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.

I may not know much about Thai hookers....

.... but I do miss Andre the Giant and his posse.

Come to Brooklyn, baby

My underwear's so cute, it says "Brooklyn" in old-timey Dodgers-logo script across the butt.

So that's where all the baby fairy unicorns end up

Man: So yeah, he went away to a fairy commune, but I hear he's having a really good time.

Twas the Strike Before Christmas

Thanks to those brilliant folks over at Nonsense NYC...

Twas the Strike Before Christmas

Twas the strike before Christmas, and all through the city
New Yorker's everywhere seethed with self-pity.
The MTA and the Union, tucked in snug at the Hyatt
While 7 million commuters readied to riot.

Kalikow and Toussaint clashed over wages
Over long negotiations and through several stages.
The Authority said finding more money's hard;
We blew $50 million on Holiday fare cards!

TWU yelled "benefits!" MTA shrieked "budget!"
And at midnight on Monday, they both cried out "Fudge it!"
The subways shut down, the buses were parked
The engines cut off, and the stations went dark

And all through the city, from Rockaway to the Bronx
New Yorkers listened to the shouts and the honks
Of cars caught in gridlock and road-rage galore
And piece-mealing carpools so as to reach four.

Then over at the Hyatt, interrupting the fights
Was a whoosh of the wind, and out went the lights,
When a monstrous vision that both awed and feared,
Some Victorian figure, an apparition appeared.

But it was no demon, no beast and no hellion
It was none other than the ghost of old George C. McClellan!
He cried: "I am the great mayor, from New York 'Ought Four
The year that this subway first opened its doors

"And I drove that first train from City Hall headed north
I didn't stop. I couldn't stop! Such was the force
Of this marvelous creation, our underground railway delight
So for the sake of New York, will you stop this damn fight?!

You must quit these squabbles and come to a deal
So the buses and trains can return with true zeal!
On A train! On B train! On N train and Q!
On 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 train, too!"

With a whoosh and a gurgle and a clang and a sigh
The old Mayor went up to City Hall in the sky,
Which freed up the meeting, and the fate of our home
When both sides agreed and threw us a bone

So the strike ended there with an uneasy pact
But no one believed either side would clean up its act
And when the Post stopped shouting and you listened real close
You could hear the faint words of our benevolent ghost

"To all those stuck in taxis and on bikes
A Transit Strike to all, and you can all take a hike!"

(Matt Levy usually writes Officially, but these rhymes were written by his brother, Gideon Levy. You can reach Matt at officiallymattlevy@actiondirection.org and he can forward email to his brother, who is younger but much taller.)

In Gawker Stalker

"George Clooney was super-cute tonite lecturing about "Good Night and Good Luck" at NYU."

Why did I not know about this?! I keep missing opportunities to meet my husband, and this would have been the perfect one, as he was talking about my industry, after all. dammit....

Gawker's 123 Reasons to Love New York Right Now

So, this is what I do with wifi. And you all wonder why I don't have connectivity at home?

I still have to explain to you why men should bake cookies more often. maybe later tonight.

Gawker Doesn't Know Sports, But They Do Know Hotness

Indeed, the Yankees are pure evil.

I am bereft. How could my Johnnie do this to me?

How to Back Out of a Kill Zone

Not that this would have helped me yesterday, as I was boxed in on all sides. But it's good to know anyway.

When will I get my stunt driving training?

I prefer the hackleback

But I can't imagine anything I'd rather be doing at 3 a.m. than making this comparison.

To those about to nosh, we salute you

'Tis the season for party food.

This one is for Jaye

Who's your froggy?

Leprosy

When I stumbled out of the phone booth, clad only in a black silk garter belt and stockings and pulling a borrowed camel-hair overcoat shut around me, I ran right into Manda, who was kind enough to point out that I was covered in hickeys.

Unfortunately, I was kind of distracted at the time, so I didn't remember this crucial information until I had already pulled into my godparents' driveway and waved to them. Dammit! No time to apply coverup or change my scoopneck for a turtleneck, even if I'd had one in my bag.

Which is why I went into their house with my hair like <--- this, as obvious as that might have been.

