Putting Me In A Better Mood...

... is the fact that Mel Brooks is turning Young Frankenstein into a musical, complete with black and white set. I can't contain my excitement. I really can't.

My New Favorite Thing

... is Amos singing Mr. Cellophane in Chicago. Best. Musical moment. EVER.

D took me to see Chicago last night for my birthday. He also surprised me this morning with tulips on my desk at work, which is wonderful except that it draws attention to the fact that it is my birthday and that I have turned, ahem, 31.

I woke up this morning and when D said "Happy birthday" I said "Oh my god, only four more years..." Leave it to the PMS to make me think of fertility as my first thought in the morning.

I'm still grumpy, and I'd like not to be given that there are lovely pink tulips next to me. I must admit that they help. Also helpful is a high school student group filming what seems to be a ninja/knight dance-off short on the roof of the building next to us. Needless to say we've been watching all morning. I will miss this sort of impromptu entertainment when I no longer live in NYC.

I was so grumpy last night that I nearly exploded when I discovered that D put the extra toilet paper not in the bathroom, but rather in his clothes closet, and even worse, on a shelf that I cannot reach. Who does that, especially when we're down to nearly the last ply!?! I should not have to climb on a chair to get toilet paper in emergency situations, especially when we have a designated spot in the bathroom for extra toilet paper.

Yes, grumpy. I really can't believe I've turned 31. Pressure, folks. Biological pressure. I'm not digging this. I feel this minor panic, like "FIGURE SHIT OUT THIS MINUTE" because, seriously, time is running out. Last night I said "You know what sucks about having kids? You never get to be alone." My grumpiness makes me want to crawl into a hole and not be spoken to, interacted with, or looked upon. I kept thinking "Imagine having PMS like this and having a child. I will be a horrible mother." D said the right thing with "Probably when you have kids you don't want to be alone, and you want to be with the kid all the time." Probably. Maybe PMS gets better once your hormones have gone all crazy during pregnancy.

I don't know.

Here I am complaining about being old, and my only complaint about Chicago was that Bebe Neuworth is too old to play Roxy. She looks amazing and she did a great job, but the wrong casting. This is a progressive move but it just didn't work. Oh, I am vile today.

I just have to keep thinking of Mr. Cellophane.

Grouch

I am very grumpy today. The hormones are to be blamed for this one.

The hormones, along with the man who practices opera at 6:00 am every day. I understand that opera needs to be practiced, but must it wake me every day? He disappeared for a while and recently resurfaced. He must have been on tour or something. I hope he gets another job soon because, really, I can't wake up to this every morning.

There's also the fact that the exterminator appeared this morning at 7:00 am, wanting to spray the apartment. It is lovely that he wants to exterminate our apartment, but might we be given any sort of notice? Again, exterminations need to occur at times when people are actually around to let the exterminator into the apartment, but must they do it unannounced? My last building had the decency to post a flyer when the exterminator was coming.

There's also the fact that we can't regulate the temperature of the apartment. When its really cold out, it is a mere 57 degrees inside the apartment. When the weather is weird (like it is now), it gets wicked hot. Last night it got up to 78.2 degrees. This, I think, is fan weather, but the fans are no longer in the windows. I opened the window for a few hours and this helped, but by this morning it was an inferno again.

Forces are conspiring against me, preventing me from sleeping when I would very much like to sleep. I wanted to sleep alot last night in preparation for my big date with D tonight. We are going out for dinner to celebrate my birthday and then to see Chicago. I am very excited, but I'd be more excited if I slept more.

In an effort to make myself feel better, I have scheduled my complimentary bang trim for tomorrow afternoon. Previously I have felt that a complimentary bang trim was a bit too luxurious for me - like bang trims are scheduled only by Ladies Who Lunch etc. But oh how quickly this particular set of bangs has grown, and I am going to a wedding this weekend and would also like to be able to see cells with the microscope. I think it is ok for me to have a bang trim given how much I spent on the haircut which, incidentally, was worth every penny.

Also contributing to my vile mood are people who talk VERY LOUDLY IN THE LUNCHROOM ABOUT THINGS LIKE STRING BIKINIS AND THEIR WEDDINGS, as though everyone in the entire company wants to hear about these things. All I want to do is read my magazine in peace. I would like to relax. I would like not to hear about how much the wedding gown weighs and the extravagant honeymoon options and oh how very exhausting it is to have rich parents and in-laws and fiance and the bridesmaids you wouldn't believe which ones are the complainers etc. I want to strangle everyone. Maybe I want to declare at the top of my lungs "Nobody cares about your stupid wedding! There are more important things going on in the world. There is a war. There is an even more giant squid. Britney has checked back into rehab. And I imagine there are other things going on but I wouldn't know because your talking is preventing me from reading the paper!!!!"

See? Grumpy.

But there are more important things going on in the world, and lately my philosophy has been that I am insignificant and nothing involving my little life is really worth getting worked up over. Everything will work itself out one way or another. My life is a product of the choices I've made and the choices I will make, and its up to me to react or not react to the things around me that are out of my control. I'm choosing to not react, except, of course, when the hormones are being uncooperative. Which they are right now.

I guess one thing that makes me happy is that my super happy little pink and yellow umbrella impulse buy fits hidden inside my equally little purse.

I also ordered headphones yesterday. I am looking forward to their arrival and putting them over my ears to cancel out the noise from the lunchroom.

Blaze

Oh Ghostrider The Movie, I knew you would be bad, but I never could have imagined that you would be that bad. Oh my.

Medications

Guess what I did last night?

I went home after work and... watched TV!

I don't think I've watched TV in six months. I realized that I miss watching the news. I am not a person who is able to absorb and retain news through reading. I am much better at news via listening, and even better via watching. I heart watching the news. I wish I could always be home by 6:30 to catch world news. Yes, I could watch the local news later in the evening when I'm available, but local news is lame.

I also managed to watch various entertainment shows and oh my. Britney's bald head and ongoing meltdown! Brangelina and the kids! Brad posing shirtless! Anna Nicole's bodyguard! Christie Brinkely at some sort of school benefit on Long Island! Jenna Elfman wicked pregnant! I wish I could remember all news as well as I remember ridiculous entertainment gossip.

Another noteworthy thing that has happened since the last time I watched the news is that nearly all of the ads during the nightly news were for medication. I guess adults want to buy medication. Right.

I transitioned into watching cooking shows on some local channel and got really excited about everything. If I had the Food Network I'd watch nothing else. No, that's not true. I'd watch The History Channel and The Discovery Channel and CNN. Sometimes I want cable. I think I'd actually save money by paying for cable since I probably wouldn't go out as much. Maybe we'll get cable in MA, if we ever move to MA, which with each passing day seems less and less likely. How irresponsible can we really be? I don't yet know the answer to this question.

Speaking of MA, I think I will look at apartments now. Until tomorrow...

I Heart You, Nice People at the Nice Karaoke Place

I am working today by choice. Work has shifted to a floating-holiday policy. If you don't want to work on President's Day, don't! If you do, take another day off some other time. Sweet. I will be taking next Monday off to recover from the Oscars and drive back from MA after what will hopefully be a fun weekend devoid of any sort of drama.

