The weekend was unproductive.
It began on the emo tip, with the news that Father lost his job. Again. I know he can handle it, but I still feel terribly. I can't imagine being his age and having to change his life against his will. When I lost my job, it felt like being dumped, complete with hopelessness and an aching sense of injustice. Awful, awful, awful.
I decided to attempt to play Scrabble anyway, but I was just in a bad mood. The place we went to was awesome, though, and had I been in a better mood, I think I'd have had great fun. The Boys played ping pong while I thought about my family and ideas for sitcoms. I spent a few minutes in the jazz lounge listening to one of the bands practice. I'd have been in a much better mood had I been able to just there surrounded by pillows while being a recluse. We played Scrabble (I had to be on D's team because there were five of us - D is apparently really good at both Scrabble and ping pong, but this is not surprising given that he is really good at everything) and I didn't win, despite D's being able to spell "apogee." I was very close to having "vacuous," which would have been awesome given its emo connotation, but someone used the "s" on the board for something else. I think this was maybe the fifth time I've ever played Scrabble, and I was therefore way out of my league.
I went home and brooded, hard. I talked to Sister briefly but spent most of the night wishing I had a good friend around or someone who I actually like to stop by, again, with ice cream and a movie. I watched a terrible movie, felt lonely, downloaded some music, and went to bed early.
I slept for ten hours. Woop! Spent Saturday morning downloading more music and talking on the phone to J, a good friend in NYC who used to date another friend of mine. They have officially broken up and J, who is also dangerously close to 30, isn't in the best state of mind. After we talked for a while she proposed going shopping. I accepted, not because I wanted to shop but because I didn't want to be alone. I accepted in spite of having made tentative plans with Former-Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend, who called about three seconds after I told J I'd shop with her. Oops.
Those of you who know me know that I mostly hate to shop, and that when I do shop, I get insane because nothing fits me. For whatever reason, Saturday afternoon was a stellar afternoon of shopping! It was probably because I went in there thinking I'd buy nothing and just support J. Five amazing shirts and an obscene amount of money spent later, I was feeling wicked cute.
I don't know what it is about the Macy's mirrors but MAN are they flattering! Is it the angle? The length? The fact that they are above the ground? Also - each of the dressing rooms are 1/2 the size of my apartment. Tons of hooks, benches on which to organize, and each room is equipped with three mirrors that you can position accordingly. Sweet!
D and I met up and headed up to Lincoln Center for dinner and the ballet. There's been much talk of "The Future" as of late and therefore much insinuation of not-living-in-NYC forever (thank god) which makes me feel less guilty about (a) doing things in New York now now now and (b) spending money on doing things in New York. The ballet, of course, was awesome. I kept fantasizing about doing ballet again, and then remembering that my almost-30-year-old body won't be able to fold over onto itself anymore. Hmph. I may try, though.
I did nothing on Sunday aside from accompany D on his shopping excursion for sneakers and pants. He didn't get sneakers or pants, nor did I buy a coat despite trying on many, one of which was on a mannequin. D stripped her so that I could try it on, and when trying to stealthly re-coat her pulled her arm off.
Back at my apartment we were both tired, most likely recovering from a slight conflict that morning. We spent time together and talked about how tired we were and how we had so much to do but I didn't want him to sleep or to leave. We watched some animation shorts we've had for months upon months, and then he left.
I talked to LBF. I ate ravioli. I played around with my camera a bit more and still have no idea how to focus. I talked to E about his screenplay and played The Doors for him over the phone. I talked to D, who was moody and therefore super cute, read an article about Craig the Founder of Craigslist that D had found in the trash, and then went to bed.
We do not have snow in New York, unfortuntely. The day is dreary and gross and I can't motivate.
Oh well.
Hopefully I'll have a productive weekend next weekend.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Friday, January 20, 2006
Antisocial
Lately I have been trying to overcome tendencies to be antisocial. I don't know why it is that I am feeling antisocial - it might be a response to the overly and only social break over the holidays, or a response to creeping ever closer to 30, or a response to not being the happiest I've ever been.
Regardless...
I decided to go out last night when invited. I had pre-existing plans to dine with E and discuss his opus. Dinner with a friend is not something I consider "social." When I say antisocial, I mean "not wanting to hang out with large-ish groups of people, especially when I do not know or do not like various members of the group." I guess I have less and less tolerance for smalltalk as I get older. I have little desire to engage in being social for the sake of being social. I want quality, not quantity.
It is bizarre that I've been acting antisocial given that I've been feeling a bit on the lonely side as of late. Not desperate lonely, or wishing there were people around. More like wishing that there existed the option of people being around.
After hanging up the phone with M last Saturday night, post-girlish discussion of "the future," I was sad, because I wished that the conversation could have been shared in person over mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Indian food with E was lovely, complete with the requisite wishing I had a different job entirely, this particular wish involving a life in which I would read screenplays all day and find inconsistencies and lovely quirks and realness therein. I then headed over to D's to meet up with him and his friend and his friend's friend to go to a comedy show that started at 11.
We hung out at his place for a bit - they all drank lots while I abstained because of the two drink minimum at the club. I think part of my antisocial tendencies stem from my consistently being the only sober person in groups. Always people drinking and drinking and drinking. I don't have that luxury because my window between buzzed and drunk is one sip. I'm always cautious. I therefore always feel like an outsider. "Have another one!" people always say. They don't understand that "one" more for me will cause a mess. Regardless, I had fun last night. It was fun and funny. And I drank far too much, because I haven't had too much to drink in far too long.
Nights like that make me wonder why I don't do these things more often.
The only problem with this is that it has interfered with my attempt at not being antisocial tonight. The plan for tonight was to go to this bar that has ping pong and scrabble and jazz after work. Do I want drinks? No. Do I want to hang out with these people? Also no. Do I feel like I should be doing something other than reading or watching a movie? Yes. Do I want to play ping pong and/or scrabble while still feeling dehydrated and gross from last night? No.
Is this that big of an issue? No. I am going to go and have a drink and I will feel miraculously fine. The rest of the weekend is going to be anti-social as well - I am going to the ballet tomorrow night with D and may or may not hang out with Former-Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend tomorrow. It will depend on how lonely I feel tomorrow morning when I wake up.
Again, do I want to? Absolutely not. Do I want just to have something to do and to see a familiar face? Yes.
Ah, New York, you have changed me so much. No drama, just filler.
OK. I should finish working and have some sort of snack to prepare for drinks and Scrabble. Wooo! Have nice weekends, kids!
Regardless...
I decided to go out last night when invited. I had pre-existing plans to dine with E and discuss his opus. Dinner with a friend is not something I consider "social." When I say antisocial, I mean "not wanting to hang out with large-ish groups of people, especially when I do not know or do not like various members of the group." I guess I have less and less tolerance for smalltalk as I get older. I have little desire to engage in being social for the sake of being social. I want quality, not quantity.
It is bizarre that I've been acting antisocial given that I've been feeling a bit on the lonely side as of late. Not desperate lonely, or wishing there were people around. More like wishing that there existed the option of people being around.
After hanging up the phone with M last Saturday night, post-girlish discussion of "the future," I was sad, because I wished that the conversation could have been shared in person over mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Indian food with E was lovely, complete with the requisite wishing I had a different job entirely, this particular wish involving a life in which I would read screenplays all day and find inconsistencies and lovely quirks and realness therein. I then headed over to D's to meet up with him and his friend and his friend's friend to go to a comedy show that started at 11.
We hung out at his place for a bit - they all drank lots while I abstained because of the two drink minimum at the club. I think part of my antisocial tendencies stem from my consistently being the only sober person in groups. Always people drinking and drinking and drinking. I don't have that luxury because my window between buzzed and drunk is one sip. I'm always cautious. I therefore always feel like an outsider. "Have another one!" people always say. They don't understand that "one" more for me will cause a mess. Regardless, I had fun last night. It was fun and funny. And I drank far too much, because I haven't had too much to drink in far too long.
Nights like that make me wonder why I don't do these things more often.
The only problem with this is that it has interfered with my attempt at not being antisocial tonight. The plan for tonight was to go to this bar that has ping pong and scrabble and jazz after work. Do I want drinks? No. Do I want to hang out with these people? Also no. Do I feel like I should be doing something other than reading or watching a movie? Yes. Do I want to play ping pong and/or scrabble while still feeling dehydrated and gross from last night? No.
Is this that big of an issue? No. I am going to go and have a drink and I will feel miraculously fine. The rest of the weekend is going to be anti-social as well - I am going to the ballet tomorrow night with D and may or may not hang out with Former-Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend tomorrow. It will depend on how lonely I feel tomorrow morning when I wake up.
Again, do I want to? Absolutely not. Do I want just to have something to do and to see a familiar face? Yes.
Ah, New York, you have changed me so much. No drama, just filler.
OK. I should finish working and have some sort of snack to prepare for drinks and Scrabble. Wooo! Have nice weekends, kids!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The Bodies – An Editorial by Leah Lar
D and I went to see The Bodies this weekend in South Street Seaport. We’d been experiencing conflict over whether or not to see it. We are scientists, so of course we see the merit in this sort of exhibit, especially in something this unique. We are also, however, moral beings, and the exhibit has been fraught with controversy regarding the origin of its bodies. Rumor has it that the bodies belonged to prisoners or homeless people in China, and that they were scooped off the streets, obviously without consent.
Sketchy.
I suppose donating bodies with no known identity to science is a noble thing to do. This being said, are these bodies being donated “to science” or “for profit?”
Science is knowledge. Seeing things like this is good. It’s informative. It excites children about science! (I really wish it wouldn’t, though. I wanted to scream “This is not interesting! Do not make a career of this unless you plan on getting an MD!”) It helps us understand our own bodies. It’s valuable.
If it was free, then I’d be fine with it.
What I am not fine with is charging $25 per person to see the bodies and organs of people who didn’t necessarily want their bodies to be on display. I don’t think people should profit from this. Unless, of course, the proceeds go to homeless shelters or research funds or something. Maybe this is the case.
When we entered the building, I was suddenly overcome with trepidation and didn’t want to go in. “I don’t know if I want to see this,” I said. I am currently reading a book called Stiff which, while being amazing and an addictive and informative read, has me constantly contemplating mortality and what happens to bodies when they cease living. The book is about what happens to bodies when they die, and, more overwhelmingly, what happens to cadavers that are donated to or stolen for science. It’s interesting and I love it, but I can’t shake the occasional and morbid unwelcome image of a loved one’s body being used as a crash test dummy.
We paid the steep admission price and entered the exhibit.
My initial reaction: awesome! It really was awesome. The whole bodies were unsettling. It didn’t seem real. I had a better understanding of anatomy after seeing the exhibit. It was organized based on organ system, and therefore went from the psychologically and emotionally easiest to most difficult to handle. It started with the skeletal system – we’ve all seen this before. They had entire bodies displayed out in the open along with components displayed in cases. It then went to muscle and then to the nervous system. The muscles were weird – so meat-like. The nervous system, obviously, was my favorite. They had the whole nervous system in a case – still connected – the brain, spinal cord, and nerves sent from the spinal cord. Awesome!
It was then the circulatory system. The room was dark, and they’d used a dye to stain arteries red and veins blue, and then somehow removed the organs they supplied. Super cool. Then respiratory, digestive, excretory, reproductive, development, and a room at the end bringing everything together.
I didn’t really have a problem with things because I think it is human nature to distance yourself from death. I didn’t allow myself to consciously think “This is an actual person who lived and breathed and had a family.” Every so often I’d remember, and I would freak out and want to run away. Sometimes I’d be like “This is actually a real arm, not a model. Huh.”
The organs weren’t as disturbing – they obviously weren’t as personal. But the limbs… and the brains… and the whole bodies…
A few observations:
1. As stated above, muscles look like meat. I don’t imagine anyone ate meat after going to that exhibit.
2. The bladder – SMALL. So very tiny. Smaller than a rubber balloon deflated.
3. The uterus – WICKED SMALL. I had no idea. And the ovaries were so little!
4. Testicles – also wicked small.
5. Second grossest thing I have ever seen in my life = penile cancer.
6. GROSSEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE = teratoma of ovarian tissue (I think –I can’t even remember what it was supposed to be, I just know it was in the reproduction room) that had freaking HAIR AND TEETH GROWING IN IT. I thought I was going to vomit. If I am ever diagnosed with a teratoma I think that I will instantly go mad and have to be committed. I can’t bear the thought of teeth growing in my uterus. Oh my god. The horror, the horror. I imagine, though, that doctors don’t tell people this because I bet anyone would be taken completely insane by such knowledge.
By the time I was through the reproductive room, I had mixed feelings. I was trying my hardest not to obsess about the realness of the bodies. “Stop thinking about them as people… stop thinking about them as people…” I thought it was scientifically cool, but mostly unnecessary. There was no reason these bodies couldn’t be models. Why not dissect a human and then make a cast? People wouldn’t pay $25 to see casts of dead people. The realness (and shock) is what draws them in.