But good thing I made the effort, because when I entered, I found not only my godparents, but four other close friends of my parents as well. And I have no pictures that even barely do justice to the spectacle.

Let's just say that had anyone noticed anything, it would have been convincing to claim a rash, a very extensive rash.

And yes, I know that I swore I was going to give up younger men. And also casual hookups. I'm still working on that, but apparently I need to wean myself, not go cold turkey. I'm just weak, and 20-year-olds can be so persuasive...

Stalker?

Ooh, you guys are all way too sweet. I haven't given you any new worthwhile content in months, you hardly know what's been going on in my life, and yet, you keep coming back! Checked my stats today for the first time in who knows when, and they were as high as ever. I love you all!

And then....
I saw that one hit came from this Google search. Dude, I look like the sketch. If you can't spot me on the streets of Brooklyn based on that, then maybe you don't know me well enough to be looking for me.

A change of plans

I thought I was going to drive into work tomorrow if there's a Transit strike, and pick up a co-worker or two along the way. I was wrong.

Wicked Good Guide to Boston English

Boston, you're my home.

I'm not sure why, but I can't stop laughing....

And with the bronchitis, that's not a good thing. Damn you, Overheard In New York!

"Girl on cell: Hi, I recieved my FreshDirect order this morning, and I ordered one regular eggplant but instead I got fifteen limes. So I was just wondering what I was supposed to do about this. Thanks, bye!
--Water & Fulton"

TUBA CHRISTMAS 2005!!!

This year's New York Tuba Christmas concert will take place at Rockefeller Center this Sunday, December 11th, at 3:30 pm.

Any takers? We can check out the tubas, then head over to the James Beard house for their Christmas party!!

More Overheard

I like her technique. Honesty is good. And if I hadn't given up both sex and drunkenness, I would try it out myself this weekend.

Ocean's Two

You know, I've had boyfriends in the past that shaved their testicles, and I have no problem with it. Kinda nice to have a cleaner area to work with, honestly. But I never had to do it for them! They took care of their business, and I took care of my own.

When it's your husband, though, maybe you go the extra mile.

Or maybe not. Jury's still out.

Do you have SONY's number?

Sony is finally trying to make amends for the collateral damage of their war with Apple. If you bought a Sony CD with XCP rootkit-evil "copy protection" (hah!) software on it, Sony will replace it with a clean CD.

And how do you know if you have an affected CD? Check the list here.

Come on-a My House

Apparently there's a bar called Maggie's Place, and I've never even been there. But what I really want is the egg concoction at davidburke and donatella. Anyone want to check it out with me?

Zombies Attack George Bush

Zombie soldiers trying to stop the war in Iraq! And how do they do this? By voting!

We could learn a few lessons here, people. Even the undead hate Bush, so how exactly did he get re-elected?

What's so funny 'bout Oprah and Dave?

So, Nomda Plume threatened to make a donation in my name to Oprah's Angels fund or whatever it's called. She was joking, of course, as I can't imagine a worse Christmas gift. Honestly, is there anyone who takes themselves more seriously than that woman? I agree with Surfergirl that she has "a near-pathological messiah complex," so maybe only Mel Gibson can compete with St. Winfrey for the self-important prick crown.

The recently healed "rift" between her and David Letterman is yet another example in the long list of "wtf?" moments. How could anyone be angry at David Letterman, and for so long to boot? And her refusal to say what she was mad about only confirms the suspicion that it was something petty.

Or maybe she just doesn't get the joke. Sad, sad, sad. I would be thrilled beyond belief if Letterman made a running gag out of me.

an ill-defined muddle

I continue to love Slate for always telling it like it is.

Hmm, I really need a new job, like yesterday. Anyone know someone at Slate?

Strike a Pose

Paris Hilton doesn't change facial expressions.

sleek. sophisticated. casual.

Have you noticed that everything is described like that lately? Sleek, sophisticated casual is the way to be. Even my new pants are sleek, sophisticated casual (though they are also too big and too long and therefore too wet -- thanks rain!).

I love my husband

Get him while he's hot. And ethical. And wise. And cool.

