today was my first day back visiting WI before i move to atlanta. i spent the afternoon hitting up target, famous footwear, and the post office. yep - it only took one day to become a suburban housewife.
i went to the post office completely unprepared. no pen, no box to ship the item, nothing. luckily the madison post office is nothing like the brooklyn post office. along with the standard issue boxes, they keep a roll of special issue tape around and some good samaritan left a pen for people to use when addressing boxes. it took me no time to tape a box together and weigh out the correct postage. i wanted to include a quick note in the box and hadn't brought in any scrap paper. it just so happened that the guy in front of me at the automated postage machine had left his receipt. perfect. i could be a recycler AND include a note in the box. i write a quick note, place it in the box and tape it up. just as i'm putting the package into the chute for it to be shipped off, the guy in front of me comes back with an employee. he's looking for his receipt. too late. the box is in the chute, completely taped up. i just can't bring myself to confess.
i guiltily leave the premises. as i leave i overhear a plan to pull up the information on the computers and print out a new receipt. that doesn't change the fact that i'm the asshole in the situation. guy seeking his receipt i'm really sorry, but once it's down the chute it's lost forever. i hope you understand.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
graduation
yesterday marked my last day as a NYC citizen. i'm sad about leaving my friends, the 24 hour pizza joints, the brownstones of brooklyn, and many other things, but excited for the prospect of beginning my "adult" life. in commemoration of my departure, i've compiled a list of my favorite memories (in random order):
- exploring the "forgotten" borough of staten island. rhythm and booze, the SI ferry, bbq pizza, with a finale at a downtown diner. all on a sunday afternoon.
- finer things club. we'll now be able to add trips to savannah, but it will never rival the adventures had in the greater 5 boroughs.
- brooklyn alliance. the few, the proud, the f and g train riders. those manhattan kids never truly understood.
- amateur burlesque night at galapagos. i certainly never performed, but the tribute to abe lincoln will be forever etched in my brain.
- first dates at the gate. minus the belgian sour ale. check please.
- group gchats. this will continue into my life in atlanta, but still deserves to be on the list.
- searching for bahn mi in chinatown. we never found what we were looking for exactly, but the journey was half the fun.
- old glory specials at cherry tavern. always a terrible idea in the morning, but a whiskey and PBR for under $5 is never a bad idea at the time.
- lifetime movies and wine in harlem. i am not ashamed.
- day trips to coney island. god, nathan's, and the wonder wheel can be found there.
- beer pong at whiskey river. what better way to show off eye-hand coordination?
- above ground subways. the D, Q, J always gave the best view of the city.
- the brooklyn flea. long live hillbilly gold.
- oko. frozen greek yogurt and fruit. let's pretend we're being healthy.
- attempting to go to free concerts. they were always too overrun with hipsters to actually make it in, but the events that ensued post-attempt was always worth the disappointment.
- visits from cloud. cheesy poofs, photo booths, phat farm, and leprechauns.
- alligator lounge. if i hadn't moved away from that place i would be a full-fledged member of pizza addicts anonymous.
- outdoor drinking, especially during the day. no one judges when everyone gets around via cab.
- the beer garden. see above.
- the walk from 42nd to union square. highlight had to be walking 30 blocks next to david from newsies.
- the chicken place. only dining establishment in midtown i'll miss.
- sunny days in prospect park.
- eve's in astoria. those women are vastly underpaid for their skills.
- failed rec teams. namely kickball.
- the evolution of pearl and the beard. they started with a handful of family and friends at free shows, now they're about to embark on a legit tour.
- amNY crosswords on the daily commute. my day always felt off if i didn't finish by the time i made it to the bryant park stop.
- dram shop sports viewing. that poor server was always there.
- craigslist roommates. out of two there's always one nutjob and one keeper.
i hope if/when i leave the south, i'll have as worthy of a list. it will probably reference just as much food.
- exploring the "forgotten" borough of staten island. rhythm and booze, the SI ferry, bbq pizza, with a finale at a downtown diner. all on a sunday afternoon.
- finer things club. we'll now be able to add trips to savannah, but it will never rival the adventures had in the greater 5 boroughs.
- brooklyn alliance. the few, the proud, the f and g train riders. those manhattan kids never truly understood.