I love being at work when nobody is around. The heightened productivity! The guiltlessness of listening to your own music! The blogging! The accomplishments!

The weekend turned out in splendid fashion. Friday night’s soiree at the apartment was even smaller than I’d anticipated, but I didn’t care because there was food and drinks and dancing. We were trashed by the time we piled into cabs and cars (cars!) for karaoke. Sister arrived late with The New Man and he was kind enough to cart our drunken asses down to karaoke. I’m sure we were a terrible embarrassment, but I’m also sure he warmed us to it as the weekend progressed.

Karaoke? Awesome. This new place is the best thing ever. They didn’t overcharge us. As far as I can tell, they didn’t even include tax. We tried to leave a tip but they were so anxious for us to leave that they said “No, don’t worry!” They were so nice. I would go back in a second. In fact, I want to go back repeatedly to reward the rarity that is kindness in customer service in NYC. Thank you, IBop, for restoring my faith in the karaoke way. It was bring your own so we were all, of course, a mess. It’s amazing how much alcohol ten people can consume when karaoke is involved. We inhaled popcorn and Multi Grain Tostitos (recipient of the Leah Lar Award for Best New Chip That Kicks the Crap Out of the Original Chip Upon Which It Is Based) and salsa and something else, I can’t quite remember. There was a lot of falling and knocking over of beverages and snacks. There was a lot of 80’s. Since we were a reasonably sized group, we had room to dance. It was lovely.

We stayed until around 3:30, and I came home and cleaned the apartment because I had also consumed too much caffeine and was bursting with energy. I think we all went to bed at around 4:30, but I was up until 7:00 because D snores even more when drunk. I actually got belligerent at one point, because his body is also more rock-like and he cannot be rolled over. I also couldn’t get “Milkshake” out of my head, because it was the last karaoke song of the evening. Wait. Maybe it was “Cry Me A River.” I can’t be expected to remember these things.

On Saturday we slept until around noon, then headed to Vynl for the most gratifying brunch ever. I’ve eaten there 12,000 times and never noticed that they have eggs florentine on the menu! I was thrilled, because my hangover craving tends to be eggs florentine. Back at the apartment, we hung out and read and relaxed and then Brother hung out for an hour and a half or so, during which we watched the beautiful restored version of “The Last Unicorn.”

After he left, we napped, and then headed out for Ethiopian food after playing some games on the computer and more relaxing. The dinner, of course, ended up reminding me of the poor customer service in NYC. I’ve been to this place a million times and have split the combination platter. After waiting at least half an hour to be served, we ordered two combination platters (for four people) and an appetizer, and the waitress was all “For four people you have to order at least three entrees” and we were all “Uhhh…” and we had to think about it, and I wanted to leave because (a) it was bring-your-own and we didn’t know and were disappointed because we wanted honey wine and (b) there was no indication of a minimum order on the menu and (c) we specifically decided on Ethiopian because we wanted to split things so as to have a light dinner and (d) I hate ordering food that I don’t want. We cancelled the appetizer order and ordered another entrée, and then waited another hour for the food to arrive (while the waitress in the meantime hung out with her boyfriend at the bar and ate her own food – hmph). We were all a bit irritable as it was 10:30 and our blood sugar wasn’t doing too well. Needless to say we inhaled it when it arrived, and all was forgotten because it was so darn good.

I didn’t go dancing because the eggs florentine and I hadn’t gotten along earlier in the day, and I hadn’t got much sleep the night before. I read a bit and slept 9-ish hours. Bliss.

On Sunday we ate again (delicious brioche french toast stuffed with mascarpone and spiced apple, topped with berries!) and said goodbye to Sister and The New Man. I can’t wait to live closer to her. We missed “Breach” so killed time shopping, and then saw the next showing. We washed sheets and towels and made the apartment sparkle, and then I talked to Mother to give her the scoop. I stayed up too late, and am looking forward to reading and not having any sort of agenda tonight. Nothing will be checked off the list tonight, and I couldn’t care less.

Until tomorrow…

Red Bull

My trip to the post office last night was for a delicious little treat known as the 25th Anniversary Special Release of The Last Unicorn on DVD. Thank you, Brother. We used to watch this non-stop. I can't believe it was 25 years ago. I can't believe how time has flown. I can't believe that the music is by America and I had no idea.

***

Have you seen this? I don't even know what to think. I go from feeling heartbroken (our poor boys) to immensely pissed off (because I can't believe that this is still going on) to feeling uplifted (because there is true love in this world). These two have a long road ahead of them and I wish them them the best.

***

I am craving moshi and am hoping that it will magically appear at my apartment tonight. D is good at finding things.

***

I hope karaoke doesn't turn into a mess tonight like it did last time.

***

I had a wonderful conversation last night that undid many bad things. Things are settling down, and I don't feel uncomfortable anymore. I am proud that she's letting herself feel the way she feels instead of allowing others to influence her. I am happy she's being herself. I hated it more than anything when she wasn't, and now I can explain it to her and she understands.

***

Many people are bored at work today.

***

I want it to be 8:00 now!

***

Have good weekends!

Sobbing Idiot

We ended up seeing Dreamgirls last night because we were dismissed early from work! Woo! The city was a blanket of gray snow, like some sort of weird ashen post-apocalypse from Terminator.

I don't know what is wrong with me lately, but I cry during movies. During the big Jennifer Hudson scene, I sobbed to the point where I was choking and actually couldn't see through the tears. You know, snorting, causing a scene, etc. I guess the idea of love lost is a bit much to handle on Valentine's Day.

I also think I have many emotions that I'm choosing to regularly ignore. This cause them to surface at weird times, such as during movies starring Beyonce, who wasn't nearly as annoying as I'd anticipated.

***

I have to pick something up at the post office and I don't know what it is. I don't see why they can't tell me, at the very least, the size of it over the phone. I have to stop by Food Emporium post-post office to buy round 1 of snacks for the party tomorrow, and I need to know if this will be possible while carrying whatever awaits me at the post office. You would think it would be in their best interest for me to not wait in line for an hour when there's no chance of my being able to carry whatever the package is. I don't know. It's probably a magazine or something.

***

I've decided not to cook anything for the party (other than carmelizing some strawberries and melting brie), since it is going to be short and since it's my birthday and I won't cook if I don't want to. It's too cold. I'm too lazy. There's too much going on.

***

It's cold out. Real cold. And windy. And annoying, because there's mad traffic outside and they won't be quiet. Stop with the honking! You are warm in your cars! I don't want to hear it!

***

Sister is coming tomorrow night with The New Man and I can't contain my excitement. I just can't. I will be useless at work tomorrow because of the anticipation. We will have much fun! Drinks! Karaoke! Tapas! Tofu cheesecake! Dancing! Movies! Yeah! Apparently he is excited as well, thus proving, before even meeting him, that he will be better than the other one.

***

Anyone have a good suggestion for a sauce to put over gorgonzola ravioli? Thanks!

Valentine

It is positively vile outside but I do not care, because I finally got to use the new umbrella. And what luck! I got to try the new boots at the same time. Both = success! I am warm, dry, and cute.

We've been wishing for snow and when we finally get it, it instantly turns to brown slush. Luckily we got to witness a bit of it last night before the weather turned ghastly.

