Friday, September 30, 2005

Morning agenda

1. Get some tea
2. Ignore the guy I'm still crushing on
3. Shred a metric ton of credit card solicitations (a quarterly ritual)
4. Finalize the agenda for the big meeting I'm running this afternoon.

There's some very exciting stuff going on today, I can just feel it. But I can't talk about it now, sorry. I can tell you this:
I have a really great ass.
Just a thought to leave you with until I can talk more.

Also, you know that 35th birthday I've got coming up? I suddenly feel like it's going to be a good one, so plan accordingly!

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Heading down to New Orleans

When I turned 30, I went to Japan, danced in a Harvest Festival Parade on national television the day of my birthday, visited some temples, bought some pearls, learned a few words. I came home to a constitutional crisis and an empty apartment (November 7, 2000, and my roomate had moved out while I was gone), and started a new job a few days later.

This year, I had planned to turn 35 in New Orleans. I called a few friends with milestone birthdays around the same time, and was mid-planning a Big Easy adventure when... Hurricane Katrina hit. I told my friends who live down there that I still wanted to come, to help with the relief effort, show support, and still party as only the Cajuns can in the face of a disaster. Alas, the rest of my party troup was not so inclined.

But I didn't want to wait for my birthday to help out. So I asked my boss if I could be transferred to our Louisiana office (did I ever mention that my company owns and operates the Times-Picayune and; he said no (I'd say more but I promised not to complain about my job here). I also applied to FEMA. I haven't heard anything yet, but a friend who applied a few days before me has been accepted. And it turns out they might not be sending him to New Orleans at all, but maybe to some remote FEMA office. Many of the jobs they've got are of the processing-claims-and-distributing-money type, and that won't be done from the center of the wreckage, obviously.

And I want to get my hands dirty, and I want to be there. I want to be aware of the devastation from my own perspective, and I want to see the direct effects and benefits of my actions. Mostly, I want to be among the people, to see how they keep living their lives as we did up here after September 11th.

So I'm putting together a crew of like-minded volunteers and heading down there, and we're going to sign up with some relief orgs. I'm looking into the options, at sites like The People’s Hurricane Relief Fund & Oversight Coalition and The Urban Conservancy. Of course, Habitat for Humanity is an obvious choice. My Cajun friends should be un-evacuated by then, and they are getting me in touch with some other volunteer groups. One way or the other, we'll find a way to help out.

We're heading down November 10, just in time for Veteran's Day. If you have a long weekend and want to join in, let me know.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Calling all celebrity stalkers

My husband is in town. If you know where he's going to be, give me a heads-up. I'm trying to live healthier, and I already have to make up for the wedding excesses. I can't spend all week trolling the trendy bars.

And yes, I know I sound crazy, so what? I'm tired of being boring, I want to go back to my fabulous "Why not?" lifestyle of the past. Anyone have any suggestions on how to meet him? The only advice I've gotten so far is not really so helpful.

Regarding my weekend...

And really, who wouldn't be in a good mood this morning after spending the weekend at such a wonderful wedding? Have you ever seen such a beautiful and happy couple?

Of course, we're still all recovering a bit from the afterparty....

And I was a bit sad that the Kid wasn't there with me. I think he would have enjoyed it too. (Nope, still not posting that pic of us, because then you'll know which of those crazy degenerates at the afterparty was me...)

Regarding my job

To quote from Slate, I am a:
disillusioned acolyte whose initial adoration has curdled into venom.

It's just sad when you wake up in a good mood, and get depressed as soon as you enter the building.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Barbara's Proudly Presents Our Puffins

That Babs is a rapper's ho-bag. Thirteen chicks with Puffy? I bet she had the rest with Kevin Federline...

Now I know I'm getting old

Despite my occasional flair for the dramatic in matters of the heart, I'm pretty level-headed in general. When a stolen car sped down the sidewalk towards me once in grad school, for example, I walked to the nearest tree, stepped behind it, and watched as the car slammed into it, spewing spards of broken glass onto my feet. Three people were hospitalized; I got an internship from the NPR reporter who interviewed me.

