No one will go see Win a Date With Tad Hamilton! with me. So unfair. I'm not sure why I want to see it. It looks bad, I keep reading horrible things about it and yet, I still want to go. I think I just like that whole dumb romantic comedy that makes no sense and would just disturb me if it ever actually happened to me kinda movie. Which is wrong. I know. There are a TON of wonderful movies out there that I should throw my $10 at to support so that Hollywood makes more of those and less of the Tad Hamilton ones but I can't help it. I'm a sad, sad girl.

One who loves Ice Castles beyond reason (yeah, I had a crush on Marvin Hamlich as well as Robby Benson at that time and I really think that was the start of me having such odd, odd taste in sexy) and adores Silk Stalkings and thinks that Invasion of the Rock Aliens is a gem (which I purchased for a dollar along with Tuff Turf) and has Grease 2 on VHS AND DVD now (Cool Rider was my little 8 year old anthem - which probably explains my ridiculous motorcyle fetish that can't really be discussed here) and has seen most of Troy Donahue's movies (that one is SO Mom's fault) and made her friends watch First Wives Club last Sunday for a bit (though really only one arm had to be twisted on that one) and I just have to stop now. I'm upsetting myself.

I mock the tacky & the trashy of the world endlessly and yet I embrace it. Especially in TV, Movies, Magazines and anything that sparkles. Ugh.

Happy Birthday, Kristie!

I really shouldn't listen to Eve on my morning commute I don't think. Too much attitude in the air. This morning at the entrance to my subway, the woman in front of me swiped her metrocard and then started to go through the upright turnstile the wrong way. It's the revolving bar door kind (does that make sense?). You can only go one way through it as there are nonrevolving bars on one side blocking you. This wasn't going to stop this woman though. So, as she tries pushing through the wrong way (and keeps trying for a bit), the turnstile reader seems to think she went and someone else is exiting or something and clears off her fare. She then tries to go the right way and can't because her fare has been used. I'm waiting there for her to just get through so I can swipe my card and go. There are only two entrances and a couple folks were at the other one or I would've gone there right when I saw her being a tool.

So, she turns around and immediately snaps at me asking why I did that. "Why did you do that? Why would you do that? Just go through so I can go now!" Apparently she assumes I swiped my card and that messed everything up. Now, even if she hasn't screwed up with the entrance (which I still don't understand - there are big BARS blocking your way, it's all curved to go one way, everything points to going the right way!) me swiping my card wouldn't have done a thing. You can swipe a card as someone is going through and it won't do anything but take your fare and let you through when they're done. I've done it before. Others have done it before. It's just the beauty of the subway turnstile - getting people where they need to go as quickly as possible.

I really, really didn't like the fact that her first response was to assume I fucked her over and to turn on me. So I told her I didn't touch the damn thing let alone swipe my card and she should back the hell off. I think I scared her. She looked frightened. She got more flustered and tried to once again figure out how to get through the damn turnstile. But I am evil and couldn't be bothered to help the stupid snappish shrew at that point and just went on my way through the other turnstile. I like to think she's still stuck there and it makes me smile.

Seriously, I hate folks who screw up, get frustrated and immediately think it's someone else's fault and start lashing out with the blame. Just take a few seconds to confirm that it wasn't your error and then you can lash out with the full weight of the TRUTH behind you. Makes the bitching out so much more effective and worthwhile then.

Yeah, yeah, New Yorkers are evil. What-Ever.

Lately I keep thinking about all the things I'm going to do when I win the lottery. Not that I've ever played the lottery. Well, I did once when a coworker was going to get tickets and I gave her a dollar to get me one. But I haven't since then. Yet I still think of what I'm going to do with the millions once I have them, as if it's a done deal. It's a lovely little fantasy, but I don't know that it's helping me move forward in my real life much.

I mostly think of the travel, how I'll decorate my gorgeous Brooklyn brownstone (with flat TVs, two TiVos at least and a library - bliss), what Hawai'i place I'll buy for the folks and I, how happy Dad will be to get his RV and so on...

Sometimes I think of inheriting it. Even though I really don't know anyone with as much money as I inherit in this fantasy. And also I eventually feel guilty over the fact that someone will be dead in order for me to get these piles of money and things. So strange.

