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?
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.
Soooooooo happy. Maybe I’ll even let him off the hook when it comes to buying me a Wii for Christmas.
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.
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.
LIFE ONLY GETS BETTER BY THE MOMENT.
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.
NEW YORK!
Saturday night was one of my friends-from-when-we-worked-at-Barnes-and-Noble-together’s birthday party at a bar with the least character possible. Dominique was turning something ridiculous like 38–even though she acts more like eighteen–so it made sense that the party started at SEVEN P.M. And that everyone therefore left at nine.
I didn’t want to make polite/faux smalltalk with old co-workers and her family members who had driven in from Pennsylvania (what?), so instead, I sat and talked to my friend Nastassia all night and showed her my best seated dance moves, which are apparently not so impressive. The highlight of the night, though, was scraping all of the icing off the cupcakes Dominique had made–no doubt from the The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook–
eating it, and wrapping the cake back in some used wrapping paper. I thought the crinkled mess would tip her off that it wasn’t really a gift, but she opened it with all of the gusto of Christmas morning:
And this is why I don’t have more friends.
To two seafood-haters, the existence of treats like this in a mid-Ohio Walmart seems ridiculous:
Seriously, who in Ohio is buying this sort of thing?
While I was at home for Thanksgiving, my parents took me shopping for a belated birthday gift. I was thinking of something along the lines of a handheld clothes steamer or the bedskirt that my mattress has sadly been lacking for two years now. You know, something useful. But instead, I got a Nintendo DS.
My best friend, Tracey, sort of talked me into it by doing schoolwork the entire time I was home and forcing me to entertain myself with her own DS, which she received as a gift from her fiancé the night he proposed to her, and which I made fun of her for endlessly. Because, you know, it’s nerdy. And not in, like, a hipster way.
I’ve never considered myself a videogame person and find myself kind of ill at ease walking in to a game store full of men who know I’m a total fake as I buy my Snood 2: On Vacation and my New York Times Crosswords instead of legitimate gamer games. But still, don’t I totally look like Liv Tyler/Carrie Underwood/America Ferrara on those amazing DS commercials that just sort of show them playing and smiling and haven’t managed to sell a single DS to anyone to date?:
Thought so.
Not to add to your narcissistic impression of me, but OMG, watch this amazing video of me that my Internet-turned-REAL-LIFE friend Aaron the Australian posted in his journal from the lightroom at the Top of the Rock observation deck:
Maybe I only enjoy it so much because it’s two minutes of pure, unadulterated ME, but don’t you sort of love how lost I look there toward the end? I like to think it’s just because Aaron’s not playing with me and not because that’s really how I act in my everyday life.
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