Friday, September 30, 2005

"Maybe I could figure out a way to Podcast the Big Bang . . ."

Reasons to be Happy:

- It's Friday.

- It's 55 degrees outside and I'm wearing a new sweater.

- I have a job interview on Monday.

- I figured out what I am going to wear to my interview.

- While going through my closet last night for interview clothes, I discovered that I own a black wool pencil skirt that had been languishing unworn for the last four years. Not only did it cost $20 on clearance, but it just looks smashing, darling. All it needs is a hot red twinset, some fishnets, and a bad attitude.

- I totally thought I wouldn't be able to fit into my interview pants, but surprise -- they fit even with the ass crisis.

- I found out yesterday that due to a previous tenant being an asshole and not leaving my new apartment on time, Jane and I won't get keys until at least October 15th. This is a good thing because a) we weren't going to move until October 24th anyway and b) this means that October rent will be prorated towards November, saving money in the end.

- Today is a half day at work.

- I'm going to DC today.


Wednesday, September 28, 2005

"Thank you for that mental image."

Pouch failure. Two words that should strike fear and terror into the hearts of man, especially when coupled with the word anal. What is anal pouch failure? You don't want to know. Unfortunately I had to lay out an article describing such horror in clinical terms. Oh boy, do I love my job!

Now a little segue into a bit of news. I have a job interview on Monday with a US retail fashion company in midtown. They recruited me, so big pat on the back there. Cross your fingers and toes for me.

* * *
I am late with the webring assignment. Yesterday was 10 hours of slogging through yet another press day at work. I barely had time for much of anything, let alone figure out how I'm going to pull off my interview next week.

So it's Fliven's turn this week. He asks, "If you had a time machine you could use only once, what would you do with it? Would you go to the past or the future? Whom would you want to meet or what would you want to see?"

Hmmm . . . Rome during the days of Augustus? Medieval Constantinople before its sacking by invading Crusaders? Paris during the Belle Epoch? My motivations for visiting the past would be purely aesthetic. Since I could only use this time machine once, I think I would use it to go back to May 7, 1824. On that night at the Kärntnertortheater in Vienna, Beethoven premiered his 9th Symphony. How wonderful it would have been to have sat in the audience.

For other takes on this topic see:

A Prize In Every Box | Write Again Soon | Wish to See | Bad Apologies | A Little Maryment | Lugnochro

Sunday, September 25, 2005

"Never shout movie in a crowded firehouse."

I'm not sure when I crossed the invisible divide that separates the different tribes of women, but I found myself in an Avenue A bar full of identical women in their Going Out Clothes. They had low cut tops, long hair, perfect cleavage, spaghetti straps, and Crest White Stripped smiles. They squawked drunkenly, clutching their light beers as their male counterparts leered in hopes of going home with them.

These were not my people -- I don't think they ever were -- but the divide had never been more apparent. No great loss really. I went back to finishing my Brooklyn lager and thought of nothing more than going home.

* * *
If there is a hell, surely it involves getting stuck on a G train to nowhere. I had every intention yesterday of making use of the gorgeous weather and going to Prospect Park. The G train is my vital north-south link to that Other part of Brooklyn -- the Other part that's such a pain in the ass to get to because the G train is a cruel mistress.

The gist of this story is that I never made it to Prospect Park. Instead I languished somewhere underground on a G train running in two sections and finally terminating at Hoyt-Schermerhorn, three stops short of where I really wanted to get off. I ended up on a train that spit me out in Washington Square Park. Wrong borough, wrong park. Oh well. I walked around, enjoyed the sunshine, had some schwarma, and waited for Holly to come meet me so we could see Corpse Bride.

Friday, September 23, 2005

"The lure of Bushwick is just too much . . ."

Four things. One, I'm going to be in DC next weekend. Don't say I didn't warn y'all. I expect ill advised trips to the Big Hunt and the like. Maybe some hummus at Levante's. I need to reacquaint myself with Dupont Circle (and see Signe's new place in Forest Glen and Mr. Bad Apologies's 14th Street pad -- hint hint). It looks like Holly is joining me for the trip to my old stomping grounds.

Two, I killed the BIGGEST cockroach around 2 am this morning. I found it lurking by the shower and I spared it no mercy. Where the hell did it come from?? It's the first I've seen in my place and I've been there almost a year. Though in hindsight, I should have captured it and taken it with me to a certain Cleveland Park restaurant for another free meal and drinks.

Three, Jane and I get the keys to our new place sometime around October 1st. We signed the lease on Tuesday as I basked in the glow of my awesome credit score.

