Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Friday, January 27, 2006

Man, do I miss the Lower East Side

On mornings like this, when I would wake up on Orchard Street with the Tenement Museum's renovation crew blasting right outside the window, I would just call in sick.

And then spend the rest of the day indulging in more gin or pheromones. And cartoons and take-out. With an occasional hop over to Babeland if we needed to replenish other supplies.

Of course, back then I still smoked, so some Nat Shermans would have been nice as well.

Step away from the muffin basket

I prefer wheat toast anyway.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Do you feel lucky, punk? DO you?

Oh, my golly! After the hell that was the Year of Death and Destruction (kicked off with Cancerpalooza 2004 and going straight through early 2006), I had hoped that the coming year would bring better luck. But being a slightly superstitious sort, I didn't want to jinx myself.

Now I see that the Chinese New Year this Sunday marks the beginning of Lunar Year 4704, which will be Year of the Dog. This bodes well:
1. I was born in the Year of the Dog, 1970
2. on the 4th
3. 4, 7, and 47 are my lucky numbers! (also 14, but I won't quibble, though I was in seat 14 last night at the ballet! Which was nice)

Still trying not to jinx myself, but I have to say, the day's looking a little brighter!

Last night at the ballet

The ballet people are champagne drinkers; a younger, more exciting crowd than the opera people. - Walter Nurena

(Thanks to the Flickr homepage for having its thumb firmly on my zeitgeist!)

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Is Your Boss a Psychopath?

Mine is not, but I'm pretty sure my ex-boyfriend was.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Baliani Rocks!

Jenove says I know the most interesting people. I hope that's because I too am somewhat interesting, perhaps? Whatever the reason, it gives me some good stories to share...

A friend of mine is a semi-famous chef (featured on the Food Network, and in the Globe, Times, Gourmet; toured Spain with Mario Batali, stuff like that). He used to have this hot and delicious restaurant in Boston, then he got married and opted for the relative quiet of the non-restaurant lifestyle, and became a food consultant. Now he's starting up a new venture, called My Befana.

If you live in Manhattan, you should consider signing up for it! Admit it, we all love Netflix and Fresh Direct. And I can assure you Danny's cooking is kick-ass, and you all know how much of an Italian food snob I am.

Also, he's begging me to come work for him, to help with promotions, and basically be the public face of the venture. As you can see, I'm well practiced in singing his praises, which is why he knows I'd be perfect for the job. But I'm not willing to give up my chosen journalism career to struggle at a new restaurant. So I'm considering going part time.

And his new space on Houston Street? The original home of another friend's start-up venture. They've now gotten so big that they had to move to larger offices, which I think bodes well for Danny's new venture, don't you? Get in while the getting's good! Check it out!

Thursday, January 19, 2006

red undies for the New Year

A-HA! See, I'm not the only one who believes you have to be wearing new red underwear at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve!

As I fear that Agent Provocateur link will expire in a month, here's the graph in question:
Welcome to our first edition of 2006!

We hope your stockings were filled with your appropriate fantasies over the festive period! We also trust that you 'Agents and A.P. girls' were wearing your lucky red knickers to see in the New Year. We do check sometimes you know!

Nerve.com - Sex Advice from . . . Knitters

Another lost opportunity. With all the craziness that's been going on the past month, I never responded to the solicitation I got for this article. And now it's been written.

Well, maybe they'll do another one soon -- Sex Advice from ... Older Women. Or maybe Sex Advice from ... Frat Girls.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

What's the big deal?

Things that are not at all related to the secret:

my sex life
my health
Brad or Angelina
... umm ...

Well, I was making this list up in my head as I was stumbling back home from the subway this morning, trying to distract myself from the waves of nausea. Pretty understandable, I think, that I've forgotten it before I managed to post it.

Guesses will be entertained, but neither confirmed nor denied.

Worn Out

Permit me a worn-out turn of phrase, but I am SO sick and tired of being sick and tired. I had to leave the subway station and head back home this morning, as I was queasy and clammy and swaying to the point of falling over. I honestly feared that I wouldn't make it home, and I collapsed on the couch as soon as I got in.

Pneumonia sucks. Yet here I am a few hours later, at work after all. The last time I had the P, at least I took a couple of weeks off work. But between the funeral and the big projects and he general craziness, I just can't afford to do it this time.

In accordance with huh?

Suddenly, "In Accordance with the Prophecy" is everywhere again.

First it was a rule in a drinking game (yes, I'm too old to play drinking games. I'm also too old to be sleeping with college sophomores. What's your point?)

Then I noticed it on Skippy's List (maybe it was there the last time I read it; I don't remember).

So I Googled it, and all I found was a blog that uses it as a gimmick. The Illogical Vulcan reminded me that it was in that e-mail on how to make your coworkers think your crazy. But she couldn't find it, nor could I, so instead she gave me Tips of Being an Evil Overlord, which I also love. But it's not the same.

Does anyone have the e-mail? Does anyone have any insight on how that phrase became such a hep meme?

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Brangelina: The Next Generation

See, Perez and I told you so!

Or maybe we're just psychic. As if that was actually true, and not just a confusion about her daughter's adoption, that would mean she's at least six months along now. And yes, she is skeletally skinny and also much better than I at keeping her business to herself, but I think that might still be a stretch.

Or maybe not. Apparently all celebrities lie about their due dates.

My Baby's Got a Secret

Oooh, I'm going to burst!

For the record, I am excellent at keeping other people's secrets. Not to say that I don't gossip, but that's only passing on my own speculation. If you tell me something in confidence, I lock it up tight, and I can pull off an excellent poker face when grilled for info.

Unfortunately, I'm exactly the opposite when dealing with my own confidential material. I can't keep myself to myself; I always have to tell someone. For weeks, I've already been keeping one secret, and that one only lasted a few days before I decided that it was okay to spill to a select few. Now I've got another secret, and I can't take it! This is driving me to distraction!

I don't mean to sound so flaky. Honestly, the problem is that this new secret has long, reaching tentacles. I keep finding myself in conversations or situations where the outcome depends on the secret, and so I have to demur, or defer making decisions until later. And I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

No, I'm not pregnant. Calm down.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Those wacky Islamic clerics

Remember kids, all sex is bad and dirty. Since you can't win, might as well have crazy circus sex with boys young enough to be your son, I say.

No, wait, no, I didn't mean that. No sex, BAD sex! Must never be naked, must take showers in a white nightgown.

In other news, tried out my new Rabbit last night. It didn't do it for me, which sucks, beause it's not like I can return it now, and even with a 20% discount, it still wasn't cheap.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

but the buttons are so small!

Haneway says I should train Siena to do this, but I only have a cell phone, and she might have trouble getting it out of my purse or pocket. She is smart enough, though....

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

New Year's Toasts

Overheard by Notyomamma--

Drunk guy: Here's hoping you're in Heaven ten minutes before the devil knows you're dead.
Drunk girl: What's that mean?
Drunk guy: It's an Irish toast.
Drunk girl: Oh. Well, here's to bread, eggs and cinnamon.
Drunk guy: Huh?
Drunk girl: That's French toast.