I was also having minor agita in the reproductive room because my biological clock was ticking loudly. There were these phrases on the walls throughout the exhibit, and in the reproductive room there was a statistic written about how a male’s fertility starts going down after age 35. Tick, tick, tick… D said “Did you read that thing about a male’s fertility?” I said nothing. “Good thing I’m not 35!” “You know, a woman’s fertility goes down too, even more than a man’s… it’s good to have your first by 35, because if you don’t, it gets harder and harder to conceive.” He laughed.
“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
The whole exhibit made me very serious.
The development room was after the reproductive room, and there was sign that said something to the effect of “You may not want to go into this room” for various reasons.
“Whatever,” I thought. “I’ve made it this far, I’ll go in there. How bad could it be?”
It was awful. Real, dead babies. Preserved. Not just embryos, which is sad enough. But near-term babies, preserved in the skin. They didn’t really look like real babies. I’d probably have fainted if they had. (There was, however, one cool portion where they’d stained developing fetuses with some dye that binds to calcium to demonstrate bone growth throughout development.)
So this? Not necessary. It didn’t have to be real babies. Nobody would know! Maybe they weren’t real babies. They didn’t look like real babies, but they claimed that everything in the exhibit was real.
I experienced major agita. Near tears, I blazed through the final room, uninterested and experiencing great animosity for the exhibit. I lingered a bit at the information desk where a woman, at whom I cast many a mean glance, answered questions and told exhibit-goers about the fixation process.
Someone asked where the bodies came from. She answered that they were all from China and that most of them were bodies donated to science or bodies with no known next of kin. Someone inquired as to the Chinese prisoner origin of the bodies. She danced around the issue and explained why that wouldn’t be likely without actually saying that it was not the case. When asked about the fetuses, she explained that they were either miscarried and donated by mothers or that they were found in dead bodies.
Dear god.
There is no way a mother would knowingly consent to having her child’s dead body on display in a $25 exhibit. No freaking way.
I can’t help but wonder if these mothers donated their babies to science, hoping to help someone else down the line through research.
Yes, you can argue that having these babies on display does help someone down the line. Knowledge! Prevention! Etc.!
But it’s still greatly disturbing, and I don’t imagine a doctor said “Can we please have your baby so that we can fix it and display it in a case for people around the world to see?”
I wish I hadn’t gone. My stomach was upset for the rest of the day, and every time I see and ad for the exhibit I feel ill. I think it just went a little too far, otherwise it would have been cool. I understand the need to be comprehensive, and its just an issue with which I have personal problems. If you get the opportunity to see it, you should go. Most people love it. D loved it, and the people in the exhibit (and others I know who have seen it) were enthralled.
The end.
Sketchy.
I suppose donating bodies with no known identity to science is a noble thing to do. This being said, are these bodies being donated “to science” or “for profit?”
Science is knowledge. Seeing things like this is good. It’s informative. It excites children about science! (I really wish it wouldn’t, though. I wanted to scream “This is not interesting! Do not make a career of this unless you plan on getting an MD!”) It helps us understand our own bodies. It’s valuable.
If it was free, then I’d be fine with it.
What I am not fine with is charging $25 per person to see the bodies and organs of people who didn’t necessarily want their bodies to be on display. I don’t think people should profit from this. Unless, of course, the proceeds go to homeless shelters or research funds or something. Maybe this is the case.
When we entered the building, I was suddenly overcome with trepidation and didn’t want to go in. “I don’t know if I want to see this,” I said. I am currently reading a book called Stiff which, while being amazing and an addictive and informative read, has me constantly contemplating mortality and what happens to bodies when they cease living. The book is about what happens to bodies when they die, and, more overwhelmingly, what happens to cadavers that are donated to or stolen for science. It’s interesting and I love it, but I can’t shake the occasional and morbid unwelcome image of a loved one’s body being used as a crash test dummy.
We paid the steep admission price and entered the exhibit.
My initial reaction: awesome! It really was awesome. The whole bodies were unsettling. It didn’t seem real. I had a better understanding of anatomy after seeing the exhibit. It was organized based on organ system, and therefore went from the psychologically and emotionally easiest to most difficult to handle. It started with the skeletal system – we’ve all seen this before. They had entire bodies displayed out in the open along with components displayed in cases. It then went to muscle and then to the nervous system. The muscles were weird – so meat-like. The nervous system, obviously, was my favorite. They had the whole nervous system in a case – still connected – the brain, spinal cord, and nerves sent from the spinal cord. Awesome!
It was then the circulatory system. The room was dark, and they’d used a dye to stain arteries red and veins blue, and then somehow removed the organs they supplied. Super cool. Then respiratory, digestive, excretory, reproductive, development, and a room at the end bringing everything together.
I didn’t really have a problem with things because I think it is human nature to distance yourself from death. I didn’t allow myself to consciously think “This is an actual person who lived and breathed and had a family.” Every so often I’d remember, and I would freak out and want to run away. Sometimes I’d be like “This is actually a real arm, not a model. Huh.”
The organs weren’t as disturbing – they obviously weren’t as personal. But the limbs… and the brains… and the whole bodies…
A few observations:
1. As stated above, muscles look like meat. I don’t imagine anyone ate meat after going to that exhibit.
2. The bladder – SMALL. So very tiny. Smaller than a rubber balloon deflated.
3. The uterus – WICKED SMALL. I had no idea. And the ovaries were so little!
4. Testicles – also wicked small.
5. Second grossest thing I have ever seen in my life = penile cancer.
6. GROSSEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE = teratoma of ovarian tissue (I think –I can’t even remember what it was supposed to be, I just know it was in the reproduction room) that had freaking HAIR AND TEETH GROWING IN IT. I thought I was going to vomit. If I am ever diagnosed with a teratoma I think that I will instantly go mad and have to be committed. I can’t bear the thought of teeth growing in my uterus. Oh my god. The horror, the horror. I imagine, though, that doctors don’t tell people this because I bet anyone would be taken completely insane by such knowledge.
By the time I was through the reproductive room, I had mixed feelings. I was trying my hardest not to obsess about the realness of the bodies. “Stop thinking about them as people… stop thinking about them as people…” I thought it was scientifically cool, but mostly unnecessary. There was no reason these bodies couldn’t be models. Why not dissect a human and then make a cast? People wouldn’t pay $25 to see casts of dead people. The realness (and shock) is what draws them in.
I was also having minor agita in the reproductive room because my biological clock was ticking loudly. There were these phrases on the walls throughout the exhibit, and in the reproductive room there was a statistic written about how a male’s fertility starts going down after age 35. Tick, tick, tick… D said “Did you read that thing about a male’s fertility?” I said nothing. “Good thing I’m not 35!” “You know, a woman’s fertility goes down too, even more than a man’s… it’s good to have your first by 35, because if you don’t, it gets harder and harder to conceive.” He laughed.
“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
The whole exhibit made me very serious.
The development room was after the reproductive room, and there was sign that said something to the effect of “You may not want to go into this room” for various reasons.
“Whatever,” I thought. “I’ve made it this far, I’ll go in there. How bad could it be?”
It was awful. Real, dead babies. Preserved. Not just embryos, which is sad enough. But near-term babies, preserved in the skin. They didn’t really look like real babies. I’d probably have fainted if they had. (There was, however, one cool portion where they’d stained developing fetuses with some dye that binds to calcium to demonstrate bone growth throughout development.)
So this? Not necessary. It didn’t have to be real babies. Nobody would know! Maybe they weren’t real babies. They didn’t look like real babies, but they claimed that everything in the exhibit was real.
I experienced major agita. Near tears, I blazed through the final room, uninterested and experiencing great animosity for the exhibit. I lingered a bit at the information desk where a woman, at whom I cast many a mean glance, answered questions and told exhibit-goers about the fixation process.
Someone asked where the bodies came from. She answered that they were all from China and that most of them were bodies donated to science or bodies with no known next of kin. Someone inquired as to the Chinese prisoner origin of the bodies. She danced around the issue and explained why that wouldn’t be likely without actually saying that it was not the case. When asked about the fetuses, she explained that they were either miscarried and donated by mothers or that they were found in dead bodies.
Dear god.
There is no way a mother would knowingly consent to having her child’s dead body on display in a $25 exhibit. No freaking way.
I can’t help but wonder if these mothers donated their babies to science, hoping to help someone else down the line through research.
Yes, you can argue that having these babies on display does help someone down the line. Knowledge! Prevention! Etc.!
But it’s still greatly disturbing, and I don’t imagine a doctor said “Can we please have your baby so that we can fix it and display it in a case for people around the world to see?”
I wish I hadn’t gone. My stomach was upset for the rest of the day, and every time I see and ad for the exhibit I feel ill. I think it just went a little too far, otherwise it would have been cool. I understand the need to be comprehensive, and its just an issue with which I have personal problems. If you get the opportunity to see it, you should go. Most people love it. D loved it, and the people in the exhibit (and others I know who have seen it) were enthralled.
The end.
The Weather
I don't really like to blog about the weather, or really talk about it, for that matter. I am, however, obsessed with the weather. The Apple doesn't fall far from The Tree, as they say.
So, here it is:
Mid-50's in mid-January... wtf?
So, here it is:
Mid-50's in mid-January... wtf?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Love to Love the Long Weekend
My long weekend was spent being antisocial and catching up on self-involved things like reading and, gasp, making large-scale purchases that seem not to work. I'm getting ahead of myself...
On Friday night I met up with 2/3 of my photography class friends (plus D) to check out the new shows that are up at the International Center for Photography. I love ICP. They offer classes and I want to take every single one, but they are, alas, expensive. We enjoyed one of the shows immensely - it was a group exhibit on the body at risk, and had photo essays on things such as domestic abuse, midwives, HIV, emergency rooms, and aging. We were impressed by the timing of the photographs as well as their extremely visceral natures.
Post-ICP, D and I went on a date, or, more like a mission - EAT. I didn't have time for lunch on Friday, and given that I didn't have breakfast on Friday nor had I had dinner the night before, I was a mess. Because ICP is near Times Square, we opted for the "Cheesiest Dinner Experience Possible" mission but ended up settling for the "Eat Soon" mission. (Although, I should say, there were no people in Times Square - eerie! It was actually the quietest I'd heard the city in quite some time). We ended up at a somewhat lame Mexican place just outside Times Square. We sat down and as we inhaled chips, I realized that, of course, every vegetarian option on the menu involved mushrooms. Of course. I asked the waiter if I could not have mushrooms in something, and he was, of course, convinced that the mushrooms could not be taken out. "We will leave," D said to me as the waiter walked away "to ask." But, joy!, the mushrooms could be removed and much bliss was experienced.
Back at my apartment, we assembled our final Star Wars lego set and got way too much sleep.
It rained on Saturday so, after finishing The New Yorker and my brother's book for the second time, I went to the MOMA to check out the Photography 2005 exhibit which ended yesterday. There was also a Pixar exhibit that was decent, except for the Toy Story Zoetrope which was RIDICULOUS. I think it was there to basically hypnotize any kids that might be in the museum for the Pixar show. It was awesome. There were also some really cool charcoal drawings from Finding Nemo.
Afterwards I did not pick up my laundry (due to the rain) and fell asleep with my head in my book, but only after I finished reading The Village Voice.
Instead of going to Brooklyn to hear D's friend's band, I stayed in an watched Birth, this crazy movie with Nicole Kidman. I figured movie-watching was a better use of a rainy night. I don't know about this movie. I really liked it, but I'm not sure why. Most likely because I identified with Nicole Kidman's insane protagonist, or because Nicole Kidman had short hair which made her even cuter than normal. The kid in it was so unsettling. The whole movie was unsettling. It had a cool score and was a good New York movie.
Afterwards I read some more of my book and then read my friend E's script, which was awesome.
D was slated to come over post-show, but didn't. I was confused, so at 2:00 I called him to tell him not to come (I assumed that he would just be out super late) but was surprised when he answered the phone. He was home! Wtf!? I thought. He was all "Oh, I was just about to text you and tell you that I am not coming." Ergh. I was mad, girlfriend-style psychotic. I was all "I imagine you knew you weren't coming, though, when you left Brooklyn an hour ago. You could have called me then so I could have gone to sleep." Silence. "I'm mad," I said. Fight ensued, because how dare I be annoyed that I wasn't told? etc. And plus, how was he to know that I'd be waiting?
I called him back and told him I really wanted him to come over, and he did, because he's wonderful when he's not being an oblivious boy.
On Sunday morning I cooked us breakfast and D cleaned up and forced me out the door so I wouldn't procrastinate the big purchase. When I got to B & H, I realized that you can't just buy your camera. You have to be helped. You can't just look at the lenses. You have to know what you want. All this, while a huge line of camera-hungry patrons throws fits behind you.
