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.

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.