For years, I've shrugged off my mother's frequent cancer scares, refusing to get worried until she'd been to the doctor. (When I was 14, she spent an entire year indoors, convinced that any exposure to sunlight would instantly give her skin cancer and she would DIE. After a year of that, you'd take her with a grain of salt, too.) My attitude has always been that while it's good to be aware of your body, you can't overreact to every passing bump and spot.

Which is why this morning in the shower, when I found an odd bump and my first thought was "Cancer?!" I knew I was getting old. That's just not like me.

I don't mean to sound cavalier. I will make a (long-overdue anyway) appointment with the girly doctor. But with surgical scars, adhesions, and a general predisposition towards lumpiness, odd bumps are just part of my package.

I promise to keep an eye on it for the next few days, and to keep the girly appointment no matter what. And be kind to an old lady, wouldja please?

Monday, September 19, 2005

Race Stats

Because I know you want to know...

So I was hoping to finish the four miles in 45 minutes, but I said I'd be satisfied as long as I finished in under 50. Secretly, though, I was hoping that a rush of race-day adrenaline would propel me to a 40-minute miracle finish!

So how did I actually do, on that humid, icky, oppresive day?

I finished in 46:51 minutes.
My pace averaged 11:42 minutes/mile.
I came in 3056 of 3305 total runners, 1583 of 1770 women runners, and (this is my favorite statistic)...
660 out of 1407 runners in my age group (30-39 year-olds)!


I'm pretty happy. Unfortunately, I'm still recovering from all the post-race celebrating.

Ridden hard and put away wet

God, what a weekend.
I think I took notes, they're here somewhere, hang on. . . .

Friday, September 16, 2005

Race Tomorrow!

I know you're all rooting for me. I wish the weather were as kind. Here's the latest from Accuweather:

Warm and humid with sun and clouds; a shower in the morning, then a heavy thunderstorm.
High Temperature: 82° F
RealFeel®: 93° F


ANYway, if you want to come to Central Park and cheer for me (and I know you do), here's the plan:
  • 8:00 am -- I arrive at the park, and head for the Bag Check near:
    Bethesda Terrace, 72nd Street about halfway between east and west-side entrances.
    You know the spot, there are stairs down to the big pretty fountain.

  • 8:15 am -- do a short jog to warm up, and stretch

  • 8:45 am -- meet my running group at:
    72nd Street West Side entrance, across from the C train stop on CPW, at the benches.
    We'll all be wearing our red and black Jackrabbit t-shirts. I will also have on black shorts and probably a Fenway Park baseball cap.

  • 9:00 am -- leave the west-side entrance and head over towards the start/finish line, at:
    Bethesda Terrace (again)

  • 9:15 am -- race starts. I'll be starting out with the 11-minute mile group.

The race goes east on 72nd Street Transverse a short way, then north on East Drive to 102nd Street, then west to West Drive, back south to 72nd, and finishing where we started in the middle at Bethesda. The finish line is fun, but more crowded, and I'll most likely need encouragement on the northern end of the loop, around 102nd. It's your call where to go.
  • 9:35-9:45 -- pain and boredom setting in for me up on 102nd and top of West Drive.

  • 10:00-ish -- coming across the finish line, if all goes well!

My running group will stay around the finish to cheer each other on until we're all done, then we'll head over to Bag Check to pick up our stuff. Look for a big cluster of red t-shirts with rabbits on them.

Of course, if you don't come, I will cry bitter, bitter tears. Or maybe that'll just be the sweat ;) Or the rain!

Thursday, September 15, 2005

the Italian...

...exhibits many of the traits I dislike in men. However, he also does not exhibit many other traits I dislike in men. So for now, I'm going to enjoy his confidence and sense of humor, his ability to take action, to make a decision -- and I'll ignore the bossiness and short temper for a little longer.

