Eddie Money is a tool

And to think, I used to think he was cool for doing a duet with Ronnie Spector when she got out from under Phil's thumb. But nope, turns out he's actually the Biggest Jerk.

Mind the gap...

Got new panties for you!

Wishing won't make it so

Yes, I babbled on and on yesterday. Some of you might be interested to hear it, some of you may be bored -- if so you can just scroll on to another post, right?

But LJ has this cool feature where you can lock posts so that only certain friends are allowed to see certain posts, as designated. And I'm wishing that Blogger had that as well, because we've all got some non-loving readers, and there's at least one guy who will read what I posted yesterday as proof that I'm totally undatable and pathetic, and will laugh at me. And this blog does not exist to help people mock, but rather so they can share the love.

So unless someone can teach me how to selectively block on Blogger, I might start putting certain posts only on LJ. If you want it all, and you're not already an LJ buddy, talk to me and I'll set you up.

VodkaTonic sorts it all out for you

A few of you have pointed out that I've left some gaping holes in the Lumberjack Saga, as I just jumped in in medias res this week. So today the VodkaTonic hipster got the whole back story, which we now share with you....

VodkaTonic: Any update on the lumberjack? Does the lumberjack predate buying the house?
Me: All happened around the same time. I met the lumberjack when I moved to Boston.
VodkaTonic: Oh yeah, good choice not letting him work on your house. Not that he might not do a great job, but if he did a bad job, then you would be fucked.
Me: Exactly.
VodkaTonic: And you have, or have not, gone on a date?
Me: Depends on what you call a date. We had this one night that definitely felt like a date, except that he didn't kiss me at the end of it.
VodkaTonic: Where did you meet?
Me: Through friends. First there was a drinking outing. He was kind of obnoxious, and we didn't talk much, and later I didn't even remember him. Then like a week later, there was a group dinner outing, like a dozen of us, and he and I sat together, and talked the whole time, and it was amazing. After dinner, a few of the dozen went for a drink, and he picked the perfect bar. Then after drinks a few of us went for a walk to sober up, and we found a playground and played on it, and it continued to be fabulous.
Me: The next week, we talked on the phone for a while, and he said he'd help me refinish some furniture. Then after that we were talking like every day.
Me: We saw fireworks together on the 4th, just him and me, but he didn't kiss me. But then he got pissy at a party when another guy was talking to me.
VodkaTonic: The playground is really cute. And he is sooo interested.
Me: Then he went on a business trip for two weeks and I didn't see him.
VodkaTonic: You just aren't being aggressive.
Me: And when he came back, we went out on Friday with the group, and we bickered all night, but Saturday he promised he’d be nice if I came out. So we went to a show, and he was so sweet, and then we went back to his house, and stood in his kitchen and ate ice cream out of the container together. Then he showed me all the work he’d done on his house, and then we went to the attic.
VodkaTonic: oh god that is so cute
Me: And he'd strung lights from the rafters, and it started to rain, and we could hear it right over our heads on the roof. And we were standing close.
Me: And HE DIDN"T KISS ME!
VodkaTonic: I think that you need to kiss him.
Me: Fuck that.
VodkaTonic: The girl needs to start these things.
Me: I hate always having to be the aggressor.
VodkaTonic: Guys are pussies.
Me: no shit
VodkaTonic: But guys think it’s hot.
Me: Whatever. So then he went away again for another week of business trip, and then when he came back, he had this whole plan that he was going to pack a bag and come over my house and do the work on the kitchen. Then shower at my place, and we were going to go out. The whole thing sounded like a pretense to have to stay over.
VodkaTonic: Yeah kinda
Me: He even wanted me to come pick him up, so then he wouldn't have a car. So you know he'd end up staying over. And I was all for the plan, but then he cancelled, and came over Saturday morning instead -- in his own car.
VodkaTonic: what was the reason?
Me: None given. He is stingy with details of his life.
VodkaTonic: hmmmm, I don't think I like that.
Me: Me neither. But he spent the whole Saturday with me, and my kitchen, and my friend who was visiting. And it was a great day, and he was so nice to my friend. And we went swimming, and he did not kiss me, but at least this time we were with other people, so there was a reason.
Me: Then suddenly last week, he was always busy and we didn't see each other. Then last night he said that sweet thing about why he wanted to help me with my house, but I wanted to see him before he leaves on the next trip and he said no.
Me: So I told him, “I'm going to stop now, because I can't do anymore and still be socially acceptable, without embarrassing myself. The ball is now in your court.”
VodkaTonic: You actually spoke all this?
Me: Yup!
VodkaTonic: oh my god talk about confusing! This man sounds like he could be great and could also never make a move and completely lose his chance.
Me: Exactly! I mean, how many perfect moments can he waste by not kissing me? Fireworks, rain on the attic roof, swimming at sunset?
VodkaTonic: Sounds like you need to definitely put it on ice for a week.
Me: Yeah. Last night I was as clear as I could stomach. Now I need a vacation. Good thing he’s leaving town tomorrow.

and another thing

The sweetest thing he said to me yesterday, was that he wasn't mad that I didn't let him do the work on the kitchen, he wasn't insulted or pride-wounded or emasculated or any of that bullshit. It's just that he hated to see me so upset about the house and going through all these ups and downs, and he just wanted to help me get through it.

I hate this.

