Archive for April, 2007

How to get the girl

April 30, 2007 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See, The District Of Columbia

“The problem most men have is they don’t know how to talk to women…” – Cal

The dry cleaner that Ken Mehlman and I frequent, is located at a busy intersection, where families with dogs and dads with babies strapped in a bjorn stroll, while driving tourists question how to get to the other end of the street at the opposite side of the city. My response is a standard: keep going straight for five miles. They perk up and I mutter “too bad, sucka, it’ll take you like 45 minutes.”

They – the dry cleaner – leave the doors open on nice days, as it was on Saturday afternoon. I had literally rolled out of bed after a night of a very poor Beirut performance and slipped on my practically crotchless jeans and the t-shirt I had slept in with my Vineyard Crew 80’s-esque sweatshirt. I had rushed out without brushing my teeth in my haste to get to a mani/pedi appointment. My hair was pinned up with 17 bobby pins and a headband to keep the afro-mass o’ curls hybrid at bay. I had hairs coming from strange parts of my face and no makeup to cover up the random chin hair or ten.

All of this while standing at the dry cleaner waiting, until a black man came up to the door and leaned on the frame.

“Pssst. Hey girl”

I looked up and saw a gangly man with an oversized Skins t-shirt and gray sweatpants on. He had fuzzies in his hair. I then closed my eyes quickly promising my first born child to the Lord if he just made the stray man go away.

I went back to rummaging around in my bag looking for a credit card. When the woman at the desk asked if he needed any help.

“No, I’m just trying to holla at her.”

He then went back to interrogating me:

“Girl, you gotta boyfriend?”

“Can I take you out on a date?” [insert off color and horribly un-PC joke about the location, say to Taco Bell? Or perhaps BK, where I can have it my way]

When it was finally my turn I ran up and whispered my phone number handed my credit card and turned back around and wouldn’t you know, that motherfucker was still loitering outside waiting for me to come out so he could sweep me off my feet. Perhaps he would take me to McDs for my filet-o-fish fix.

Upon completing the longest dry cleaning transaction ever in the history of the earth, I sprinted outside and there he was standing on the sidewalk. So I sprinted across the street and was almost a causality of woman versus Lexus. All to prevent myself from being love interest of random street man. And here I’m thinking that I’ll never find anyone – at least according to Oprah – but then again, there apparently is something mighty attractive about a woman with plaque covered teeth, a bird’s nest on top of her head and reeking of Natty light. I am every man’s dream.

Mailbox

April 25, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Straight Jacket

“A pessimist is one who makes difficulties of his opportunities and an optimist is one who makes opportunities of his difficulties.” ~Harry Truman

I’m queen of the half stories. The stories that there are to tell that maybe I can tell at a later date but just cannot right now. Regardless, I have to look at the little things as fucking awesome. El madre threw a kick ass party at Love that involved an open bar with top shelf vodka and my new coworkers who I know that I will grow to love.

It’s just a lot right now. I’m overwhelmed by several different things all trying to diverge right at my frontal lobe. I fear an implosion of infinite proportions and yet I’ve managed to stay steadfast and not spew brain bits all over my bay windows.

Last week, I ran one of my final errands to the Social Security office to obtain a new card. An office that is in the HOOD and involved different groups of people taking a number. Some were there for hours I was there for exactly one hour, which involved a screaming tiny baby and an old blind man who didn’t bring a single piece of identification. Though I came prepared and today in the mail, just days later, came my new social security card. So! I am now an actual US citizen that doesn’t have solely use a passport to prove that I was born in Albany. But really, who the fuck would lie about such a thing? That’s like pretending to be born in Scranton.

In addition to the new Social Security card came my Employee tax ID number, which means that I can freelance my way through life without fearing paying $10,000 to the IRS as well as my tax refund of like $10 , a coupon to Bed, Bath and Beyond and The Queen. Which means that I get to stare at Helen Mirren for as long as I’d like and that is the true source of my happiness.

There comes to a point where you just take what you can get. Life is hard and it fucking sucks so god damn much some days to the point where you wonder if all of this is really truly possible. So you allow yourself to relish the little things: a refund, a DVD, a form of identification. For those are the only things that can keep you going. It’s just realizing, way deep down inside, where you think there is absolutely nothing left, that there is a little glimmer of hope. Even if it is just worth a few dollars, it’s something.

Just keeps getting better

April 24, 2007 | Filed under: Straight Jacket

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.” – Bridget Jones

One would think that after giving notice, then one would be able to relax and enjoy semi-retirement. Froclicking about of course and possibly planning impromptu trips to Paris. Because I’m sure that’s what you think that I have been doing. Sitting on my ass, enjoying cake love for the last time ever and maybe quickly diminishing my Netflix queue.

But no.