Four, I'm getting totally bit by the wedding bug as Fala searches for the perfect dress whilst retaining her sanity. I know it's more pain than it's worth, but I want to go dress shopping! I want a gay wedding! Sigh. So alone. Time to start mapping out my future of 14 cats and living under a bridge.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

"No one answered the telephone at Porky's Rib House on Wednesday."

I've been putting off this whole webring assignment for days. C'mon J-Wo, I need more structure than choosing my own topic and making sure all the words are song lyrics that somehow form a coherent story? That's freakishly hard and you know it.

So I decided to test the limits of the shuffle option on iTunes and the limits of the assignment. Let's see if we can get something that makes sense only using the initial lyrics of songs that play consecutively on iTunes. That or I'm going to expose the high ratio of British artists in my iTunes library.

Oh you got me shakin' 1
Come up to meet you 2
I don't want to be crippled and cracked 3
And I'll come running for my life 4

Sit around and watch the tube but nothing's on 5
Step out into the sun 6
I met him in a crowded room 7
Nowhere's untouched by the shame 8

My brightest star's my inner light let it guide me 9
Where, where have you been my love 10
If you had a room, he'd paint it white 11
Still don't know what I was waiting for 12

Rag weed tall better hope that his ladder don't crack 13
She's electric 14
I've been dreaming of the things I learned about a boy who's bleeding 15
Inside the walls of prison my body may be 16

In the land of the gauching skiving sun 17
I feel all of your shame 18
We're going down the road to tiny cities made of ashes 19
Soma is what they will take when hard times opened their eyes 20

1. "Shakin'" Dandy Warhols 2. "Scientist" Coldplay 3. "Bones" Radiohead 4. "Chase By ... I Don't Know What" Snow Patrol 5. "Longview" Green Day 6. "Love Vibration" Josh Rouse 7. "Charmless Man" Blur 8. "Capitalism Stole My Virginity" (International) Noise Conspiracy 9. "Higher Than The Sun" Primal Scream 10. "Lullaby" Queens of the Stone Age 11. "106 Beats That" Wire 12. "Changes" David Bowie. 13 "What People Are Made Of" Modest Mouse 14. "She's Electric" Oasis 15. "Something to Talk About" Badly Drawn Boy 16. "Greystone Chapel" Johnny Cash 17. "Tomblands" Libertines 18. "Little Know It All" Josh Rouse 19. "Cities Made Of Ashes" Modest Mouse 20. "Soma" The Strokes.

For other takes on this topic see:

A Prize In Every Box | Write Again Soon | Wish to See | Bad Apologies | A Little Maryment | Lugnochro

Monday, September 19, 2005

"What sort of crazy ass shit is this?"

I'm not the best when it comes to money. Half my entries on this blog are probably money related. That said, I've always feared knowing what my credit score was. Those little web ads with "Know Your Credit Score" were enough to cause my stomach to clench. Head in the sand is not always the best approach, but I knew one of these days I would have to find out my score and that day was today.

I got a phone call from the guy reviewing my application for the new apartment.

[insert Hassidic accent]

David: "I checked your credit score."

I immediately pause myself for the worst news ever.

David: "You're credit score is phenomenal. It's even good enough to get a bank loan for a home."

How much to I rock?! I could be a homeowner, except for the fact that I live in the most effing expensive place ever.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

"How's your credit?"

Well it's official. Or well almost. Perhaps I shouldn't say anything less I jinx it, but Jane and I found an apartment in Bushwick and it's just one stop down on the subway from our current location. It's a three bedroom floor through for less money then we are paying for our loft. All we are waiting for is an okay on our credit checks and other appropriate information. One less thing to worry about hopefully.

Meanwhile, I keep having nightmares about death and calamitous disasters. Methinks hurricane Katrina has been invading my subconscious.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

"Cause we're all better off in New York . . ."

By the time Jane and I completed our brisk walk through Bed-Stuy, the soft glow of post afternoon euphoria was quickly fading. Not only were we a couple of One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other white girls, but the dude who was supposed to show us the apartment was no where to be seen leaving us to hang out on the stoop for 30 minutes.

Only hours earlier I had been having one of the Best Days Ever.

I skipped out of work at 3 pm for a "late lunch", making the short walk to the Apple Store to see Doves play a free acoustic set. (On my way there, I saw Jake Bronstein crossing Houston Street.) For those who don't know Doves, they are a three peice band from Manchester, England. See the grainy picture above that only I will enjoy.

The combination of
having an email conversation with someone from a NY marketing agency about my design work, eating sushi, and playing hokey from my horrible job for 45 minutes had put me in a very very good mood. Even the new Harry Potter trailer managed to stoke this sort of rare faith that we actually were better off in New York. I grinned as I walked up Broadway to meet Jane, Stevie Wonder blaring on my iPod.