When I got up to the guy, I said "I want a Canon EOS 20D." "OK." "And a lens." "OK - which?" "Well, in your opinion, should I get a fast Sigma or a slow Canon?"
He didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought I should get a slow Canon. I said "OK, well, I want something like a 28-105, f3.5. And later I'll want a 20, but not now."
Holy complicated sale, Batman. Canon was running this double rebate thing where if you buy one thing, you get a single rebate. If you buy two things, you get double rebates on both of them, and if you buy three things, triple rebates on all of them! He convinced me to buy a 70 - 300 that was $150 because it was basically free because of the double rebate with the body. But then I had to decide on what other lens I wanted, if I wanted the one with the kit, AHHHHH!!!!
I finally caved in and just got the lens with the kit - a 17 - 85, f 3.5. But its really more like an f 4.0. DRAT.
I went home, giddy, and tried out the camera. I charged the batteries, looked through the lenses, ooh-ed over the cute little carrying case that came with the memory card, and began to take photos.
I did this for hours.
In the low-light conditions of my apartment that don't allow for good photographs.
I then watched Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, which I liked much better than the book and which had very cute boys.
I re-read E's script and then slept.
For like 11 hours.
Sweet!
On Monday I freaked out because most of the photos I took on Sunday were out of focus. Well, muddy. And the colors weren't very vibrant. I figured this could be remedied by changing the white balance, but was worried about the out-of-focus issue. I blamed the low light, so took the camera for a spin out in the real world of sunlit early-afternoon.
Some of the photos were still blurry.
CRAP.
I went inside and set up a tripod. It didn't look like the blurriness was from camera shake. I wondered if maybe my depth of field was just off because I was using such a wide aperture. Nope.
Autofocus issues? Most likely. Need to play around some more. Luckily I didn't demolish the packaging so my big purchase can be returned if necessary. I just have to figure out if its me or the camera. I'm not used to using an SLR, and maybe I am just so blind that I can't tell what's in and out of focus and perhaps I just have to use autofocus. I don't want to, but maybe I just have to.
Anyway...
Met up with D to see The Bodies exhibit at South Street Seaport.
More on that later.
After The Bodies, we went back to his apartment. D made crepes while I watched the pre-show. We drank a bit and endured the entirety of The Golden Globes, and then both felt like ass and had difficulty sleeping. D thinks our headaches were due to "coming down with something," but I blame the snowy TV or the Smirnoff grape cooler things we drank.
That's all for now!
On Friday night I met up with 2/3 of my photography class friends (plus D) to check out the new shows that are up at the International Center for Photography. I love ICP. They offer classes and I want to take every single one, but they are, alas, expensive. We enjoyed one of the shows immensely - it was a group exhibit on the body at risk, and had photo essays on things such as domestic abuse, midwives, HIV, emergency rooms, and aging. We were impressed by the timing of the photographs as well as their extremely visceral natures.
Post-ICP, D and I went on a date, or, more like a mission - EAT. I didn't have time for lunch on Friday, and given that I didn't have breakfast on Friday nor had I had dinner the night before, I was a mess. Because ICP is near Times Square, we opted for the "Cheesiest Dinner Experience Possible" mission but ended up settling for the "Eat Soon" mission. (Although, I should say, there were no people in Times Square - eerie! It was actually the quietest I'd heard the city in quite some time). We ended up at a somewhat lame Mexican place just outside Times Square. We sat down and as we inhaled chips, I realized that, of course, every vegetarian option on the menu involved mushrooms. Of course. I asked the waiter if I could not have mushrooms in something, and he was, of course, convinced that the mushrooms could not be taken out. "We will leave," D said to me as the waiter walked away "to ask." But, joy!, the mushrooms could be removed and much bliss was experienced.
Back at my apartment, we assembled our final Star Wars lego set and got way too much sleep.
It rained on Saturday so, after finishing The New Yorker and my brother's book for the second time, I went to the MOMA to check out the Photography 2005 exhibit which ended yesterday. There was also a Pixar exhibit that was decent, except for the Toy Story Zoetrope which was RIDICULOUS. I think it was there to basically hypnotize any kids that might be in the museum for the Pixar show. It was awesome. There were also some really cool charcoal drawings from Finding Nemo.
Afterwards I did not pick up my laundry (due to the rain) and fell asleep with my head in my book, but only after I finished reading The Village Voice.
Instead of going to Brooklyn to hear D's friend's band, I stayed in an watched Birth, this crazy movie with Nicole Kidman. I figured movie-watching was a better use of a rainy night. I don't know about this movie. I really liked it, but I'm not sure why. Most likely because I identified with Nicole Kidman's insane protagonist, or because Nicole Kidman had short hair which made her even cuter than normal. The kid in it was so unsettling. The whole movie was unsettling. It had a cool score and was a good New York movie.
Afterwards I read some more of my book and then read my friend E's script, which was awesome.
D was slated to come over post-show, but didn't. I was confused, so at 2:00 I called him to tell him not to come (I assumed that he would just be out super late) but was surprised when he answered the phone. He was home! Wtf!? I thought. He was all "Oh, I was just about to text you and tell you that I am not coming." Ergh. I was mad, girlfriend-style psychotic. I was all "I imagine you knew you weren't coming, though, when you left Brooklyn an hour ago. You could have called me then so I could have gone to sleep." Silence. "I'm mad," I said. Fight ensued, because how dare I be annoyed that I wasn't told? etc. And plus, how was he to know that I'd be waiting?
I called him back and told him I really wanted him to come over, and he did, because he's wonderful when he's not being an oblivious boy.
On Sunday morning I cooked us breakfast and D cleaned up and forced me out the door so I wouldn't procrastinate the big purchase. When I got to B & H, I realized that you can't just buy your camera. You have to be helped. You can't just look at the lenses. You have to know what you want. All this, while a huge line of camera-hungry patrons throws fits behind you.
When I got up to the guy, I said "I want a Canon EOS 20D." "OK." "And a lens." "OK - which?" "Well, in your opinion, should I get a fast Sigma or a slow Canon?"
He didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought I should get a slow Canon. I said "OK, well, I want something like a 28-105, f3.5. And later I'll want a 20, but not now."
Holy complicated sale, Batman. Canon was running this double rebate thing where if you buy one thing, you get a single rebate. If you buy two things, you get double rebates on both of them, and if you buy three things, triple rebates on all of them! He convinced me to buy a 70 - 300 that was $150 because it was basically free because of the double rebate with the body. But then I had to decide on what other lens I wanted, if I wanted the one with the kit, AHHHHH!!!!
I finally caved in and just got the lens with the kit - a 17 - 85, f 3.5. But its really more like an f 4.0. DRAT.
I went home, giddy, and tried out the camera. I charged the batteries, looked through the lenses, ooh-ed over the cute little carrying case that came with the memory card, and began to take photos.
I did this for hours.
In the low-light conditions of my apartment that don't allow for good photographs.
I then watched Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, which I liked much better than the book and which had very cute boys.
I re-read E's script and then slept.
For like 11 hours.
Sweet!
On Monday I freaked out because most of the photos I took on Sunday were out of focus. Well, muddy. And the colors weren't very vibrant. I figured this could be remedied by changing the white balance, but was worried about the out-of-focus issue. I blamed the low light, so took the camera for a spin out in the real world of sunlit early-afternoon.
Some of the photos were still blurry.
CRAP.
I went inside and set up a tripod. It didn't look like the blurriness was from camera shake. I wondered if maybe my depth of field was just off because I was using such a wide aperture. Nope.
Autofocus issues? Most likely. Need to play around some more. Luckily I didn't demolish the packaging so my big purchase can be returned if necessary. I just have to figure out if its me or the camera. I'm not used to using an SLR, and maybe I am just so blind that I can't tell what's in and out of focus and perhaps I just have to use autofocus. I don't want to, but maybe I just have to.
Anyway...
Met up with D to see The Bodies exhibit at South Street Seaport.
More on that later.
After The Bodies, we went back to his apartment. D made crepes while I watched the pre-show. We drank a bit and endured the entirety of The Golden Globes, and then both felt like ass and had difficulty sleeping. D thinks our headaches were due to "coming down with something," but I blame the snowy TV or the Smirnoff grape cooler things we drank.
That's all for now!
Some Thoughts on the Golden Globes
D and I watched The Golden Globes, zombie-style, last night. Well, I watched The Golden Globes while D did other things and occasionally sat down to participate. He doesn't really get NBC at his house, so we stared mezmerized at the pointalism version of the awards show that resulted in severe headaches for the both of us. I didn't have particular interest in watching The Globes, but its been ages since I've seen an awards show and it was a good year for movies, so why not?
Some things from The Golden Globes (other than the overwhelming feeling that it was extremely boring):
1. Gwyneth - adorable and pregnant - calling Anthony Hopkins "Antony." Who knew?
2. Celebrity couples I didn't know about - Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy? The producer of Walk the Line is married to Jane Seymor? Rachel Weisz and Darren Aronofsky? What?
3. George Clooney remains delicious. How does he do it? We freaked out when he won.
4. Every time I heard the theme music from Brokeback Mountain I got goosebumps. I apparently liked this movie even more than I thought I did.
5. Larry David! At The Golden Globes! What? How dare they nominate Curb Your Enthusiasm and then not vote for it? His speech would have been awesome!!!
6. It has just occurred to me that Steve Carrell reminds me of someone I worked with at Job # 1 (with LBF!) and now things will never be the same. His speech was hilarious, though.
7. OK. As much as I loathe despise can't stand Natalie Portman, she looked very cute and pixie-like with her short hair.
8. I can't believe that drip from Bend it Like Bekham won a Golden Globe for something Elvis-related. (Sidenote: it was sad not to have anything to root for TV-wise.)
9. Philip Seymour-Hoffman for Capote! Yeah! Of course I was rooting for Heath Ledger (why wasn't Jake there?!), but Capote was darn good. His speech was good, and led to my having Philip Seymour-Hoffman dreams. Not those sorts of dreams. Like a dream in which he was washing dishes.
10. I am thrilled that Walk the Line cleaned up. Reese Witherspoon is too cute, and even cuter with Ryan Phillippe, if that's possible. Cutest couple ever. And Joaquin Phoenix is hot. He's come a long way since SpaceCamp.
11. The dude who is going to play the new Superman is perfect. Every now and then I forget how much I loved Lois and Clark. Ah, Teri, I'm so glad the rest of the world now knows how wonderful you are! I have such a girl crush on Teri Hatcher.
12. I feel like Eric Bana is my best friend after seeing Munich.
13. Brokeback Mountain won the big ones, and for that I am glad.
14. Felicity Huffman was not looking like a man.
15. I am sad that The Squid and the Whale didn't win anything, but apparently its won other things so its not completely tragic.
16. Mariah Carey is gross.
17. What was Fergie doing there? Also gross.
18. Oh my god I heart Emma Thompson.
19. And I just loathe that guy from Bend it Like Bekham, but I think I already mentioned that. His speech was so. boring. I still want to see Matchpoint, though, because of Scarlet, who looked very, ahem, buxom last night.
20. The co-writer of the Brokeback Mountain screenplay was adorable when thanking his typewriter.
Did anyone else watch it?
Some things from The Golden Globes (other than the overwhelming feeling that it was extremely boring):
1. Gwyneth - adorable and pregnant - calling Anthony Hopkins "Antony." Who knew?
2. Celebrity couples I didn't know about - Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy? The producer of Walk the Line is married to Jane Seymor? Rachel Weisz and Darren Aronofsky? What?
3. George Clooney remains delicious. How does he do it? We freaked out when he won.
4. Every time I heard the theme music from Brokeback Mountain I got goosebumps. I apparently liked this movie even more than I thought I did.
5. Larry David! At The Golden Globes! What? How dare they nominate Curb Your Enthusiasm and then not vote for it? His speech would have been awesome!!!
6. It has just occurred to me that Steve Carrell reminds me of someone I worked with at Job # 1 (with LBF!) and now things will never be the same. His speech was hilarious, though.
7. OK. As much as I loathe despise can't stand Natalie Portman, she looked very cute and pixie-like with her short hair.
8. I can't believe that drip from Bend it Like Bekham won a Golden Globe for something Elvis-related. (Sidenote: it was sad not to have anything to root for TV-wise.)
9. Philip Seymour-Hoffman for Capote! Yeah! Of course I was rooting for Heath Ledger (why wasn't Jake there?!), but Capote was darn good. His speech was good, and led to my having Philip Seymour-Hoffman dreams. Not those sorts of dreams. Like a dream in which he was washing dishes.
10. I am thrilled that Walk the Line cleaned up. Reese Witherspoon is too cute, and even cuter with Ryan Phillippe, if that's possible. Cutest couple ever. And Joaquin Phoenix is hot. He's come a long way since SpaceCamp.
11. The dude who is going to play the new Superman is perfect. Every now and then I forget how much I loved Lois and Clark. Ah, Teri, I'm so glad the rest of the world now knows how wonderful you are! I have such a girl crush on Teri Hatcher.
