Monthly Archives: December 2008

I’m in Ohio!

Filed under holidays don't suck for me, no i really do love ohio
Tagged as ,

Oh, hey, I might have forgotten to mention that after a day’s delay, I arrived in Ohio for a glorious 16-day, 15-night stay on my family’s farm in Ohio.

So far, I’ve only had one fight with my dad that involved me uttering the phrase “well I think YOUR god is bullcrap!”, so I’m doing all right.

How ’bout you?

The Best Christmas Present Possible, Just in Time for My Two-Week Trip to the Farm

Filed under holidays don't suck for me, narcissism
Tagged as ,

Doctor Boyfriend surprised me yesterday with a little pre-Christmas gift, even though the poor boy is in the midst of law school finals and can barely remember to eat, let alone cater to the whims of his whiny ladyfriend. And it happened to be just what I wanted, despite the fact that I haven’t mentioned the thing to him since we first saw it.

It’s the hen purse from our visit to Pylones in a horrible cameraphone photo!

Soooooooo happy. Maybe I’ll even let him off the hook when it comes to buying me a Wii for Christmas.

Of Course I Was in Ohio When I Found This

Filed under no i really do love ohio
Tagged as

Harvest in the Heartland for Nintendo DS?

WHO IS BUYING THIS? I mean, I’m really pleased that it exists, but . . . WHO IS BUYING THIS?

Although, I’ll tell you–the $14.99 price tag sure does appeal to my farmgirl sensibilities.

It should be noted that the HR guy who called me is also the one who’s keeping me from getting the raise I was promised in July.

Filed under holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job
Tagged as ,

I was made to plan my company’s holiday party against my will.  Apparently having a holiday party at all is a rarity in NYC–New York magazine reported that 2/3 of them have been canceled–but having a holiday party after a huge layoff must be even rarer.  I wasn’t pumped to plan this bitch in the first place, but once my best work-friend, Sonya, lost her job and I lost my party-planning partner, I was done.

So I naturally hired someone else to do and told her just to make it all go down right there in the office.  The woman came in today with her $2500 worth of decorations with the intent of turning the reception desk into our open bar.  And then corporate HR called and told me that events held in the office can’t involve alcohol.


Hugs, Blood, Death, and Rockstars of the String

Filed under fun times on the subway, living in new york is neat
Tagged as , , , , ,

As I stepped out of Kamran’s apartment building yesterday morning and passed the park that lines his walk, I saw a woman coming out with a baby strapped to her front in one of those canvas harnesses. The idea of being hauled around in one of those has always appealed to me, but this one actually made me straight-up jealous: the baby was wearing a fuzzy brown fleece one-piece suit with bear ears on its hood. And his arms were wrapped around his mother’s stomach, his head pressed to her warm belly as she hugged him in the cold. It looked like the coziest, lovingest thing ever.

Then, when I got down into Grand Central, there was a scantily-clad man–I’m talking wifebeater made into a half-shirt here–playing some really sexy music on an electric violin. “Sexy music coming from an electric violin, the inherently lamest instrument ever?” you might ask. But yes, it totally was. And it was only made sexier by the fact that he had his eyes closed and his head thrown back, clearly enjoying what he was doing. Which made me smile so much that I had to turn away. Nice start to my day, right?

But THEN, I was getting off the 4 train at Bowling Green before work, and as I was waiting in the huge line that forms before the staircase leading up to the street, this Italian-looking guy in his 30s came stumbling through the crowd with BLOOD FLOWING DOWN HIS FACE. He was like, “Excuse me, please,” and politely made his way down the stairs while all of us stood and stared, and then he hopped into the train as if everything was fine.

And THEN, I was on my way to get my hair cut last night when I heard a woman telling the booth attendant at the 8th Street R stop about a man on the staircase. I assumed she was complaining about a disruptive homeless fellow, but when I got to the stairs myself, I saw nothing but a very well-dressed older guy who happened to be holding up the line to the street by taking a loooooooooooooong time on each stair and intermittently slumping toward the wall as if he was having trouble standing. Turns out he was having a HEART ATTACK right there in front of me. But naturally I continued on, selfish and vain as always.