- amateur burlesque night at galapagos. i certainly never performed, but the tribute to abe lincoln will be forever etched in my brain.
- first dates at the gate. minus the belgian sour ale. check please.
- group gchats. this will continue into my life in atlanta, but still deserves to be on the list.
- searching for bahn mi in chinatown. we never found what we were looking for exactly, but the journey was half the fun.
- old glory specials at cherry tavern. always a terrible idea in the morning, but a whiskey and PBR for under $5 is never a bad idea at the time.
- lifetime movies and wine in harlem. i am not ashamed.
- day trips to coney island. god, nathan's, and the wonder wheel can be found there.
- beer pong at whiskey river. what better way to show off eye-hand coordination?
- above ground subways. the D, Q, J always gave the best view of the city.
- the brooklyn flea. long live hillbilly gold.
- oko. frozen greek yogurt and fruit. let's pretend we're being healthy.
- attempting to go to free concerts. they were always too overrun with hipsters to actually make it in, but the events that ensued post-attempt was always worth the disappointment.
- visits from cloud. cheesy poofs, photo booths, phat farm, and leprechauns.
- alligator lounge. if i hadn't moved away from that place i would be a full-fledged member of pizza addicts anonymous.
- outdoor drinking, especially during the day. no one judges when everyone gets around via cab.
- the beer garden. see above.
- the walk from 42nd to union square. highlight had to be walking 30 blocks next to david from newsies.
- the chicken place. only dining establishment in midtown i'll miss.
- sunny days in prospect park.
- eve's in astoria. those women are vastly underpaid for their skills.
- failed rec teams. namely kickball.
- the evolution of pearl and the beard. they started with a handful of family and friends at free shows, now they're about to embark on a legit tour.
- amNY crosswords on the daily commute. my day always felt off if i didn't finish by the time i made it to the bryant park stop.
- dram shop sports viewing. that poor server was always there.
- craigslist roommates. out of two there's always one nutjob and one keeper.
i hope if/when i leave the south, i'll have as worthy of a list. it will probably reference just as much food.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
naked time
"i went out onto the back porch yesterday and i saw a chipmunk so i said outloud, "ew what are you?" then i noticed the next door neighbor sneak back inside. i think they may have been naked."
- text from my sister
i miss her.
- text from my sister
i miss her.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
this only happens to me
or so i've been told by multiple people. especially this week.
i scheduled an appointment a few weeks back to get a consult for wisdom teeth removal. i've needed to get them out since i was 14 but have just continually pushed it back. i ran out of excuses the last time i got my teeth cleaned. i figured it was just time to grow up and get it done. how often to do you hear of 50 year olds getting their wisdom teeth out? drooling and vicodin is cool when you're younger - not so much when your kids see you flopped on the couch in a prescription drug-fuelled catatonic state.
my appointment was at 5pm on wednesday. i bailed out of work a bit early (quitting time for me is usually in the 7-8pm range) and walked the 3 blocks to the appointment. this is one of the great conveniences of working in midtown. typically there is a handful of non-sketchy establishments for health-related needs. unfortunately there is also typically a larger array of sketch-tastic places that I wouldn't will anyone to even bum a glass of water from the establishment much less entrust them to extract a tooth. the place i go to isn't uber pretentious but it did get some pretty stellar reviews from some coworkers so i gave it a shot.
i walk in to the appointment, where a hygienist promptly take me in for xrays. afterwards, she takes me into an examination room - a one swanky enough for there to be a TV and phony dental portraits that were taken in the last five years. the doctor comes in 5 minutes later with my x-rays.
"ok, the left ones look pretty easy to take out. we're just gonna do those today and then you can come back in a few weeks for the right side."
"so you're just gonna take them out today?"
"is that a problem?"