12. I feel like Eric Bana is my best friend after seeing Munich.
13. Brokeback Mountain won the big ones, and for that I am glad.
14. Felicity Huffman was not looking like a man.
15. I am sad that The Squid and the Whale didn't win anything, but apparently its won other things so its not completely tragic.
16. Mariah Carey is gross.
17. What was Fergie doing there? Also gross.
18. Oh my god I heart Emma Thompson.
19. And I just loathe that guy from Bend it Like Bekham, but I think I already mentioned that. His speech was so. boring. I still want to see Matchpoint, though, because of Scarlet, who looked very, ahem, buxom last night.
20. The co-writer of the Brokeback Mountain screenplay was adorable when thanking his typewriter.
Did anyone else watch it?
Friday, January 13, 2006
This Never Would Have Happened in Northampton
Work is hectic these days.
I've been doing the non-stop work thing, with no time to breathe.
I like it this way, except when the non-stop work thing prevents me from having time to eat lunch.
Oh, irritability.
I had three spoonfulls of soup and a piece of bread for lunch.
This is not enough when you didn't eat breakfast (I never eat breakfast), and especially when you didn't have dinner the night before, especially after having had time to eat only three bites of a burrito that day.
I went to Park Slope last night after work to hang out with D and his friend M, who hails from Newton, MA!
We got there at about 7:30. M poured drinks. I had three potato chips and a cookie so as not to completely spoil dinner.
At 8:30 M said "So, you guys hungry?"
"YES!" I screamed. I am an early eater. I like to eat by 8:00 at the latest. This has been a huge source of compromise in my relationship with D. Left to my own devices I'd eat every night at 7 or 7:30. He's the type who eats at 9 or 9:30. The compromise has been to eat at around 8:30.
We left M's apartment and headed to a Colombian restaurant that looked promising. How can you go wrong with sweet potato/plantain mash on the side?
We arrived at about 8:45. Our order was taken at 8:55 after I asked the waitress what everything was on the menu.
At 9:30 the waitress walked by, noticed us, and said "Huh, I wonder what's taking your food so long?"
At 9:45 I was dying.
At 9:55 I was about to fall asleep.
At 10:00 I said "For the LOVE OF GOD IT IS 10:00 AND EVERYONE HAS GOTTEN THEIR FOOD BEFORE US and they got here AFTER US and I think something must have happened to our order and I AM STARVING OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!!!"
At that point I wasn't even hungry anymore. You know when you get so hungry that you pass the window and can't eat?
"I'm going to have to bring it home and eat it for lunch," I announced. I was so bitchy.
There was much discussion about what could have happened, if they'd lost the order, if it was dropped accidentally, if we ordered something complex, if they ran our of whatever people ordered, etc.
Luckily M was bitchy too. "Should we just leave?" he asked.
Now. It never would have occurred to me to leave. If it was me, I'd have just taken the food, eaten three bites, asked to have it to go, have been completely perturbed and then complained for the remainder of the night about the poor service and the fact that I gave the restaurant twenty of my dollars to be held as a starving hostage.
But M? No. He said "We should just go."
I said "YES!"
D was sad, because he was really looking forward to it. I could tell that he didn't want to leave, but he is not assertive either so said nothing.
We flagged down the waitress and she saw us and was like "Oh! You guys still don't have your food. Weird, huh? I guess I'll go downstairs and tell them to hurry up!"
Nope.
M said "Actually, we're just going to pay for the drinks and leave."
YES!
The waitress said "Oh, ok."
She didn't say "No, I'm sure your orders are just about ready!" or "No, no, let me just double check what's going on!" or "No, wait, is there anything I can do? How about a free drink?"
D felt so very bad. "It's not her fault," he said.
I said "Well, she could have tried to convince us to stay. She could have asked about the food the first time she noticed it wasn't coming half an hour ago."
Then, of course, she didn't bring the check.
Ten minutes later she said "Hey, look, just so you know, your entrees are going to be ready in a few minutes. You can have them, if you want, but you don't have to."
Right. Because they hadn't even started them when we asked ten minutes ago.
So we left!
I was so proud of M for being assertive. I never would have done that.
We left and I was so very irritable and bitchy. I was losing my shit. I wanted to kick things.
"I think I might snap," I said.
As we waited for the train, I wanted to cry.
So... very... tired... hungry... crazy...
D went to White Castle when we got back to Manhattan, and I had a bowl of cereal and was then couldn't sleep because I broke the no-food-past 10:00 pm rule. Nothing like dinner at 11:30!
Which reminds me... I should be having a snack instead of blogging.
Happy Long Weekend, kids!
I've been doing the non-stop work thing, with no time to breathe.
I like it this way, except when the non-stop work thing prevents me from having time to eat lunch.
Oh, irritability.
I had three spoonfulls of soup and a piece of bread for lunch.
This is not enough when you didn't eat breakfast (I never eat breakfast), and especially when you didn't have dinner the night before, especially after having had time to eat only three bites of a burrito that day.
I went to Park Slope last night after work to hang out with D and his friend M, who hails from Newton, MA!
We got there at about 7:30. M poured drinks. I had three potato chips and a cookie so as not to completely spoil dinner.
At 8:30 M said "So, you guys hungry?"
"YES!" I screamed. I am an early eater. I like to eat by 8:00 at the latest. This has been a huge source of compromise in my relationship with D. Left to my own devices I'd eat every night at 7 or 7:30. He's the type who eats at 9 or 9:30. The compromise has been to eat at around 8:30.
We left M's apartment and headed to a Colombian restaurant that looked promising. How can you go wrong with sweet potato/plantain mash on the side?
We arrived at about 8:45. Our order was taken at 8:55 after I asked the waitress what everything was on the menu.
At 9:30 the waitress walked by, noticed us, and said "Huh, I wonder what's taking your food so long?"
At 9:45 I was dying.
At 9:55 I was about to fall asleep.
At 10:00 I said "For the LOVE OF GOD IT IS 10:00 AND EVERYONE HAS GOTTEN THEIR FOOD BEFORE US and they got here AFTER US and I think something must have happened to our order and I AM STARVING OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!!!"
At that point I wasn't even hungry anymore. You know when you get so hungry that you pass the window and can't eat?
"I'm going to have to bring it home and eat it for lunch," I announced. I was so bitchy.
There was much discussion about what could have happened, if they'd lost the order, if it was dropped accidentally, if we ordered something complex, if they ran our of whatever people ordered, etc.
Luckily M was bitchy too. "Should we just leave?" he asked.
Now. It never would have occurred to me to leave. If it was me, I'd have just taken the food, eaten three bites, asked to have it to go, have been completely perturbed and then complained for the remainder of the night about the poor service and the fact that I gave the restaurant twenty of my dollars to be held as a starving hostage.
But M? No. He said "We should just go."
I said "YES!"
D was sad, because he was really looking forward to it. I could tell that he didn't want to leave, but he is not assertive either so said nothing.
We flagged down the waitress and she saw us and was like "Oh! You guys still don't have your food. Weird, huh? I guess I'll go downstairs and tell them to hurry up!"
Nope.
M said "Actually, we're just going to pay for the drinks and leave."
YES!
The waitress said "Oh, ok."
She didn't say "No, I'm sure your orders are just about ready!" or "No, no, let me just double check what's going on!" or "No, wait, is there anything I can do? How about a free drink?"
D felt so very bad. "It's not her fault," he said.
I said "Well, she could have tried to convince us to stay. She could have asked about the food the first time she noticed it wasn't coming half an hour ago."
Then, of course, she didn't bring the check.
Ten minutes later she said "Hey, look, just so you know, your entrees are going to be ready in a few minutes. You can have them, if you want, but you don't have to."
Right. Because they hadn't even started them when we asked ten minutes ago.
So we left!
I was so proud of M for being assertive. I never would have done that.
We left and I was so very irritable and bitchy. I was losing my shit. I wanted to kick things.
"I think I might snap," I said.
As we waited for the train, I wanted to cry.
So... very... tired... hungry... crazy...
D went to White Castle when we got back to Manhattan, and I had a bowl of cereal and was then couldn't sleep because I broke the no-food-past 10:00 pm rule. Nothing like dinner at 11:30!
Which reminds me... I should be having a snack instead of blogging.
Happy Long Weekend, kids!
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Ah Ha!
As children of the 80’s, we grew up in an environment oversaturated with TV that, while probably boiling our brains, created for us a unique, shared, media-infested pop culture.
When you meet someone remotely your age, you realize that you have this immense thing called the 80’s in common, and with the 80’s comes an obscene amount of TV-related knowledge.
I was saying to someone the other day “Did we do anything but watch TV as children? I think I rode my bike too...”
We watched every cartoon and every sitcom. Everyone watched Growing Pains. We were still in the now-deceased era of the family sitcom, and thus found our elementary school selves watching programs like The Golden Girl and Amen.
I had lunch with my Cousin yesterday (age 20) who said that her generation doesn’t have this shared culture phenomenon, because by the time she was old enough to watch TV all that remained was Full House. Seinfeld took over, and family sitcoms were replaced with sitcoms about nothing or sitcoms about the workplace.
She didn’t have wonderful things like Punky Brewster or Small Wonder or Alf or The Charmings or Just The Ten of Us or 227 or Sister Kate. Poor, poor child.
When we were growing up, in addition to sitcoms, we had fabulous sci-fi-drama crime weeklies like Quantum Leap and Alien Nation and The Flash, and we had the cartoons, most important of which were, of course, She-Ra and Jem and the Holograms.
I admit that there are severe gaps in my TV-knowledge. I’ve never seen an episode of Miami Vice, for example, although I remember watching Chips. There are certain cartoons I just never watched for some reason. I never watched any show that involved a car as a main character.
I don’t claim to have a comprehensive knowledge of all 80’s-related TV trivia. If anything, I probably watched less than many of the people I’ve met.
This being said, in high school, I watched a lot of TV, and things started to change. Northern Exposure was there, but all of a sudden there was Beverly Hills, 90210. And soon there would be Friends.
I watched a lot of TV, and I remember LOVING this show that I swear starred Brad Pitt. I am constantly asking people if they remember this show. “It was a show about four friends, one was a cop or something, one was a journalist, I think one was Italian, and I don't know what the deal was with the fourth one...and they all had very different personalities but still managed to stay best friends! And one of the friends was Brad Pitt!”
Nobody has ever heard of this. I’ve been perplexed for the last, like, 15 years, because there are so many people who watched way more TV than I did, yet nobody has any recollection of this show!
“Brad Pitt was on Growing Pains. That’s what you’re thinking of…” people say. “I obviously KNOW THAT HE WAS ON THAT. He was ALSO on this other show.”
Everyone thought me insane.
Last night I went home after work and had about an hour to kill before D came over for dinner. I was excited to cook dinner for us – we haven’t had dinner in together for almost a month, and we normally do this all the time. I played a little piano and became really frustrated (am in over my head with Music Project du Jour), so decided to, whoa, watch TV… again!
This time I watched Entertainment Tonight. I can’t believe Mary Hart is still hosting. Nevertheless… much news about Angelina Jolie’s pregnancy! After the commercial, they said, will be shown footage of Angelina and Brad BEFORE they were stars.
“Oh my god!” I thought. “Could I possibly be lucky enough that they will show footage from the Brad Pitt mystery show? Please please please… Please, Entertainment Tonight, don’t fail me now. Help me, Entertainment Tonight, you’re my only hope!”
Held hostage by Entertainment Tonight, I suffered through post-People’s Choice Awards footage of Jessica Simpson talking about how happy she is to have the support of her family at such a difficult time. Ugh.
What seemed like three hundred commercial breaks later, more Angelina and Brad! They showed footage of large-toothed Angelina from when she was an awkward 12-year-old at some awards show with John Voigt. There was no way to have predicted that she would turn out stunning! There is hope for you all, awkward 12 years old of America!
And then… drum roll… early career footage of Brad Pitt during his time on the short-lived Fox drama… drum rolling… Glory Days!
EUREEKA!!!!
All of my teen angst and sexual frustration came rushing at me when I heard those two words.
Oh. My. God. I loved that show.
Of course I checked to see if it is out on DVD, but it is not.
Damn, son.
Content, I turned off Entertainment Tonight and made dinner.
D arrived, soaked (it rained! but can we really complain given the weather this week?) with a bottle of wine to (a) assist in his coping with his terribly stressful day at work and (b) test out the Houdini corkscrew I got for Christmas! It is truly magic.
We ate dinner, finished the bottle even though I’d said earlier “I can’t drink that much tonight because I have a brutal day at work tomorrow and have to get in early” to which he’d said “Me too – I’m tired, I don’t want to drink,” had fabulous conversations, made and then devoured chocolate chip cookies.