Serves me right

me: did I mention that I was playing matchmaker yesterday?
him: many times
him: 20-something girls don't need help getting dates, they are the group that should have the least trouble with that. 30-something guys need the help
him: just tell her to show up at any bar in the greater boston area, and she'll be fine
him: as long as she has a pulse, and is not vomiting profusely
me: okay, I'll remember that for next time
me: (and sometimes even if she is vomiting; never hurt me any when I was that age. kidding...I think.)
him: its true
[pause]
me: so now you need help getting set up?
me: I'll have to think about it. you already know all the age-appropriate women I know
[pause]
him: no, i'm all set
me: okay, good

Yesterday, I got as close as ever I do to laying my cards on the table, but with my tendency to dance around matters of the heart, we know that's only an aproximation of straightforward. Today, he makes a comment about guys his age needing my matchmaking skills, and I had to push it, and so I got the answer I deserved.

Another lobby in the language wars

I love any linguistic analysis that uses James Joyce as an example. Also, intransitive verbs!

Welcome to my hometown

Yeah, we're a little bit preppy up here. Also, my hometown is so snobby, we don't have a yacht club. That would be gauche to brag like that. We have a "boat club."

Third date? Aren't we moving a bit fast?

My off-the-top-of-my-head list is in the comments towards the bottom. True fact -- there was a time when I felt that a guy had to see Chasing Amy before dating me, just to prepare himself for the experience. I can't date someone who'll feel inferior or insecure or judgemental about my past. Now, I just think that Amy is a bit too wordy.

These days, I just want a guy who'll actually take me on a real third date, instead of waiting for me to make a move. I'm still very sad about the breakdown of progress with the Lumberjack.

Caution - Whitecaps: Raging stream of consciousness ahead

You know what sucks about my new job?

I am no longer anywhere near the youngest in the office anymore, so I can no longer get away with being cute and charming to engender the goodwill that makes my job so easy to do. In addition, I am now far too old to be the kid in the office with the crazy social life who needs patience, compassion, and and some good boy advice.

I'm still not sure if it's a cause, or just a coincidence, that I fell for the Lumberjack while I was doing work on the new house. I've always liked a man who's handy around the house, and there were so few of them in New York. (Stef was taken, and the Cokehead Alcoholic was tolerated for as long as he was in large part because of his household skills.) Honestly, I was first interested after the dinner where we talked all night, and he was funny and we were right in synch. But it was after Ave told me about his woodworking tendencies that I had a reason to call him, and we had something to share.

And I know for a fact that after I saw his house, and all the beautiful work he'd done on it, that my heart skipped a beat and I gave up younger men for real. Younger men have crappy messy apartments, not lovely homes with bead board and fine detailing.

So here's where I went stupid. I asked him to do the cabinet work on my kitchen. As soon as I said it I regretted it. I've been very hesitant with this house. It took me forever to actually make an offer, and I considered pulling out a couple of times. Now it's over a month after I closed, and I'm still nowhere near moving in. Mum reminds me that when I was little, I wouldn't even wear new shoes until they'd been sitting around in the closet for a long while. I am very hesitant and cautious with new ventures, and I get skittish when someone steamrolls ahead of me.

So when the Lumberjack came over with all his tools, ready to rip cabinets out of my walls then and there, I freaked. What if he did a bad job? He seemed too confident, so I worried that he hadn't considered all the possible complications. What if he hurt himself? And would he let me pay him? Was he more likely to be insulted if I did offer, or if I didn't?

Really, I was a mess. Part of me loved that he wanted to do it for me; part of me just wanted him to refer me to a good person he trusted. And I felt like he was taking over, and he hasn't even kissed me yet.

So I told him I'd decided not to do the work at all.

Then I got a few more estimates from contractors. And 'Jack didn't talk to me for days.

Now I have one contractor coming Saturday morning to do the cabinets, a second contractor coming on Saturday afternoon to rehang the bathroom door -- and really, how am I going to explain to those two why neither of them are doing both jobs? But that's a separate issue.

And 'Jack was pouting today, and wouldn't let me come over to use his saw and pick up some wood and give him his thanks-you gift, and just kept saying "you should have let me do it the other day." And he sounded so angry that instead of being honest and telling him I got scared of mixing my personal life with my contracting job (as SereneRandomness so eloquently put it), I told him that I was afraid he might get hurt.

I am afraid of doing something wrong with this house. And I am afraid of doing something wrong with this guy, who I really do like. And somehow, I have combined these two disasters, and now he is leaving and I lied to him.

But at least there's a chance that the house will come out good....

"The Apes of Wraths"

You must see Hell Monkey! OMG!

My sweet solace is that Kaiju Big Battel is "Boston-based," so I can catchthem up here even though I'm missing them in NYC. In fact, I believe we promoted them when they were up here in May...

Militant Grammarians of Massachusetts

If you never read Infinite Jest, the above is a reference to a group I've always wished actually existed.

Who knew Abe of all "people" would be starting up a New York chapter...

Andrea finally gets a fair verdict

Thank God Andrea Yates's conviction was overturned, and she was found not guilty by reason of insanity. However, her ex Rusty still doesn't get a free pass in my estimation. First off, he drove her to the state she was in when she killed her kids. He isolated her from adult interaction, he minimized the severity of her post-partum depression, he didn't get her help when she needed it,and he insisted on havign still more kids when she was already miserable and overwhelmed. He is as responsible for the death of their kids as she is, if not more so. Secondly, how Christian of him to divorce her while she was in jail and get remarried.