"i guess not"
so the doc shot me full of novocain and yanked them out. when i say yank, i mean pliers and all. it was like every dental horror movie rolled into one. it didn't hurt - i was completely numb - but it was weird feeling some virtual stranger pull and prod and eventually force out two teeth that had been with me since adolescence.
i left the building with a mouth full of gauze, a numb face, and a prescription for antibiotics and tylenol with codeine. the pain wasn't too bad - even when the anesthesia wore off and i stopped drooling uncontrollably. i put some ice on my jaw when i went home, and bit on some teabags and slept right through the night. the next morning, i went to work as though there weren't two gaping holes in my jaw (i guess that's not entirely accurate since they're mostly sewed shut). i felt fine, not terrible enough to merit missing work. from all of the horror stories i've heard from people, it was sort of absurd to be there. half my friends speak of their wisdom teeth removal as if they had a lung removed. it entails blood, gore, days of painkillers, and the dreaded DRY SOCKETS. granted, i still i'm not out of the woods completely 4 days later, but i felt sort of foolish being at work right after something like that and didn't tell anyone about the ordeal until mid-way through the afternoon.
once i told the story, it traveled through my entire team. the first response, "this would only happen to you." since i've recounted the tale, i've gotten that from additional friends and MY MOM. thanks, i guess.
i scheduled an appointment a few weeks back to get a consult for wisdom teeth removal. i've needed to get them out since i was 14 but have just continually pushed it back. i ran out of excuses the last time i got my teeth cleaned. i figured it was just time to grow up and get it done. how often to do you hear of 50 year olds getting their wisdom teeth out? drooling and vicodin is cool when you're younger - not so much when your kids see you flopped on the couch in a prescription drug-fuelled catatonic state.
my appointment was at 5pm on wednesday. i bailed out of work a bit early (quitting time for me is usually in the 7-8pm range) and walked the 3 blocks to the appointment. this is one of the great conveniences of working in midtown. typically there is a handful of non-sketchy establishments for health-related needs. unfortunately there is also typically a larger array of sketch-tastic places that I wouldn't will anyone to even bum a glass of water from the establishment much less entrust them to extract a tooth. the place i go to isn't uber pretentious but it did get some pretty stellar reviews from some coworkers so i gave it a shot.
i walk in to the appointment, where a hygienist promptly take me in for xrays. afterwards, she takes me into an examination room - a one swanky enough for there to be a TV and phony dental portraits that were taken in the last five years. the doctor comes in 5 minutes later with my x-rays.
"ok, the left ones look pretty easy to take out. we're just gonna do those today and then you can come back in a few weeks for the right side."
"so you're just gonna take them out today?"
"is that a problem?"
"i guess not"
so the doc shot me full of novocain and yanked them out. when i say yank, i mean pliers and all. it was like every dental horror movie rolled into one. it didn't hurt - i was completely numb - but it was weird feeling some virtual stranger pull and prod and eventually force out two teeth that had been with me since adolescence.
i left the building with a mouth full of gauze, a numb face, and a prescription for antibiotics and tylenol with codeine. the pain wasn't too bad - even when the anesthesia wore off and i stopped drooling uncontrollably. i put some ice on my jaw when i went home, and bit on some teabags and slept right through the night. the next morning, i went to work as though there weren't two gaping holes in my jaw (i guess that's not entirely accurate since they're mostly sewed shut). i felt fine, not terrible enough to merit missing work. from all of the horror stories i've heard from people, it was sort of absurd to be there. half my friends speak of their wisdom teeth removal as if they had a lung removed. it entails blood, gore, days of painkillers, and the dreaded DRY SOCKETS. granted, i still i'm not out of the woods completely 4 days later, but i felt sort of foolish being at work right after something like that and didn't tell anyone about the ordeal until mid-way through the afternoon.
once i told the story, it traveled through my entire team. the first response, "this would only happen to you." since i've recounted the tale, i've gotten that from additional friends and MY MOM. thanks, i guess.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
it's a small world after all
last night i went to go see jocelyn's band play. they were opening for their buddies' album release party at webster hall. her band went on at 8:30, then the main act was at 10. i was recovering from my widsom teeth removal (a forthcoming post will recount that experience) so the plan was to go to the show then head home early. a surprising number of my friends had showed up to the show - very surprising since usually whenever i put out the invite i get a whole lot of maybes and a whole lot of reinforcement that it's good that i like to do things solo. so here we were waiting in between jocelyn's show and the main act, when who do i see standing less than 5 feet away?
my prom date.