Jeff Jarvis giggle of the day

That Newfangled Internet, There's Nothing It Can't Do

Now if only Jarvis would help me get a new job. I thought he loved me!

Fashion show amazingness

This woman just had a baby, less than two months ago. Wow.

Attention Passengers

Transit quotes are still my favorite Wednesday One-liners.

Take your pick, 70's or 60's!

“The 60's Show"

Art works by:
Paul McCartney, Joni Mitchell, Jimi Hendrix, Herb Alpert, Ringo Starr,
Bob Dylan, Ken Kesey, Adam West, Richie Havens

Curated by Baird Jones

Saturday, Nov. 12, 10PM - midnight

Avalon Nightclub, 47 W. 20th St. ( Spider Club entrance off 6th Ave. )

Private free vodka mixed drinks reception from 10 - 11:30

Free admission for you and your guests from 10 until midnight
by saying that you are there for "the 60s Show"

I'll be away, but you should check this out..

“The 70s Show”

An Exhibition of Art by

David Bowie, Lou Reed, Ron Wood,
Sly Stallone, Randy Jones,
Donna Summer, Diane Keaton,
David Byrne, Sally Struthers,

Curated by Baird Jones

Friday, Nov. 11, 2005, 10:00 - midnight

The T Nightclub, 240 W. 52nd St. (off 7th Ave.)

Private free wine and vodka mixed drinks reception from 10 - 12 in the upstairs T gallery

Free admission for you and your guests from 10 until midnight
by saying that you are there for "The 70s Show"

Have fun and let me know how it goes!

A victory for the Spaghetti Monster!

From the New York Times, so expect the linkto expire soon:

Evolution Slate Outpolls Rivals
By LAURIE GOODSTEIN
Published: November 9, 2005

All eight members up for re-election to the Pennsylvania school board that had been sued for introducing the teaching of intelligent design as an alternative to evolution in biology class were swept out of office yesterday by a slate of challengers who campaigned against the intelligent design policy.

What a beautiful day. It looks like sanity might soon be returning to our fair nation!

Hot Rod!

Ooh, this is a brilliant idea! And now that I've given up on younger men, I'll probably be finding myself in more and more situations where these could help out.

Except that I might not have actually given up on the younger men after all. That declaration was met with much opposition this past weekend, as new and ever-younger candidates applied for consideration. And my friends seem to think that I shouldn't be too extreme about my cut-off age.

Anyway, it's been my recent experience that age actually has nothing to do with how much you need these. But if I send the gentleman in question this link, he'll either get pissed, or think I'm trying to get back with him, so he'll just have to find out about these on his own. Fucking egomaniacs!

Also, shut up Bonaduce

We all know how much I hate the Vincent Gallo, though my dear neighbor did get me some sympathy chocolates after I got back from my grandmother's funeral, and the delicious morsels just happened to be from the renamed former-Gallo collection, and were deelicious!!

Anyway, apparently I'm not the only one who can't bear him. Would you sleep with him for $1.5 Million? Sars wouldn't:

Sarah: It's still a million and a half dollars.
Wing Chun: You'd have to spend every penny on therapy. And bleach.
Sarah: True. Okay, it's off.

And neither would I. In other news, I dreamed of Danny Bonaduce this morning. Specifically, I dreamed that he was at the counter of a deli I went into, and I recognized him but ignored him because he is nass-tasty, and then he started getting all Batali on me, so I left. Fuckin' redheads.

forgive me, please...

I realize that I was gone for a while from these pages, and since I've been back, all I've been doing is quick funny links. I haven't told you about my life in forever, and I'm sorry.

It is a sad irony that just when life gives me lots of material to write about, it gives me no time to write. This is compounded by the fact that I only have computer access at work. But I've been writing posts in my Palm, and I promise to put those up soon. They'll be backdated with the actual date I wrote them, so don't be too confused.

In the meantime, a quick update:
I went to Dublin on 24 hours notice for a bender weekend with Nicfit and the Biker.

While I was there, my grandmother died. I tried to fly back early, but there were no flights (everything sold out), so I flew back Sunday night as planned, re-packed my bags, and headed out to Chicago at 6 am Monday morning.
Spent last week in Chicago for funeral/family activities. Came back Thursday.