Maybe it's time for me to slim down and start looking for that trophy wife position. Or put my brilliance to work and make my own millions. Or just suck it up and enjoy the life I have. One of those three.

Have you hugged a K friend today? If not, do so now. (hope that works, babe)

A friend of mine gave me some excellent advice in an email this morning, "take a deep breath and think of Christian Bale without any clothes on every now and then." I'll have to keep that in mind this week.

Things are crazy with a big internal/external conference we have going on tomorrow through Friday. And I have a friend coming this weekend and my apartment is almost messy enough to be gross. And I have some friends I feel like I'm neglecting but I just don't have time for anything what with the long hours at work this week. I also wanted to test for green stripe this weekend but it doesn't look like I'll get to class more than once this week and I just won't be ready in that case. And my new computer is lovely, but I can't get Outlook to set up the way I want to and am not in a good frame of mind to work on a new machine right now (nor do I have the time). And I want to clear off TiVo and then purchase and set up a new TiVo so I can give my old one to my friend this weekend, but no time. I keep freaking myself out about it all when really it's not a big deal. So, I'm going to take a moment to picture Christian Bale naked. Y'all have a nice week. Don't know how much I'll be posting before February.

Woo. My little stewards and the new chef just got a 98 (out of 100) on the health inspection for our fraternity eating club. So exciting. For me. And anyone who understands that first sentence. Yay!

And J & A & V, if you ever read this, please don't take the 'little stewards' title personally, it's just a habit I've gotten in to remind myself I'm not 20.

So, the other day Mom was polishing up her cast list of my life and I was helping her on a few last names, occupations and relationships to me and so on and so forth. It was interesting. While I joke that she's my stalker, it's really not that creepy. She just likes to know what's going on with me. She has her own life and all too. Honest! It's just funny how different she and Dad are with respect to me. I don't think either one of them cares about me less than the other, but Mom knows every little detail and Dad's perfectly happy to have overall highlights and only get the details on things that specifically interest him. He really does have the highlights down though. I quizzed him once. He did shockingly well.

I blame my completely schizophrenic nature on them and their differences. And I guess on being a Gemini (twins! two faced! woo!). I used to joke that Dad fought in Vietnam while Mom protested it. Not that that phrase sums up who they are all that well or their differences, but it seemed to prove a point at the time. They're both individuals with a million nuances, but... Mom tends to be the more emotional one while Dad's a bit more rational. So I'm kinda both. I can fly off the handle and cry at lots of things and be sympathetic and so on and so forth while being rational at the same time. This is not making sense. I tried to explain to a friend of mine once that while I do illogical strange 'girl things' (as I believe he put it), I realize that I'm being illogical and strange and just need to get it out of my system and then I'll be fine. And I don't actually expect others to take me seriously when I'm being goofy - because I'm still rational and know they shouldn't take me seriously. But sometimes you need to be emotional and sometimes you need to rein it in. Argh. This isn't making sense and I'm afraid that my parents are going to think I see them as an emotional freakshow and a cyborg and that is NOT the case. It's probably a topic that requires a long discussion and not just a couple paragraphs on a blog. It's just something I was thinking about this morning.

One thing my parents did do the same was embrace Mocking as a great Parental Tool. I got the occasional spanking and sometimes frequent groundings, but they really liked the mocking thing for the day to day stuff. Like when I went through the whining phase. They liked calling me Wendy Whiner and would start riffing off that old Saturday Night Live skit with that horrible whining family. It drove me out of my mind. But it worked. I learned that whining is only good in the same way shrieking is good - getting what you want from people who will do anything to get you to shut up. I also remember when I went through the early teen eye rolling phase. Mom liked to grab my arm and ask Dad for a quarter to put in my ear to see if they could win - implying I was a slot machine. This, of course, made me want to roll my eyes even more which caused more slot machine jokes until I wanted to cry. But, I actually started making a concerted effort to NOT EVER roll my eyes. To this day I'm not a big eye roller. I get my contempt out with snarking and cattiness. Don't know if that's actually such a good thing come to think of it... But I guess the mocking thing worked well for them. I'll probably torture my children with it some day. No whining and eye rolling in MY household.

