the R phenomenon
Back in Boston, a friend of mine, RC, and I would occationally find ourselves hanging out together at "Our House"*. This was a rare thing, because we were more friends via the group, or the fact that I dated his housemate, than kindred spirits ourselves. Anyway, every time we went together, I would get hit on by random guys. If I was there and RC wasnt, there was a return to the status-quo of lack of attention. I dont know how guys knew I wasnt "with" RC, but whatever the cause of the onslaught of flirts, I loved it.
Fastforward a few years and I have been out a couple times with R_ and its the same thing all over again, only this time I am actually out with the R in question. I kinda feel bad. Mostly I feel bad because I like it. . . . Whatever the cause of this phenomenon, I wish I could bottle it and use when desired.
*a bar with all the comforts of your friend's parents' basement: couches, scrabble, fooseball, someone making out in the corner . . .
hep handbags
I was recently in Old Navy (its within the 12 min radius of work) and saw the bag on the left. I immediately thought of Brooklyn Industries.* I think this is funny. I'm not sure if I think its funny as in ha-ha, or funny peculiar, but funny non the less. If your not familiar with BI, it's the kind of place that sells "unique" t-shirts and bags (bag on right) and what not, you know, where people go to get stuff to have an "individual" look. However, they really only offer 6 styles, so all the other pseudo-hipsters who dont want to look like they walked out of Gap end up having the same shit anyway. And now the Gap-affiliate shoppers will too.
*sadly, not even "made in brooklyn"
a good one
WK recently emailed me a short video. thank you.
view here
Let me count the ways
Elizabeth Barrett Browning once wrote, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." This was in 1850. About a century and half later, I will update this line with "How do I screw up a date? Let me count the ways."
- Most recently I was on a date to the Angelika (a cinema that has a cafe in it, kind of a waiting area to the movie) and because it was cold out we both got some tea to take into the movie with us. Now, we all know that hot beverages are HOT (thank you McDs), so we carefully wrapped our cups with napkins as insulation and steadily held them infront of us as we desended the escalator to go to the theater. We gingerly had set the paper cups of tea in the too large cup-holder arm rest spots as we shed a few layers of clothing. I had leaned down as I rumaged through my purse to silence my cell when I heard him say something. As I turned toward him I knocked his arm which was holding the aforementioned cup, this jolt (of course) sent a nice wave of hot tea directly onto date's crotch. what's a girl to do? "sorry" didnt seem bold enough to match the "surprised" expression on his face. I offered my napkins . . . he just took a lot of deep breaths. . .
- I am seeing a vegetarian. I know he is a vegetarian. It was my turn to pick a restaurant, so I picked a Thai place nearby. I know they have tofu dishes. (I didnt want to eat meat in front of him since I wasnt sure how "hard core" of a veggie he was yet). When we got to the restaurant and were seated we were in a deep conversation and I didnt really get a chance to look at the menu. The date was going with tofu pad thai, and while that is a good standard, I wanted to try something new. So I quickly glance through the "vegetable section" and pick one with onions and carrots (I like both onions and carrots). We return to the conversation at hand. I'm sure you already know where I am going with this, but I'll write it out for the slow crowd. Yes, the waitress brought the date his tofu pad thai and me a plate with carrots and onions sprinkled over a mound of sizzling beef. Lovely. *
- Its a first date. I am meeting a guy I have emailed close to a dozen times, but havent talked to and have only seen one photo of. The picture is of a white guy with brown hair. I walk into the bar where we are meeting and there are 3 separate guys fitting the above description all sitting one chair apart, all watching me walk in. Hmm. I slowed down trying to look at each of them in the "mood" lighting of the pub. One looks away. Yes, have it narrowed down to two of them. One is cuter. I step towards the first one along the path. The voice of the next guy on the bar speaks up. whoops.**
- The problem with going out with several different guys is that there are several different names floating around in my head. Now, to my knowledge, I have never called anyone by the wrong name. I think this is because I keep a steady monologue in my head of "T___, T__, T___" whenever I am calling T___ or about to meet T___. But this has, on one ccasion, led to me concentrating so hard on getting the name correct that I forgot the actual reason I was calling. lame.