But this latest is just adding insult to injury. I don't recall him speaking out in her defense, or correcting any of the prosecutors lies, during the first trial. And he still hasn't taken responsibility for his reprehensible treatment of her during their marriage.

Poor poor Rusty. Fucker. But Yay! for Andrea!

McSweeney's knows your tendencies

Spam Finally Taps Into Male Desires.

keep it cool

It's going to be a scorcher this weekend, kids.

Next, how about a woman in the White House?

I don't really see what the big surprise is. For years now, women have seemed more serious and trustworthy than men in the public's opinion. It started with all the himbos in advertising over 10 years ago, and the role reversal of gender perception has only continued since then. Men are petty and cheat and lie, sleep with their interns (mind you, I'm still a total Clinton apologist) and take us into foolhardy wars. Note that the old saying, "For every beautiful woman, there's a man who's tired of fucking her" is never heard the other way around.

So if women are hoarding all the credibility points in the country these days, how long until this reaches the good and logical conclusion -- Madame President?

Woman spots monkey in her condo - Boston.com

Nope, this story is not about me. I haven't even moved into my condo yet!

all the eyeshadow, none of the anorexia

Reason number 12 why I love my intern --
Regarding my hairstyle today, she IMed me: I like the headband--very "keira-knightly-pirates-of-the-caribbean-business-casual"

Oh, yeah, that's me. Thanks babe!

It's not just a job, it's an adventure

I love this, the idea of dating as a hiring search. As such, I seriously want to streal this concept to Apply to Be My Boyfriend. I mean, in three months in Boston, I've had one failed attempt, and one that's possibly advancing, but also possibly foundering. Getting scientific about it can't hurt.

Play with your (raw) food

Tiny baby sushi, courtesy of Haneway.

Is Orlando Bloom the secret of TrimSpa?

My oh my, I used to love Keira Knightley, but this is just sad. Worth noting, however, that her face and smile are still gorgeous as ever. Just don't look below.

What happened to the argyle?

I didn't even know Adam Brody could grow that much facial hair.

MUJI MUJI MUJI

For anyone who's heard the story of my mom finding A's condom in the trash, and my convoluted explanation that I'd accidentally bought it in Japan thinking it was an eyemask, this is the generic Japanese product line with minimal package markings that I was talking about in that excuse.

perhaps another clue

And I've been so proud of the fact that I don't need a man, that I can take care of myself just fine, thanks. Maybe, as Muffy said, that's the problem.

baby boomlet

With pride, I can say that I've talked several childless couple friends into reconsidering, for all the reasons Prudence lists, and several more. Just yesterday, I got more joyous news that another set of happy, healthy and wise friends have changed their childless stance (though I take no credit for the decision in their case).

What remains a mystery to me is why the Fates have decided that I should remain barren. Since a very young age, I've always been the most maternal person anyone had ever met, and all my college friends predicted that I'd be the first to have kids. So as much as it thrills me each time a friend procreates, and I get to be "Auntie" to one more adorable budding genius, it still breaks my heart a little each time too.

Of course, I've resisted the marriage part of the equation for years,and I'm not the type to get knocked up without a plan, so if I get really rational about it, it's all perfectly clear. And maybe the Fates thought it would be better for me to be sharing the love with all those kids I'm Auntie to, instead of limiting it to my own brood. Still, sigh....

for all the LJLs out there

That would be LiveJournal Lovers, and you know who you are...

The most fabulous Randomness has syndicated this here blog. So if you really prefer to do all your social reading in the LJ format, now you can.

(This raised an issue for a bit, though, until I better understood how LJ works, when I thought he was revealing my Maggie-ness to those who know me in the wet world. So kids, if you knew what I look like before you saw that sketch over there, please remember that not everyone has met Maggie, and let me make those introductions on my own. My coworkers, for example, have no need to know about my circus stunts, you know?)

later, baby

Sweetie, I love you, really I do, always have. But when you finally decide that you're ready to grow up, I might not be waiting anymore.

In praise of Vince Vaughn

This man also has a vodka drink named after him:

"He's borderline beefy, has a recessed hairline that only McConaughey could envy, and has no discernible aesthetic appeal, and yet, when he speaks, he can melt more panties than a Lilith Fair concert in a hot Smith College auditorium."

When I was there, Chris Isaacs melted our panties in the auditorium. Never thought I'd be comparing those two...

Any takers?

Keanu Reeves says he wants to get married. I've seen him in person, at an East Village restaurant, and he's not bad. No George Clooney, of course, but that's a high goal.

Seriously, was I the only one who didn't know that he lost a child and a female S.O. a few years ago? Am I really old school for still thinking of that David Geffen boy toy story?

give the devil his advanced payment

So today is the much-touted 06-06-06 date, and all sorts of terrible things are supposed to happen -- like the release of Ann Coulter's latest book and a really bad horror movie remake.

And yet, not to jinx anything, but I'm having a way better day today than I did, oh, yesterday for example. I came home last night, burst into tears for really wussy reasons, and curled up on the couch with Arrested Development, unable to cope with anything more complicated.

