"New York is in a good mood today."

Today is a day of action. I set the alarm for 6:30 am, a half hour earlier than I normally get up. I showered, dressed, made coffee, took the dog out, and woke Ms. K up kisses and gentle prodding. I even made her a cigarette to further entice her out of bed.

We had stuff to do.

By 8:30 am, we were in the car on the way to a self storage company located near the base of the Manhattan Bridge. By 9:15 am I had successfully rented a 3 x 5 foot storage unit for my extra furniture. By 10 am, I was at work and ready to take on the day. Later, when Ms. K called to say that my pansy little drill just wasn't going to get through the concrete backed wall at home, she warned that our bookshelf hanging plans would have to wait yet another day until we could come up with another solution.

I thought of the teetering towers of books choking up the living room and I raised a fist to the air. Oh no, I would not be deterred.

By 1:30 pm, I was at a hardware store near my office that I knew rented tools because I would be good goddamned if I was going to have to buy a new drill. I selected one bad ass mutherfucker of a drill to rent, holding it's weight in my hands, and imagining all those teetering towers of books neatly organized on our brand new IKEA bookshelves. I felt victorious, I felt . . . butch.

Suck it, bookshelves.

But first, paperwork. As the store clerk began to ask the pertinent questions and assemble the proper forms, the customer behind me in line for the register shuffled his feet impatiently. He even sighed a little for added effect.

Okay, buddy, you can go ahead of me.

The cashier rang up his purchases, which I noticed included weather stripping for an AC window unit. Mr. Impatient apparently doesn't like drafts in addition to waiting in line.

"That'll be two dollars and five pennies."

Mr. Impatient handed over only two dollars. Perhaps the mention of "five pennies" had thrown him off.

"I just need five more cents," the cashier politely prompted.

Mr. Impatient fished grumpily around his empty pockets before pulling out a bigger bill.

Dude, I thought, don't break a bill because of five cents. And without saying anything, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a dime, and handed it to the cashier.

The universal order wobbled as Mr. Impatient grappled with the reality of my menial gift. He was incredulous, his body posture perhaps even a little defensive. "Are you sure?"

Am I sure? Buddy, I'm giving you a dime, not a kidney.

"New York is in a good mood today," the cashier announced as he ran the transaction and bagged up his items.

I liked that comment. I liked being the representative for New York's collective mood, which would also mean that New York is a little afraid of turning 30 in six days.

The man handed me back the 5 cents change. I stared at the nickel in the gloved palm of his hand, confused for a moment as to why he was giving me his change. "Here, this is yours," he urged.

Oh, right!

Mr. Impatient's mood seemed greatly improved and he said an extra thank you as he exited the hardware store. All for five cents! What a bargain.

New York is in a good mood indeed. New York has a big, fuck off drill. If only for a day.

"Sounds like the universe may be making the decision for you."

Universe: 2. Rouge: 0.

Right. The lesson is to never tempt fate. Or is it that everything happens for a reason?

Yesterday morning Ms. K and I revisited our conversation about moving in together. Was this something we wanted to do? Was it too soon? When would this happen? These questions were tempered by the fact that Ms. K has been in limbo -- her dog has been at her brother's house in Pennsylvania, her stuff has been in storage since January, and she's been crashing with me since late March. I can understand that she's yearning for some sort of permanency. But there's also a financial factor to our reasoning. Could we save money on rent? Could we afford to move? Was it smarter for her to get her own place until my lease was up? Could we wait another year to live together?

Getting into this conversation right when I should have been on a subway train for work was a bad move and I ended up being more than an hour late to work. We opted to continue talking over lunch at the Shake Shack to answer some of the questions we raised that morning.

Then the Universe decided to make the decision for me.

When I got to work I saw that my landlord had emailed me again. His elderly, asthmatic, cat adverse grandmother will be moving into the house this summer. My cats, unfortunately, were going to be a problem. He wasn't being douchey and forcing me to leave -- in fact I could tell he felt awful -- but I understood the predicament he was in. Lord knows I wouldn't want to be responsible for giving a 87 year old woman a respiratory infection.

I was left with three options -- (1) move out of my apartment of three years; (2) get rid of the cats; (3) or stay in the apartment with the cats and risk killing an old lady. These were all awesome options.

So I am choosing to move out this summer . . . and to move in with Ms. K! It seems like kismet. She needs a place; I will need to move unexpectedly. We could wait, but since she works bar hours we'd never see each other. So we will continue to talk serious logistics -- especially about how to get a 100 lb golden retriever and two frightened cats to get along.

Ditmas Park here I come?

"I don't want to have to worry about you."

It's Monday, so how about a weekend round up to start your week.

* Of course it was inevitable that upon writing that I have been crying to strangers that I would hear from more than a couple of concerned people. Signe, an old friend from DC, called and asked, "Are you okay? I don't want to have to worry about you." Yes, I promise that I'm okay. Doesn't everyone have public breakdowns?? Oh. (At least it wasn't me crying on the F Train!)