Friday was Dr. Muffy's birthday party. Saturday was my fabulous birthday brunch, where everyone got together and got me a Nano! SO I can run with it! As soon as I get headphones that don't exacerbate my TMJ. Saturday night went to excellent Halloween parties with Amanda and Big D, in my last-minute-tossed-together Barbarella costume.

Sunday ran 5 mile race with Dr. Muffy, and we did excellent!

Wednesday was my Birthday Pub Night.

Yesterday was my most excellent birthday dinner of MEAT.

Today is the big day! I am officially OLD! Also, have officially sworn off younger men. What exactly constitutes "younger" has yet to be determined, but I am definitely abandoning the former goal of dating guys who were *in* junior high when I was *teaching* junior high (which roughly equals guys who are 6 to 9 years younger than me.

Tonight I drive up to Homecoming, then tomorrow on to Boston for some quality birthday time with the parents.

Monday I will have more info for you all. For now, I love you.

Oh, Canadia!

Every Minute of Every Day, I Love New York. And so do I, almost as much as i love the OverHeard In New York.

You're going to Die Anyway, So You Might as Well Knit

The Anticraft, more crazy, wacky knitters.

Ohg, wait, did I not show you the zombies?

piPod

There's so much to learn about now that I have my new nano toy.

Elisabeth Kieselstein-Cord is pretty

Her purses are kinda expensive, but I like her hair.

Pie in the sky

For all the travelling I did this past week, it would have been nice if I had needed this. But the Biker was on another flight, and anyway, I've never understood the point or the logistics of the Mile-High Club. It seems destined for getting caught, and as much as I may be a drunken exhibitionist, I wouldn't want to have to deal with the irate co-flyers waiting in line for the bathroom when I get out.

Only once would I have considered it, on a foiled trip to San Francisco with the cokehead alcoholic. We were supposed to go to SF for Dan's wedding, stay with Ian and Zanne for two days, and then head off to a hotel for two days. The day before, about 14 hours before our scheduled departure on American, he bailed for what I eventually found out was a typical reason: he had to attend a class for an old DUI conviction.

Which he'd never told me about, of course.

The conviction had happened in PA, right before he moved to NY, and the two states have some sort of agreement that let him fulfill his community service and class requirements in NY. But it had taken a while to get it all sorted out, and when they finally scheduled him, the class was starting right before our trip.

He didn't tell me, because he didn't want me to know he had a DUI record. So he went to the first class, which was the night before we left, and tried to negotiate a postponement, as sessions were scheduled for while we were gone. When he couldn't reschedule, he had to call me and tell me he couldn't go on our trip.

Of course, we broke up, the first time of several.

But back to the point of this post . . . when I got on the flight, my seat, and his empty one, were in this little private compartment in front of the Coach section. We were to the right of the plane galley, so across the aisle from us was a solid wall. There was another wall behind our seats, enough leg room in front of us to fit another row of seats, but it was empty, and a wall in front of that space. Then even though there was a wall on the other side of the aisle, there was a curtain on our side. It was a room designed for in-flight sex, the head of the bulkhead.

A totally bizarre, perfectly designed opportunity for Mile-High entry, and me flying all alone.

So I swapped seats with a nursing mother, since I didn't need the privacy, and I didn't want to be taunted with it for eight hours.

Sweet Smell of Manhattan

What an odd thing to come home to.

Katie Holmes' Missing Days

She went from flat-bellied and svelte to looking about five months along, seemingly overnight. Is it a prosthetic? Or has something much more disturbing happened to our little Katie?

First Comes the Baby Carriage -- NY Times

Some of you may have heard that I'm planning on having a baby soon. I was supposed to get pregnant in 2005, but since my next career step is a little bit up in the air, I'm going to try to get that settled first. Child care and health insurance issues, you know.

The closest intimate relationship I've got going is with my fire escape, it would seem, so this is something I'll be doing on my own. I've got a couple of potential donors in mind, and I'm thinking about the big issues and preparing for them.