Thank God it's raining. The humidity was killing me on my run this morning, but it didn't stop me from making a new personal best time. So I think I'm in good shape for the race on Saturday. You are coming, right?

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

boys are mean and icky...

...though sometimes they surprise you.

Did I tell you I got some flirt on with a 19-year-old college sophomore on Saturday?And then kinda got asked out by a 21-year-old waiter Monday night? Always going for younger men; I am hopeless.

We were standing outside Westville, considering going there to eat, but I wanted a cheesesteak at Wogie's. So the waiter persuaded us to come in, with the promise of good sandwiches of his own. When we sat down, he told me about his trip to Philly and the cheesesteak he had at Geno's, I told him he should try Pat's next time. Then I told him about all the good new places in New York, which of course wasn't at all appropriate, while standing in a different restaurant where he works...

SO then he said, maybe after I get off here one night we can go for a drink and you can tell me more?
And then he went to get our beers.

And I looked at my dinnermates, and asked, did he just ask me out?
And Matt, the voice of guy authority, said, yes, definitely, as blatently as he could appropriately do so while being our waiter.

So then, at the end of our meal, we chatted some more, and I asked him when they close, becasue it was almost 11 and they'd just seated a new table. He said someone always comes in at the last minute, and they can't kick them out.

And I was all sympathetic, and he held his hand out to shake, and introduced himself (Aaron, cute, funny, and so very Seth Cohen-esque), and thanked me for deciding to stay. And I said that if he ever gets out earlyish, we'll have to go for that drink and a cheesesteak, so now I might have to go back for dinner on a slow night. As Irishman said, just showing up around 11 would be a little too much. But if I've just had dinner, then how can we go for cheesesteaks? Hmm, this might need a bit more logistical sorting.

By the way, men suck. The Irishman agrees; he'd defend his gender but he knows too many jerks. Of course, we all concede there are good ones, like maybe the cute waiter. But even Seth Cohen has been being kind of a jerk in the Season 2 DVDs I've been obsessively consuming this week. Ditching his girlfriend for a comic boook meeting? Come on!

Okay, I'm being unfair, I know. Irishman is a dear, sweet friend who offered to drive by the garage to check on my car, and who's coming to my race to cheer for me on Saturday (and why aren't you?!??!). Eighties Dave is the best ever, but alas he is gay. My dad is a paragon of sensitivity and strength, of course; I'm such a daddy's girl, even when we fight it ends up being a good thing (if only he were a Democrat!).

Really, the only evil guy right now is the Kid, and because of him I'm generalizing, sorry. I just ran into him in the hall upstairs, and he scowled as we passed. And I'm disappointed and hurt.

What is it about you guys? I can almost understand how sometimes you are crazy for us and then suddenly you're not anymore, because you are fickle characters and you don't always exhibit the depth. But why, oh why, after losing interest, do you look at us with hatred or disgust or disdain when you run into us, as if we should no longer exist, as if it is RUDE or inappropriate of us to still be around for you to have to look upon once you're done with us? As if your trash won't stay in the bin, but insists on coming back and spilling on the floor.

I hate that. It makes me never even want to try.

And then I'm the evil one, because I went straight back down to my desk and called the Italian, who wants to see me tonight, which might assuage my sadness (of which he knows not, of course, as it is caused by another man). But at least when I lose interest, I'm still nice and kind. Ask my many exes with whom I'm still friends.

My heart aches. I wish I didn't care, and it shouldn't for so brief an encounter, but it was so perfect. If I could, I would show you the picture he took of us together that night. We look so happy and cute (and I had great hair). But no pictures of my face on here, sorry.

(I'll add links tomorrow.)

The 411 on my internet crush

Jake reveals all.


Yesterday my thong was pinching.

Today my bra is scratchy.

I need to be naked on a boat somewhere.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005


No matter what, not even if I have a date with George Clooney this week, I'm not wearing heels again until after the race. My calves are killing me, I've been sore for two days, and I had a really tough run today. Sorry, George!