Back to Bed-Stuy. Oh, my mistake. "Clinton Hill."

I have to admit, I was excited about this apartment. It looked so nice, had solid walls, and marble fireplaces. Nevermind that it was five blocks south of the Bedford-Nostrand stop, a fact that might give some people pause. I don't need to live in some trendy place -- my budget pretty much prevents that. But I do have a hard and fast deal breaker:

Will I feel safe walking home by myself at night?

I have to say, I wasn't really getting the safe vibe. The walk down Bedford Avenue was more than sketchtastic. That and the bedrooms were twin-bed-and-no-room-for-anything-else kind of TINY. Marble fireplaces be damned.

I heart apartment hunting. Jane and I are going exploring in Bushwick on Sunday.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

"You work that angle."

"Assuming you will have a child in the future, what one attribute or personality characteristic or natural ability would you like to secure for that child (assuming the magic Baby Genie [not to be confused with the Diaper Genie] gives you One Wish). Also, the attribute can not be exemption from a specific disease/disability."

Why is this webring assignment so difficult? Is it because I've never really been gung ho about having children? It it because I'm gay and getting pregnant is never going to happen unless I suddenly start liking dick or pay thousands of dollars to get inseminated? Let's explore the hypothetical for the sake of answering the webring topic.

I suppose I would want my child to have an appreciation of art and culture. I couldn't bare having a philistine for a child or one that was so picky about food. I would want them to be talented, ambitious, headstrong, and compassionate -- all qualities I value.

Pretty weak answer, but there you go.

For other takes on this topic see:

A Prize In Every Box | Write Again Soon | Wish to See | Bad Apologies | A Little Maryment | Lugnochro

Monday, September 12, 2005

"How do Olney girls drink?"

Ah, the weekend. How quickly you came and went, especially since I spent most Saturday and Sunday chained to my computer as I redesigned my website for future career development.

This weekend was one of thwarted plans. Having been offered free tickets to see the Yankees/Red Sox game on Friday, I had to turn them down as I had no one to go with. Yes, I'm not a sports fan, but it would have been fun . . . perhaps. Saturday I wanted to take advantage of the gorgeous weather and explore Roosevelt Island with Holly, but I was shut down. We went out bar hopping Saturday night instead. On Sunday I had made tentative plans to have brunch with Holly only to call and find that she had forgotten and already had breakfast. Sigh. I went back to working on my website, even when I should have been doing a massive load of laundry. Thwarted again.

Book club is tonight! Thank Christ I am finally done reading the most tedious book ever.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

"Do you eat out a lot?"

My neck is broken. Okay, not really broken, but I somehow pulled a muscle walking from my bedroom to the shower this morning and now it hurts like a bitch when I try to turn it. That and I woke up in the middle of a deep sleep, so forming coherent sentences seems difficult if not impossible. I've taken two extra strength acetimetophin, drank two cups of coffee, and ate half of an awful chocolate chip scone.

Not a good morning.

* * *

What is it about me? Do I look approachable? Do I not have that hardened New Yorker stare that fends off contact with weirdos? I had my headphones on as I went to cross Bleecker at Broadway when an older gentlemen dressed in a suit made the motion that he wanted to ask me something. He and his two companions had a hapless expression that only the lost get. Did he not see the headphones?? Okay, buddy. Since I'm nice, and you look lost, I'll answer whatever question you seem keen to ask me.

Older gentleman: "Do you know where Jesters is?"

Me: "Um, I've never heard of it. It's definitely not in this immediate area."

There's an air of finality in my response, but he seems incredulous.

Older gentleman: "You've never heard of Jesters?"

I didn't want to tell him that his restaurant sounded like a strip club located off a Florida exit ramp.

Me: "Well I'm quite sure it's not around here. Maybe down in Soho?"

Older Gentleman: "Do you eat out a lot?"

Me: "Um, yeah."

Warning. Warning. Awkwardly personal comment approaching.

Older Gentleman: "You look like you do," he said with a good natured chuckle as his eyes looked me up and down. "You look healthy."

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. I said thank you and made a break for it.

A later searching of Google and Citysearch revealed that there was NO such restaurant in NYC named Jesters or even Gestures at that rate. Clearly this man was a lost member of the Crazy Tribe. I wonder if he ever found what he was looking for.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

"Stuff happens."

I have refrained from commenting on Hurricane Katrina in my blog for two reasons. One, it seemed crass to try and put human suffering to words when most of my entries here narrate my woes of not having enough money to go out on a Friday night. Boo-hoo for me. Second, I try not to drag politics in my posts lest I become just another uninformed blowhard choking up the blogosphere.