- The last tale this evening may be the biggest date debacle as yet. Each individual hitch wasn't necessarily all that bad . . . well . . . it started off poorly because I had a last minute patient and was therefore late to meet him. On my way to the bar, as I ran up the steps of Union Sq station, I lost a shoe. As I scrambled down the steps after it I hoped this wasnt a sign. Once settled with the date, waiting for a table, I proceeded to tell a somewhat lengthy tale only at the end to have the date cock his head and say yes, you emailed me about that last week. At dinner things were going pretty smoothly. I was having fun. Then I must have touched my neck because I noticed my necklace was missing. I looked down, not in my lap, not in the seat, then I noticed it had fallen under my shirt, the latch attached to the strap of my cami. I thought I could covertly remove the necklace from between layers of clothing, making it look like I was scratching my shoulder. In the end, I had underestimated how well attached the latch was to my undershirt. . . the look on the date's face pretty much said "why are you feeling yourself up during dinner?" actually, I think he liked it. Once I did free said necklace I appologized and excused myself to the bathroom (where I should have just gone in the first place, i realize that now) to compose myself. When I returned things continued to go well and we decided to check out some bands playing at NorthSix. I managed to trip twice on the walk to the train, but by now, that was nothing. On the L train though, I realized I had a new problem. A girl's worse nightmare. It must have registered on my face because he asked what was wrong. It was a crowded train though so I just said I'd tell him later. Climbing the steps at Bedford was difficult, but I tried to be discreet. As we walked down N 6th, I couldnt keep the act up any longer. He noticed. "Are you OK? You are walking kind of funny." I had to fess up . . . "well, my tights have aborted themselves of any elastic and are currently around my knees, on their way further south." He laughed, opened the door to the venue and pointed to the restroom.
*the date didnt mind the beef, said he wouldnt be veg if he could digest meat. i still feel kinda bad about it.
** well i'll be. the cuter one was my date!
cock and bull
I know, I know, I've really been spouting too much culture crap to you all lately. Well, it wont stop today.
I recently saw
Tristram Shandy: a Cock and Bull story and let me just say I laughed until I hiccuped. Ok, I didnt actually hiccup*, but I could have. It was that funny.
If you are into penis humor with a British accent then this is the film for you!
*hiccuping only occurs as the end result of drinking copious amounts of alcohol with quegs
Shrinkage
You know how a wooden door will swell in the summer and shrinks in the winter? I think the cartilage in my ears is like that, contracting when its cold outside too. This has caused the hole that funnels into the ear canal to enlarge, allowing my earphones to no longer fit securily in the pinna* (the fancy word for outer ear). So lately I have been constantly fussing with them whenever I listen to my ipod, trying to keep them from falling out . . . and now that I think about it, months ago my ear used to hurt from having the ear piece jammed in . . . an interesting phenomenon.
* fact of the day from Wikipedia: the human pinna selects for sounds in the frequency range of human speech . . . "the more you knoooowwww"
not the last post
Fear not, fair blog readers! I'd like to let you all know that I am flagrantly disregarding NYTimes Mag's and New York Mag's call to stop blogging. I will continue to post mundane stories about my so-called life and lame observations of the city.
Let's Kill all the Bloggers, a Gawker article
is bean-town the new bag?
On my daily promenade along Canal street I am usually accosted with "Purse, Purse, you want a Purse?" but the past few days it has been "Boston, Boston, bus to Boston?"
Is it the long weekend or the bitter cold that has drawn NYers northbound?*
In a reverse move, SA is visiting NY this weekend, yea!
Jennifer Nettles is back (with Bon Jovi?)
If you havent heard her voice, I'm sorry. She may be in a country band right now, but word on the street is she is on her way solo once again.
RW introduced me to
Jennifer Nettles back in 1998 (wow) when she was with
Soul Miner's Daughter. Most recently she and Sugarland performed at the grammies.
Anyway, she will be on TV on Sunday performing with Bon Jovi, their duet, "Who Says You Can’t go Home," during the Daytona 500 Pre-show.
NBC on Feb 19th, 2PM EST
What the Bleep Do We Know?
What the Bleep do We Know? is a film/documentary about quantum physics, or more specifically the quantum physics of possibilities. *
I think a bit of it was over my head, but some of the studies they cite are simply amazing. If you want something to think about see this.
*There is sequel of sorts called
What the Bleep?: Down the Rabbit Hole that just came into theaters this month.
Moonlit hike
Apparently the down side of living in a small town is not the lack of drinking locales, but plethora of locals at said locales. It seems the general consensus is that townfolk should not see one of its doctor's blitzed and shakin her booty. So we had a little party chez LD. After several rounds of blender beverages and Faith Evans tunes, LD pointed out that we probably wouldnt want to go on a hike the next morning b/c we'd be hung over and the bright light would bother us. Therefore the obvious choice would be to take a hike after the following round. And this is just want we preceeded to do.
The forest floor was blanketed in ~3" snow and reflected the moonlight brilliantly. We literally went over the river and through the woods to a clearing within a virgin pine forest where we proceeded to litter the pure landscape with snow angels. On the way back down to LD's house I fell (again) but buffered by tequilla I did not feel what is now a tennisball-sized bruise above my knee.