Looks like I'm not the only one thinking this way lately. A friend sent me the following. As Times articles expire more and more quickly these days, and as I will want this for a reference later, here it is.

October 13, 2005
By AMY HARMON
WHEN Diane Carr turned 37 with a compelling desire to have a baby and no true love to have one with, she began, gingerly, to explore the other option she had filed in the back of her mind.

Like other single women who have found themselves sifting through online profiles of anonymous sperm donors recently, Ms. Carr, a real estate broker in Atlanta, was quickly convinced that buying sperm was the easiest way to have a baby without a partner. She also concluded that it has quietly become a socially acceptable choice, if only because so many are making it.

Ms. Carr's hairdresser, it turned out, knew someone who had just conceived that way, as did one of her own clients. An Atlanta chapter of a national support group for "single mothers by choice" formed two years ago and had 26 members.

On the Internet, Ms. Carr discovered hundreds of pregnant single women trading notes. Some were arranging to send one another their leftover sperm.

"Five years ago you never heard about this," said Ms. Carr, who had the insemination procedure performed last month. "Now you can talk about it, and it's O.K."

In her effort to become a lone parent, Ms. Carr has plenty of company. The support group she joined is 25 years old, but it has grown to 24 chapters around the country from 12 in the last three years. About three-quarters of its 4,000 members used sperm donors. Sperm banks, which once catered largely to infertile and lesbian couples, are seeing a surge in business from single women, as are obstetricians who perform artificial inseminations.

The groundswell of single women deliberately having babies reflects their increased ability to support a family. It helps, too, that the Internet has done away with the need to leave the house to find a donor. A woman can now select the father of her child from her living room and have his sperm sent directly to her doctor. It is faster and cheaper than adoption, and allows women to bear their own genetic offspring.

Single women have always found adoption rules more restrictive than they are even for gay couples. Many hesitate to simply have a sexual fling or use a "known donor" for fear that the father may someday stake a claim to the child. But thousands are now gravitating to sperm bank Web sites, where donor profiles can be sorted by medical history, ethnic background and a wide range of physical characteristics. Like an online dating service where no one ever dates, written answers are given to questions like "What is the funniest thing that ever happened to you?" Some women screen for men with no cancer in their family. Some look for signs of high I.Q. Some search for a man who might have been their soul mate. Others are more pragmatic.

"You're paying for it, so you kind of want the best of the best," said Anna Aiello, 38, of Moriches, N.Y., on Long Island, the mother of 1-year-old twins, who saw her ability to select a 6-foot-2 blond, blue-eyed, genetic-disease-free donor as some consolation for not getting to fall in love with someone who would most likely have been more flawed.

Prices at sperm banks range from about $150 to $600 per vial, plus shipping. At some banks customers can pay extra for a donor's childhood photograph, or a tape recording of his voice. Fairfax Cryobank, one of the largest, charges more for donors who have doctorates. Single women, sperm banks say, are also driving demand for donors who agree to release their identity when children conceived with their sperm turn 18.

"A lot of times couples feel, 'This is our family and we don't want any external information,' " said Holly Fowler, marketing director for Xytex Sperm Bank, where sales of sperm from "ID release" donors have jumped 20 percent since the option was introduced in 2002. "But single mothers want their child to be able to have an understanding of where they came from."

Veteran "choice moms" say more single women are now trying to conceive in their mid-30's rather than waiting. Because they are starting before their fertility declines, they are having more success. Some are even having second children.

"It's not necessarily Plan B anymore, it's just the plan," said Melissa Singer, 46, a member of Single Mothers by Choice, a national support group, who had a donor-inseminated daughter 10 years ago. "It means there's a lot less desperation as a whole in the group."

When she was pregnant, she rarely told people how she had gotten that way, Ms. Singer said, because she did not want them to feel sorry for her. Other single women pretended to have had a chance sexual encounter. But the new wave of donor-inseminated mothers are not hiding; they are even portrayed on two new television shows, "Misconceptions," a WB sitcom, and "Inconceivable," an NBC drama.