That said, I've read some wonderful pieces of journalism over the last week, many of which are op-eds, explaining the horror of the disaster and the outrage of the federal response with an eloquence that I'll never have. Two op-eds that come to mind are "The Greater Shame" by Nicholas D. Kristof for the New York Times and "The 'Stuff Happens' Presidency" by Harold Meyerson for the Washington Post. In addition to being wonderfully written, both highlight one of the root causes of this disaster: poverty, the growing disparity in the United States, and the lack of federal response (ie, the Bush administration) in reversing this growing disparity.

Did you know that the infant mortality rate in the US has risen for the first time since 1958? That the rate of infant mortality in the US puts us on the same level as Cyprus, Andorra, and Brunei? That nearly 30 percent of New Orleans's residents, 67 percent of which are black, live in poverty?

I didn't.

Please donate to the American Red Cross.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

"Don't get all snack-fascist on me."

Sitting in a restaurant bar in Philadelphia's Chinatown and waiting for the next bus back to New York, Holly and I found ourselves getting sucked into MTV. I can't tell you the last time I watched MTV, which is why I couldn't identify three quarters of the acts that sang and danced their way through each video. We sat in the bar long enough to watch a half dozen or so "Top Summer 2005 Jams." In each rap video, I spotted some reoccurring visual cliches:

- Scantily clad women
- A posse
- Cars (usually pimped out)

As I watched my fifth video with all the above elements, I exclaimed loudly, "I want a posse!" They could point and nod in the background as I surround myself with scantily clad women. Errr . . . or maybe not.

This mental tangent is brought to you by this week's Webring assignment. Mr. Bad Apologies asks, "If you were to form a gang right now, what would it be called? What would it do? What would your personal nickname be? What would you be known to be especially 'hard core' at in your gang?"

Well seeing how I want a posse, I could easily parlay this into gang activity. However, all gangs need to be united around a common interest. Would my posse terrorize citizens who wear black socks with sandals? Hmmmm . . . suddenly I sound like the Taliban.

Since my interests are gin, good food, and art, my options are limited here. Fisticuffs to decide whether Jeff Koons is a hack? Bloody fights over which is the best wine? Some ho from a rival foodie gang would claim that white wine was better than red. I would say, "Oh no she didn't!" Then my posse would gather round and nod threateningly. Smack down of epic proportion would ensue.

Gang Name: Bombay Brawlers
Purpose: Causing foodie mayhem
My Nickname: The Gimlet Girl
Hardcoreness: I would stab people with hors d'oeuvre forks

Yes, this is the lamest thing I've ever written. Pity me.

For other takes on this topic see:

A Prize In Every Box | Write Again Soon | Wish to See | Bad Apologies | A Little Maryment | Lugnochro

Sunday, September 04, 2005

"I have a black belt in keeping it real."

Dear Philadelphia,

Your subway/rail system is a disappointment, not to mention slightly on the dodgy side. Please place a couple of maps outside the gates so visitors can better navigate your wonky system.


* * *

Last weekend, Cleveland. This weekend, day trip to Philadelphia. $20 round trip on the Chinatown bus? Score. And the bus didn't even catch fire or strand us in New Jersey. Even better.

Holly and I spent our afternoon in Philly by going to the stomach turning M√ľtter Museum and viewing, among many things, a 50 lb distended colon, ovarian cysts the size of beach balls, and babies who never formed heads in the womb. Later we wandered the city center, having beers at Monk's Cafe and later catching dinner at an Irish pub before getting on the 10 o'clock bus for NYC.

Maybe I'll even consider taking the bus down to DC next time. It's only $35 round trip, which beats my $150 Amtrak tickets, however with Amtrak I don't have to worry about waiting in a New Jersey rest stop for three hours. Anyone have a place for me to crash?

Friday, September 02, 2005

"We're on a road to nowhere."

You know those days when you feel unusually conspicuous? As if everyone is staring at you because you're fly is down or there's an embarrassing spot on your jeans? Anyway, that's how I felt this morning. Hello, paranoia.

I've been kind of lax in my blog writing of late and surely all of my four readers must be clamoring for my latest update. Well it's the start of the Labor Day weekend and tomorrow I'm going to take the Chinatown bus down to to Philadelphia for a day trip with Holly -- or at least that's the plan. What's the worst that can happen? I get stranded in Philly? Bus catches on fire? I get stranded in Jersey? Such a crap shoot this Chinatown bus, but what should I expect for $20 round trip? We all have to try the Chinatown bus once, right?

So not much has been going on. I've been working hard on J-Wo's web site all week (which hopefully she'll be unveiling soon via her blog), opened a savings account, and toyed with the idea of visiting DC in late September. I could go on, but why bore you all with the banal details of my life?