Last night's "let's just stay for an hour" morphed into 5 hours of complete drunkenness. I choked up when I said "good-bye" to him (seeing his face was enough to reduce all of we girls to blubbering idiots) and choked up even more when I considered saying good-bye to everyone. It's never the job itself that you miss. People have been leaving at an alarming rate, we have one of these a week it seems, and they're always shared. Mine will be soon, shared, and messy. I'll only be a few hours away but it won't be the same. There will be no mass debauchery. I know I'm not important enough to merit a Friday night gathering when I announce "I'm going to be in NYC! Everyone come play!"

Things change, and I have to remind myself that they are changing for the better and this sort of thing is normal. I don't miss non-work friends, because those friends stay in your life. Work-friends are work-friends, and when work is removed from the equation sometimes it sometimes doesn't work. It's a natural progression, but still sad.

Last night was so very fun. One of the most fun nights I've had in NYC. We've all been under too much stress, and we needed to all be together and be insane. We ordered pizzas and devoured them within seconds. We gossipped about the people who weren't there. We learned new things about people who were. We gushed with affection and brought certain things to an end. I wonder if he knows how his leaving affects so many things.

The girls were greeted by Valentine candies this morning. We couldn't solve the mystery because normally we'd assume that he left them.

It feels good to be hung over (I would give a limb right now for scrambled eggs). I feel like this whole saving-money-thing has prevented me from having fun. As someone said last night, one should celebrate constantly during one's birthday month and with this I agree!

D and I were going to go out tonight. In the past D has been anti-Valentine's Day. Well, not anti-Valentine's Day but anti-going-out-when-everyone's-going-out. We'd made no plans and agreed not to do anything, but yesterday he called and said "There are all these things going on tomorrow night - do you want to go to any of them?"

This resulted in a weird conversation where I was like "Well, do you?" and he'd be like "I just want you to be happy - when you're happy, I'm happy" and I was like "Well, I don't really want to do any of those things but if you're asking me out on a date because you want to do them, I totally want to go, because if going would make you happy, then that's what I want." We're such idiots. It's not that I didn't want to go to any of them - I just knew I'd be feeling a little woozy from the night before and wouldn't necessarily want to be out late, spending money, drinking again, etc. I said "Well, if you want me to be happy, then I would like you to come to see Dreamgirls with me and maybe we can go out for dinner beforehand." He got very excited (!) and made plans. It was adorable. I think he must secretly like Valentine's Day, because all previous attempts to get him to see Dreamgirls with me have failed miserably.

Now, however, I am tired and the weather is grotesque and I didn't do laundry last night, and I need to clean the apartment and probably get much sleep tonight in preparation for the weekend's festivities - party at the apartment on Friday, karaoke, tapas and hopefully vegetarian cheesecake and dancing on Saturday - and we can go to Dreamgirls whenever we want. I think he's disappointed. I mentioned today that I can finally take a normal length lunch (lately I've been doing ten minute lunches because I've been so busy), and he was like "Oh! Do you want to go somewhere? What about this? What about that?" He didn't realize that by normal I meant I would be eating for a half hour (most people here lunch for hours), but how cute is he? He's adorable. I can't stand it.

I guess that's what Valentine's Day is about. It's not candy or flowers or poems. It's seeing your boyrfiend, who you live with, want to spend time with you and make you happy. And wanting to make him happy.

I'm so lucky.

Oh. And pretend I'm sending cute cyber-Valentine's to you. Thanks for reading, if anyone's still out there.

Worse

On days like these I worry about not having an office to go to. Freelancing is awesome for flexibility, but maybe flexibility sucks when you don't have something constant in your life. I wonder if I'll miss the occasional drunken lunch with soon-to-be-gone coworkers. I wonder if I'll care about anyone professionally.

I had too much wine, and am thus relaxed and stress-free.

My alleged birthday party is this weekend and it seems like nobody can come because of the President's Day conflict, which is terribly ironic given that as a child I always had this issue but this year my birthday is not on president's day weekend but I still have to celebrate it then because of the potential wedding conflict.

The weekend was busy but good. Friday night was dinner and drinks with D and MY. A coconut martini and key lime pie martini were unplanned but necessary. Saturday was Little Children with R followed by aimless wandering in midtown and then cookies and photos at ICP. R and I met up with D and coordinated a spontaneous fondue dinner party with too much wine, after which I met up with NR for free Lilly Allen at Webster Hall. We met up with D in the East Village and did some minor socializing, then went to another function in the East Village where we talked some more. I was tired and lacking in plans and decided to go home. I hadn't taken a cab in forever. I guess I really am saving money. Sunday was Notes on a Scandal with D and then lunch with E and then errands and then road trip to sad NJ Target and then cold-caused exhaustion.

Tonight - more drinks! Yeah! So sad to say farewell to someone who makes your days better. He's off to brighter places and a better future, so I am sad for me but thrilled for him. Things like this are finite - I'm never going to see him again, and I don't like that. Things will be different here with him gone. They will be worse, wrong.

Such is life, such is adulthood. You're less deluded with more years of experience.

I think I need more wine.

Until tomorrow...

Some Random Thoughts For Friday

I am really sad about Anna Nicole. I don't know why. We all saw it coming. It makes me really sad, though, because she's the sort of person who kept trying and kept trying, in her own weird way, and ultimately failed because of being judged by this world.

***

The weather is still out of control, and I nearly screamed this morning when the light changed just as I got to the crosswalk and I was expected to stand still for a complete round of traffic. The horror, the horror.

***

The weekend is going to be busy busy. I was looking forward to burying myself under blankets and comforters and reading The Voice and fiction. Alas, tonight is drinks and dinner and tomorrow will be brunch and a movie and a museum and a show at Webster Hall and then more drinks. Sunday will be a movie and then buying stupid frames and then starting the car because it might be frozen and then some sort of road trip, and hopefully another movie. I guess that whole saving money thing only worked for a little while.

***

Although, I feel like its ok to spend money during one's birthday month. Well, I'll spend a lot of money next weekend for the party and during Sister's stay here, but then, after that, no money will be spent. Actually, I probably won't spend much money because I'll be in MA the next two weekends.

***

I wrote a letter to the hotel we stayed in at Portland voicing my concerns over something sketchy they did. I didn't ask for anything, I merely asked that they not do this to future people who stay there. The general manager left me a voicemail late yesterday wanting to talk about our experience, and that is enough for me. I don't even need to call him back, because it pleases me that he actually read the letter and actually cared enough to call. I will, of course, call, and it will be awkward and weird and will hopefully result in some sort of credit. We'll see.

***

Speaking of writing letters, I went out to dinner with some girlfriends last night and one of them recently took a class at a reputable school in the city. One of her fellow students disliked the professor, and basically told him that she couldn't work with him and demanded that he leave the class. And you know what? He did! I said "Did you complain?" The friend who took the class is very meak and non-assertive, and of course hadn't said anything. I would have been outraged. Can you imagine paying for a class and not really getting a class? Can you imagine being paid to teach a class and not teaching it because a student asked you not to? Is that even allowed? This deserves at least a letter, but my friend won't do it. I offered to write it for her, but she's not into it. I would be flipping out.