Long live optometry gal soirees and the sober souls who take us out.
White out
Have you experienced a white out? (and I dont mean the Bic version)
It is a weather term used when the snow flakes are gusting around so much that all you see is white.
For some reason I had thought it meant if you were on the road and the car ahead of you lost some of the snow off its roof, hitting your windshield. I was wrong. The true white out is kinda surreal. You just see nothing.
Anyway, while in Maine, AH, LD and I braved the white out elements to go outlet shopping in Freeport. It wasnt so much the snow that was the problem, but the wind. As we scurried around the town, we tried to find some stores that were open (with super deals too, of course).
The next day I noticed I had rather pink cheeks . . . adventuresome gals that we are, we managed to get windburn. through shopping.
the new cutie pie
I feel it is only fitting that I chose Valentine's day to introduce my blog readers (all 3 of you) to the latest "heart" of my life.
Meet Pugsie.
She is adorable and friendly and likes to play, give you kisses or lie on your lap in such a way that you dont care how much she sheds. *
Sadly, she lives in Hallowell with LD (and AM), but hopefully I will dance with her once again.
*Of course I may have bought my affection in the form of
doggy treats, but thats another matter.
Road trip!
I’m off! To Hallowell Maine for some optom gal time and possible snow showing! Of course, there is no snow up there right now. Yes, I realize it is supposed to snow in NYC the weekend I leave to head to a “winter wonderland.” Murphy’s law sparks in my mind.
*Murphy’s law = Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, AKA Finagle’s law. A more appropriate law, known as O'Toole's Corollary of Finagle's Law = The perversity of the Universe tends towards a maximum. I like that one, I feel like it could go along with thermodynamic entropy or something (whoa, I totally went Ms. Jewett style on the blog)
22
22mm, about the length of a human eye. Also a calliber of bullet. I had thought it was a caliber of gun that was “22”, more specifically a 22 Magnum pistol.
But, I was wrong. And this means the big shoot off between JK and I is off until I can either get us licensed in NY, or find another place to learn all about guns. Sad. At least he got to “shoot” some photos of the West Side Pistol Range and I got to meet A, so the evening was not totally lost.
an excerpt
From
Autobiogrphy of a Face by Lucy Grealy, 1994:
"The streets in New York City are their own country. A knowledge of them gives one a sense of power. It makes no difference that for the most part New York is a giant grid, supremely traversable compared with such labyrinths as Paris or London. Its power heaves up from the pavement right in front of your eyes, steam escapes in fits and starts as if the whole place were going to blow any minute, people who have already blown apart lie crumpled in its crevasses, and all the while there is a thin promise, a slight wheedling tone, that something important, something drastic, is about to break."
the extreme awesomeness that is ladies' night in
I have just returned from another stellar Tuesday night at LA/SJC's. Tuesday, or "taco tuesday" is a night for tacos (or other foods that usually involve avocados), simultaneous Scrubs and Sex and the City viewing as well as a possible silk-screening, or at least discussing the latest design idea. On my way home tonight I thought about how over the years I have had many evenings that held a similar format (ladies, food, TV, craft of some sort and gossip, of course) but with different groups of gals. And as I write this, I think, its kind of ridiculous:
there were Sunday dinners at 184 with Alias and fire (a craft of sorts); Thursday nights with Optometry gals and the occational Ankara and AM's teaching us how to crochet; Friday nights at AM's or BW's with stupid movies and puppy chow (the tasty chocolate-peanuty snack).*. .
I love the regularity of seeing my friends, hanging out, trying new recipes/cocktails** . . . I know I'm not doing a great job of trying to put this into words, but, I rue the day when my life no longer includes a ladies night.
*no crafting, unless drying banana peels counts.
**interestingly, the beverages seem to have gotten stronger over the years, from the shared bottle of boon's farm to wine and now mojitos (with an extra splash of rum, courtesy of SJC)
Yucky Yoga
I like to pretend that I do yoga. It sounds good or, err, healthy. I have a cute mat. I occationally end my after-workout-streches in childs pose (its so comfy!). But I rarely actually do an hour of yoga. I have a few videos / DVDs that I will do in the apt when no one is home and am too lazy to walk to the Y. I mean I like it because it reminds me of how NOT flexible/strong I am and this generally leads to an increase in gym attendance. But I havent been to an actuall class in quite some time.
Maybe it was hearing about LA's regular yoga, or someone calling me out about putting yoga as a favorite activity on match, but I decided I needed to go to a class again.