Today, the worst of it so far (knock wood) is less-than-perfect hair. And the office DJ just started up a devil-themed playlist -- "Sympathy for the Devil," "Running with the Devil," "Devil Went Down to Georgia" -- that is totally making us all giggle.

Just to play it safe, I snoozed the alarm until 6:00 this morning, to add a fourth 6 to the list and diffuse the impact. Maybe I should leave work at precisely 6 tonight to keep it going...

I'd better be getting a Mother's Day card.....

This weekend, someone called me a MILF. Yes, I'm over 30, but no, I don't have any kids, so it was particularly odd.

I have more to say on the subject, but since I'm so OLD, I have a responsible job that requires me to get up at 5:30 am. And since I'm so NOT AT ALL OLD AND I SHOULD REALLY GROW UP ALREADY, I was watching Family Guy in the basement of my fraternity house until late (with said MILF-labeller), and only got four hours of sleep last night. And a MILF needs her beauty sleep, you know.

Sorry about all the shouting there. You know how we old ladies get cranky and temperamental. I'm going to have some tea to soothe my nerves and do a spot of knitting.

The new leaf

I had an epiphany over the weekend.

(as a huge Joyce fan, I absolutely love having epiphanies. When I was in high school, try as I might, I could not understand the concept of an epiphany, aside from the early January holiday, so now I revel in them when I have them.)

Anyway...
This past weekend I visited friends with two kids. The one-year-old boy is always smiling and laughing, and loves to be held and cuddled, and loves to get raspberries on his belly. He always acts happy to see you, and he totally responds to the affection he is offered. The other child, a four-year-old girl, is really strong-willed and incredibly smart, but she's also a little prickly and not at all cuddly. She will almost never give a hug or a kiss, or tell you she loves you. Although I adore her and am constantly amazed at her brilliance and hysterical sense of humor (so young to be so witty!), I have to admit that her brother is more effortlessly lovable.

Playing with the two of them this weekend, I remembered an NPR story I heard a while back, about mothers who felt guilty because they were afraid that they loved one child more than another. One mother in the story described her two children basically the same way as the two kids I was with -- one was strong-willed and independent, and the other was cuddly and affectionate. And the mother admitted that it's just easier to love the cuddly one, because he's the one who loves you back.

THEN, I remembered something my first love said to me so many years ago, in a love letter that I still have. "O Maggie it is so hard to love you, but I do..." See, when I was in high school and college, I was very affectionate and outgoing. But after college, people were really critical of me for being that way, and unlike when I was younger, I responded to that criticism, and changed my behavior. Then, in New York, it seemed that everyone plays it so cool, and they laugh at you like you're a sucker if you show your heart. Even worse, a woman is derided for being desperate or scheming and clawing if she shows any interest at all,and that just made my blood boil. But instead of fighting that attitude, I went to extremes to avoid ever being accused of it (which did no good anyway).

So I closed up my heart, and now if I'm interested in someone, I don't know how to show it, and instead I back WAY OFF. I show more interest and love to people I barely know than to people I care about, for fear of being "too much" or "too intense" -- all because of what others have tried to teach me.

Now I am going to work very hard to open my heart back up and be loving, and in turn, loveable, again. I am trying to turn off the censor, and instead of thinking about how to behave (hmm, maybe I was calculating after all, but not in the way they meant), I will just act from the heart and show what I feel.

I started last night, and it was SO much better. I felt like myself for the first time in ages and I had a wonderful time. I caught myself a couple of times, like the moment I wanted to kiss A. on the cheek for no apparent reason and I hesitated, but then I did it, and then later I did it again without even thinking about it. Baby steps, I know, but this can only lead to good things.

I may have made similar proclamations before. I've known for a while that I was closed off, and wanted to change, but I didn't feel it. It was only a cerebral awareness, not in my gut. That's the whole point of an epiphany -- it hits you on a different level. And maybe the new city will help with the new attitude as well. I can only hope so, and try.

Wish me luck.

Enjoy that metaphor

Your kids won't know what an iceberg is! HAHAHHAHA.

That's too sad to be this funny.

Jealousy, thy name is Maggie

Damn those lovely, witty, brilliant Fugsters. Not only do they have the Best Intern Ever. But to add to my torture, it seems he gives great footrubs too.

Sigh.

Thank you, Dan Savage....

So I'm warming up to my workday by catching up on a few back episodes of Something Positive, when I overhear one coworker say to another "I knew you were a sensitive guy like that. I had you pegged!"

Good thing I had not just taken a sip of my tea, or there would have been some Dean Martin-style spewing going on...

Some creepy imagery

Just checked the stats, which I haven't done in forever. Good news is that I've crossed the 10,000 hits mark! You like me, you really like me!

Bad news is, people all over the place have been coming here by searching for creepy images. The most popular referrer by far is a Google Image Search to that NOT SAFE FOR WORK Anna K. picture I posted over a year ago. The next most popular referrer is a Google Image Search for my profile image. Which either means I'm going to get sued, or that someone's trying to figure out who I am. Neither of which is very nice.

For those of you who've never met me ...

... I've got a great rack.

Seriously, ask everyone who has already met me. And this is a lucky thing, because apparently A isn't much of a butt man, so my rockin' ass, which you all have seen on this blog, is totally wasted on him.

And that's all I'm going to say about A, becasue unlike all the other guys I've written about here in deliciously inappropriate detail, I actually like and respect him. And Manda says he makes me happy, and sometimes I need to be reminded of obvious stuff like that, but she's right, he does.