No one tracks the number of women who actively choose single motherhood, but their ranks, while still small, seem to be increasing quickly. According to 2004 census data, about 150,000 women with college degrees have children under 18, have never been married and are the only adult in their household, triple the number recorded in 1990. Family sociologists say women in that group are likely to be single by choice, not chance.

"Women who order sperm are engaged in a kind of agency that is new and is gaining momentum," said Rosanna Hertz, a sociologist at Wellesley College who is working on a book called "When Baby Makes Two." "It's different from women who adopt, who are not breaking sexual norms."

Historically, far fewer women with high incomes and college educations have had children out of wedlock than those with less money and schooling. But some high-achieving women may be shifting their behavior based on the lessons of a generation that precedes them.

Professional women in their 50's regret not having had a child far more than not having gotten married, said Sylvia Ann Hewlett, an economist whose 2002 book "Creating a Life: Professional Women and the Quest for Children" found that more than a third of women with high-status jobs were childless at 40.

"When push came to shove, the child was more important than the partner," Ms. Hewlett said of the women she interviewed. "It was an ever-present source of regret, where they were not so actively mourning the absence of a husband."

The boom in high-tech fertility treatments for women over 35 has raised women's awareness of the limitations both of their bodies and their demographic. But some women in their 30's who have seen friends divorced or in unhappy marriages say they are not willing to settle for "Mr. Almost Right" to have a baby.

Ms. Carr said she found herself waiting impatiently through the beginnings of relationships, acutely aware of her biological deadline. "What a difference dating is when you don't need them for that," she said. Ms. Carr's mother was initially skeptical: "It's not like a puppy; you can't give it back," Mary Gordon told her daughter, reminding Ms. Carr of the dog she had deposited at her parents' house after graduating from college.

"Mom," said Ms. Carr, who has long owned another dog, "I have a home and two cars. I know what I'm doing."

Even so, the decision was bittersweet.

"I was so sad because I didn't want to have to do it this way," Ms. Carr said. "But in the same breath I was so happy that I had the choice."

Many single women still find the choice to get pregnant met with incomprehension or even hostility from friends, family and some strangers. The most common accusation is that they are selfish, because of the widely held belief that two-parent homes are best for children.

"I had one psychologist friend actually suggest that I 'channel' my (neurotic?) need to parent into volunteer work in a children's hospital," wrote one mother on a support group Web site. "Can you say 'condescending'??"

Mothers who choose their solo status say the problems that have traditionally burdened families headed by a single mother - poverty, abandonment by fathers, teenage motherhood, parental conflict - do not apply to them.

But some suspect that what makes people uneasy is not so much their status as single mothers but that they achieved it by short-circuiting the traditional act of procreation. Experts on nontraditional families say the use of anonymous donors without a more conventional reason, like infertility or homosexuality, may seem more threatening to men's role in the family.

Dr. Hertz, the Wellesley sociologist, said that while nearly all the single-mothers-by-choice she studied actively tried to incorporate men into their children's lives, their presence was seen more as an enrichment activity, like piano lessons or summer camp, than a necessity.

Some single mothers do relish their autonomy, which they say can more than compensate for not having a partner to help change the diapers. Every decision, from what to name their children to how to discipline them, is theirs to make without negotiation.

"Even though it's only you, it really is only you," said Stacia Snapp, 43, of Woodinville, Wash., a technical writer for Microsoft who had two children with her ex-husband and used a sperm donor to have two more on her own. "It's really hard to balance when you have someone who disagrees with what you want to do. You're trying to be a good mom, you're trying to be a good wife, you don't feel understood by anybody."

Debra Taras, a psychologist in Philadelphia, would have liked to attempt that balance. But she was also acutely aware that she might not get the chance. "I don't know a way to say this that doesn't sound conceited, but when you're at the top of your field, the pool of available men is pretty small," said Dr. Taras, who bought herself some sperm for her 35th birthday. "You're looking to date an equal, and men are looking down, not across."

At the Northwest Andrology & Cryobank, Dr. Taras, who has a Ph.D., considered only donors with advanced degrees. Worried that a child who did not share her looks was more likely to be asked questions about an absent father, she eliminated blonds. To avoid a genetic mental illness that might not have surfaced yet in a younger man, she settled on a medical doctor in his mid-30's.