Tonight I went. and I remembered why I dont go to yoga classes.
there is so much time on breathing and listening to your breath and making really long "ommmm" noises and relaxing your tongue, sitting up straight, focusing on "the third eye", the open palms to let the energy in, speaking random words in Sanskrit (or atleast thats what the instructor tells you) . . . its all so . . . not me. I need a yoga for left-brained people. Untill I find it, I will try to add downward facing dog to my streches and take "yoga" off my list.
playing the wait game
OK, so I did not see much of the game last night. I was in front of a TV for the last 1/2 of the first half, and first 1/2 of the second, but thats about as much as can be said for watching the game, or even the commercials. we were chatty. and there was some kick-ass mac and cheese. But I was happy to hear the Steelers won. I suppose I was routing for them since 1. I've actually been to Pittsburgh, but not Seattle 2. I've seen whats in Pittsburgh and this town needs a parade like no one else 3.
My Dad had a bet riding on the Steelers and my grandma gets taken out to breakfast whenever my dad wins a bet (so really I was routing for Grammie to get free eggs).
I did stay up to see Grey's Anatomy though and I was amazed at the correctness of B's forcast of the subject matter of that show . . . are you psychic?
Anyway, tonight, as I waited for blogger to finish updating so I could blog (its an addiction, I know), I checked out last nights commercials
here. The mystery fridge one was my favorite, although the one of the little clydesdale trying to pull the Budweiser got a few "awwws" at the party.
well, now on to actual blog plot of today . . .
boring is as boring does
Apparently there are levels of boredom and things one will do to occupy their mind, when absolutely necessary. Reading, Sudoku, crafting, listening (heck, even quiet dancing) to itunes in my office and even trying to learn Cantonese by eavesdropping, to name a few. But today, my 6th day of work in a row, I needed something new. I looked around me and realized I really have never seen under my fingernails with a 10 -25X microscope. This lead to looking at basically everything in the office not nailed down in true "hi-definition." Let me just say, LD, AM, or all clean-freaks out there, don't do this. ever. Everything is gross. i actually tried to clean my pen with rubbing alcohol to see if I could get it less grody, but the miniscule cracks still held grime despite a good scrub.
Eventually I went back to my book. But after a very extensive hand washing.
about a boy
Perhaps, I'm looking for a dreamer. A friend of mine is looking for someone who talks a straight talk. Another, for someone responsible. One, for a true romantic.
I realized today we all are looking for the same man. His name is
Lloyd Dobler.
solita? chinatown?
I was walking around yesturday and noticed the "Solita" hotel on Grand. Umm, isnt Southern Little Italy considered Chinatown? I guess Solita is on the southern side of Grand, north of Canal? in that case, I suppose I work in solita (and yet little italy is west of my office?)*
At work I am allowed to walk ~a 12 minute radius from the office (so in case I'm needed, the patient does not wait too long). So I've ventured through Chinatown, Little Italy, Nolita, Soho, LES, the upperpart of downtown and, I suppose, Solita. If I extend to a 1/2 hour walk, I can be in Tribecca, the financial districet, East village, West Village, or Union Square. So how is that I can spend an entire afternoon and never leave the UWS? Are there smaller sub-cities in this neighborhood that I just dont know about? Or is the entire area from 60s on up west of the park called the Upper West Side because AmCo80s would just be a ridiculous name?
*Yes, I realize I am a bit obsessed with the naming of neighborhoods. I blame AH. As soon as she told me her friend who lived here for a while didnt know why Soho was called Soho, I thought neighborhood naming could be my "in" to the city.
steam got in my eyes
Last night I headed to the
Russian and Turkish Baths for the very first time. I knew it was old (since 1892). I knew it wasnt a spa. I also knew you get to borrow as many towels as you'd like while you are there. But, I was expecting there to be a "bath" or tub of hot water or something. The closest thing was this mini pool with FREEZING cold water (i mean it made the polar bear swim look tepid). But there were 4 different kind of hot rooms. They varied from super steamy (the US) to dry (the Finnish). The Russian room was by far the coolest in style (while being the hottest in temperature). It was basically a cave with slabs of water-soaked oak to sit on and buckets of cold water to dump on yourself when you got too hot. This is also the room they do the Platza treatment in. This involves a person lying down while the attendant basically whips you with broom made of fresh oak leaves. There is soap involved too and the action of broom over a person's body makes the whole event look like a person is going through a car wash.
Overall, I probably wont be "russian" back (oh God did I really just say that?) soon; it was kinda pricey. But I must say I felt REALLY relaxed afterwards, so its definitly worth trying if you havent yet.
There is a God
I had hoped and prayed for this to happen and soon my dream will be a reality . . . .
Trader Joe's is opening in Union Sq!
happy 1/2 anniversary to me
This gal has been living in BK for 6 mos!
when I google image searched "six" this is what came up. not sure I get the connection.