***

I'm tired. I got up at 6 am yesterday (D thrashing about looking for running layers so he wouldn't get ice on his body from sweat - the boy is nuts) and went to bed at 12:30 because I wanted to be at least semi-productive after Ethiopian food. I cleaned the bathroom and finished watching The Black Dahlia, which was lame but then I watched the bonus features because they had real photos of the crime and as much as I'd like to say I didn't look at them or find them compelling, that would be a lie.

***

I'm stressed at work. There is much work to do before a conference and The Boss, not knowing that my time is limited, isn't really giving me the guidance I need to make progress. It's not his fault, because he doesn't know, but it is hard for me to push myself when I'm not sure what to do and when my motivation isn't good work, but finishing as much as possible to make it easier on other people when I leave.

***

The hours have been longer than I'd like, and the work pace is intense. I wouldn't mind if I felt like I was developing my career or en route to a promotion or raise, but this is not the case. Well, I guess I can put all of this stuff on my resume (the poster, the paper) for when I get a science job to make some money post-school, but it's still difficult because my heart isn't in it.

***

Another source of stress: art. A friend at work commissioned an art project from me and told me her limit was $100. I was like "Sure, no problem!" and then concocted an art project that would, without my realizing it, cost around $100. It's because its two pieces that go together. If I'd been less ambitious and just done one, fine, $50, no problem! I didn't realize it, and one without the other would be weird so it's not like I can even sell one and give her one. The problems are these:

1. I bought too many supplies for the actual art. So that sucked, and I sent back what I didn't use but only got back $5 after shipping them back to CA. Bad bad bad.

2. The color scheme - I want a maroon-ish matte. Mat? I don't even know. Impossible to buy at stores. Custom-cut in NYC? At least $15 each, which means $30. No way. I found some pre-cut on-line with the right opening size, tried to order them, they would only be $14 with shipping, was thrilled, and then couldn't order them because the minimum order was $100. Ergh. I finally ordered them from Adorama, which is a few blocks from here, and they cost $5 to ship. I figured they wouldn't have them at the store. But that's annoying, and the openings aren't quite the right size so I may have to go back and rework the whole piece.

3. The frame - shadowbox frames are expensive. Who knew? And very hard to come by. Again I tried for a custom frame online but they are pricey and also you have to assemble them yourself, which is not something that I have time for. I looked online and found some at Adorama, so I went to order them and it was going to be an additional $13 to ship them! No way. I went to Adorama on Wednesday straight from work and got there at around 7:30 and they were closed, which upset me because it was freezing and I went half an hour our of my way to go there, twenty minutes of which involved walking outside. I went again last night after work and got there before they closed at 6, but they only had one frame. Bastards! They said they could get one from the wharehouse and have it for me today, but they close at 1:00. Wtf? I can't get there at 1! And they're not open on Saturdays. I am going to go to B&H because I think they have the same ones, so I'll go on Sunday and they better have them or there is going to be a major meltdown.

***

Best story of the week: yesterday morning, D was frantically looking for the keys to the CD cabinet. "When was the last time you went into the CD cabinet?" I tried to remember, and thought it was maybe over a week ago. "Did you lock it?" he asked. I explained to him that it never even occurs to me to lock it, because it's not intuitive to me to lock up media (although it should be, because our combined CD/DVD collection is probably worth at least like $10,000). I said "I don't even consciously register that there are keys to the cabinet, so I didn't lock it, nor did I lock it and move the keys." He was freaking out, and said "I wonder if someone broke in while we were gone and locked it and took the keys!" He was totally serious. Totally serious! I was like "I don't think so... you probably just hid them before we went to Portland." He kept insisting that someone broke in and locked the cabinet. He was all "What kind of person would do that?" "Did you check where you usually hide them?" "I just don't remember locking it! I don't think I did!" "But did you check where you usually hide them?" "I don't even know where I usually hide them... I must just be flaking out..." "What about the drawer?" "I think someone stole them!" "Why would someone steal the keys to the CD cabinet and not take anything else, including the laptop?" "I don't know... I can't believe someone did this..." And then he found the keys on top of the top kitchen cabinet, where he clearly put them because even standing on the counter I couldn't reach that. Hilarious.

***

I really should be working. It's going to be a busy afternoon so I'm taking advantage of the chill this morning, and am also still trying to wake up. Have good weekends!

The New Keanu

I have determined that Josh Hartnett is this decade's Keanu Reeves, and thus can I now watch and appreciate movies that feature Josh Hartnett. I started watching The Black Dahlia last night and kept thinking "Oh how terrible he is but I am strangely compelled to keep watching this..."

Where does this leave Keanu? I don't know. I guess it leaves him animated.

That is all.

Revision 1: Upon finishing The Black Dahlia I have concluded that perhaps Josh Hartnett (and overall terrible casting, as well as a horrid screenplay) is a force that can ruin good things. I don't think it was entirely his fault, though. Even Scarlett was bad in this movie.

Revision 2: I dreamt last night about starting photography school. I had a break between classes, during which I went home to my log cabin for lunch. D came to meet me (he was not living wherever I was attending school) for, well, um, you know, it was a dream, and in the dream D was being played by Keanu. Awshummmmmm.

Obligatory Post About The RIDICULOUS WEATHER

It's cold. It's real cold. My tolerance for the cold this morning was approximately one half of a block, during which I thought "Oh, this isn't so bad. What's all the fuss about?" and then wanted to cry ten seconds later.

The cold is exhausting, and I want to eat all the time. I think I've been eating 2x my normal level of food consumption. Luckily I went grocery shopping on Monday so I've been consuming 2x normal levels of things like lettuce and fruit instead of cookies and chips, which is what I did on Sunday. Bad bad bad.

I think its supposed to be, like, 18 degrees tonight so that's awesome. It will be much like a sauna compared to this morning! I may even run an errand that involves walking 10 blocks out of my way. No, I won't, that's terribly ambitious, especially on one of those rare nights when I can go home straight from work without doing anything!

But the errand... no! It can wait until this weekend. I know you don't care about this at all, so here's something emo for you. My birthday is coming up - its an annoying year - odd, prime, that sort of thing - and I've been vexed about what to do. I finally decided that I would have people over next Friday, as I will most likely be out of town on my real birthday. I sent out an email today, and nobody responded except for D, who is awesome and funny and it would be fun were it only the two of us but still, what if nobody comes? I always think that nobody will come, and then people come. I am pretty sure Sister will be there eventually, and hopefully Brother, and maybe like three other people and I wouldn't mind something low key as long as the combination of people works well. I was thinking singalongs and board games and quality time in the apartment, since our lease is up in less than two months. There is the issue of a possible competing function for someone evil, who is going to be out of my life (mostly) in a few weeks. The enemy will unfortunately be in attendance at a function this weekend so I have to re-respond to the Evite and say that I am not going, because I want to avoid evil, as you all know.

In other news, I am going to be putting down a huge deposit on my education. Oh, the realness. The insanity. I comfort myself knowing that I can work for a year in MA doing stupid science and save the money back. Right. I can do that. Totally.