So remember when I was interviewing for this faboo new job, and I kept trying to keep it secret, because I didn't want to jinx anything? Same story here. The only person I'm telling all to is my realtor, because he is my New Best Friend and must know Everything About Me to find me The Perfect House. Or something like that.

The Clooney is such exquisite torture

Oh,this is killing me! Daily tips on where to see my husband, right after I leave town! It's not FAIR! I'm on the verge of moving back, just for him, and the new walls and floor in my old apartment, and to get my taxes done...

I Walk the Line -- of Shame

This kind of info would have been very useful in my Jersey-working days, becuase when you live in Brooklyn and work in the armpit of the Jersey ghetto where there are no decent stores for emergency clothes shopping at any time -- well, you can bring your hookup to your place or you'd better find someplace near the PATH that's open early.

Of course, I didn't know, so I used to bring them home.... Poor Siena.

And now this is all useless to me, but soon I'll put together my own list of resources for the Boston area. Inthe meantime, may it serve all my beloved New York peepstresses well. Walk the shame proudly for me!

Don't buy for me, Argentina

I know how much you all love me, and how much you New Yorkers are missing me already. So I just want to let you know, I already picked this up. But it is the thought that counts, so thank you!

Quick, make a wish!

This morning, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 a.m., the time and date was 01:02:03 04/05/06. If you're not committed to military time, you have another chance to catch it this afternoon.

A clean, well-lighted place

I wish I didn't mind, I really do. Driving out to my parents' house, a cute, fluffy little white bunny ran across the street ahead of me. Awwwww. (no, I did not hit it. It was not suicidal; I just saw it in my headlights waaay ahead of me.)

Driving around my parking garage at the apartment, trying to find a space, a HUGE rat ran out from under a car and into a trash can. Eewwwwww.

I mean, they're both just little animals -- disturbingly, of roughly equivalent size (that was one large rat) -- going about their lives. But now I'm creeped out. Like I wasn't freaked enough by the underground garage, between my mother's panicked calls to make sure I wasn't mugged on my way home, and perpetual viewings of old episodes of Alias, with Sidney getting attacked in a garage every other episode. Already I've been trying to park near the elevator vestiblues, and stay away from the low-clearance creepy damp end of the garage. But now I'm all afraid something's going to scurry up my ankles.

Fucking Big Dig construction, displacing all the poor, homeless rats and putting them in my path.

Oh, and the other freaky thing that happened in the garage last night. I never got a tour of my building, and apparently it's chock full of secret passages and back entryways. So last night I get in the elevator (18th floor views of the river, baybee!), on my way out to the folks, and there's a guy in there already. Very nice, pushes the button for me, lets me off first, holds the door open. I turn left and he turns right. When I get to the elevator to the garage (I told you it was a complicated building), he's coming from the other end of that hallway. We laugh, and I tell him I still don't really know my way around, and he tells me about the back door to the garage, and shows me the way. We get to the garage, I say goodbye, and walk towards my car (blissfully unaware at that time of the Rat Menace).

I hear a noise behind me, a strange building-type grinding noise, turn around, and see the guy right behind me. I'm not afraid of him or anything, but I take my key out to push the beep-beep button to unlock the car for quick getaway -- and the lights of the car next to me flash. He's parked next to me!

Too weird. At least when we exited the garage, he turned right and I turned left. I was half expecting him to be headed out to suburbia....

Get yer mitts off my husband, Gawker!

Oh. My. God. Gawker has now dedicated an entire channel to my husband. It all seems to be in good fun, but I'm just thrilled to have one-stop George news I can subscribe to.

Of course, I am equally sad to learn that he checked into the Peninsula and is filming in Midtown just as soon as I left town. That's just mean.

But that's okay. My new job is so incredibly kick-ass alsome that soon I'll be a super-famous but really nice columnist, and by June I'll interview him for said new film he's working on... and then we'll get maaaa-reeeeeed. For real, yo.

Not to sound ungrateful ...

... but when you come home to find your front door locked differently, the bathroom door shut when you'd left it open, the blinds opened onto the patio door -- oh, and the bed made and the rug vacuumed, it's a kind of disconcerting way to discover that your corporate apartment includes maid service!

Chopped Pickles

Ah, to be back in Boston, where you can get chopped pickles and minced hot peppers on your sub, like a sub is supposed to be!

Hey, remember the bachelors?

Seems like Daily Candy does; they've described them each pretty spot-on, too!

Let Si Get This? I never had the chance...

Five years at Advance, and I never managed to break into the glamourous set. Sometimes you have to cut your losses...

Yes, a Leprechaun!

Did I ever tell you about the Tarot-reading leprechaun who told my future inteh Burlington Mall Macy's? He said I'd meet a guy who made me laugh. I love leprechauns.

Who knows how to make love stay?

Tell love you are going to Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

Weep

As I walked out of my building just now, I was seized with an overwhelming feeling. I mean that literally: overwhelming, as in I couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and definitely couldn't shake it off. Feeling, as in I physically felt as though something had grabbed hold of the soft spot just below my solar plexus, took a big handful and yanked hard.