turns out andrew lives in brooklyn too. and has for the past two years. we both were in complete shock and actually struggled to formulate coherent sentences for the first few minutes of conversation. it was one of those moments that really makes me appreciate my high school experience. for all those people who felt they had an awkward and cringe-worthy four years, i feel my high school was a great exception. yes, we as people were super awkward, but we were awkward together. i ran into a good 3/4 of my high school at a bar over christmas and realized how happy i was that i can look back and feel grateful that i shared the experience with such an eclectic group of people. andrew and i hadn't seen each other in almost 8 years, but we could talk as if we has stayed in touch since the day he was voted prom king (true story - my date was crowned king). only in new york can you be thousands of miles away from home and run into the guy who 8 years ago sang american pie with you and your closest friends around a campfire while drinking natty lite post prom.
my prom date.
turns out andrew lives in brooklyn too. and has for the past two years. we both were in complete shock and actually struggled to formulate coherent sentences for the first few minutes of conversation. it was one of those moments that really makes me appreciate my high school experience. for all those people who felt they had an awkward and cringe-worthy four years, i feel my high school was a great exception. yes, we as people were super awkward, but we were awkward together. i ran into a good 3/4 of my high school at a bar over christmas and realized how happy i was that i can look back and feel grateful that i shared the experience with such an eclectic group of people. andrew and i hadn't seen each other in almost 8 years, but we could talk as if we has stayed in touch since the day he was voted prom king (true story - my date was crowned king). only in new york can you be thousands of miles away from home and run into the guy who 8 years ago sang american pie with you and your closest friends around a campfire while drinking natty lite post prom.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
GTL...part 2
the world was swept away by the jersey shore. or at least everyone in my world was fascinated by MTV's lowlifes. their lack of manners, stupidity, and well stupidity made for great TV. i watch my share of good shows and really have no guilt about spending an hour a week watching 6 idiots try to find mates on a dirty boardwalk.
season 1 ended somewhat predictably. jwoww ended up with her boyfriend who sent her the "rarest roses eva" (blue ones), snooki's 15 minutes of fame includes her pushing tanning products and being the word's largest proponent of the "bumpit", and the man who swore his #1 rule was to not fall in love at the jersey shore left in a serious relationship with a girl who broke up with him because he said she had a "fred flinstone toe". this is TV at its finest.
for all the talk about "jersey shore", MTV seems to be the only one who realizes their "talent" will be lucky to survive a second season. like all reality shows, once the first season (or less) is done, you just get a bunch of people who are playing towards the camera. "classic" moments like jwoww's proclamation of eating ham instead of cheating with her boyfriend are going to be completely contrived. girls will hook up with mike "the situation" because he's "the situation". not because he's s dude who looks 45 but has a nice 6 pack that he shows off at the bar. pauly d's DJing is probably sub par, but he's already blowing up the tabloids with his favorite "love" mixes for valentine's day. and snooki will finally find a guy to hook up with, one who likes her "for who she is"...
by the time season 2 airs, we'll all have found a new bunch of trainwrecks to follow. i'm not saying i won't watch, but it would be nice to watch the second season of something where you know a producer isn't involved in the mix.
season 1 ended somewhat predictably. jwoww ended up with her boyfriend who sent her the "rarest roses eva" (blue ones), snooki's 15 minutes of fame includes her pushing tanning products and being the word's largest proponent of the "bumpit", and the man who swore his #1 rule was to not fall in love at the jersey shore left in a serious relationship with a girl who broke up with him because he said she had a "fred flinstone toe". this is TV at its finest.
for all the talk about "jersey shore", MTV seems to be the only one who realizes their "talent" will be lucky to survive a second season. like all reality shows, once the first season (or less) is done, you just get a bunch of people who are playing towards the camera. "classic" moments like jwoww's proclamation of eating ham instead of cheating with her boyfriend are going to be completely contrived. girls will hook up with mike "the situation" because he's "the situation". not because he's s dude who looks 45 but has a nice 6 pack that he shows off at the bar. pauly d's DJing is probably sub par, but he's already blowing up the tabloids with his favorite "love" mixes for valentine's day. and snooki will finally find a guy to hook up with, one who likes her "for who she is"...
by the time season 2 airs, we'll all have found a new bunch of trainwrecks to follow. i'm not saying i won't watch, but it would be nice to watch the second season of something where you know a producer isn't involved in the mix.