The weekend is shaping up to be chaos. I thought it would be quiet (matinees, errands, snuggling up with books and quiet since D will be at the party with the evil), but all of a sudden I am hanging out with M and E and R and S and D wants to take the car somewhere because maybe its frozen and that's not good. I need to return headphones at Target because they spark in my ears, so hopefully the road trip will incorporate a trip there.

Anyway. Boring boring boring. And are you ready to be more bored? Stay tuned for Portland... Day 2!

I Couldn't Take a Landscape Photo to Save My Life

Our trip to Portland got off to a confusing start when Brother was nowhere to be found! Our plan was to meet on the platform of the E train at Penn Station. Thankfully we both received a minor cell signal underground and were able to sort-of communicate through static. It didn't help, though, as we merely established that Brother was indeed not where he was supposed to be but couldn't quite figure out where he was. Penn Station is very confusing, so, empathizing with Brother's plight, I decided to go above-ground to call him. He had wisely gone to the Starbucks on 35th Street. Finally connected, we were off to JFK!

JetBlue - a joy! I'd checked us in online, so all that had to happen was Brother checking in his luggage (which you also do online) outside. It was a snap, and within minutes (literally) we were at the terminal. We ate delicious burritos (the JetBlue terminal at JFK is unlike the rest of JFK, in that it is modern, clean, and jammed with awesome airport food, including healthy-snack kiosks!), and then relaxed. And relaxed some more, as our flight was, apparently, delayed. We boarded half an hour later than scheduled, and then waited on the plane for some people who were delayed coming in from Rochester. They finally arrived, but there was congestion in the air so we waited for another hour or so.

Did I care? No! Because 36 channels of Digital TV is bliss for someone without cable. I didn't even notice we were delayed! I was far too busy watching the Top Chef marathon on Bravo.

JetBlue, I love you and your unlimited snacks and your TV and your explainations of delays.

I fell asleep during Todd Oldham's Top Design, and didn't wake up until we were right above Mt. Hood just outside of Portland! I gasped and woke D and Brother up so they could see. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I don't know if I'd have felt its majesty had I been expecting it, but the excitement of opening the window randomly and being right above something so wonderful made it the best thing ever.

We arrived only 45 minutes later than scheduled. We seamlessly claimed Brother's luggage, rented the car ($13 a day!), and were at the hotel within ten minutes.

We checked in, dropped the car off at the hotel parking lot (if this was a music blog - oh wait, it is! but I am unprepared - there would be sarcastic/cheeky/semi-ominous music playing here), unpacked, and went to sleep.

I had a hard time falling asleep after having napped on the plane. It was also like 23 degrees in the hotel room. Brother said that it wasn't so bad in the "living room," where he was sleeping on a pullout couch.

I have mixed feelings about the hotel. The room itself was good - it hadn't been renovated since, like, the 70s, so the retro chic was charming. It was more of an apartment than a hotel room. In fact, the three of us kept referring to it as The Apartment by accident.

Note the fabulous golden thermostat, complete with swan motif:



The stove was best:



It had buttons!



We received complimentary New York Times every day - awesome!



There was a ton of closet space - this was the closet in, well, the kitchen:



Best of all was this ice bucket - tiny, with tongs that go inside the lid:



Bad things about the hotel: dial-up internet in the lobby. Wtf? Ridiculous. Since the trip was so last-minute, we didn't really have time to figure out what we wanted to do while in Portland. I knew that I wanted to go to vineyards, and figured I'd just look them up when I got there. Nope! And even if I had brought my laptop, they charge $5 per 30 minutes for wireless internet access. And shady dealings, which I will discuss later.

On our first morning there, we ate continental breakfast (awesome) and then decided to drive to Mt. Hood. Since we couldn't look up directions on Google, we had to rely on the crappy map we had from the rental car place. Based on the map, we concluded that it would take only an hour and a half, but apparently the route we were taking was through small towns and was therefore super windy, so it took forever.

We stopped to grab rations and then drove and drove.

Here's a view of our sweet ride and Mt. Hood in the distance:



A shot of Mt. Hood from the car:



We drove through forest, and as we got higher in elevation, really deep snow appeared:



These banks are about 6 feet high:





We eventually realized that we were on Mt. Hood:



We found a lodge at 6000 feet and had lunch there as we were starving and starting to feel jet lagged. Yummy Thai-style wrap, grapes, chips, and carrot sticks for $8.75! Woo!



A view of Mt. Hood on our way back:



Sun shining through the mountains during our search for waterfalls:



We wanted to visit some waterfalls on our way back, as Mother likes waterfalls and requested that I take some photos for her so that she could hang up a large black and white print in her new condo.

We kept looking for the waterfalls, but we didn't see them anywhere even though the map said they should be nearby. We soon realized that we were looking at the waterfalls, and that they were, bizarrely, frozen. There was only one that was still falling:



We rushed back in order to prepare for Brother's Big Show! We stopped by the gallery for a few minutes, and then headed out for Greek food for dinner. We chose the restaurant based on the fact that there was a giant purple octopus balloon advertising happy hour outside. They also had octopus lamps:



We ordered a sampler plate for $27. Yet another meal under $10.

The show was great. I was (am) so proud of Brother. It looked great in the gallery, which was a cool alternative space where the gallerist lives. Apparently this is the thing to do in Portland. Most of the galleries we visited that night (it was First Thursday in Portland) were also live/work spaces.



The gallery experience was nice. It wasn't as snobby/elite as it is in NYC. It seemed like everyone in Portland was out at the galleries that night. It's accessible to everyone. Nobody was having super-snotty conversations about art, and the spaces weren't afraid to show things like comic art.

Additionally, everyone was super nice. Everyone was all "Thank you for coming!" and smiling, and talking, and holding doors open, talking in lines to the restrooms, and just being sweet. Such contrast to the life I live now. D and I had a conversation about how our immediate reaction is to be cynical about strangers talking to us, and how it would be an adjustment (albeit a nice one) to live in a place like Portland where you don't have to resort to suspicion.

D and I left Brother's show to check out the other galleries, but it was cold and we had been on our feet for three hours (two of my toes were numb), and I'd been carrying my photo equipment. The jet lag hit us, and we decided to leave Brother and go back to the hotel room, where we promptly fell asleep.

Portland Loves to Bowl

I am back from Portland. It was a joy. I seem not to have any jet lag, most likely because after arriving from the red eye I went to sleep for four hours and then still managed to go to bed (and to sleep!) at 11:00 pm. That works out to approximately 9 hours of consciousness yesterday afternoon. Woo! I don't think I ever really adjusted to west coast time.

The photos have been uploaded and are in the process of being dealt with. Once they are organized I will start posting them in all their glory.

It is annoying to be back. I get used to vacation and to living another life so easily. It doesn't help that it's approximately 5 degrees out there pre-wind chill and I am without cash and without groceries, which means stopping not once but twice on the way home from work to run errands. I think its too cold for food and money, but I want to eat non-stop when the weather is this way so I've no choice!

But yes, I had a great time. The city is small, cute, cheap, and surrounded by glory. The nature was best, the cheese factory a close second. One of my greatest pleasures is discovering new places with D. When we are having the same experience our relationship works best. This is why we love to travel to new places together. Hopefully next will be Japan, since the prospects seem bleak on the plane ticket and the job search.

More when the visual aids are ready.