In one of the conversations, D was going on and on about how in some way he wished we’d lose our jobs, because forced motivation to change one's life is the best kind. "It's hard to overcome intertia," he said. I, of course, agreed, my currently wonderful life having been the direct result of my having been laid off a few years ago.
He said “We should come up with a plan.”
“What?”
“We have to come up with a plan. Like, say we go in tomorrow and lose our jobs, what’s the plan?”
“Move somewhere that’s really cheap. We won’t need to worry about jobs for a while because we have enough money saved between the two of us to live somewhere for a decent time without working. We break our leases tomorrow, pack up, and head to wherever. When we get there, we regroup. We figure out if we want to continue our current careers, and if so, where. If not, then we figure out what we want to do with our lives, find a place with a really cheap cost of living but with really good schools, and then I become a photographer, because I really want to.”
“You should! We should move to Savannah!” he said, because of some art or design school down there that would be ideal. He said “You’d really like it.”
Then “Or Northampton… I would love to live in Northampton. I’d rather live there than in Boston,” he said.
WHAT?!?! How did I not know this!??!
“I’d actually love to live there. Seriously.”
“There aren’t many jobs for chemists,” I said. “But you could work in a lab at UMass!!”
“Could I?”
“I bet there are companies. There must be companies! You wouldn't need a car!”
Can you imagine me commuting on the PVTA? Yes! YES!
“It would be actually be quite ideal. Close to Boston, close to New York, there's nature, hiking, there are a ton of cyclists in Northampton, it's cultured…”
“Every show that comes through New York goes through western MA…”
… the record store sucks, though.”
“No it doesn’t! But there are good ones in Amherst… and New York is only a few hours away!”
“Yeah, it would be awesome to live in Northampton.”
“I could get a BA from UMass,” I said. “I wonder if I’d need to give them copies of my transcript since I already went there.”
I could take Social Dance II!
“You’ll have to take the SATs.”
We laughed.
This morning I woke up and said “I hope we lose our jobs today.”
When you meet someone remotely your age, you realize that you have this immense thing called the 80’s in common, and with the 80’s comes an obscene amount of TV-related knowledge.
I was saying to someone the other day “Did we do anything but watch TV as children? I think I rode my bike too...”
We watched every cartoon and every sitcom. Everyone watched Growing Pains. We were still in the now-deceased era of the family sitcom, and thus found our elementary school selves watching programs like The Golden Girl and Amen.
I had lunch with my Cousin yesterday (age 20) who said that her generation doesn’t have this shared culture phenomenon, because by the time she was old enough to watch TV all that remained was Full House. Seinfeld took over, and family sitcoms were replaced with sitcoms about nothing or sitcoms about the workplace.
She didn’t have wonderful things like Punky Brewster or Small Wonder or Alf or The Charmings or Just The Ten of Us or 227 or Sister Kate. Poor, poor child.
When we were growing up, in addition to sitcoms, we had fabulous sci-fi-drama crime weeklies like Quantum Leap and Alien Nation and The Flash, and we had the cartoons, most important of which were, of course, She-Ra and Jem and the Holograms.
I admit that there are severe gaps in my TV-knowledge. I’ve never seen an episode of Miami Vice, for example, although I remember watching Chips. There are certain cartoons I just never watched for some reason. I never watched any show that involved a car as a main character.
I don’t claim to have a comprehensive knowledge of all 80’s-related TV trivia. If anything, I probably watched less than many of the people I’ve met.
This being said, in high school, I watched a lot of TV, and things started to change. Northern Exposure was there, but all of a sudden there was Beverly Hills, 90210. And soon there would be Friends.
I watched a lot of TV, and I remember LOVING this show that I swear starred Brad Pitt. I am constantly asking people if they remember this show. “It was a show about four friends, one was a cop or something, one was a journalist, I think one was Italian, and I don't know what the deal was with the fourth one...and they all had very different personalities but still managed to stay best friends! And one of the friends was Brad Pitt!”
Nobody has ever heard of this. I’ve been perplexed for the last, like, 15 years, because there are so many people who watched way more TV than I did, yet nobody has any recollection of this show!
“Brad Pitt was on Growing Pains. That’s what you’re thinking of…” people say. “I obviously KNOW THAT HE WAS ON THAT. He was ALSO on this other show.”
Everyone thought me insane.
Last night I went home after work and had about an hour to kill before D came over for dinner. I was excited to cook dinner for us – we haven’t had dinner in together for almost a month, and we normally do this all the time. I played a little piano and became really frustrated (am in over my head with Music Project du Jour), so decided to, whoa, watch TV… again!
This time I watched Entertainment Tonight. I can’t believe Mary Hart is still hosting. Nevertheless… much news about Angelina Jolie’s pregnancy! After the commercial, they said, will be shown footage of Angelina and Brad BEFORE they were stars.
“Oh my god!” I thought. “Could I possibly be lucky enough that they will show footage from the Brad Pitt mystery show? Please please please… Please, Entertainment Tonight, don’t fail me now. Help me, Entertainment Tonight, you’re my only hope!”
Held hostage by Entertainment Tonight, I suffered through post-People’s Choice Awards footage of Jessica Simpson talking about how happy she is to have the support of her family at such a difficult time. Ugh.
What seemed like three hundred commercial breaks later, more Angelina and Brad! They showed footage of large-toothed Angelina from when she was an awkward 12-year-old at some awards show with John Voigt. There was no way to have predicted that she would turn out stunning! There is hope for you all, awkward 12 years old of America!
And then… drum roll… early career footage of Brad Pitt during his time on the short-lived Fox drama… drum rolling… Glory Days!
EUREEKA!!!!
All of my teen angst and sexual frustration came rushing at me when I heard those two words.
Oh. My. God. I loved that show.
Of course I checked to see if it is out on DVD, but it is not.
Damn, son.
Content, I turned off Entertainment Tonight and made dinner.
D arrived, soaked (it rained! but can we really complain given the weather this week?) with a bottle of wine to (a) assist in his coping with his terribly stressful day at work and (b) test out the Houdini corkscrew I got for Christmas! It is truly magic.
We ate dinner, finished the bottle even though I’d said earlier “I can’t drink that much tonight because I have a brutal day at work tomorrow and have to get in early” to which he’d said “Me too – I’m tired, I don’t want to drink,” had fabulous conversations, made and then devoured chocolate chip cookies.
In one of the conversations, D was going on and on about how in some way he wished we’d lose our jobs, because forced motivation to change one's life is the best kind. "It's hard to overcome intertia," he said. I, of course, agreed, my currently wonderful life having been the direct result of my having been laid off a few years ago.
He said “We should come up with a plan.”
“What?”
“We have to come up with a plan. Like, say we go in tomorrow and lose our jobs, what’s the plan?”
“Move somewhere that’s really cheap. We won’t need to worry about jobs for a while because we have enough money saved between the two of us to live somewhere for a decent time without working. We break our leases tomorrow, pack up, and head to wherever. When we get there, we regroup. We figure out if we want to continue our current careers, and if so, where. If not, then we figure out what we want to do with our lives, find a place with a really cheap cost of living but with really good schools, and then I become a photographer, because I really want to.”
“You should! We should move to Savannah!” he said, because of some art or design school down there that would be ideal. He said “You’d really like it.”
Then “Or Northampton… I would love to live in Northampton. I’d rather live there than in Boston,” he said.
WHAT?!?! How did I not know this!??!
“I’d actually love to live there. Seriously.”
“There aren’t many jobs for chemists,” I said. “But you could work in a lab at UMass!!”
“Could I?”
“I bet there are companies. There must be companies! You wouldn't need a car!”
Can you imagine me commuting on the PVTA? Yes! YES!
“It would be actually be quite ideal. Close to Boston, close to New York, there's nature, hiking, there are a ton of cyclists in Northampton, it's cultured…”
“Every show that comes through New York goes through western MA…”
… the record store sucks, though.”
“No it doesn’t! But there are good ones in Amherst… and New York is only a few hours away!”
“Yeah, it would be awesome to live in Northampton.”
“I could get a BA from UMass,” I said. “I wonder if I’d need to give them copies of my transcript since I already went there.”
I could take Social Dance II!
“You’ll have to take the SATs.”
We laughed.
This morning I woke up and said “I hope we lose our jobs today.”
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Antenna
I had no plans last night (no plans! no plans!!! yippee!!!) so went home, worked on music project du jour for a few hours, and then thought "Huh, I should probably eat something."
While microwaving some macaroni and cheese, I remembered "Wait! I have an antenna! I should watch... TV! This will be a perfect activity for my non-functioning brain post blitz on music project du jour!"
I watched a bit of The Gilmore Girls (I heart Luke) and when it ended, tried to decide if I wanted to continue the mind-numbing TV exercise or read The New Yorker, with which I also have a love/hate relationship.
Flipping through the channels, I came across an awards show! The People's Choice Awards! I love awards shows! Well, not really, but they have the potential to entertain. The People's Choice Awards are probably the lowest common denominator (because do "the people" have the best taste? probably not!), although I'm not sure of this as I've never seen them.
I began to watch, and was horrified by the opening number - Jessica Simpson, dressed as a cowgirl, singing "These boots were made for walking... uh... yip... etc." whilst trying not to kill herself as she walked on barstools.
I tried not to scream. I was patient. The host came on - I've never seen this guy before - and was completely unfunny.
After I watched adorable Reese Witherspoon accept her award for "Favorite Leading Lady," I turned away. I thought "I should stop watching... this will be torture."
I was still on the fence, until the announcer said "After the break, we'll announce the winner you've chosen for BEST HAIR!" or something like that. It wasn't even best hair - it was most natural or most luxurious or most satiny hair or something equally ridiculous sponsored by some hair product company.
Needless to say I spent the remainder of the night reading The New Yorker.
Not that The New Yorker is any better.
I have this compulsion to read it because I feel like I should read it. It's the hip thing to do. Everyone's doing it. D subscribes and gives me his copy every week after he's finished reading it. D is so good about reading. He reads everything. He keeps up with every zine, magazine, publication, everything. I don't understand how he has so much time.
I asked him if we could enact this policy as I didn't want to spend the money on a subscription to something I resent for no apparent reason.
Is it because its pretentious? Is it pretentious? Or is reading it pretentious? Or maybe the problem is the cartoons? Some of them are funny, though...
I think the thing that bothers me about it is that the articles are so long. You need an hour to read one article!
This policy has been in effect for about eight months, and in all honesty, I think I've read maybe four issues. I've glanced through a few others.
One of my resolutions that didn't make it onto the blog list was to read The New Yorker every week, or to at least attempt to. I suppose its a companion resolution to being better about read The Voice.
I read most of last week's issue. I read all but two articles of this week's issue last night.
The hilarious thing is that on Sunday night, D and I were reading together (we now set aside time to "read" when we are together since we both want to read more). I declared, frustrated, "Dear god this article on Katrina is eternal!"
D said "Really? You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."
"What?"
"You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."
"Wait. What?"
"What?"
"You didn't read it?"
"No."
"Did you read any of the other articles?"
"No."
"Do you ever read the articles?"
"Sometimes. It depends."
Hah.
Now I don't feel so bad.
I guess you don't have to read The New Yorker to be a true New Yorker.
While microwaving some macaroni and cheese, I remembered "Wait! I have an antenna! I should watch... TV! This will be a perfect activity for my non-functioning brain post blitz on music project du jour!"
I watched a bit of The Gilmore Girls (I heart Luke) and when it ended, tried to decide if I wanted to continue the mind-numbing TV exercise or read The New Yorker, with which I also have a love/hate relationship.
Flipping through the channels, I came across an awards show! The People's Choice Awards! I love awards shows! Well, not really, but they have the potential to entertain. The People's Choice Awards are probably the lowest common denominator (because do "the people" have the best taste? probably not!), although I'm not sure of this as I've never seen them.
I began to watch, and was horrified by the opening number - Jessica Simpson, dressed as a cowgirl, singing "These boots were made for walking... uh... yip... etc." whilst trying not to kill herself as she walked on barstools.
I tried not to scream. I was patient. The host came on - I've never seen this guy before - and was completely unfunny.
After I watched adorable Reese Witherspoon accept her award for "Favorite Leading Lady," I turned away. I thought "I should stop watching... this will be torture."
I was still on the fence, until the announcer said "After the break, we'll announce the winner you've chosen for BEST HAIR!" or something like that. It wasn't even best hair - it was most natural or most luxurious or most satiny hair or something equally ridiculous sponsored by some hair product company.
Needless to say I spent the remainder of the night reading The New Yorker.
Not that The New Yorker is any better.
I have this compulsion to read it because I feel like I should read it. It's the hip thing to do. Everyone's doing it. D subscribes and gives me his copy every week after he's finished reading it. D is so good about reading. He reads everything. He keeps up with every zine, magazine, publication, everything. I don't understand how he has so much time.
I asked him if we could enact this policy as I didn't want to spend the money on a subscription to something I resent for no apparent reason.
