Oh boy. Time flies, huh? I have excuses: I was on a business trip this past weekend, and am now totally exhausted. I mean, exhausted. As if I used to be full of many resources, and now those are gone. (It was a good trip, though.)
To make up for my recent neglect, I will tell you a charming anecdote about my new neighbors in Park Slope. Park Slope, if you don't know, is a bucolic little corner of Brooklyn full of very rich hippies and yuppies of an artistic bent. We also have a few movie stars and some writers, but most of the people I know are like me: 30ish professionals who are tired of living above nightclubs and would like to see a tree now and again. A tree does grow in Park Slope. Unfortunately, beneath it is a $2000 baby carriage, operated by a woman with a trust fund who is wearing a handmade hat.
This woman, who lives across the street from me, takes her kids to school every morning in her car. Why she needs her car, I don't know. There are 4300 really good schools within walking distance and oh, yeah, we live in New York, so there are, like, trains and stuff. But she takes her car. She bundles the kids in, drives off and drives back 15 minutes later. (Which means it's nearby, her school. I hope this fossil fuel-wasting harpy gives to many, many ecologically friendly charities. Because irony pleases me.)
Anyway, another thing you should know about my neighborhood is that no one has a driveway and there's no assigned parking. So if you leave your spot and come right back in 15 minutes, and it's full up with someone else's SUV, well, bummer, dude.
FFW Harpy didn't see it that way. Yesterday morning, instead of waking up to garbage trucks and hollering in Mandarin, as I did in the LES, I woke up to this:
"I WAS GONE 15 MINUTES. 15 MINUTES. I HAD TO DROP OFF MY KIDS. EVERYONE KNOWS I DROP OFF MY KIDS IN THE MORNING AND THAT IT ONLY TAKES 15 MINUTES."
I didn't hear what the poor person in her space had to say, but I sure heard her response.
"EVERYONE KNOWS THAT THAT'S MY SPACE AND THAT I ONLY LEAVE IT FOR 15 MINUTES WHEN I DROP OFF MY KIDS. I HOPE YOU'RE REALLY HAPPY THAT YOU STOLE MY SPACE WHEN I WAS ONLY GONE FOR 15 MINUTES."
Since the hollering stopping, I can only guess that the guy gave up the space. Either that, or she beat him unconscious with her earthern-ware bead necklace and took it anyway.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
227
I now live in a sitcom neighborhood.
About 80 percent of the people I know in New York live here. It's ridiculously idyllic. Across the street from me, I have three coffee places, including a Starbucks, a bodega and a bunch of cute little shops where party dresses may be purchased. I had my birthday not so long ago: I bought my dress four blocks away.
The other day, I was walking to the hardware store to buy more shelves, and I ran into a friend standing outside the laundromat. We had a brief chat: He recommended that I buy some lavender to put in my window, to keep out the mosquitoes from the park. Then we discussed upcoming parties and whatnot, and I went on my way, tripping merrily over toddlers and couples the rest of the block.
It's so quiet at night, the bus sounds out of place when it roars by. Sometimes you can hear the streetlights burning.
If you ever would've told me, when I moved to New York, that this was what I wanted, I would've said you were crazy.
Last weekend, I went to a roof party in the LES -- my old stomping grounds, not three blocks from my old apartment. It was nice to sit in a hammock and look at the stars. I could see five of them, and my friend Madcat pointed out that at least one was a planet. And then I hopped in a cab and went home.
Sometimes on the train, I look up from my book just as the F goes above ground and I see Manhattan in the distance and all the roof-tops below. Some people have gardens. Some of the buildings are factories that look totally abandoned, even though I'm sure they're million-billion-quintillion dollar apartments. There's that feeling that I've left where I work and am going someplace else. I never really understood commuters before.
The air is a little fresher out here, and there's still plenty to do. I'm glad I started off in Manhattan, but it occurs to me lately that there are a lot of places in the world to be happy.
About 80 percent of the people I know in New York live here. It's ridiculously idyllic. Across the street from me, I have three coffee places, including a Starbucks, a bodega and a bunch of cute little shops where party dresses may be purchased. I had my birthday not so long ago: I bought my dress four blocks away.
The other day, I was walking to the hardware store to buy more shelves, and I ran into a friend standing outside the laundromat. We had a brief chat: He recommended that I buy some lavender to put in my window, to keep out the mosquitoes from the park. Then we discussed upcoming parties and whatnot, and I went on my way, tripping merrily over toddlers and couples the rest of the block.