Monday, February 1, 2010
where were you the night of the 1st?
i have been trying to pinpoint why i have had writer's block lately. i fear it's because i've become boring. i get up, when i'm lucky i hit the gym, and spend 9-11 hours at the office. go home, attempt to make a meal, watch some tv, read, then go to bed. i can figure out what day it is by what's on TV or which client status meeting i had in the afternoon. weeks and months blend together. goal for 2010: try to remember on friday what i did on monday. the more i watch these crime dramas, i realize i would make a terrible witness. they say everyone actor in NYC has been in an episode of "law and order". i best practice in case life ever imitates art.
Monday, December 28, 2009
only freshman
"for the life of me - i cannot remember. what made us think that we were wise and never compromised"
oh the verve. this song has been running through my head all day. why? because i belted it out in a real-life version of rock band into the wee hours last night. why? because i'm an idiot. and a really awesome wingman.
though it doesn't seem like it from my posts, i don't go out very hard most nights. it's rare that i venture out more than one night during the weekend and school nights are reserved for QT with the DVR unless it's a special occasion. somehow though, i find myself still getting into ridiculous late night situations. somehow i manage to push back any thoughts of bedtime at a decent hour and proceed into the murky abyss of karaoke at 5am. and this is how it happens...
i started the evening with a few glasses of wine at dinner with my dad. i met some friends at a classy joint where i sipped on jameson and ginger ale. 2 to be exact. after these drinks, the responsible thing would have been to have a nightcap and then head home.
instead me and my friends decided to continue to quench our thirst at another nearby establishment. this place was rowdy. rowdy enough that i agreed to take a shot. rowdy enough that we closed down the bar. rowdy enough that it seemed like a great idea to join some new friends at their studio at an abandoned milk factory. what i'm leaving out of this story was the purpose of me coming along. i was wingman for the evening. arguably the world's best wingman in the history of all wingmen for what went down.
i tell this story as a warning. kids - don't ever agree to hang out at a studio that some guys rent out by themselves at an old factory in wisconsin. it's guaranteed that they're probably really terrible musicians. it's also a lesson in which band members to hang out with. it's probably also guaranteed that the drummer and the keyboard player won't be the best vocalists. nor the best guitar players.
all this information is great to know in hindsight, but when you end up participating in a 3-hour "jam session" that includes such green day favorites as "basketcase", "boulevard of broken dreams" on repeat, there's a lesson to be learned.
nothing good happens after 2am. especially if it involves musical instruments. and spiked egg nog.
"my shadow's the only thing that walks beside me..." my shadow is feeling pretty rough today. pretty rough indeed.
oh the verve. this song has been running through my head all day. why? because i belted it out in a real-life version of rock band into the wee hours last night. why? because i'm an idiot. and a really awesome wingman.
though it doesn't seem like it from my posts, i don't go out very hard most nights. it's rare that i venture out more than one night during the weekend and school nights are reserved for QT with the DVR unless it's a special occasion. somehow though, i find myself still getting into ridiculous late night situations. somehow i manage to push back any thoughts of bedtime at a decent hour and proceed into the murky abyss of karaoke at 5am. and this is how it happens...
i started the evening with a few glasses of wine at dinner with my dad. i met some friends at a classy joint where i sipped on jameson and ginger ale. 2 to be exact. after these drinks, the responsible thing would have been to have a nightcap and then head home.
instead me and my friends decided to continue to quench our thirst at another nearby establishment. this place was rowdy. rowdy enough that i agreed to take a shot. rowdy enough that we closed down the bar. rowdy enough that it seemed like a great idea to join some new friends at their studio at an abandoned milk factory. what i'm leaving out of this story was the purpose of me coming along. i was wingman for the evening. arguably the world's best wingman in the history of all wingmen for what went down.
i tell this story as a warning. kids - don't ever agree to hang out at a studio that some guys rent out by themselves at an old factory in wisconsin. it's guaranteed that they're probably really terrible musicians. it's also a lesson in which band members to hang out with. it's probably also guaranteed that the drummer and the keyboard player won't be the best vocalists. nor the best guitar players.
all this information is great to know in hindsight, but when you end up participating in a 3-hour "jam session" that includes such green day favorites as "basketcase", "boulevard of broken dreams" on repeat, there's a lesson to be learned.
nothing good happens after 2am. especially if it involves musical instruments. and spiked egg nog.