Is it because its pretentious? Is it pretentious? Or is reading it pretentious? Or maybe the problem is the cartoons? Some of them are funny, though...
I think the thing that bothers me about it is that the articles are so long. You need an hour to read one article!
This policy has been in effect for about eight months, and in all honesty, I think I've read maybe four issues. I've glanced through a few others.
One of my resolutions that didn't make it onto the blog list was to read The New Yorker every week, or to at least attempt to. I suppose its a companion resolution to being better about read The Voice.
I read most of last week's issue. I read all but two articles of this week's issue last night.
The hilarious thing is that on Sunday night, D and I were reading together (we now set aside time to "read" when we are together since we both want to read more). I declared, frustrated, "Dear god this article on Katrina is eternal!"
D said "Really? You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."
"What?"
"You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."
"Wait. What?"
"What?"
"You didn't read it?"
"No."
"Did you read any of the other articles?"
"No."
"Do you ever read the articles?"
"Sometimes. It depends."
Hah.
Now I don't feel so bad.
I guess you don't have to read The New Yorker to be a true New Yorker.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Separation
I am just torn apart by the announcement that Hilary Swank and Chad Lowe have separated. I can't believe it. If they can't make it, nobody can!
Sad, I am.
Sad, I am.
Monday, January 09, 2006
The Weekend In Review
New Roc City = ghetto Las Vegas. My friend LL hatched an elaborate plan that involved going to see a movie in New Roc City, after which would be a sleepover at her place in The Bronx. The original plan had me going up to the Bronx after work, only to be driven half an hour to New Roc City. (Well, the original plan, which was designed by yours truly, was “Girl’s Not Out” involving dinner at a fancy Manhattan restaurant, fancy martinis, and gay cowboys). Luckily the Metro North goes straight to New Roc City, so I was able to eliminate an hour and a half of extra transit. I wasn’t prepared for New Roc City. I thought it would be a spectacle, but I hadn’t thought that it would be a spectacle surrounded by sketchiness. The minute I stepped foot off the train I knew I was in for a treat. I asked a woman for directions. As she began to speak, another woman interjected and said “NO! DON’T GO THAT WAY!” and gave me better directions. Yeah. It wasn’t, well, a pleasant place to be walking around by oneself at night.
Brokeback Mountain = A-MAZ-ING. It was so sad that I was not even able to cry. I can't get enough of Jake's dimples or Heath's brooding. And Jen from Dawson's Creek was awesome. The whole thing was awesome, and it really had nothing to do with dimples or brooding.
I had a Seinfeld-ian moment when one of the girls I was with engaged in one of my movie theater pet peeves, and I thought “I may have to de-friend her after this.” Spending a lot of time with someone, seeing how he or she lives his of her life, can give you insight that you don’t necessarily want about a person.
After the movies we decided to go to this Mexican restaurant in New Roc City, but left immediately after being seated when we learned that not only was it far too expensive given what it was, but they charged $3.95 to share meals!
We ended up at Applebee’s and shared spinach-artichoke dip while drinking weak martinis. There was karaoke, but we did not partake.
We did not do glow-in-the-dark mini golf because I hated New Roc City and wanted out of there as soon as possible.
I was a zombie by the time we got to The Bronx, but The Girls wanted to stay up. While I tried to sleep on the couch, they watched a movie. Me = irritable.
Slept miraculously well despite being on the couch. My sleep was interrupted only by a nightmare involving D having broken into my apartment while I was gone and having left a pile of dishes in the sink. In the dream I began doing the dishes, only to find that he had cooked meat! I yelled “Not only did he break into my apartment without telling me, not only did he cook in my apartment, not only did he then leave me 100 dishes to wash, but he cooked meat! THAT BASTARD!” Weird.
Breakfast at a local diner, followed by being accosted by some kid on the street trying to sell us hot Disney anthology books or an umbrella. Bizarre.
Journey that lasted for eternity from The Bronx to PS1 via the 6 and then the E, where I was meeting D to see the last weekend of the Stephen Shore exhibit. I almost missed it! I liked the exhibit but was peeved by there being windows in the gallery. You can’t have windows casting sunlight onto glass covering small photos! I was surprised by a Jon Kessler exhibit, which was a four room kinetic sculpture that was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.
Went back to my apartment, which I hadn’t seen in quite some time, where I took a shower and where D successfully installed a new battery into my IPod. Woop!
En route to the screening of my friend E’s student film at Columbia, D said “Hey – do you think that soup place over there is the Soup Nazi?” I said “I don’t know…” and then looked up, only to see that we were standing right on the corner of Restaurant from Seinfeld! “Well, it may not be, but there’s Restaurant!”
We were giddy, but decided not to eat at Restaurant in favor of another cute little restaurant where I ate Pumpkin Gorgonzola risotto and where D did not have the Tang Martini because when our waiter asked the bartender if there was any Tang remaining with which to make the Tangtini, the bartender answered “Yes, but its disgusting.”
E’s movie = awesome. I was so proud!
Fabulous food poisoning or a drug interaction.
Watched “Anchorman” and laughed. Lots.
Watched episodes of Strangers with Candy.
Went to the Ancient Fossils, New Discoveries exhibit at the Museum of Natural History with E. I’ve decided that a museum is the best place to go to convince yourself that you never want children. Or, on the contrary, if you get lucky, yearn for children. The precocious ones are entertaining, but the screamers… oh man, the screamers. There was one kid who was a combination of both, and his adult-ways won and endeared me to him for the hour that we trailed him. He was about six years old and kept frustratingly declaring “We have been in this exhibit for over an hour! I cannot take it anymore!” Tee hee.
Met up with D for a gross burrito and then saw Munich, which was also A-MAZ-ING. I can’t even begin to describe how wonderful it was so I won’t even try. Just go see it, and be prepared to be ruined afterwards.
Sat on the couch for a bit and then read and then, finally, slept like a baby.
And today I ate a salad for lunch! Watch out, world, I am on track with the New Year's resolutions. I don't know if it counts, though, when you have more croutons than lettuce and a ton of cheese. Oh well.
Brokeback Mountain = A-MAZ-ING. It was so sad that I was not even able to cry. I can't get enough of Jake's dimples or Heath's brooding. And Jen from Dawson's Creek was awesome. The whole thing was awesome, and it really had nothing to do with dimples or brooding.
I had a Seinfeld-ian moment when one of the girls I was with engaged in one of my movie theater pet peeves, and I thought “I may have to de-friend her after this.” Spending a lot of time with someone, seeing how he or she lives his of her life, can give you insight that you don’t necessarily want about a person.
After the movies we decided to go to this Mexican restaurant in New Roc City, but left immediately after being seated when we learned that not only was it far too expensive given what it was, but they charged $3.95 to share meals!
We ended up at Applebee’s and shared spinach-artichoke dip while drinking weak martinis. There was karaoke, but we did not partake.
We did not do glow-in-the-dark mini golf because I hated New Roc City and wanted out of there as soon as possible.
I was a zombie by the time we got to The Bronx, but The Girls wanted to stay up. While I tried to sleep on the couch, they watched a movie. Me = irritable.
Slept miraculously well despite being on the couch. My sleep was interrupted only by a nightmare involving D having broken into my apartment while I was gone and having left a pile of dishes in the sink. In the dream I began doing the dishes, only to find that he had cooked meat! I yelled “Not only did he break into my apartment without telling me, not only did he cook in my apartment, not only did he then leave me 100 dishes to wash, but he cooked meat! THAT BASTARD!” Weird.
Breakfast at a local diner, followed by being accosted by some kid on the street trying to sell us hot Disney anthology books or an umbrella. Bizarre.
Journey that lasted for eternity from The Bronx to PS1 via the 6 and then the E, where I was meeting D to see the last weekend of the Stephen Shore exhibit. I almost missed it! I liked the exhibit but was peeved by there being windows in the gallery. You can’t have windows casting sunlight onto glass covering small photos! I was surprised by a Jon Kessler exhibit, which was a four room kinetic sculpture that was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.
Went back to my apartment, which I hadn’t seen in quite some time, where I took a shower and where D successfully installed a new battery into my IPod. Woop!
En route to the screening of my friend E’s student film at Columbia, D said “Hey – do you think that soup place over there is the Soup Nazi?” I said “I don’t know…” and then looked up, only to see that we were standing right on the corner of Restaurant from Seinfeld! “Well, it may not be, but there’s Restaurant!”
We were giddy, but decided not to eat at Restaurant in favor of another cute little restaurant where I ate Pumpkin Gorgonzola risotto and where D did not have the Tang Martini because when our waiter asked the bartender if there was any Tang remaining with which to make the Tangtini, the bartender answered “Yes, but its disgusting.”
E’s movie = awesome. I was so proud!
Fabulous food poisoning or a drug interaction.
Watched “Anchorman” and laughed. Lots.
Watched episodes of Strangers with Candy.
Went to the Ancient Fossils, New Discoveries exhibit at the Museum of Natural History with E. I’ve decided that a museum is the best place to go to convince yourself that you never want children. Or, on the contrary, if you get lucky, yearn for children. The precocious ones are entertaining, but the screamers… oh man, the screamers. There was one kid who was a combination of both, and his adult-ways won and endeared me to him for the hour that we trailed him. He was about six years old and kept frustratingly declaring “We have been in this exhibit for over an hour! I cannot take it anymore!” Tee hee.
Met up with D for a gross burrito and then saw Munich, which was also A-MAZ-ING. I can’t even begin to describe how wonderful it was so I won’t even try. Just go see it, and be prepared to be ruined afterwards.
Sat on the couch for a bit and then read and then, finally, slept like a baby.
And today I ate a salad for lunch! Watch out, world, I am on track with the New Year's resolutions. I don't know if it counts, though, when you have more croutons than lettuce and a ton of cheese. Oh well.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Back To Normal
No more fancy hotels, pink laptop bags, or Curb Your Enthusiasms.
Life is back to normal, and I am consequently deliriously tired, exhausted, and won't get to sleep in this weekend.
That's ok, though, because the weekend will be full of goodies like gay cowboys, glow in the dark mini golf, photography, movie screenings, fossils, and hopefully some quality time with D, with whom I haven't shared substantial time since Sunday.
I am so very tired, though. I would kill for slightly over eight hours sleep in my own bed, but apparently this weekend is not the time for that to happen. Oh well.
Have great weekends.
Until Monday...
Life is back to normal, and I am consequently deliriously tired, exhausted, and won't get to sleep in this weekend.
That's ok, though, because the weekend will be full of goodies like gay cowboys, glow in the dark mini golf, photography, movie screenings, fossils, and hopefully some quality time with D, with whom I haven't shared substantial time since Sunday.
I am so very tired, though. I would kill for slightly over eight hours sleep in my own bed, but apparently this weekend is not the time for that to happen. Oh well.
Have great weekends.
Until Monday...
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Transfers
Getting to the Bronx is a PAIN.
I am rationalizing this only because gay cowboys are involved.
Update: Screw rationalizing!!! GLOW IN THE DARK MINIATURE GOLF IS INVOLVED!!!!!
I am rationalizing this only because gay cowboys are involved.
Update: Screw rationalizing!!! GLOW IN THE DARK MINIATURE GOLF IS INVOLVED!!!!!
The First Time
OK, folks.
I had my first time last night!
Yes, tragically, I found the first gray hair!
The horror, the horror. It wasn't even gray. It was white, and that bastard had a mind of its own.
Of course I promptly removed it and then examined it.
I can't believe it.
None of you, from henceforth on, are allowed to tell me that I am not old.
So there.
I had my first time last night!
Yes, tragically, I found the first gray hair!
The horror, the horror. It wasn't even gray. It was white, and that bastard had a mind of its own.
Of course I promptly removed it and then examined it.
I can't believe it.
None of you, from henceforth on, are allowed to tell me that I am not old.
So there.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Exhibit
I have been obsessing about the Star Wars Exhibit at the Museum of Science in Boston forever.
I tried to go a few weeks ago when I was in MA for a Christmas party, but there was no time. I was determined to go during this visit. Our first attempt was foiled, but we went back on New Year's Eve, advance tickets in hand, and saw the exhibit.
First of all, we were wrong about what time the tickets were for and I was distressed. We were off by half an hour, which meant we got there half an hour late. I was going to be quite cross if we were foiled a second time.
Second of all, while eating there I ran into my cousin N! I didn't even recognize her at first because I have never seen her out of context. I thought "That 12 year old looks familiar..." and when I realized it was her, I got up and ran over to her. It was adorable because she was awkward and confused because she was with her friends! She didn't know what to say to me or how to introduce me. I decided to leave her alone and then said "D, I think she felt like how we used to feel when we'd like run into a teacher in the grocery store or something!" So cute.