Until tomorrow...

Negativity

A relative came to visit this weekend and brought with her an insane DVD that she recommended that I watch. This relative tends to be involved in various crazy (read: cult-like, quirky religious astral-plane type stuff) pursuits that I know have value for her but hold little value for me. I listen out of politeness, and know that she means well and wants to share positivity. I said I'd try to watch, but made no commitment. She said "I think you should watch it. If you do, I guarantee you that, well, let me make up something that you might want. Let's say, for example, you want D to ask you to marry him. If you watch this, I promise you that D will ask you to marry him within the next few months."

Now. This relative has been known to make such crazy predictions in the past and has, on occasion, been right. Yes, folks, I am making the bold claim that at times she is psychic.

Here is a good example: she took me on my first ever trip to NYC. This story concerns the second time she took me on a trip to NYC. I was miserable during the second trip because I was newly single and dealing with my stupid broken heart and being emo about it, and she said "I just have a feeling you're going to meet someone on this trip." I didn't meet anyone, but she said "No, you're going to. Maybe on the train back to Boston!" Right, whatever. But I did meet someone on the train back to Boston. We ended up going on a date the following weekend, which was terribly awkward because he was from RI and on Date 1 he had to stay over (looking back on this, he did not have to stay over, but I guess I was being overly optimistic) and I ended up making him sleep on the couch because we'd been watching TV or something and he called someone "a cunt" and I was all "You're a dick" and then the next day he wanted me to go to the train station with him and I was like "Look, I don't like you. Please get out of my apartment and never call me again." I know what you're thinking - I am a prude, but seriously, who says that on Date 1? Lame people, that's who.

Knowing that this relative can be psychic, and wanting to, ahem, be possibly maybe engaged, I decided to attempt to watch the video. I figured I'd give it 5 minutes and then stop, just so I could politely and truthfully say "I tried to watch it but it was too hokey for me." I was doing an art project while it was on, so ended up listening to the entire thing as my hands were covered with glue and I didn't want to really interrupt the art project flow.

Basic gist of the DVD: positive thinking. Imagine it, it will happen. Negativity attracts negativity. Thinking about bad things makes them real. For example: if you are feeling sick, thinking about the illness at all will make it a reality. If you think about being healthy, you have a better chance at being healthy. That sort of thing. Obvious stuff, but I guess it's good to hear all of these things in a concentrated form that leaves you feeling wicked positive at the end.

I decided to embark on a path of positive thinking.

The problem with this is that we are constantly surrounded by negativity. Negativity attracts negativity. If you are negative, people around you will be negative. But, if people around you are being negative, how do you stay positive?

I talked to Mother last night and it ended in a brawl, because she was being so negative. I understand why she's being negative, she has every right to be negative and should be, but she doesn't understand that I put great effort in "being positive" about all of this nonsense and when she or anyone else reminds me that this is going on I turn into an emotional dragon who feels victimized and attacked. Mother has decided to fight, and I understand why but selfishly I know that her doing this is going to cause a shroud of negativity to cover my life indefinitely and I don't want it to. No, I don't. She is not to blame but I am allowed to not want things to be worse. She has the luxury of disconnecting. I do not. If I do disconnect, an entirely new breed of negativity will be unleashed that I will most likely be less able to deal with.

I feel like concrete negativity is easier to deal with than the imagined sort.

I come from a lineage of negativity (my crazy relative excepted). Mother is used to focusing on the negative. It was how she was raised, and she in turn raised us that way. I don't want to be hyper-critical. I don't want to be nervous. I don't want to be a dweller. I don't want to trap myself in bad situations.

This of course takes effort, and I feel like when I talk to either of them the effort has been utterly futile.

So, on Day 1 of being Positive, I went to dinner with a bunch of D's friends and almost left crying, because when you're trying to be positive you become intensely aware of the people around you being negative and it makes you so much more negative. Because it is really, really depressing to notice people trying to make you negative.

For example, a fight broke out because there was a discussion of potential places to move.

Person: Have you been to Seattle?
Me: No, but I've heard decent things.
Person: Like what?
Me: I don't know - cool city, depressing weather. Lots going on, but sad.
Other Person: What about Vancouver?
Me: Oh, I've heard GREAT THINGS. It's supposed to be really nature-y and there's a zillion things to do inside and outside and...
Person: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?
Me: What?
Person: How can you say Vancouver is great and Seattle isn't?
Me: What?
Person: I mean, seriously, how can you say that? What makes Vancover SO MUCH BETTER?
Me: I don't know. There's supposedly a lot of green and the mountains...
Person: That's RIDICULOUS. What a f-ed up thing to say.
Me: What?
Person: Seriously. How can you say that? They're like right across the water from each other! They're the SAME MOUNTAINS. They're just the same, how can you say they're so different?
Me: I'm just basing this on what I've heard...
Person: Well, its a pretty stupid thing to say.
Me: I don't think so. Just because they're in close proximity doesn't mean two places are the same. That would be like saying NYC and Philly are the same, and they're not. Plus, they're culturally different.
D: And they're socioeconimically different.

I think there was a new topic at this point.

I wish I had said "They ARE different because THEY ARE IN TWO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES."

Or I wish I had said "I don't think YOU know since you haven't been to either place, and in fact, you've only been to three places in your entire life and haven't ever been on a plane."

Or "Why are you yelling at me? You asked me."

Or "Does it really make you feel better to convince yourself that I'm stupid?"

I felt so negative. And I hated it.

Someone else was negative, and said things like "Why would you want to move to Boston? It's so boring. And conservative. And why would you want to move out of NYC? All the jobs are here. And you're going to have to get a big camera, do you know that? Why would you want to go to a practical school? Why wouldn't you be interested in art photography? Are you going to AP or Getty? Why would you want to do weddings?" Rolling of eyes, NYC superiority complex, etc.

What a dick.

I wanted to say "You know what? Your paintings suck."

But instead I became equally confrontational and left the dinner wanting to crawl into a hole. Not because my feelings were hurt, but because it is so sad to me that there are people like this, and that these people are in my life. I don't want this sort of negativity in my life anymore. Nope.

Unfortunately many people in NYC are this way. They think that they are better than everyone else, but they are not, and so seek to prove it in this way.

The dinner assured me that moving back to MA is the right thing to do.

I'm not on some spiritual quest, I'm not being "Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul-esque." I just want to be in a good mood all the time. And I can, if I don't eat dinners with condescending people.

The rest of the weekend (awkward dinner aside) was enjoyable. Had dinner/drinks with PW and NR and friends at the best new find in the world, only two blocks away from my apartment! Best. Tofu. EVER. And tofu cheesecake! And wonderous sake-tini!! Went to see The Queen on Saturday morning and forgot what Tony Blaire looks like in real life. Helen Mirren, as always, was a delight. Spent the afternoon learning the new flash, practicing piano, and waiting for my relative. We hung out for a bit, and I sent her off while I made art and listened to positivity and then read and watched some random cheese-tastic ballroom dancing competition. Went to brunch on Sunday am and then to see Wicked, which was ok but not impressive musically (read: the songs were pop-song-y, a la Backstreet Boys or early Christina - ewww!). Then it was the intolerable dinner and then something unremarkable, I guess, since I can't remember.