Actually... when I worked for a day care center in college I enforced a strict no whining policy. If one of the kids would whine at me, I would tell them "No Whining" and wouldn't listen until they talked to me normally. I kinda figured this wasn't really sinking in much as these were 3-5 year olds I was working with. But then one day I was over dealing with something when I heard Kid A whining to her friend, Kid B. Kid B stopped Kid A in her tracks and promptly said "No Whining!". Kept repeating it too. Like I did. Heh. Cracked me up. His parents probably hate me. Still.

I love this story.

So, we were all hanging at McStinovich a few years ago. We were having a wonderful time, something you can't help but do at McStinovich what with all the drinking and the floating. We were up on the deck of the house focusing on the eating and drinking (not so much the floating right then) when S came out and informed C that the lemonade has gone bad. C was all surprised, "We have lemonade? Where did you find lemonade?" S informed her that he made it with his own two little hands, from frozen concentrate. C was again surprised at the existence of frozen lemonade concentrate in her home and wondered where S found it. He told her. She started cracking up and told him that's where they keep the fat. You know how every household stores the grease/fat from cooking bacon or frying burgers or whatever? My family keeps it in an old peanut butter jar underneath the sink - never to be mistaken for actual peanut butter or lemonade or whatever. The S's apparently store theirs in juice concentrate containers. Where any drunk fool can find it and be surprised at the bad taste.

Apparently S found the container and was craving lemonade. I always have a strong hope that he was well into the drinking portion of the weekend at this point. Because he found the concentrate container and poured the contents into a pitcher. He mixed in the two or three containers worth of water and stirred. He poured a glass and then tasted it. And thought it tasted a bit odd. And then he tasted it again. And then he came out to share the news of the funny tasting lemonade with everyone on the deck, so we will always and forever talk about 'The Time S Drank Fat'.

I think I tell the story better than I write it. And I can never decide when it's a good time to reveal the whole twist of it being fat rather than lemonade. Obviously if I start the story with, "Did you hear about the time S drank fat?" it really isn't important when the revelation is made as it's kind of already out there. But in writing it, I don't know. Maybe it's best to wait for later. Either way, still has me cracking up.

Hopefully he won't find me and beat me up if he ever reads this.

(Good Morning, Kristie! Have a lovely Thursday!)

So, I'm going to Vegas with some girlfriends next month and I'm very excited. K and I had an excellent time two years ago. We drank two buildings, took ridiculous photos (I have scanned them and you need to remind me to send them to you!) of our future children (we're going to have a bitch of a daughter and a really hot, gay son - woo), and drunk dialed my Mom. We even rode the trolley. Apparently one does not ride the trolley in Vegas unless one is over the age of 65. We didn't care. We were tired and the Stratosphere was so far away. I recommend the trolley. We also stayed in a room at New York, New York that was as far from the elevator banks as possible while still being IN the hotel. It took us half an hour to get downstairs every morning. Madness.

I'm so excited for this year. We've got a jacuzzi suite in the Luxor (with a slanty wall room in the pyramid) and another friend from high school will be joining us. K2 is newly single. And ready to get a little peppy in Vegas. As you may have noted from the activities above, K1 is not all about the drunken trashy stupidity so it should be interesting to mesh what everyone wants to do. There will be more buildings and photos and mocking most of the folks we see certainly. And eating and wandering. And the Stratosphere in the day since we've seen the view at night already. And I'm hoping to go to Star Trek: the Experience, but I don't know if my really pretty & sassy & not geeky companions are going to be up for that. Maybe after a few building drinks... And K2 and I hope we can get together and convince K1 that we should see a trashy show. And then there will be the Elvis Slot machines where my man sings to me when I win. And I'm thinking I might actually be ready for some black jack at the tables. Any suggestions from the peanut gallery? I think it'll just be fabulous to be with two (maybe three if K3 comes along) of my closest gal pals in a city like Vegas for a total girly weekend. We may even have to spa. Can you spa at 3AM in Vegas? You can't get a pedicure in LA after 9PM or so. Horrible city. Just so you know.