Bid History

Can anyone tell me about bidding on eBay? I've never done it before (seriously, I am an eBay virgin), and now I'm really confused.

I'm thinking of buying one of these Sloan Tanen dioramas for charity.

So here's what I don't get: why would anyone bid against themselves five times and raise the price $250??? Bidding advice appreciated, thanks.

In related news, my (ahem) 35th birthday is coming up, and many people have been asking what I want for a present. The problem here is that the only things I want, and don't just go and buy for myself, are big-ticket items...

However, if like 40 of you want to get together and get me one of these lovely pieces of art, or maybe an iPod Nano for me to wear while running, that would be cool.

Monday, September 12, 2005

I feel like Maggie tonight, like Maggie tonight.....

The Advertising Slogan Generator came up with a few alternate tag lines, should I ever want to retire "More Drinking, Less Driving":

A Maggie is Forever.
Behold the Power of Maggie.
Maggie, the Other White Meat. (hmm, not sure how I feel about being called bland. Or chicken, or porcine)
Maggie, Take Me Away!
There's First Love, and There's Maggie Love.
The Maggie that Eats Like a Meal.
If You Want To Get Ahead, Get A Maggie.
Does She or Doesn't She? Only Maggie Knows for Sure.
Unzip a Maggie.
Feel The Raw Naked Maggie Of The Road.
Come See the Softer Side of Maggie.
Any Time, Any Place, Maggie.
Life Should Taste As Good As Maggie.
What's In Your Maggie?
Don't You Just Love Being In Maggie?
Maggie Comes to [or maybe for...] Those Who Wait.
and, drumroll please...
Whatever You're Into, Get Into Maggie.

I feel so dirty...

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Maggie does a big movie premiere!

A couple of weeks ago jodiroadie and I went to the premiere of The Baxter. At the after-party we were photographed, and failed to meet Sting, but I did meet a very nice Italian who asked for my phone number.

Unlike the Kid I fell head over heels for the next night, the Italian actually did call, and we set up a dinner date...for the night that I was summoned to Chicago to see my ailing grandmother.

The Kid hasn't called since the night we met (yes, he called about an hour after I left him; oh what a player), and he blew the three chances I gave him, so I'm done there. But the Italian was very understanding and sweet about rescheduling our date (and the reason for it), so tonight I'm off to Sushi Samba with a hot and charming fella. I've never been there, believe it or not, so wish me well.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

I owe you one...

...or two, or ten. Life has been extremely busy, hectic, crazy, surreal. And instead of telling you all about it, I disappear!

Shortest answer is, I got the call last Tuesday that my grandmother was at the end, and hopped on a plane to Chicago that night to say goodbye. I just got back last night. But no, she did not die, though she is failing fast, so expect me to be gone again sometime soon when I head back out there for the funeral.

Other news I owe you: the end of the bachelors, the new guys, my running stats, plans for New Orleans, peripheral family drama (well, maybe not), and a way way overdue Quarterly Report. Also, I'm having a party the night of the race, September 17. E-mail me if you want to come and I'll send you the Evite info. And I need a date for this wedding on September 24, but I have to RSVP soon, so if you want to sweep me off my feet, better do it like, now. (Steph, Manda suggested Big D, but I haven't even talked to him in forever. Thoughts?)

And then there's work. In general I try not to talk about my job in this public place, even though I use a pseudonym. But it's gotten out of control, and I may crack a bit and spill a few beans. In the meantime, anyone know of a magazine or media website that's hiring? I would REALLY love to give notice, like, tomorrow. My ideal places to work would be: AP, Esquire, Slate, Washington Post, or

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Siena is a Machiavellian genius

This morning she went into the fridge, turned around and watched me. As soon as I had called her twice to get out, she jumped right out, keeping an eye on me. Then she walked over to where I keep the treats, and waited patiently. See, she doesn't get a reward if I have to remove her from the fridge, only if she leaves on her own, obediently. But I think she went in solely to be rewarded for coming out so nicely.

Devious beast.