I'm off to Portland tomorrow. The flight leaves at 7:30 so I will probably be scrambling at work and unable to blog. Hopefully when I get back I can return to the days of photoblogging and share photos with ya'll.

Until nexy Monday...

Wicked Awesome

I went to see Wicked yesterday afternoon. I managed to get myself a cheap-ish non-obstructed view obstructed view seat. I had mixed feelings about the show - it definitely wasn't my favorite, nor did it live up to the hype. I am developing a concept of what I do and do not like in a musical, which will help me when I actually begin writing a musical. I'm not sure why I didn't like it - maybe it took itself a little too seriously. I think, though, that I didn't like the music. None of the songs were catchy. They were all content, no flavor. The performances were amazing. The set was ok. The love-interest was terribly miscast. It was a wonderful adaptation of the book. I have more to say, but a review is not the point of this post.

Before the show began, I read the program. I was psyched to learn that Steve from Married With Children would be playing The Wizard! How random! How wonderful!

Now. I've had quite a few celebrities who have seen me since I moved to NYC. Some have been good stories, others not so monumental. I bumped into Matthew Modine. I walked ten blocks with Woody Harrelson. I was stared down by Willem Dafoe. Annabella Sciorra let us through in the traffic.

Nothing prepared me for the bizarreness of Nessarose being played by the girl who is in the Yoga in Bed videos, which I own.

Weird weird weird. I think I had previously felt that the Yoga in Bed girl was my imaginary friend. Like we hang out in my bedroom in the mornings and at night, when she helps me to stretch out my body and to improve my mood. She isn't supposed to talk. She's definitely not supposed to sing and be in a wheelchair. She's supposed to pose on the bed and help me get into shape. Every now and then she can smile and hold the cup of coffee and reassure you that your day is going to be ok. She doesn't really exist.

Apparently she does exist. She lives in NYC and is a Broadway star by day, Yoga-inspirer by morning and evening. I wanted to give her the sort of hug I'd give to an old friend who granted me a huge favor the last time I saw her and for some reason I never got to thank her.

Steve and Yoga-in-Bed-Girl on stage together.

Wicked weird.

Fiance

While D was eating 10 cent wings that were not 10 cents last night...

(Aside: the sign read "Happy Hour 5 - 7; 10 cent wings!," the bill said that wings were not 10 cents, when we asked the waitress she said "It's half priced margaritas from 5 - 7, and then the wings are 10 cents at 7:00, is that a problem?," yes but we didn't say so, because in NYC you have to ask first or else you will be taken advantage of, but really, wtf? the sign said nothing about half priced drinks and clearly said 5 - 7 - i hate everyone!)

... he said "So when I wrote back to the guy (potential interview!) I called you my fiance."

Silence.

"I said that my fiance and I were hoping to move to Boston this year."

"Why?"

"I thought that it would establish me as more serious. If you have a fiance or wife people take you more seriously in the work environment."

"Huh."

Change of topic.

"But what if he asks you questions about the wedding on the interview to make small talk? What will you say?"

"I'll say we haven't really made any decisions."

New topic.

"But what will I say if you get the job and I'm at the company party with you and the people who have no idea what to talk to me about ask me how the wedding planning is going?"

"I don't know. You can just say its going fine."

Yet another topic.

"What if I start to cry when someone asks me about the wedding and we're not actually getting married and that makes me sad?"

Yeah. He definitely shouldn't have mentioned it to me, but I guess he had to just in case it ever comes up. It probably won't, even if he gets an offer and takes the job, because whoever the random guy is in HR to whom he sent the email probably paid no attention to it whatsoever.

Of course I wanted to be like "Thanks for using me as something to establish you as someone who is serious about his future when you are obviously a person who doesn't think about his future and who fears commitment."

Well, I only felt that way for about a second.

Mostly I felt like "Wow, he told a complete stranger in an email that I'm his fiance! He must like me a lot!"

Sometimes I felt like "I can't believe he lied to a potential future employer" but then understood why he had to, because it would be weird to be like "My girlfriend and I..." But why make mention of it at all?

And why do I care? I actually don't care, but I did last night, because I was imagining all of the ladies at the company party asking to see my ring and my having a total breakdown and being like "We're not engaged! We never will be! He can't commit! He's making it all up to be taken seriously in the work environment!"

Hehe.

I'm insane, but truthfully, today its because of the hormones.

Hiccup

I just graphed my Netflix watching habits. Why? Because I am overwhelmed by my queue and feel as though I will never watch all of the movies. Post-graphing, however, my soul is at ease because I've apparently watched 157 movies since May of 2005! This does not include the movies that I've watched from D's queue. There is hope. Or, depending on how you look at it, there is no hope because who watches > 157 movies in less than two years?

I have a headache today.

I rushed through my work to meet friends for dinner who ultimately cancelled.

Now I am trapped with a headache and hiccups waiting for D, who did not rush and who wouldn't have been able to meet the friends for dinner anyway.

Yes, I also have had hiccups all day.

I am a portrait of grace and poise.

I am getting a haircut tomorrow so I will truly be graceful and poised.

The weekend was good. There was smoke but no birds, thankfully.

I think there is something wrong with the flue. I'd never suggest this to D, who has done nothing but insist that its completely normal to have a ridiculously smokey apartment when lighting a fire. He made one on Saturday and another on Sunday. Last night's fire caused my eyes to water. We had to open the window because the air in the apartment was murkey. I kept having to get up in the middle of the night in order to stick my head out into the clean, fresh air of NYC. Heh. Everything smells of smoke. It's gross. The fire was nice - for the first five minutes. The current theory is that our apartment is small so smoke doesn't diffuse. I'm not sure I buy this anymore. Regardless, I am going to insist that we not light any fires in the future because I don't want my clothes to smell like smoke.

I didn't do much this weekend. Plans were cancelled on Friday night so D's cousin came over for fondue. I worry about her. She's young and headed for unhappiness. We went to see Letters From Iwo Jima on Saturday morning, which was a-ma-zing. I demand that you all see it this instant. I spent a moment having an instant crush on Ken Watanabe, without knowing why. Later D informed me that he'd played The Captain in Memoirs of a Geisha. Ah ha! I had a late lunch with E, who I hadn't seen in months. I then went home and made phone calls and then cooked for us. We watched a Netflix and then some Arrested Development and went to bed early like the lame adults that we are.

Yesterday I somehow managed to convince D to come to see The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee with me. He semi-twisted his ankle and I hadn't gone to ICP the day before because he wanted to go, and then my postponed plans were thwarted on Sunday because of the ankle. He loved it, as did I! Oh MY. It was wonderful. I spent the entire time smiling. Wicked funny, folks. Go see it if you have the opportunity. Afterwards I hit Food Emporium and bought brand snacks and then spent hours and more hours on the phone with Mother, who's having a hard time with things but I totally understand where she's coming from. We made crepes and watched The Promise, which sucked, but maybe not as bad as I thought because maybe the smoke inhalation tainted my feelings about it. We started watching Immortal Beloved but my headache got the best of me (smoke-induced? maybe!) and I passed out.