* It was good to meet up with some old friends at the Lifer Bar on Friday evening -- good because I've been MIA recently. Sinclair, Maire, and I talked about dildos, harnesses, and the etiquette of online dating, which engendered this blog entry. Oh how I don't miss being on the front lines of dating. It's very nice to have a lady to snuggle up with in my bed.

* Because the German movie The Lives Of Others (Das Leben der Anderen) is easily one of the best movies I've seen in the last ten years, I watched it twice this weekend after having it delivered from Netflix.

* Keep sending those good vibes, people. Ms. K has had a couple of job interviews lately and if all goes well I will be seeing her more in "the Brooklyn." In fact she has a job interview tomorrow morning. And as for her car that recently got broken into and smashed up, it's in the shop and this is the rental car they gave her. Monster truck! Let the lesbian jokes begin.

"But I'm really popular in the Balkans!"

I saw that someone (cough) nominated me for the Lesbian Lifestyle Blog of the Year. While I think I swear far too much to be palatable to the general lesbian population, I did see that my good friend Sinclair's blog was also nominated and her language is far dirtier than mine. Hmm. Maybe you should definitely nominate her.

But on the off chance you like this blog and think that my tiny corner of cyberspace deserves more traffic, please go to this link (Warning: Extreme pinkness awaits you!) and mention this blog in the comments area.

In case you're unsure of my merits, here's a shameless list of (self) accolades and/or pity:

* My girlfriend thinks I'm pretty
* I'm deeply insecure and I have the need to be recognized by my peers
* I always got picked last for team sports in middle school
* I'm friends with last year's winner
* I inspire strangers to write
* Croatia thinks I'm awesome

You decide.

"Unimaginative plotting yields protracted bridges of tedium riveted together with predictability."

Why is it a universal truth that lesbian movies are generally shit? Okay, well there are some exceptions (Fire, Fingersmith, Tipping the Velvet, Aimee and Jaguar, But I'm a Cheerleader), but seriously. Imagine Me & You? Not awful, but fairly pedestrian. Saving Face? Warm hearted but forgettable. Girl Play? Oh so bad. Christ, even the L Word teeters dangerously close to mediocrity and even crosses that line occasionally.

I'm all worked up because I'm only 30 minutes into Gray Matters and I want to gouge my eyes out. Gouge. My. Eyes. Out. Or at least beat my sofa cushions in frustration. The writing is banal, the story line unimaginative, and the acting is generally so very bad. But I paid $4.95 for it and goddammmit I'm going to get my money's worth.

Why oh why can't there be a whip smart, juicy dialogue laden script out there about a woman finding love in the city? Oh wait. I think it's called Operation Find The Lesbians: The Movie.

Sigh.

"So, I have decided that I think you should go out with me again."

Obviously I'm have not been really good at updating for My Friday Fave as evidenced by the fact that last week's Fave came out on Sunday and I never wrote one for this past Friday. And after a very fruitful blogging July, August kicked off with a sluggish start. Patience, dear readers, patience.

* The UTI is pretty much gone thanks to a course of antibiotics, but probably exacerbated because of the drinking I've been doing lately. Thank you all for your concern, especially with my peeing/wiping habits.

* Ms. K and I have tentative plans to meet up this week for drinks. If past history is any indicator, we will end up making out in some bar in the wee hours of the morning and then I will ask her to come home with me. Because the dirty whore in me likes it.

* I went to go see Tegan & Sara at the Hiro Ballroom last Wednesday. My original plan was to write a review of the show, which was great, but deadlines and laziness got in the way. Once Band Buddy Maire sends me over her photos from the concert (hint hint, nudge nudge), perhaps I will be more motivated to explain why the show was awesome. (Photo below! Maire even took some footage and placed it on YouTube.) Maybe it was the fact that they played their new album, The Con, in its entirety from back to front? Maybe it was hearing the song "So Jealous" performed live that rocked my world? Maybe because they are a pair of gay twins who can rock out?



* I have a crush -- an intellectual, spiritual, platonic crush -- on a beautiful former Franciscan monk that I met whilst drinking with friends in South Slope on Friday. I want to pick his brain and spend evenings with him discussing history and spirituality. Perhaps I even have a monk fetish? My (budding stalker) friend found a picture of him online in his Franciscan robes and it was hot. Can a gay woman find a former monk hot? Too Thorn Birds with a dash of Chasing Amy? Discuss.

* I broke my vow of honesty on my blog for the first time when I wrote an entry that will never see the light of day. Well maybe someday, just in time for the DVD extras of the blog. Don't worry, I saved the entry.

* My new favorite singer is John Vanderslice. I mean, like, seriously. I must come across as a slut for good music, but I have a feeling that his album Emerald City is going to get the same heavy rotation on my iTunes as Andrew Bird's Armchair Apocrypha did.