I am deep in it. As sure as I was when I first heard about the new job and I just knew it was perfect for me, that it would make me happy and that I had to have it -- so too am I now sure that Chris is the guy. So what the hell is his problem, why is he fucking it up? Is this just part of the movie's plot, something I have to live with before the romantic, tear-jerking last scene? Or is this my punishment for talking about it too soon, unlike my long secretive silence about the job, for fear of jinxing it. I hope it's not some punishment or curse for breaking someone's heart in the past -- I've tried to be kind and not too much of a heartbreaker.

Haneway says that I need a guy who's sure that he wants me and is strong enough to go right out and get me, with none of this pussyfooting confusion bullshit. And a part of me agrees with her, but my solar plexus says otherwise. I need him to find the balls to be that guy.

My beloved friends, your positive thoughts helped seal the deal on the dream job. Can you spare a little more of those good vibes to secure my romantic happiness as well?

Closer: an old, incomplete, long-uppubbed post

A few months ago, I bought the DVD of Closer, my favorite movie of 2004. After watching it, I started to write the following post, but never finished it, because I couldn't put the words around what I was trying to say.

I really do love that movie, and I think everyone should see it. Come on over sometime and we can watch my DVD together. More importantly, I think anyone trying to understand my romantic inner workings should see it (similar to how when I was in grad school anyone who wanted to date me should have really watched Chasing Amy first, if only to spare us both the inevitable jealous blow-up).

Anyway, in the context of my recent posts and love-life dramas, it suddenly seemed worth posting, even if unfinished. So here you go...

"Hello, stranger"
So yes, I share salacious details of my sex life with strangers in this space. And true, those details tend to be somewhat wild, if at the same time dismissive of the co-stars. You can choose to believe them or not, as you wish.

I'm not sure if I've been in love since I moved to New York. I'm not even sure how long it had been before I came here. Memory is tricky. But I can assure you that I have loved, and loved fiercely.
It burns through all your resources, love like that. It's intimidating, even frightening. Maybe I could have found the fuel to keep that up, maybe I'm weaker than I'd like to think.

What I cannot tolerate is the empty return. To not have that intensity reflected back at me, or to have it twisted and distorted. . . that broke me down, eventually.

There's a scene at the beginning of the movie Closer when Jude Law and Natalie Portman's eyes lock from a distance as they walk towards each other on a crowded London street....

Of Heartache and Hanks

For all my cynicism, my running around with inappropriate men and treating them like tissue to be used and discarded, there's a part of me deep down that's a total romantic. And it is true, I have been known to fall in love, even at first sight once.

These transitional times, when you're uprooting yourself, making major changes, have a tendency to bring drama out. Suddenly nothing is status quo anymore, and people take action on stuff they would have let lie indefinitely without the shakeup. (yes, I will clean up this post later to get rid of cliches and bad writing, I promise.)

Over a year ago, a new guy started in the office upstairs from mine. We met while he was being taken on a tour of the building, and there was an instant spark. I can't explain it, but you know what I'm talking about anyway. A shared look, a smile you can't hide, a flip in the pit of your stomach. Later, we ran into each other on the PATH train, and talked and flirted as much as being surrounded by coworkers would allow. I wanted to invite him to PubNight, but we were interrupted by a coworker before I had a chance, and then we were at his stop.

And then I didn't see him for months. We don't work together, we had no reason to run into each other, and our paths never happened to cross.

Last August, the editor of the office upstairs quit, and I went to his goodbye party. And this guy was there (see, I don't even have a nickname for him!). After a little bit of proper party behavior, us both talking first to the editor and then with his friends, we eventually settled deeply into rudeness by only talking to each other.

For hours. We closed down the party.

We talked about career goals and our families, his father's death and my sick grandmother, running training -- everything from silly to deeply personal. We played questions and held nothing back. And he asked for my phone number, and very properly asked if he could call me to take me out soon. He even offered to run my September race with me, to keep me company and help me stay motivated.

We dismissed the fact that we worked together, because we didn't really work together. I tried to ignore that he's in sales, a field I'm always suspicious of, and that he was saying exactly what every woman wants to hear. We kissed outside the bar, but agreed that it shouldn't go any further, because we wanted to do it right and get to know each other, not hook up randomly and never see each other again. We promised we'd visit each other more often in the office, but we'd have to be professional and try not to distract each other when we were busy. And he took a picture of us together that is so cute I still have it on my digital camera. I'd love to show you, but you know I never put my face on this blog. Trust me, we look really happy.

I left the bar, and half an hour later got a sweet text message from him, which I gushed over, saved, and showed to all my friends.

In the following days, we e-mailed and IMed a bit, but nothing magical. And I was crazed with the work situation that was the first step in my ultimate decision to leave the company.

Then I got the call that my grandmother was dying (though she didn't until months later), and I had to leave for Chicago right away. I e-mailed him to explain, his response was tepid. I figured he had played me after all, and when I got back from Chicago I tried to let it go.

But I couldn't, not really. On the rare occasions when I did see him around the building, my stomach would leap. I tried very hard to ignore him and avoided going up to his office. It was childish, but I had work to do, and he distracted me no matter how hard I tried.

After he smiled at me in the hall one day, I IMed him "damn you for still having such a cute smile. not fair" and then immediately logged off, not wanting to give him a chance to not respond and break my heart.

That was the last I said to him, though my stomach still flipped on the rare occasions when I saw him around the building. His friend who I met on that same night in August, however, I had no problems talking to, and chatted amiably with every time I saw him.