When her daughter, Olivia, cried much of the first few months, Dr. Taras's image of a blissful existence in a mother-daughter cocoon was hastily revised. She hired a live-in au pair and welcomed the attention of an older couple in her apartment building who have become Olivia's de facto godparents.

Dr. Taras, who has her own practice, says the weight of knowing that there is no one to fall back on financially can be stressful. But she has never had regrets. Now 23 months, Olivia is a chatty toddler who loves the merry-go-round.

"I could not have imagined my life without being a mother," Dr. Taras said. "This wasn't a hard decision for me. For me it was an absolute."

Sick Puppy

Call me twisted, but I actually like being sore and achy after a night of circus activities. It's like every twinge is a reminder of what a good time you had, and I find myself smiling as I wince. And then after the wince is that little flutter of excitement in your stomach, as your body remembers on its own.

But yesterday there was way more than wincing. I was actually having stabbing pains in my right hip that made me yelp out loud. And today my lower back feels bruised, and my tender parts are still tender. Two days of this seems a bit excessive.

Well, at least I found my cell phone.

Maybe this is why it's a good thing that I'm not married yet. Anything less than this, and honestly, I'm bored. But circus sex on a regular and frequent basis might cause irreparable harm.

The worst thing

. . . about running late, as I have been all week, is that I end up on the same PATH train as my Journal Square stalker.

Hi, my name is Maggie and I have a problem.

(Hi Maggie!)

After at least four whiskeys (wait, maybe it was six) that are totally not on my diet, I think I can only manage stream-of-consciousness this morning.

The biker woke up at six in a panic; he had to be at work by eight, and needed to go home to Harlem first to change. I washed all the smeared eyeliner off, grabbed a spare blanket (it was freezing; when will the heat come on?), set the alarm for 8:00 and went back to sleep . . . until 9:00.
The alarm had gone off, I'd just slept through it for an hour. My hair was a matted snarled mess and had to be washed, but at least it didn't wreak of smoke (thanks, Bloomburg!).

Where was my bra? Oh, right, in my purse. (but my cell phone wasn't, I discovered later. Still AWOL, egads.)
My boots? One was in the kitchen, the other in the bed.
My raincoat? Covered with pigeon droppings from the fire escape. I'd have to wear something else.

I barely managed to water the cat before I dragged my sorry ass out of the house. Late again. Those resolutions are dropping like flies. But at least I was wearing eyeliner while drinking more and not driving!

Look at who's #2 on the list!

So apparently I need an übersexual, since "....gravitating toward strong women tends to be an über trait."

Not Enough Notes

At the time, I really thought I'd been paying attention. But maybe not, because lately all these men from my past have been correcting my memory of our histories. Old friends claim that we dated, guys I thought I'd just fooled around with tell me we slept together. I should have taken better notes.

Most surprising was my first love, who recently informed me that we did not fall in love over the course of a summer and then date for two years; he just cheated on his girlfriend with me. As she was dating someone else at the time, I find this hard to fathom. (Except that I later cheated on him with her by-then-ex-boyfriend, so maybe he's getting confused...)

So please do me a favor? If we've ever dated or had sex, or heck, even kissed, could you let me know? Because apparently I started going senile at 19.

Dammit, I did it again

It was pithy, concise and witty, I swear. But the brilliant post that sprang fully formed into my head this morning has washed down the shower drain, sorry.

Journal Square is for shit, innit?

This is why I always complain about working in Jersey City:

There is a large piece of excrement in the Journal Square PATH station this morning, and it is not at all surprising that it looks more human than canine in source.

The gift that keeps on giving

I may have become a crazy cat lady. I just ordered this, and I'm not sure if it's a birthday gift for Siena or for myself.

More reasons to heart Gawker

They keep helping me feel so much better about that AP position I didn't take.

"I'm wearing boots of escaping! I'm wearing boots of escaping!"

Thanks to Juggler (and yes I still think he's that secret international pick-up artist) for this Reno 911/D&D gem.

Men's Fitness

Have you guys been doing your exercises? For the love of God, why not? I want to see that towel jump!