"my shadow's the only thing that walks beside me..." my shadow is feeling pretty rough today. pretty rough indeed.
Monday, November 30, 2009
shine on
i officially have a thanksgiving tradition. if you complete something 2 times it's a fun repeat; the third time indicates it's a tradition. 3rd annual also means it's necessary to make t-shirts to mark the occasion. the tradition goes as follows:
night before thanksgiving - i ride the penn station bus to rosslyn, va. per tradition, i also sit next to an odd older man who is not old enough nor odd enough to weird me out. just enough for me to take notice and watch my belongings.
i spend the evening at the home of my friend tracy (now mrs. casey).
we wake up, shower, put on jeans to pretend like we're leaving the house, but just watch football and eat for the remainder of the day. casey is forced to go to boston market to purchase our "turkey for 3"; we leave the couch long enough to make green bean casserole to complement the ready-made meal. after 3 years of boston market, we have yet to figure out why exactly they have a meal for 3, but we don't question the awesomeness of the deal, nor the 3 sides that accompany the turkey and gravy.
after dinner we half-heartedly throw out potential activities that would involve leaving the apartment: shooting pool, darts, etc. a pseudo-lengthy debate ensues until we decide to watch a movie on the couch.
friday morning we head out to the mountains. prior to entering the wilderness, we stop at virginia's version of culver's - aka spelunker's. the color, taste, clientele all scream culvers, right down to the cerulean pleather booths.
we end our last civilian journey by hitting up the gas station restrooms. while i have to say the outhouse accommodations have improved vastly since our first-year's cabin (we wore clothespins on our noses until we had drank enough to not notice the smell)it's no bathroom with an attendant. or really anything beyond a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.
when entering the state park, it's mandatory to play john denver. we have to take the battered road carefully; the treacherous roadway taunts casey's ford focus. one of these years we may have to abandon the car on the road.
friday night it's just the three of us: casey, tracy, and myself. we spend a few hours searching for firewood and setting up the cabin. darkness sets at 5pm - time for dinner and to crack open our first drinks. as any good wisconsinite would, we drink miller lite or mgd with dinner but have a nice cocktail as an appetizer before our meal. since we're "adults" now, the drink of choice is an old fashioned.
we don't have electricity in our humble abode so dinner is cooked over the stove and a tiny gas cooker casey has from camping. this year we managed to make curried chicken and rice. (we're way craftier than we sometimes appear). after dinner it's time for games. it's customary to play at least one game of oregon trail, a drinking game (naturally) that i created a few years back from a deck of cards. sixes are the worst: "oxen died. mystery flask." the first year we went camping, casey brought a flask in which he had no idea the type of alcohol. from that year on, he takes it upon himself to bring the flask with a new poison. no one is allowed to speak of what's in it until everyone has tried it. year one was whiskey, year two was peach schnapps, and this year it was tequila. the kicker was that the flask still smelt of the schnapps. speaking from experience, it's pretty brutal to take a sniff of faux-peaches before gulping down a swig of jose. another staple of friday night is scrabble. there's really nothing funnier than playing scrabble by candlelight and headlamps. bedtime resides somewhere around 10:30 or 11. there's something about hitting total darkness by 5pm that evokes an early bedtime. no wonder the settlers got up at dawn every day.
day 2 begins with the three of us slaving over the stove to make breakfast and coffee. we're not fancy enough to grind our own stuff; we just make the instant java. all of us have worked in the corporate world long enough to be able to down the really crappy brew. the first part of our morning is spent scouring the woods for firewood until the arrival of the rest of the crew. with the exception of myself, all other members of the cabin team are DC friends (and sometimes their significant others) of casey and tracy. i see these folks once a year - and always after i have been in the woods sans shower overnight. at casey and tracy's wedding this fall, i saw a handful of the cabin crew and one of the girls couldn't quite place me in "real-life" clothing:
"hey! i didn't recognize you without your bandana!"
