When was the last time they were online? Why are they online? What are they doing!??!?! Are they still other profiles?" Angst, psychotic behavior, stalking.
People are driving themselves crazy.
Or, as another friend pointed out, internet dating is like alcoholism. As soon as things get bad with life or the relationship you're in, you post your profile (or, to carry on the analogy, hit the bottle, off the wagon, etc.) or email someone to make yourself feel better. And then all hell breaks loose, because your ex sees you, or your current significant other sees you, or whatever else.
Nonsense.
It was so much easier when we didn't have the ability to see what people were doing every second of the day.
Then again, some of us just blatantly expose ourselves every second of the day by having a blog, which is fine. ;)
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
I'm Fine
I just want you all to know that I will be fine. Just fine! I just need a day to process this. I have to go over 10 years of nonsense and deal with it for the first time ever and then be done with it.
I am sad but I'll live. Thanks to all of you!!!!
Also.
The people in my bay talk about one of three things: food, kids, or dogs.
Right now it is dogs. There is all sorts of dog talk and giggling. I am having a hard time concentrating today for obvious reasons so I've been sitting here staring at a pile of work that needs to be done while listening to this. I don't understand. Dogs! Hee heeee!!!!!!
This, however, is acceptable in light of what was overheard yesterday in my bay: "I brought in a book about breast feeding for you!"
Hee heeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am sad but I'll live. Thanks to all of you!!!!
Also.
The people in my bay talk about one of three things: food, kids, or dogs.
Right now it is dogs. There is all sorts of dog talk and giggling. I am having a hard time concentrating today for obvious reasons so I've been sitting here staring at a pile of work that needs to be done while listening to this. I don't understand. Dogs! Hee heeee!!!!!!
This, however, is acceptable in light of what was overheard yesterday in my bay: "I brought in a book about breast feeding for you!"
Hee heeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Best Thing In the World Is....
Having amazing girlfriends who will bash men with you.
I adore you all.
I adore you all.
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