Said friend had heard about my goodbye party and promised to be there.

moving is hard

I have all this cleaning to do, the last days at work were bittersweet, I got my heart broken (yes, it's possible), and my landlord is being a jerk about the subletting.

And I just changed the address on all my magazine subscriptions, and came to two disturbing realizations:
1. I don't know what my new address will be (I just forwarded everything to my parents)
2. My subscription to Newsweek ran out in July, and I hadn't even noticed. Clearly, I have way too many magazines, but we knew this already...

Her cups runneth over yet again

I suspect that sometimes when Pammie takes the girls out for a spin, it's only because the shirt just won't button up!

Creep

Utterly fab -- hanging out with this amazing undergrad and her friends, and you think they're cool and they think you're cool, and they totally can't believe you're 35.

Utterly creepy -- then being joined by her boyfriend, and he's that way-younger guy you hooked up with a few months back.

Eww eww eww! Suddenly I badly wanted three kids and middle-aged spread. If I'm going to be working with the undergrads, I think I'd rather feel like their mom than their buddy.

But, careful what you wish for! This morning I put on my favorite jeans, and look at that! Middle-aged spread! Better grab a longer shirt .....

At least I don't look like this woman with the scunchy top ponytail next to me on the train platform. If you're going to age blond, please do so like Lauren Bacall or Catherine Deneuve, not like Casey Kasem's wife.

Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is George Clooney rekindling an old flame?

"I have a very small vagina"

As she was leaving my house, she fired this parting shot:

"I don't like big penises; I have a very small vagina."

I was speechless, so of course I have to blog it. Apparently it's elastic, which is accomodating for all sizes.

And on that note, I bid you goodnight!

New Demographic

Oh, dear Lord, I'm in a new marketing demographic, and I'm none too pleased.

More More More

Oh, God, they're all good, just watch them all.

Natalie Portman cuts loose

Of course the latest SNL video rocks. But what I find most disturbing about Natalie Portman's Gangsta Rap is how much she resembles Audrey Hepburn while she's screaming and wreaking havoc.

Destination of the Month: Boston in March

More Zeitgeist: Smarter Travel has jumped on my bandwagon and is trying to clog up my escape route!

Be Kind, Rewind -- from DailyCandy

Look at me, one step ahead of the zeitgeist once again.

Okay, so those decks have been available for a while, but Daily Candy picks up on it a few months after I start my Great Mix Tape Conversion project!

Hmm, should I get one anyway? Does it work on Macs?

The Clooney-fest continues...

Ah, the Clooney Coma. Good taste is easy to recognize, as Bacall says (and didn't she look good last night?)

My husband gave the best Oscar acceptance speech!

Did he not? Oh, I think he did! So gracious, so funny, so true and non-boring! Love him. Congratulations, baby!

My New Boyfriend

I'm beginning to think that Greg Grunberg is my perfect man. Tall, funny, smart, self-depricating, a little pudgy, consistently employed, loyal to his friends (especially those who keep him consistently employed).

Alas, he's already married with three kids, so he'll be no threat to George's husband status. But if Josh keeps dating that incontinent skank, Greg can easily have his spot on the boyfriend list.

Colin, on the other hand, isn't going anywhere.

March 16 -- Moving Day

So, the date is set. The movers are coming on Thursday, March 16, to pack everything that's going into the storage facility. Anything I want to keep with me, I have to pack before then.

That gives me 13 days to see and do everything on my New York list:

Cloisters
St. John the Divine
New York Public Library main branch
Shop the Flower District
walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
Governor's Island Gondola
the new MOMA

Yes, I know it's ridiculous that I never did some of those things. Anyone want to add anything else? Or join me on some of these jaunts?

true to my blog name

I'm so restless and fidgety, I can't settle down and focus. Hence all the short posts today; it's all my mind can handle. I owe you all stories from Vegas, but all I give you is Peeps.

At least Peeps are delicious and nutritious, and hardly fictitious.

Tomorrow is the first of many going-away parties, this one at my place. Call me if you want to come and need more info.

As a party favor, I'm trying to put together a CD of New York and Boston-themed songs. Here's the playlist I have so far:

New York New York -- On The Town
No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn -- Beastie Boys
Fairy Tale of New York -- Pogues
New Amsterdam -- Elvis Costello
More Than a Feeling -- Boston
Sixth Avenue Heartache -- Wallfowers
Leaving New York -- REM
Boston -- Augustana
Back To Boston -- Rosebuds
New York, New York -- Ryan Adams
Sweet Baby James -- James Taylor
Tessie -- Dropkick Murphys
Roadrunner -- Modern Lovers
Dirty Water -- Standells

I could fit more on a CD, though. So please give me some suggestions, particularly of Boston-themed songs.

Yes, I already have the band Boston, and I think one song from them is enough to represent. And of course there are a million bands from New York and from Boston, but I'm looking for subject matter, not source.

Thanks!

Cuddlefest 2006!

No, it's not a dreaded cuddle party, unless you're a dreaded furry!

And I still miss Siena.

Just in time for Easter...

Peep Research!

Great, now I'm hungry

I wonder what Boston smells like these days?

"Ode to Hangover" By Dean Young

As I just gave up red meat and beer for Lent (in addition tothe crack and drive-by shootings I give up every year), I won't be feeling like this for a while, at least.