Third of all, this exhibit was not as good as I wanted it to be. I think if I'd paid full price I'd have been disappointed, but because I got in for $3 with my aunt's museum membership I thought it was great. Lots of props, costumes, and models. There was some cool science too - about how human bionic parts are a reality now, etc. I guess we can all rest easy that the fix-up between E and the girl who worked on the Star Wars exhibit didn't work out, because it would have been awkward to pretend to love it.
Anyway, here are photos of some of my favorite Star Wars things, except General Grievous (I thought the maquette was cool):
I tried to go a few weeks ago when I was in MA for a Christmas party, but there was no time. I was determined to go during this visit. Our first attempt was foiled, but we went back on New Year's Eve, advance tickets in hand, and saw the exhibit.
First of all, we were wrong about what time the tickets were for and I was distressed. We were off by half an hour, which meant we got there half an hour late. I was going to be quite cross if we were foiled a second time.
Second of all, while eating there I ran into my cousin N! I didn't even recognize her at first because I have never seen her out of context. I thought "That 12 year old looks familiar..." and when I realized it was her, I got up and ran over to her. It was adorable because she was awkward and confused because she was with her friends! She didn't know what to say to me or how to introduce me. I decided to leave her alone and then said "D, I think she felt like how we used to feel when we'd like run into a teacher in the grocery store or something!" So cute.
Third of all, this exhibit was not as good as I wanted it to be. I think if I'd paid full price I'd have been disappointed, but because I got in for $3 with my aunt's museum membership I thought it was great. Lots of props, costumes, and models. There was some cool science too - about how human bionic parts are a reality now, etc. I guess we can all rest easy that the fix-up between E and the girl who worked on the Star Wars exhibit didn't work out, because it would have been awkward to pretend to love it.
Anyway, here are photos of some of my favorite Star Wars things, except General Grievous (I thought the maquette was cool):
Holiday Break - A Review
Day 1 – Escaped NYC during the transit strike and made record time back to MA. After listening to traffic and planning our exit, we hit the rode and were in Medway, in bed, by 12:30 am. after only 3.5 hours of driving and a 10 minute stop at Taco Bell. Sweet!
Day 2 – Fajitas and margaritas (deadly!) at the Border Café with MG, NL, and their, gasp, husbands. Ate pizza with The Parents, discussed the church/state scandal that erupted in my hometown that day (do you guys know about this? madness!), and then watched Roll Bounce, which was actually quite good and made me want to roller skate even though, were I to attempt to roller skate, I’d most likely die instantly.
Day 3 – Christmas Eve! D and I went to breakfast at The Medway Restaurant in order to “get out of the house.” We returned and tried to watch Fahrenheit 451, again. This particular viewing was interrupted by the arrival of Brother and Brother’s Girlfriend. Woo hoo!!! We tried to hide under blankets to scare them as they entered the house but they were unimpressed. Sister and Sister’s boyfriend arrived soon thereafter (also not scared by the hiding), and we headed out to celebrate with Mother’s Side. I drank too much too soon. I received domestic gifts that I’d requested. I didn’t have as much fun as I’d have liked because we are old now and without kids Christmas isn’t much fun. Somebody needs to have a baby and soon! We returned home and opened Christmas gifts, zombie-style, because we’d be too rushed in the morning with 8 people trying to get ready, church (not that any of us got up in time for church), etc. I am now the proud of owner of Pink Laptop Bag! Yippee!!!!
My gifts were well-received. Nothing, thankfully, needs to be returned.
And, I know you are all in suspense, D did not already have and therefore LOVED THE SHIRT and put it on immediately and then wore it for the next three days straight.
Day 4 – Christmas Day! I again drank too much too soon. It was tolerable aside from the obligatory family scandal.
Day 5 – Recovery Day. D went to visit his grandmother in RI while I stayed behind and mostly did nothing. I went to lunch with Sister and Brother. No significant others. It was rare and lovely. We went to visit friends of the family that night and had a lovely time, despite Sister and I having developed some sort of stomach flu.
Day 6 – Boston! We headed into Allston, dropped off luggage and piles of Christmas gifts, headed to The Museum of Science to go to the Star Wars Exhibit, which was sold out! Dejected, we headed to a gallery in the South End to see a drawing show D was interested in, but it was closed! Denied! We then headed out to Belmont for delicious and plentiful crepes cooked by JV at his very grownup, very nice apartment. We drank wine and then headed back to Allston and watched some episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 5.
Day 7 – Had breakfast at Zaftig’s with Sister and Sister’s Boyfriend after a long and irritable wait. D and I hit Brookline Booksmith and accidentally spent money). D, Sister and I then met up with my aunt and my cousin at my aunt’s apartment for more wine and then dinner and then the rest of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 5.
Day 8 – Had lunch with LBF at Grendel’s and then hit the road to go to New Hampshire to hang out with D’s friends who just had a baby. When I walked in the baby was handed to me before I even had a chance to say anything. My initial reaction was PANIC! which changed in about one second to “I want to steal this baby and keep him as my own!” Darn you, biological clock! We drank wine and ate Thai food and then slept in an actual bed. Bliss.
Day 9 – Headed back to Cambridge and had empanadas and margaritas at The Border Café with MS, who I hadn’t seen since I’d moved! Went back to Sister’s for a bit, and then met A and J for dinner at the West Side Lounge. We tried to get fondue at Temple Bar but they were snobbish and said “We don’t serve just dessert until after 10:30.” Hmph. J improvised white chocolate fondue at home. We dipped raspberries and pound cake and strawberries and banana and pineapple and other goodies. Delicious! D was very impressed with A and J’s fabulous grownup loft and may possibly be convinced that it might be acceptable to live somewhere other than NYC. We played Dance Dance Revolution (why doesn’t Sony just sell a Dance Dance Revolution machine? then I would buy one!), Sesame Street Chutes and Ladders, played with the cat and had a grand time.
Day 10 – J cooked popovers and we talked about the pharmaceutical industry. A and J dropped us off at Fancy Hotel, where we reveled in being alone for the first time in over a week. We successfully attended the Star Wars exhibit (pictures forthcoming), napped at the hotel, ate at Papa Razzi because I couldn’t think of anything better, went to Sister’s show at Bill’s Bar (amazing!), went back to the hotel and drank too much champagne (instaheadache), drunkenly had the talk about “The Future” and was surprised that the talk was not instigated by yours truly and instantly understood why the talk had not occurred previously, happily fell asleep for about 5 minutes before I woke up, reminded of the terrible headache.
Day 11 – Ironically tired given that we stayed at the hotel to get a good night’s sleep - curses! Picked up the rental car and met A for a burrito at Anna’s, drove back to Sister’s to reclaim pile of Christmas gifts, then drove down to NYC in a daze. I was exhausted but had a burst of productivity when I got home. I unpacked and organized and made lists and accomplished many things, although this did not include successfully watching Fahrenheit 451, which I tried to watch again and ended up returning.
Day 12 – Alone. Totally, completely, utterly, blissfully alone. It was great to see everyone, but it was mayhem. I caught up, organized more, unpacked more, seamlessly integrated my Christmas gifts into my high functioning apartment, went grocery shopping, dropped off laundry, went grocery shopping some more, made the mistake of going shopping on the second worst shopping day of the year, watched a Netflix, and went to bed.
Day 2 – Fajitas and margaritas (deadly!) at the Border Café with MG, NL, and their, gasp, husbands. Ate pizza with The Parents, discussed the church/state scandal that erupted in my hometown that day (do you guys know about this? madness!), and then watched Roll Bounce, which was actually quite good and made me want to roller skate even though, were I to attempt to roller skate, I’d most likely die instantly.
Day 3 – Christmas Eve! D and I went to breakfast at The Medway Restaurant in order to “get out of the house.” We returned and tried to watch Fahrenheit 451, again. This particular viewing was interrupted by the arrival of Brother and Brother’s Girlfriend. Woo hoo!!! We tried to hide under blankets to scare them as they entered the house but they were unimpressed. Sister and Sister’s boyfriend arrived soon thereafter (also not scared by the hiding), and we headed out to celebrate with Mother’s Side. I drank too much too soon. I received domestic gifts that I’d requested. I didn’t have as much fun as I’d have liked because we are old now and without kids Christmas isn’t much fun. Somebody needs to have a baby and soon! We returned home and opened Christmas gifts, zombie-style, because we’d be too rushed in the morning with 8 people trying to get ready, church (not that any of us got up in time for church), etc. I am now the proud of owner of Pink Laptop Bag! Yippee!!!!
My gifts were well-received. Nothing, thankfully, needs to be returned.
And, I know you are all in suspense, D did not already have and therefore LOVED THE SHIRT and put it on immediately and then wore it for the next three days straight.
Day 4 – Christmas Day! I again drank too much too soon. It was tolerable aside from the obligatory family scandal.
Day 5 – Recovery Day. D went to visit his grandmother in RI while I stayed behind and mostly did nothing. I went to lunch with Sister and Brother. No significant others. It was rare and lovely. We went to visit friends of the family that night and had a lovely time, despite Sister and I having developed some sort of stomach flu.
Day 6 – Boston! We headed into Allston, dropped off luggage and piles of Christmas gifts, headed to The Museum of Science to go to the Star Wars Exhibit, which was sold out! Dejected, we headed to a gallery in the South End to see a drawing show D was interested in, but it was closed! Denied! We then headed out to Belmont for delicious and plentiful crepes cooked by JV at his very grownup, very nice apartment. We drank wine and then headed back to Allston and watched some episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 5.
Day 7 – Had breakfast at Zaftig’s with Sister and Sister’s Boyfriend after a long and irritable wait. D and I hit Brookline Booksmith and accidentally spent money). D, Sister and I then met up with my aunt and my cousin at my aunt’s apartment for more wine and then dinner and then the rest of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 5.
Day 8 – Had lunch with LBF at Grendel’s and then hit the road to go to New Hampshire to hang out with D’s friends who just had a baby. When I walked in the baby was handed to me before I even had a chance to say anything. My initial reaction was PANIC! which changed in about one second to “I want to steal this baby and keep him as my own!” Darn you, biological clock! We drank wine and ate Thai food and then slept in an actual bed. Bliss.
Day 9 – Headed back to Cambridge and had empanadas and margaritas at The Border Café with MS, who I hadn’t seen since I’d moved! Went back to Sister’s for a bit, and then met A and J for dinner at the West Side Lounge. We tried to get fondue at Temple Bar but they were snobbish and said “We don’t serve just dessert until after 10:30.” Hmph. J improvised white chocolate fondue at home. We dipped raspberries and pound cake and strawberries and banana and pineapple and other goodies. Delicious! D was very impressed with A and J’s fabulous grownup loft and may possibly be convinced that it might be acceptable to live somewhere other than NYC. We played Dance Dance Revolution (why doesn’t Sony just sell a Dance Dance Revolution machine? then I would buy one!), Sesame Street Chutes and Ladders, played with the cat and had a grand time.
Day 10 – J cooked popovers and we talked about the pharmaceutical industry. A and J dropped us off at Fancy Hotel, where we reveled in being alone for the first time in over a week. We successfully attended the Star Wars exhibit (pictures forthcoming), napped at the hotel, ate at Papa Razzi because I couldn’t think of anything better, went to Sister’s show at Bill’s Bar (amazing!), went back to the hotel and drank too much champagne (instaheadache), drunkenly had the talk about “The Future” and was surprised that the talk was not instigated by yours truly and instantly understood why the talk had not occurred previously, happily fell asleep for about 5 minutes before I woke up, reminded of the terrible headache.
Day 11 – Ironically tired given that we stayed at the hotel to get a good night’s sleep - curses! Picked up the rental car and met A for a burrito at Anna’s, drove back to Sister’s to reclaim pile of Christmas gifts, then drove down to NYC in a daze. I was exhausted but had a burst of productivity when I got home. I unpacked and organized and made lists and accomplished many things, although this did not include successfully watching Fahrenheit 451, which I tried to watch again and ended up returning.
Day 12 – Alone. Totally, completely, utterly, blissfully alone. It was great to see everyone, but it was mayhem. I caught up, organized more, unpacked more, seamlessly integrated my Christmas gifts into my high functioning apartment, went grocery shopping, dropped off laundry, went grocery shopping some more, made the mistake of going shopping on the second worst shopping day of the year, watched a Netflix, and went to bed.
Fancy Hotel
LBF, I hope you are happy! See? I'm blogging! Hiatus = OVER!
D and I stayed in a fancy hotel on New Year’s Eve. We are not the type of people who are prone to staying in fancy hotels. D just isn’t into them, whereas I would stay in a fancy hotel every night of my life if I could. I love hotels. I love being in a hotel. I love the big, comfortable beds. I love being in a room that’s nearly the size of, if not bigger than, my entire apartment. I love not having to worry about towels and sheets and noise.
I heart hotels.
This hotel was way too good for us. D said “This is the nicest hotel I have ever been in.”
I’ve been in nicer hotels, but I didn’t tell him, because that would involve territory I didn’t want to visit on a happy day.