Schnozz is going to read this and beat the ever loving shit out of me, because 2007 is the year of the other shoe dropping and I can’t tell you what kind of shoe it is! Just when things get AWESOME! And GREAT! And I emphasize things with exclamation points and capital letters, something shitty happens. Like there are multiple things that I’m excited to do and I just finished this big giant freelance project that was fun and I was genuinely excited about. Then BOOM! While I’m riding this high of a new job that I’m beyond ecstatic for and party planning and other things, the other shoe drops.

It’s like the story of my life: one thing goes well and so another must go to shit because woe is always me. The sad part is that for once, I’m not being melodramatic.

In other news, I’m not a list maker. In fact I think lists kind of suck. But OH MY HELL…I have been listing away as of late. I get a little giddy each time I can cross something off. So you know, in that regard, life is good.

The Queen of Everything

April 19, 2007 | Filed under: Blogology, The Great Moving Caper

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh!” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”” ~A.A. Milne

I’ve probably told this story before, but I don’t care, because it’s one of my favorites. That one day when still living in Northwest, I was walking to my apartment on the phone with Kimber. There is a large empty park next to my old building and located on a very public and heavily trafficked street. And there in the middle of the park there was a very pregnant woman getting her picture taken in the middle of the park on Massachusetts Avenue in the middle of rush hour. Thus, I dubbed her Crazy Pregnant Lady to Kimber whose response was “oh my word, that’s the dumbest thing ever”.

I forgot about Crazy Pregnant Lady for a time and then discovered her blog and devoured her archives. I emailed Crazy Pregnant Lady about my enjoyment of her site and offered to babysit for her unborn child because that’s obviously so completely normal: “Umm hi, you don’t know me and I’m a crazy stalker freak who wants to babysit for your fetus. Wanna be friends?”

Anyway, Crazy Pregnant Lady never wrote back; at least not until about two months later when she requested my services despite the oddness of it all. I replied with an enthusiastic ‘Dude! YES!’ and the rest as they say is history.

I’m not sure how it is with most babysitters and their charges, but I fell in love with Noah. Despite the fact that the kid is gorgeous, he’s also amazing and funny. He gives hugs and kisses and likes to make faces in the mirror and I’m pretty sure that introducing him to Photobooth made his short little life. I figure that how he felt about Photobooth is how I felt about discovering Trader Joe’s: Shock and awe.

Growing up I had plenty of babysitters including an au pair. I have scattered memories of all of them, but nothing really tangible. If one walked up to me on the street today, I would have no recollection. For me they were just a string of women who were forced to deal with my brother and I locking each other in the garage in the dead of winter. Or the time I stepped on G’s back and he spit in my face. I’m sure these women felt really blessed with their good fortune of babysitting heathens. We even made our au pair cry once and so she locked herself in her room until my mother came home. Good times.

Last night Amy and I went out for drinks. It’s been something that we’ve wanted to do but never had the opportunity for until now. And thankfully she’d already been drinking when I told her that not only had I given my two weeks notice earlier that day, but that I’d also be moving. To Albany. And then I almost started crying at the bar, because of all of the people I’ve babysat for – and there have been loads – she and Jason have by far been the easiest and the best and they, in turn, have gotten a babysitter who has readily made herself available at the drop of a hat every week for the past 18 months.

They’ll find a replacement, I’m sure; probably not someone who will drive an hour in rush hour to come to them. And it’s not like I had the intention of babysitting him until he could stay home alone, because then I’d be like 45. But dude, I’m going to miss him so damn much. And even though he screams and looks like someone just shot his dog every time he sees me, and I have the audacity to actually wash his hair, I’m sure that deep down inside, he’s going to miss me too.

Comfort food

April 18, 2007 | Filed under: Whoopdie Doo

“Optimism is the foundation of courage.” ~Nicholas Murray Butler

Trader Joe’s makes this amazing macaroni and cheese. It involves gouda and havarti, two of my favorites and butter, my second favorite food group behind fermented grapes. Abi wrote a review about it and since then I’ve been hooked. It’s become my go to food when I need a little warmth and well, comfort in me. It’s the food version of the fetal position, though the fetal position has considerably less calories.

Despite the sometimes, rough exterior, I need a little comfort in my life, especially as of late. I need to be held and to be told that I will be ok and that I’m great (and hot and pretty and that my ass looks good in my jeans). I need reassurance.

Last night I turned to LB who hugged me and celebrated with me and got be drunk on Costco size bottle of Pinot Noir. She helped me with the pros and cons of things right now and then I made the biggest decision I’ve ever made in my life, even bigger than the PC vs. Mac debacle. At any rate she comforted me with chocolates and Mahill brought neopolitan ice cream which I mixed together so that all the flavors melted into one another. That’s always comforted me as well.

Stacy talked with me, despite my inebriation about the evils of depression and she comforted me as well. LB and Stacy were like my Mac & Cheese last night. Just making me feel better and less likely to vomit and hyperventilate and more willing to get excited and be happy for myself and for everything that I have going on right now. Even when I don’t feel like I deserve it.

I’m comforted enough to be confident in going in today and putting in my two weeks notice.