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!

Siena is a mischievous child

I can't remember if I've told you before how Siena marauds the secret treats hiding place. She can't open the dish-towel drawer itself (which is why it seemed like a good hiding place at the time), but she can open the cabinet door next to the drawer. And apparently there's a passage between the cabinet and the drawers, because since she learned this trick, I've come home countless times to find dish towels and pot-holders scattered everywhere. I no longer keep the treats in there, but either hope springs eternal or the drawer still smells like delicious treaty goodness, because she still opens the cabinet door, climbs to the back of the cabinet, squeezes through the space into the drawer well, reaches up into the middle drawer, grabs whatever she can reach and hold in her sharp and devious teeth, and then drags crap all over my kitchen, more days than not.

Lately, as I already told you, she's been particularly snuggly, and maybe because of that she hasn't done anything bad in a while. Two days ago, I came home and she greeted me at the door, all purring and lovey. I told her she was a good girl and headed for the kitchen to feed her.

And she ran ahead of me.

I turned on the light and saw that the cabinet door was open. But before I could even say anything...

She stood on her hind legs and pushed the door shut!

Then she turned around and looked at me like, all, What? What? No, I didn't open the door, what are you talking about? You don't see any dish towels lying around, do you?

And she had a point, nothing was out of place.

Yesterday, I come home, and the cabinet door is open again! But instead of running ahead to hide the evidence, she just keeps purring up against my leg, trying to distract me with cuddly love.

Siena, shut the door!

She cocks her head at me.

Siena...be a good girl and close the cabinet.

She walks over, gives it a nudge with her cheek, and gets it halfway shut.

Nope, all the way please, baby.

She had started walking back over to me, but she stopped and gave a little questioning squeak. I pointed, and she turned around and went back and pushed it all the way shut.

Seriously, this cat is way too smart for a housepet. I love her, and I think her stunts are cool enough to brag about ad nauseam here, but honestly? She's freaking me out a little. I half expect to come home tonight to find her reading my back issues of Newsweek.

Or at least Radar.

Pretty Miami Hate Machine

I am sitting at my desk, weeping with laughter. Seriously.

Told you, I don't actually need television reception. It couldn't have been any more entertaining than this is.

Foraging in New York City: Random Restaurant Reviews for the Aimless Diner

Crossposted from Spreeblick:

Foraging in New York City: Random Restaurant Reviews for the Aimless Diner

Yes, Sir, that's my baby

I really do love that husband of mine. He takes on the best projects.

On the English Language

Orwell's ruminations, courtesy of Nicfit.

The Voice of the City

The best Wednesday One-Liners on Overheard are those that reveal the wit and wisdom of train conductors.

I disagree

Me, I love fauxhawks.

Bait

In preparation for my trip down south, I'm brushing up on a bit of Bayou culture.

How you can tell I'm a Bostonian

See, in this item, where I come from, you might want to explain who Mark Cuban is, but you'd never have to specify what band Ric Ocasek was in.

Siena is a narcotic effect

We all know that Seese, while pretty and funny and social and devious, is not too much of a snuggler. She loves to be at the center of the party, true, but she'd rather have her own chair, thanks, and maybe her own ride home, too. She's independent that way.

But yesterday she needed cuddles, all the time. Slut. She was purring and rubbing and head-butting and squinting up her eyes in unabashed bliss. It culminated in her sleeping in the crook of my knees, instead of at the foot of the bed as usual.

These moments are so rare, so unpredictable, so precious, that she is undeniable. Whenever the alarm clock goes off and I find her curled up in the crook of my knees, I just have to hit the snooze button. I can't bear to leave the bed and curtail the snuggle opportunity.

Mornings like these, Siena is about as bad for my on-time-to-work efforts as an overdose of Halcyon.

And speaking of on-time-to-work efforts, I do believe we're due for another Quarterly Report! coming soon....

Morning agenda

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

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

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

Heading down to New Orleans

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

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

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

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

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

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

Calling all celebrity stalkers

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

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