Vegas! Woo!

Today is not a pretty day.

Some days I get ready and face the world and feel I look sassy and pretty and all that. For some reason the outfit works and the hair is doing it's shampoo commercial thing and the face isn't all pimply and the jewelry looks cute and the eyes look large and lovely and I hardly notice I'm fat and my shoes are all cute and fabulous and my nails aren't a mess and my pedicure isn't chipped and I'm all happy and gorgeous. Today is not one of those days.

The outfit, which was working for me when I wore it a couple weeks ago, is looking a little frumpy. And I don't think it has anything to do with the two days it spent on my floor. Really. I have two big, ugly red zits on my face, one is VERY red and VERY much on my forehead, almost dead center. It's really hot. Sexy beyond reason. My hair has actually decided to frizz a little. That's how dry it is in NYC. My perfectly straight hair is frizzy. And full of the crazy static. I barely have any jewels to distract from the zits and my lovely tan is fading. Today, is not a pretty day. But that should make it easier for me to go home tonight and put on my sweats and scrub the catbox. I hope.

I really prefer pretty days.

I was thinking the other day about how I used to wonder where all the snow was in New York City. I'd always see loads of snow in the winter scenes in movies set in New York. Like the Christmas Tree getting scenes in When Harry Met Sally. But then I moved here and there was hardly any snow until last winter. I'd get a little pissy with these movies thinking they were taking serious dramatic license with my city - making it seem like it's usually a snowy wonderland. And now I'm learning why they think it's okay to have all those snowy winter scenes in those movies. Though snow in Manhattan isn't nearly like they show in the movies. The 'blizzard' back in December was an exception. Snowed forever and was windy and cold and beautiful. K and I were shopping in it like the crazy folks we are and I was loving it. Snow was all over the ground and New Yorkers and tourists were shopping and drinking cocoa and it did seem a little magical. And then the plows came. And the pretty went away.

But mostly it all turns slushy and gets shoveled into the gutters and ices over so you have to walk carefully and can't enjoy it even if it did look pretty... I like the snow in Brooklyn though. Especially on my street. Folks shovel their own walks and often have their kids helping out. It all looks pretty and white most of the time until it melts. And best of all I get to have a whole backyard of it. Last winter, my first winter here with a real backyard, I got goofy and made snow angels. It was awesome. It's not quite high enough for me to do snow angels right now, but it looks like we've got plenty of winter left for that.

I just wish this snow would come when I could stay at home and snuggle with the kitties. And that the temperature would do that thing where it's just cold enough to snow and not any colder. This negative temp bullshit is making me crazy.

I'm going to Nobu for dinner tonight. And y'all aren't. Well, unless you are M or M or J and are going with me. But I don't think y'all are reading this so...

My mother truly is stalking me. She found a Brooklyn Web Cam so she could watch our crazy snow last night. But it's cute. I like that she cares.

The snow was mad crazy last night. But it was the really pretty fluffy sparkling snow. I went out and took pictures last night. In my nightshirt, coat and boots. And this morning. In a sweater and sox. Because that's me, trashy and strange. I even took pictures of the three holes now in our street thanks to Keyspan. It does appear they filled and patched the holes in the courtyards of buildings though. So that was nice of 'em.

The snow was not so pretty as I trucked into work today. Took me over an hour. Unpleasant. Today would have been a lovely day to call in sick and have a 'snow day', but I figured people here would kill me. And I have things to do. Things I've been putting off. Because I have been in a funk. Personal things, of course, not work things. Pah on work things. Yeah, y'all wanna hire me now, huh?

I get into funks a lot. Though it's been happening a lot less lately and I'm doing better at handling them. I don't freak out, I just kinda start to avoid anything that isn't necessary. Which just means that I don't return phone calls for a few days and my apartment gets really gross and my email inboxes fill up. But my TiVo gets really clear. And the cats get lots of lovin' and my books to read pile gets smaller. Anyway, I've been funking lately and reading lots of TWoP and finished rereading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (just as awesome the second time around) and am almost done with The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and am close to caught up on the TiVo and am living in filth and starting to get the 'where are you?' notes from friends. So, obviously, today the funk ends. Woo! So, now I have to make calls and answer emails and blah blah blah. So that should be my day today. I'm hoping to even clean my apartment tonight. We'll see. Though I really wish K&S were home so I could attempt a snowball fight instead. Alas.