We decided to stay in a hotel on New Year’s Eve because we knew we’d want a good night’s sleep. We spent the prior 10 days doing this: bed at The Parents’, air mattress at The Parents’ for a couple days, same air mattress at Sister’s for a couple days, bed in NH, futon in Somerville… You get the idea. We wanted not only a bed, but some time alone. To celebrate. Yeah.
Issue #1 with hotel:
The hotel is fancy. Very, very fancy. I took a shower and wanted to do my hair for New Year’s Eve! Very important to have good hair on New Year’s Eve. I went to the bathroom to dry my hair and there was, gasp, no hair dryer! Wtf!?!? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it. I looked in every drawer, I looked under the TV, I looked under the bed. No hair dryer!
I tried to call room service, but the phone didn’t work! “D, there is no hair dryer and the phone doesn’t work!” D tried to use the phone but couldn’t. He said “Let’s try this one…” because there were multiple phones in the room.
I heard the woman on the other line saying “Wah wah wah wah wah…” D seemed optimistic, so I figured they were bringing one up.
“There’s one in the bathroom behind the armoire. It’s in a burlap sack.”
“What? There is no armoire in the bathroom!”
There was no armoire in the bathroom.
Wait a second… the hair dryer is in a burlap sack behind a piece of furniture?
We went into the bathroom to confirm that there was not an armoire.
“Wait a second!” I said, pulling the leopard print bathrobe from the door, only to reveal a hidden hair dryer in a burlap sack.
Obviously hair dryers in fancy hotels are secretly contained in burlap sacks on doors behind leopard print robes!
Issue #2 with the hotel:
The hotel is fancy. This meant that the hotel had pretty, fancy curtains!!! There was one yellow, sort of sheer curtain that obviously didn’t block light but provided lovely ambience. The second curtain was really thick and luxurious and red.
When D and I got home from Sister’s show on New Year’s Eve, I immediately went to shut the curtains. I untied the big red curtains and tried to pull them shut, but they didn’t cover the entire window! “Wtf?” I thought, again. I tried very hard to pull them together, but they wouldn’t. The panels covered only about ½ of the total window.
“D,” I said, “Am I retarded? Or too drunk? I can’t get these to close!”
D tried, and said “I guess they don’t close.”
“Well, that is ridiculous. This is a fancy hotel! The least they could have is curtains that close!”
D and I didn’t sleep well, which was ironic given that the whole point of staying at the fancy hotel was to get a good night’s sleep. I didn’t sleep because I got an insta-headache from all of the champagne I drank. D didn’t sleep because he was wired or something, and because the light coming through the window prevented his getting back to sleep when he woke up at about 5:00 am after we’d gone to bed at 3:00 am.
Because he couldn’t sleep, D got up to run along the river. When he returned, I heard him scurrying about and suddenly it was dark! I didn’t think anything of it. I just figured we were really drunk the night before and unable to function.
Apparently when he’d gone running, D looked up at the windows and saw that everyone had somehow closed the curtains.
And this is because there were shades. The curtains = decorative. The curtains were closest to us, the sheer thing was the middle layer, and the shade was closest to the window. Three layers? Who knew?
We’re such idiots. I’m just not used to the fancy!
Issue #3 with the hotel:
The hotel is fancy. I thought the restaurant would be super good – clever and interesting, like the hotel. I decided that I wanted to order room service for dinner because I love room service. I have no reason to love room service. I think I’ve ordered it once and every other attempt at room service has been foiled by whoever I was sharing a room with or by the wrong hours or the prices or something.
I said “D, we have to get room service because I bet every restaurant will be crowded because its New Year’s Eve and we don’t have reservations.” I think this was as much of a legitimate concern as it was an excuse to get room service.
D didn’t resist at all, but when we got to the room I was disappointed to learn that the restaurant (and therefore room service) had nothing vegetarian other than one dish that, of course, involved room service.
We decided that we’d get room service in the morning instead.
We called to order scrambled eggs, homefries, and toast, with bacon on a different plate.
D said “I bet they’ll just get it from the buffet.”
“You think?” I asked, trying to preserve my room service dream.
One hour later = no room service.
D called. They said “It’s coming right up! It left two minutes ago! It’s on the house!”
Sweet.
Ten minutes later = no room service.
It finally arrived, cold, clearly from the buffet, with an English muffin, untoasted, instead of toast.
Ewwwww.
So we didn’t really sleep or get to enjoy room service, but we had great fun living the fancy life anyway. And we had a marvelous and not very scary conversation about “The Future” that was not initiated by me! Whoa! I will leave with fond memories of our night in the fancy hotel, even if our time there made me feel like a moron.
D and I stayed in a fancy hotel on New Year’s Eve. We are not the type of people who are prone to staying in fancy hotels. D just isn’t into them, whereas I would stay in a fancy hotel every night of my life if I could. I love hotels. I love being in a hotel. I love the big, comfortable beds. I love being in a room that’s nearly the size of, if not bigger than, my entire apartment. I love not having to worry about towels and sheets and noise.
I heart hotels.
This hotel was way too good for us. D said “This is the nicest hotel I have ever been in.”
I’ve been in nicer hotels, but I didn’t tell him, because that would involve territory I didn’t want to visit on a happy day.
We decided to stay in a hotel on New Year’s Eve because we knew we’d want a good night’s sleep. We spent the prior 10 days doing this: bed at The Parents’, air mattress at The Parents’ for a couple days, same air mattress at Sister’s for a couple days, bed in NH, futon in Somerville… You get the idea. We wanted not only a bed, but some time alone. To celebrate. Yeah.
Issue #1 with hotel:
The hotel is fancy. Very, very fancy. I took a shower and wanted to do my hair for New Year’s Eve! Very important to have good hair on New Year’s Eve. I went to the bathroom to dry my hair and there was, gasp, no hair dryer! Wtf!?!? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it. I looked in every drawer, I looked under the TV, I looked under the bed. No hair dryer!
I tried to call room service, but the phone didn’t work! “D, there is no hair dryer and the phone doesn’t work!” D tried to use the phone but couldn’t. He said “Let’s try this one…” because there were multiple phones in the room.
I heard the woman on the other line saying “Wah wah wah wah wah…” D seemed optimistic, so I figured they were bringing one up.
“There’s one in the bathroom behind the armoire. It’s in a burlap sack.”
“What? There is no armoire in the bathroom!”
There was no armoire in the bathroom.
Wait a second… the hair dryer is in a burlap sack behind a piece of furniture?
We went into the bathroom to confirm that there was not an armoire.
“Wait a second!” I said, pulling the leopard print bathrobe from the door, only to reveal a hidden hair dryer in a burlap sack.
Obviously hair dryers in fancy hotels are secretly contained in burlap sacks on doors behind leopard print robes!
Issue #2 with the hotel:
The hotel is fancy. This meant that the hotel had pretty, fancy curtains!!! There was one yellow, sort of sheer curtain that obviously didn’t block light but provided lovely ambience. The second curtain was really thick and luxurious and red.
When D and I got home from Sister’s show on New Year’s Eve, I immediately went to shut the curtains. I untied the big red curtains and tried to pull them shut, but they didn’t cover the entire window! “Wtf?” I thought, again. I tried very hard to pull them together, but they wouldn’t. The panels covered only about ½ of the total window.
“D,” I said, “Am I retarded? Or too drunk? I can’t get these to close!”
D tried, and said “I guess they don’t close.”
“Well, that is ridiculous. This is a fancy hotel! The least they could have is curtains that close!”
D and I didn’t sleep well, which was ironic given that the whole point of staying at the fancy hotel was to get a good night’s sleep. I didn’t sleep because I got an insta-headache from all of the champagne I drank. D didn’t sleep because he was wired or something, and because the light coming through the window prevented his getting back to sleep when he woke up at about 5:00 am after we’d gone to bed at 3:00 am.
Because he couldn’t sleep, D got up to run along the river. When he returned, I heard him scurrying about and suddenly it was dark! I didn’t think anything of it. I just figured we were really drunk the night before and unable to function.
Apparently when he’d gone running, D looked up at the windows and saw that everyone had somehow closed the curtains.
And this is because there were shades. The curtains = decorative. The curtains were closest to us, the sheer thing was the middle layer, and the shade was closest to the window. Three layers? Who knew?
We’re such idiots. I’m just not used to the fancy!
Issue #3 with the hotel:
The hotel is fancy. I thought the restaurant would be super good – clever and interesting, like the hotel. I decided that I wanted to order room service for dinner because I love room service. I have no reason to love room service. I think I’ve ordered it once and every other attempt at room service has been foiled by whoever I was sharing a room with or by the wrong hours or the prices or something.
I said “D, we have to get room service because I bet every restaurant will be crowded because its New Year’s Eve and we don’t have reservations.” I think this was as much of a legitimate concern as it was an excuse to get room service.
D didn’t resist at all, but when we got to the room I was disappointed to learn that the restaurant (and therefore room service) had nothing vegetarian other than one dish that, of course, involved room service.
We decided that we’d get room service in the morning instead.
We called to order scrambled eggs, homefries, and toast, with bacon on a different plate.
D said “I bet they’ll just get it from the buffet.”
“You think?” I asked, trying to preserve my room service dream.
One hour later = no room service.
D called. They said “It’s coming right up! It left two minutes ago! It’s on the house!”
Sweet.
Ten minutes later = no room service.
It finally arrived, cold, clearly from the buffet, with an English muffin, untoasted, instead of toast.
Ewwwww.
So we didn’t really sleep or get to enjoy room service, but we had great fun living the fancy life anyway. And we had a marvelous and not very scary conversation about “The Future” that was not initiated by me! Whoa! I will leave with fond memories of our night in the fancy hotel, even if our time there made me feel like a moron.
New Year
Welcome back, kids!
It's a new year.
Ho hum.
I am back to the grind here in NYC. New year, new projects at work. Yesterday was the ease-back-in day during which people slowly reacclimated and did little. I was commended on multiple occasions for working at all. Today its back to normal, with new projects and new stresses.
It's a new year. Does anyone have any interesting resolutions? Is there even such a thing as an interesting New Year's resolution?
I have the usual. They are the same every year and every year I am good for about three minutes and then revert back to my usual ways.
This year's resolutions:
1. Eat fewer cookies per unit time
2. Eat more salads
3. Possibly... gasp... join gym
4. Play more piano (possibly get good again!)
5. Watch fewer Netflixes
6. Read novels
7. Stop forgetting when exhibits end and thereby missing them entirely
8. Be better about keeping in touch with friends via phone
9. Be better about making time to listen to original songs friends have sent me to listen to
10. Travel (more specifically: go to Europe... more precisely, do not become first ever greater than or equal to 30 YEAR OLD person who hasn't been to Europe)
11. Buy and then learn how to use new fancy camera
12. Think about future like serious 30-year-old should
13. Buy fewer pairs of glasses
14. Keep credit card bills to reasonable amount
15. Drink less
16. Hang out less or not at all with people from work
17. Make and keep friends
18. Read articles in Village Voice and not just about what to do
19. Write more songs per unit time - stop neglecting the blog!!!
20. Maintain current good course of relationship with boyfriend
Boring. Mostly reasonable aside from #3. I have to find an all-girl gym so as not to be neurotic about looking retarded in front of boys.
So that's that. 2006. Woo. Hoo.
It's a new year.
Ho hum.
I am back to the grind here in NYC. New year, new projects at work. Yesterday was the ease-back-in day during which people slowly reacclimated and did little. I was commended on multiple occasions for working at all. Today its back to normal, with new projects and new stresses.
It's a new year. Does anyone have any interesting resolutions? Is there even such a thing as an interesting New Year's resolution?
I have the usual. They are the same every year and every year I am good for about three minutes and then revert back to my usual ways.
This year's resolutions:
1. Eat fewer cookies per unit time
2. Eat more salads
3. Possibly... gasp... join gym
4. Play more piano (possibly get good again!)
5. Watch fewer Netflixes
6. Read novels
7. Stop forgetting when exhibits end and thereby missing them entirely
8. Be better about keeping in touch with friends via phone
9. Be better about making time to listen to original songs friends have sent me to listen to
10. Travel (more specifically: go to Europe... more precisely, do not become first ever greater than or equal to 30 YEAR OLD person who hasn't been to Europe)
11. Buy and then learn how to use new fancy camera
12. Think about future like serious 30-year-old should
13. Buy fewer pairs of glasses
14. Keep credit card bills to reasonable amount
15. Drink less
16. Hang out less or not at all with people from work
17. Make and keep friends
18. Read articles in Village Voice and not just about what to do
19. Write more songs per unit time - stop neglecting the blog!!!
20. Maintain current good course of relationship with boyfriend
Boring. Mostly reasonable aside from #3. I have to find an all-girl gym so as not to be neurotic about looking retarded in front of boys.
So that's that. 2006. Woo. Hoo.
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