our group of 10 mainly consists of wisconsin transplants. this means that it's necessary for at least 3 members of the group to bring brats, and any salads include blocks of cheese. once everyone gets settled into the cabin, we go on a hike. last year, we tried to do a 2.6 mile hike (each way) to the end of one of the trails. after a good few hours of hiking, we were convinced we had missed a turn. this year we had a GPS watch tracking our distance. turns out we needed to hike another 40 minutes or so to get to the end. after our hike, it's cocktail hour. basically that means we don't play any drinking games while sipping our beverages.
the next few hours mainly consist of multiple rounds of food: chili, pasta salad (with cheese, of course), brats, hot dogs, kabobs, brownies, smores. really there's no particular order to any of it; it's not unusual for anyone to finish up a few smores with a brat. in between rounds of food are rounds of catch phrase and/or card games, all of which necessitate the need to utilize the mystery flask. this year we had the special treat of authentic moonshine (corn whiskey). that stuff is a brutal combination of shitty alcohol and the faint taste of stale popcorn.
per the usual, we're all in bed by midnight (it's easier to stay up later with a big group). we wake up early and start the day with a meal of leftovers and some sort of bacon product. then it's time to head home: everyone else makes their way back to the burbs, i load onto the bus (hopefully after a shower) for my ride back to ny. all in all it's a tradition that can't be beat. we're already starting to brainstorm t-shirt ideas for next year.
night before thanksgiving - i ride the penn station bus to rosslyn, va. per tradition, i also sit next to an odd older man who is not old enough nor odd enough to weird me out. just enough for me to take notice and watch my belongings.
i spend the evening at the home of my friend tracy (now mrs. casey).
we wake up, shower, put on jeans to pretend like we're leaving the house, but just watch football and eat for the remainder of the day. casey is forced to go to boston market to purchase our "turkey for 3"; we leave the couch long enough to make green bean casserole to complement the ready-made meal. after 3 years of boston market, we have yet to figure out why exactly they have a meal for 3, but we don't question the awesomeness of the deal, nor the 3 sides that accompany the turkey and gravy.
after dinner we half-heartedly throw out potential activities that would involve leaving the apartment: shooting pool, darts, etc. a pseudo-lengthy debate ensues until we decide to watch a movie on the couch.
friday morning we head out to the mountains. prior to entering the wilderness, we stop at virginia's version of culver's - aka spelunker's. the color, taste, clientele all scream culvers, right down to the cerulean pleather booths.
we end our last civilian journey by hitting up the gas station restrooms. while i have to say the outhouse accommodations have improved vastly since our first-year's cabin (we wore clothespins on our noses until we had drank enough to not notice the smell)it's no bathroom with an attendant. or really anything beyond a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.
when entering the state park, it's mandatory to play john denver. we have to take the battered road carefully; the treacherous roadway taunts casey's ford focus. one of these years we may have to abandon the car on the road.
friday night it's just the three of us: casey, tracy, and myself. we spend a few hours searching for firewood and setting up the cabin. darkness sets at 5pm - time for dinner and to crack open our first drinks. as any good wisconsinite would, we drink miller lite or mgd with dinner but have a nice cocktail as an appetizer before our meal. since we're "adults" now, the drink of choice is an old fashioned.
we don't have electricity in our humble abode so dinner is cooked over the stove and a tiny gas cooker casey has from camping. this year we managed to make curried chicken and rice. (we're way craftier than we sometimes appear). after dinner it's time for games. it's customary to play at least one game of oregon trail, a drinking game (naturally) that i created a few years back from a deck of cards. sixes are the worst: "oxen died. mystery flask." the first year we went camping, casey brought a flask in which he had no idea the type of alcohol. from that year on, he takes it upon himself to bring the flask with a new poison. no one is allowed to speak of what's in it until everyone has tried it. year one was whiskey, year two was peach schnapps, and this year it was tequila. the kicker was that the flask still smelt of the schnapps. speaking from experience, it's pretty brutal to take a sniff of faux-peaches before gulping down a swig of jose. another staple of friday night is scrabble. there's really nothing funnier than playing scrabble by candlelight and headlamps. bedtime resides somewhere around 10:30 or 11. there's something about hitting total darkness by 5pm that evokes an early bedtime. no wonder the settlers got up at dawn every day.