Speaking of them... I go to Hawai'i and New York enjoys lovely temperatures in the 40s and 50s. They go to Hawai'i and New York gets some of it's worst winter weather yet. Hating them. Insanely jealous. Grrrrr...

Apparently I was mistaken about how madly in love with me my parents are. Mum just told me that the link to my journal was gone and did I not want her to read it. So I had to explain that she damn well better not be reading my journal, but the blog is linked on my home page so that one is totally fine. And then a few minutes later she asked me how my bowel movements were today. Lovely, 'eh? My folks raised me on the parental theory of mocking. Explains a lot about who I am today I think.

I had a lovely, but exhausting weekend. Iolanthe was lovely as mentioned before. Then the drilling. Turns out it was a gas leak and at least three of the brownstones on my block have big holes drilled into their front courtyard areas. I'm glad my building was safe. Though the drilling did go on from about 1something in the morning until about 11:30AM Saturday morning. I got oh so much sleep. Finally dragged myself out of bed, way behind schedule and exhausted to go and get my new computer and my box of goodies from Christmas in Hawai'i. My dad is adorable and felt that instead of just installing XP on my laptop it was just better to get me a desktop with XP on it to go with my new iPod. Yes, I am a spoiled princess. Have I mentioned that before.

Anyway, I barely had enough time to get that done before E showed up to get his phone. We had a lovely day together of brunch, chatting, dinner, drinks, chatting. And obscenely cold temperatures. At one point I kept thinking of how I chose not to go to school in Minnesota and this was largely why. Anyway, I missed a friend of a friend's birthday party which was too bad, but not horrible. The fact that I haven't called said friend is, though. Hang on...

Whew, I have been forgiven. We're all going to do a dinner thing later.

So... I finally sent E on his way (to possibly get an iPod, hee) while I went to brunch with my friend, the rock star. And between not sleeping with the drilling and not sleeping with the drinking I was just pooped. And so I zoned all day rereading Harry Potter 5. And then couldn't sleep last night.

All this to explain that right now I just want to flee to my home to read more Harry Potter and then go to bed early with a glass of warm milk.

Next weekend I get to go to CT to check out the inventory on my fraternity's eating club kitchen and meet with the chef I was forced to fire last week and give him his belongings while we get our license back from him. Y'all are jealous. Luckily I enjoy these undergrads and might have fun while there. So that's something.

Y'all wish you had my sassy life. I know.

You know what's awesome?

Coming home at 11:30PM to find a Keyspan (gas) emergency truck on your block. Even better, hearing them say it's probably a Con Edison (electric) problem and they're waiting for that truck to come. Then seeing Con Edison's blinking light emergency truck appear. Then the drilling starts. Then the man with the weird pointy tool knocking on your door at 2:15AM because there's a GAS LEAK on your block. ARGH. The drilling has stopped, but only for a moment. And luckily, my basement was the first one to come up with a clean bill of health on this side of the street tonight. So, maybe I can sleep tonight without fear. Or noise. Now that it's almost 3AM!!!! Though the weird scraping noises are still in effect. And the men in the orange suits...

This is punishment for the margarita, isn't it? Mean.

At least Iolanthe didn't suck and my friend kicked ass. I love when my friends do something and I go to it and they ROCK. Because then I can be all enthusiastic and happy for them. It's exciting. What am I talking about? All of my friends are insanely talented and kick ass and I can always be enthusiastic and happy about their work/art/talent.

I was going to write a beautiful long whatever while waiting for the Opera to start but then got an offer for guac and margaritas so y'all lose out. But I do not.