And now its Monday, and its been a long day because I came in early to meet people for dinner who subsequently cancelled. Awshummm. But I am going to instead get to make D happy by accompanying him while he eats 25 cent wings, a Monday activity he's been forgetting about for weeks and weeks.

Until tomorrow...

Hallucination

After being home from work for a bit last night, I decided to venture to the bathroom to, well, you know. When I opened the door, I heard something scurry around frantically.

I promptly and instinctively closed the door, let my heart rate slow down, and began my vigil by the door, waiting for whatever it was to happen again.

"It's a bird," I said to myself, knowing full well that it was a bird, because I've heard that frenetic flapping before. When Sister and I were in San Francisco a few years ago, we were staying in a hotel that didn't have screens on the window. We thought this a bit odd, being from MA where windows have screens.

(Aside: I have since learned that most places don't have screens, which leads to all manner of mayhem including birds flying into hotel rooms and babies falling out of fourth story apartments. Then again, a baby falling may not be prevented by a screen if the baby is determined to escape. Bars, however, would prevent babies from getting out but not necessarily birds from getting in. I guess I am a little neurotic when it comes to screens. When we moved to Brooklyn I said to Roommate "Dude, why aren't there screens?" We were distressed for a bit - the bugs! - but then learned that most places do not have screens, and we were apparently just spoiled in MA. Digression = over.)

Anyway, Sister and I were awoken bright and early one day by the hysterical flapping of wings in our room. We freaked out (only after we were awake enough to realize that there was a bird having a meltdown in our room) and ran into the bathroom where we took shelter and regrouped. After we settled down, we opened the door to see the bird perched atop the TV. We tried a couple uninspired moves including trying to lure the bird out with bread - we realized this was the worst idea ever when a bunch of other birds from the outside almost flew in. Thinking back on this, it is bizarre to me that we even had bread in the hotel room. We tried throwing a shoe at it. We tried screaming like lunatics because that's the best thing to do to calm down a frightened bird. We eventually concluded that there was no way for us to get it out - it wasn't going to the window of its own volition, and since we were in a hotel room we were devoid of any bird-chasing devices like brooms and mops. We called the front desk and explained "Um, there's a bird in our room." They laughed, and finally sent a guy up with a pair of gloves, a pail, and a broom.

So I knew the sound all too well. I listened outside the bathroom door last night, and nothing was happening. Nothing! I stood there for a few minutes. I tried to lure it out. I turned the lights on and off. I banged on the door. I yelled. I tried to scare it again, scare it into revealing itself. I opened the door a crack and tried to look in the mirror to see if I could see its reflection. Nothing. I even walked in, attempting to reenact what caused it to panic in the first place. Nothing.

I decided to wait for D to come home, as D loves gender roles and would love nothing more than to save the day and as I didn't know how on earth to get a bird out of an apartment with no windows readily available.

Not that there was a bird. In the hour between hearing the noise and D's coming home from the gym, when the bird didn't make another sound, I managed to convince myself that my having a psychotic break was far more likely than there being a now silent bird in my apartment.

I kept weighing the options - which would be worse? An auditory hallucination or there being a bird in my apartment and my being unable to get it out? Seriously. This was going to be a hard job. The bird was in the bathroom and there were no windows nearby. We'd have to get the bird to fly to either end of the apartment, which wouldn't be easy, and would certainly be murder on the furniture. When Sister and I tried to get the bird out of the hotel room, it was freaking out and crapped everywhere. I didn't want a bird shitting on the couch, the nice sheets, no way.

If there turned out not to be a bird, would I go to a therapist and admit that I'd been hearing things? Probably not. I'd never admit it.

I started thinking "What if I'm seriously losing it?"

At one point during the vigil, I swore that I heard chirping. Seriously, I swore.

But no! How would a bird get into a Manhattan apartment? There was no way. It's impossible. But then again, D had taken out the air conditioners from the windows the night before (and yes, we are concerned that it might reach 70 degrees again but whatever, we'll deal) so it is possible that a bird sneaked in, but wouldn't we have noticed? And how would it have gone undetected all night?

No. There was no bird, and I was losing my mind, and I spent most of that hour trying to think if I'd experienced any other insanity in the recent months, and trying to think of what I would say to D. I wanted him to inspect the bathroom just to make sure that there was no bird. But I didn't want to say "There's a bird in the bathroom," because if there wasn't, that would really scare him. And me.

And then I thought "Wait - but what if there is a bird and it somehow flies out of the bathroom and we go to look and its not there but is somewhere else in the apartment? My diagnosis will be insanity but I won't actually be insane!"

I thought about not saying anything, and letting D discover (or not discover) it for himself. But on the off-chance that there was a bird, I didn't want him to have a heart attack when he went to take a shower and a bird flew into his face. But if I didn't say anything, I wouldn't incriminate myself as an insane person.

When D walked in, he gave me a kiss and joked "What a long day at the office!" I immediately said "Honey, I think there's something in the bathroom."

I hadn't even considered this option. It just came out of my mouth. Brilliant. And by then I had convinced myself that it was entirely possible that D hadn't shut the flue the night before, although that's not like him, but its possible that a bird could fly in through the chimney! Totally possible.

"What?"

"I don't know, but I heard something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know - I could have been hallucinating or it could have been from the neighbor's apartment, but it sounded like... well, either some very large gruesome insect or a mouse or something. Something big." I said nothing about the bird, because seriously, there can't be a bird in a Manhattan apartment. There just can't be.

I made D nervous. I didn't mean to. But I have to admit that I like it when he's nervous and insecure, because I see it so rarely. I feel like we have something in common when he gets that way. We looked in the bathroom together, with the door only slightly ajar. D also performed the look-in-the-mirror maneuver. Nothing.

"What's that?" I said, pointing to a small black spot on the toilet. Normally I wouldn't be alarmed, but I'd just cleaned the bathroom the night before and was expecting spotlessness.

"It looks like bird crap," said D.

"AH HA!" I said. "It IS a bird."

"What?"

"I think there's a bird."

"But there's no bird." There was no bird. "Maybe in the towels?" I suggested. No bird.

"Look in the shower..." I said and as he opened the shower curtain we both had minor heart attacks when the freaking bird flew up and spazzed out.

Yes, folks, a bird.

And how did it get in?

Through the flue, in the fireplace, which had not been closed the night before.

We slammed the door shut, regrouped, and came up with a plan. D said "How did it get in?" "THE FLUE!" I said, having had more time to think about it than he did.

Upon further inspection, there was bird crap all over the apartment, which was doubly unfortunate given that D had literally scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees the night before. Neither of us had noticed it previously because our floor is speckled with dried paint from whoever painted our apartment before we moved in. Camouflage. We had to inspect each dot carefully to determine what was what. There was some on the TV, but it looked like the bedroom and kitchen were spared.

D wanted to coax it out one of our windows, but I didn't want to because I was afraid of more damage. I didn't know what to do. D suggested coaxing it out into the hall, which was a good idea but what if it then flew into someone else's apartment? I preferred his original idea, but then D decided to let it out the front door and try to get it up to the roof. Brilliant!

Before I knew what was happening, D had the bird out in the hall and was chasing it up the stairs onto the roof.

My hero.

And my non-hallucinating brain.

Bird in the apartment. Wtf?