It's so quiet at night, the bus sounds out of place when it roars by. Sometimes you can hear the streetlights burning.
If you ever would've told me, when I moved to New York, that this was what I wanted, I would've said you were crazy.
Last weekend, I went to a roof party in the LES -- my old stomping grounds, not three blocks from my old apartment. It was nice to sit in a hammock and look at the stars. I could see five of them, and my friend Madcat pointed out that at least one was a planet. And then I hopped in a cab and went home.
Sometimes on the train, I look up from my book just as the F goes above ground and I see Manhattan in the distance and all the roof-tops below. Some people have gardens. Some of the buildings are factories that look totally abandoned, even though I'm sure they're million-billion-quintillion dollar apartments. There's that feeling that I've left where I work and am going someplace else. I never really understood commuters before.
The air is a little fresher out here, and there's still plenty to do. I'm glad I started off in Manhattan, but it occurs to me lately that there are a lot of places in the world to be happy.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Snippet From the Bar
Drunken Mouse: Grumpy Bear keeps it real.
Me: I like Birthday Bear.
Drunken Mouse: Birthday Bear is out of his muthafuckin' mind! It's not everyone's birthday all the time!
Me: Oh, I like him. He's festive.
Drunken Mouse: Grumpy's like, "Look: I care about you and shit. But I don't gotta be happy about it all the time."
Me: I like Birthday Bear.
Drunken Mouse: Birthday Bear is out of his muthafuckin' mind! It's not everyone's birthday all the time!
Me: Oh, I like him. He's festive.
Drunken Mouse: Grumpy's like, "Look: I care about you and shit. But I don't gotta be happy about it all the time."
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Birthday Wrap-Up
Hopefully, I'll have pictures for you all from the big 3-0, but in the meantime, you'll have to trust me that it was a good time. And if you don't trust me, trust the proprietress of my neighborhood bodega. This is our conversation the morning after my party:
Proprietress: Do you need anything else?
Me: Just the Vitamin Water.
Proprietress: Do you need a straw?
Me: Nope. I'm just gonna gulp it down.
Proprietress: Oh! Yes! The menopause is awful!
Me: [Crickets.]
Proprietress: [Waving at herself.] It is very bad!
Me: [Waving at myself. Gamely.] Yes. Yes, it's very bad.
Proprietress: Do you need anything else?
Me: Just the Vitamin Water.
Proprietress: Do you need a straw?
Me: Nope. I'm just gonna gulp it down.
Proprietress: Oh! Yes! The menopause is awful!
Me: [Crickets.]
Proprietress: [Waving at herself.] It is very bad!
Me: [Waving at myself. Gamely.] Yes. Yes, it's very bad.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
It's My Birthday Today!
I love my birthday. I especially love this birthday, because all kidding aside, I hear the 30s are much better than the 20s. Also, it's sunny out! For the first time in 11 million years! And I'm getting my hair done today. And I'm getting a mani-pedi, which I never do, because you could seriously go so crazy with the personal grooming appointments in New York that you wouldn't have time to go to the job that pays for all this personal grooming. Anyway.
The best thing I got for my birthday, however, was the news that the FDA approved the HPV vaccine. Most cervical cancers (I think it's like 90% or thereabouts) are caused by HPV. It's a totally preventable disease, but women are still dying from it. I have to say that I'm really impressed that the FDA approved it. The political climate, she is not so friendly toward women and their parts these days.
Now, all of you, remember: The vaccine won't be available for a couple of months, so you have to wait awhile before you start having the massive amounts of unprotected sex that the abstinence-only folks know you'll be having.
The best thing I got for my birthday, however, was the news that the FDA approved the HPV vaccine. Most cervical cancers (I think it's like 90% or thereabouts) are caused by HPV. It's a totally preventable disease, but women are still dying from it. I have to say that I'm really impressed that the FDA approved it. The political climate, she is not so friendly toward women and their parts these days.
Now, all of you, remember: The vaccine won't be available for a couple of months, so you have to wait awhile before you start having the massive amounts of unprotected sex that the abstinence-only folks know you'll be having.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
Sign of the Beast!
Today is pure evil (via Gawker), so I hope you were all good boys and girls and went out drinking wearing your horns, as I did. In other evil news, I will soon be 30. I am not joking about this. It is clearly a sign of the devil, or at least, not-so-great entities who think it's funny to see an elderly lady cry her mascara into the creases of her tired, tired eyes. But: drinks! Horns! Metal! Rar!
Sunday, June 4, 2006
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