I’ve never understood online journals and blogs and other published works that talk about how their parents don’t read them. I can’t even fathom it. If I published a list of my bowel movements every day and posted it on the internet where it could be easily found, my Mom would read it. Yeah, that was really gross. And Mom, I don’t mean that you dig bowel movements. It’s just that my Mom always checks on my pages and probably reads this fairly regularly and I just can’t imagine having a column or regular writing space that wasn’t hidden and yet wasn’t read by my Mom (and more stealthily by my Dad). It does mean that with anything I write in here I have to always keep in mind that Mommy & Daddy will be reading it (you’ll have to email or talk to me personally for the dirty stuff I guess), but I like the idea that they care that much about what I do and what I have to say. Part of my center of the universe complex or something. But I can’t imagine them not wanting to know what’s going on with me and in my head and all. I’d be the same with them I think. But there are lots of ways that other family dynamics leave me befuddled. I like the way mine works and I don’t care if it’s strange.

So, last night it rained and rained and rained (and is continuing to rain even now). I was reading Q is for Quarry (I like the high-end stuff, ba-bee) and freaked myself out. I was jumpy for some reason anyway and then with the rain and the dead people in the book and the cats being weird and the wind and the strange noises… I was convinced some man was hiding in my kitchen (for some reason I never fear murderous women) plotting to put a knife in the top of my skull the moment I turned out the lights and closed my eyes. Yes, I was as rational as a three year old last night. And now am as cranky as a three year old without her nap. And I have to fight the urge to nap so I can sleep like a normal person tonight. Why can’t I ever sleep like a normal human being? Anyway, I was all afraid of some man stepping out of my kitchen and tossing a knife into the top of my skull. ‘Cause it’s so likely a man could sneak into my tiny little basement apartment with the locked doors and bars on the windows and all and I wouldn’t even know it and the cats wouldn’t care and so on and so forth. DKE’s a complete freak cat when anyone but me is in the apartment but apparently the knife wielding psycho can tame her heart. I really shouldn’t be allowed to live on my own.

See, now I’m exhausted and delirious.

After not sleeping the night before last due to jet lag and such, why did I think it was wise to stay up until 2:30AM chatting last night. When I had to be at work today. Though I am starting to wonder about that. I was the first one here at 9:15AM and I'm still waiting for a couple of folks to show up about half an hour later. Maybe I didn't even have to come in. Hmmmmm.... I do have thank you notes to write though.

Having houseguests has made me forget somewhat about the evils of not being in Hawai'i. One houseguest was recently in Miami and the other in Belize so we can all whine together about the cold and lack of beach. WHINE. And we can also drink margaritas and eat cheesy Mexican food and feel better because we're together in the cold and having fun celebrating the Old & New years. Though I do not know how I'm supposed to stay awake until midnight tonight as my nap time is being taken up with pedicures with the girls (and maybe S). Hmmmmm... Yeah, pedicure is way more important. Because I'm wearing the cute open toed shoes that go with the jacket I got in Chinatown last week.

I hate being home. New York was nice enough to be sunny and in the low 50s yesterday to ease my transition, but I still would rather be in Hawai'i with the family right now, eating breakfast and deciding what to do with the day. It's grey here and raining off and on. I'm in the office. I'm paying bills and balancing my checkbook and writing thank you notes and actually doing work and it all sucks when I was just laying on the beach a couple of days ago. ARGH. Post holiday/vacation blues I guess. I'm also a little tired and jet lagged. Things really aren't so bad. I'm leaving here early today and tomorrow and coming in late as well. And I'm sure I'll perk up once my houseguests arrive and inform me that my apartment is not that messy. And maybe I'll even get home in enough time to vacuum and change the shower curtain. Oh a girl can dream.


Actually I'm sure I'll perk up this evening. I have three fun houseguests arriving and New Year's Eve plans with 12 people I like a lot. And then a weekend of people I like. So it'll be fun doing some NYC sightseeing and brunches and drinks and just hanging with friends. We might do some baking and Charlie's Angels watching and good times like that. And I can distribute more of my Christmas gifts and so on and so forth. And really, there's nothing I have to do at work but hang out and BE here. It's not like I have to do all the things on my to do list. It's just good to do that. Having all my Thank Yous written before January 1st would be excellent.

Mele Kalikimaka & Aloha!!!!

Can't sleep. Jet lag of doom. ARGH

But I have been having really strangely awesome half dreams of John Stamos and Jason Batemen and that kind of scares me.