That Fatboy Slim is such a Joker

I'm speechless. And I miss my Sisi.

Vegas, baby, Vegas!

Got here way early this morning. The suite is gorgeous! Sadly, we don't have a Strip view, but very few of the rooms in this hotel do (all but the highest floors are blocked by the Luxor in that direction). As we checked in about six hours before normal check-in time and got a lovely room at all, I'm not complaining.

I am more sad about the fact that the famous beach and wave pool(!) is closed for the winter for only TWO MORE WEEKS, so our timing is just a bit off. But I'm already up $50 at the slots! I was up $75, but I decided I would play $25 in an effort to win a BMW convertible, and would keep trying until that budget was blown. No free car for me!

Tomorrow, we soak in the spa and explore the world outside the Mandalay Bay environs. First order of business, find a charger for my digital camera, because I'm the genius who came to Vegas for the first time with a near-dead battery. And there's a store here called Five Little Monkeys, so you know I need to take pictures!

I'm trying to ride this lucky streak as long as I can. If I win crazy big money, I'll buy a house in Boston AND one in the Slope, so I can visit all the time! Wish me luck!

Crazy monkey sex?

Dude! I finally made it into Overheard in New York!

My boss is a ninja.

Oh, my God; I can't take it.

I'm trying to quit today; I can't put it off any longer. I accepted the offer late Wednesday, but our Oregon editor was here last week, so I figured my boss would have no time to talk. Also, we had long-standing plans to have lunch today, so I planned to tell him over a nice meal.

But then, he had to postpone the lunch to tomorrow. And he and I were both out Monday for the floating holiday. Yesterday he was in meetings all day, and I just couldn't bear to wait until Thursday when we're having lunch.

So last night before I left, I stuck my head around the corner and asked if he had some free time in the morning. He said he'd be around.
I say something about having been trying to get a hold of him for a while -- and he looks all hurt.

Apparently he was available on Friday to talk.

Anyway, we agree we'll catch each other this morning. I get up early, mostly because I can't sleep from nerves. But I was also planning to come in early and get it done and out of the way. But then, the workers came to fix the hole in my kitchen floor, which they were supposed to do yesterday while I was at work.
So I didn't come in early. In fact, I came in late, having just barely missed the PATH train, even though I ran for it.

Yes, I ran, in this weather, with my still-weak lungs.

When I do come into the office, he's sitting there, all free and available, alone, unoccupied. I take off my coat, boot the 'putie, and go to get some water because I'm all asthma-wheezy, for having run in the cold. When I come back ..... he's behind closed door with B, for a looooong time.

As soon as B comes out, I jump up to go in. I'm standing at the door, hand poised to knock, when M comes over with some tall guy in a suit who is here to be interviewed. Of course I defer to the candidate.
Then my boss is behind closed doors with the guy, and I'm waiting.
And waiting. Every once in a while I can hear talking or a laugh from through the door.

I get up to get something out of the fridge. His office door is open and he's not there.
I say out loud, "He's a ninja!"
And L, who sits right next to his office, says she didn't see him leave either. M says he left with the candidate five minutes before.

So now I'm ...ooh, here he is!

Who'd have thought it would be so hard to quit?

Anyway, it is done. No more secrets, all is out in the open, I can now tell you anything you want to know. So comment away, already! Please?

Everything Is Illuminated

The offer came in a phone call today (while I was sitting next to my boss on the airport shuttle, on the way home from a business trip, but that's another story). I'm still in salary negotiations, but they've already more than matched my current salary, plus offered $10K in moving expenses, $5K per year in tuition reimbursement, benefits and vacation time that start immediately, and a bonus structure (I've never had a bonus before!). So it's a safe bet that, barring an overwhelming counteroffer from my current boss, I'll be back in Boston within a month.

There, now you know.

For those of you who know me in real life, and especially for those of you with whom I work: PLEASE keep this under your hat until further notice. First of all, I don't want to jinx anything until I actually finalize an offer. Secondly, I'd like for my boss to hear about it from me, not through the office grapevine. So don't mention it unless I bring it up first in person, or until you see the all-clear in this space.

But keep good thoughts, please!

First Rule of Cuddle Club: No Dry Humping

Dear God. Get your hands off me!

The signs are everywhere

Wow, and I didn't even ask for a sign.

Things are changing; I have a big decision to make. And every day, everywhere I look, signs are pointing me in one direction. All that's missing is the big, red, neon-lit arrow.

I'll spill as soon as I can, promise.

Hit the Spot

So this website says that these are the three best cities for me to live:
Boston
Providence
New Haven

I am such a hometown girl! That website is so clever!

Afternoon Tea with the Fugsters

I'm still trying ot figure out, why exactly do we Americans always think the the Brits are so tasteful and well-mannered?

Sadly, he's not talking about Siena

Randomly found this today while listening to an excellent version of Baby Got Back. Next on the playlist: My Monkey!

There is Nothing Wrong With a Free Monkey!

I've linked to Black Market Enterprises Christmas promotion before, but I think I should remind you of it every post-holiday season.

Mrs. Skipper on Gawker!

When I saw the tagline, "You never forget your first Goatse", I knew it was her.

And you've got me!

Yes, that's exactly what friends in Park Slope are for.

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.

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!)

Is Your Boss a Psychopath?

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

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!

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.

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?

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.

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.

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....

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.