day 2 begins with the three of us slaving over the stove to make breakfast and coffee. we're not fancy enough to grind our own stuff; we just make the instant java. all of us have worked in the corporate world long enough to be able to down the really crappy brew. the first part of our morning is spent scouring the woods for firewood until the arrival of the rest of the crew. with the exception of myself, all other members of the cabin team are DC friends (and sometimes their significant others) of casey and tracy. i see these folks once a year - and always after i have been in the woods sans shower overnight. at casey and tracy's wedding this fall, i saw a handful of the cabin crew and one of the girls couldn't quite place me in "real-life" clothing:
"hey! i didn't recognize you without your bandana!"
our group of 10 mainly consists of wisconsin transplants. this means that it's necessary for at least 3 members of the group to bring brats, and any salads include blocks of cheese. once everyone gets settled into the cabin, we go on a hike. last year, we tried to do a 2.6 mile hike (each way) to the end of one of the trails. after a good few hours of hiking, we were convinced we had missed a turn. this year we had a GPS watch tracking our distance. turns out we needed to hike another 40 minutes or so to get to the end. after our hike, it's cocktail hour. basically that means we don't play any drinking games while sipping our beverages.
the next few hours mainly consist of multiple rounds of food: chili, pasta salad (with cheese, of course), brats, hot dogs, kabobs, brownies, smores. really there's no particular order to any of it; it's not unusual for anyone to finish up a few smores with a brat. in between rounds of food are rounds of catch phrase and/or card games, all of which necessitate the need to utilize the mystery flask. this year we had the special treat of authentic moonshine (corn whiskey). that stuff is a brutal combination of shitty alcohol and the faint taste of stale popcorn.
per the usual, we're all in bed by midnight (it's easier to stay up later with a big group). we wake up early and start the day with a meal of leftovers and some sort of bacon product. then it's time to head home: everyone else makes their way back to the burbs, i load onto the bus (hopefully after a shower) for my ride back to ny. all in all it's a tradition that can't be beat. we're already starting to brainstorm t-shirt ideas for next year.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the way you've always been
my first friend in NY that i didn't know from the midwest was my roommate jocelyn. she has previously been mentioned as a ringleader of awesomeness in some of my more debaucherous tales while living in brooklyn, but has steered clear of any recent blog acknowledgements as of late mostly because of my detour in queens and her starting a band.
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
Sunday, November 8, 2009
halt - thief!!
last night we had a roommate excursion to ft. greene. due to our lack of planning and laziness, post dinner we decided to go back to park slope for a drink rather than continuing our fun near our dinner locale.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
score one for me
yesterday was my mama's birthday. an excerpt from our email exchange:
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
it's not the crunch of the leaves
my new apartment is nice. it's nothing extravagant, but a very charming little place that's clean and is the habitat of two awesome roommates. (it also contains numerous religious artifacts purchased at nearby dollar stores - there are good auras all around.)
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
funny bone
i'm awkward. not in a completely socially inept sort of way, but the kind where i trip and fall a lot. for that reason (and my almost complete lack of rhythym) i try to avoid the dance floor sober as much as possible. my awkwardness reached new heights last night. i was running into the bathroom (i drank a tall starbucks chai on the ride home) and crashed into my sink. it was a very fashionable fall - i was still in my work clothes. but beyond that it really wasn't pretty. i didn't injure myself majorly, but i swacked my elbow just about as hard as possible without cracking it into two. there's no bruise, but it hurts like a major biotch. add that to the fact that i spend all day, every day using my arm to navigate my computer (yup - its a very physically demanding career). i know i'm a whiner, but man, it hurts.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the thing
we all have "things" we don't really divulge to the public. "things" we consider private. we keep them to ourselves, or at least a very small contingency of friends. we try to make a conscious decision when to share them, who to share them with, and control the situation as much as we possibly can. with gossip and just general human nature there's only so much to control, but usually a person has some say in the matter.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
cha-cha-changes
oct is a big month for me as life changes go:
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
over the hill
today i was asked what i hoped my life was like in 10 years. i remember getting that question in college and being able to babble on about my career, my house, my serious live-in boyfriend (marriage has never been high on my list of priorities). when you're 18, your mid-twenties seem like some distant enchanted land.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
ma'am, can you repeat that?
this morning i woke up to screaming. actually, i think it was yelling. whatever it was, it was damn loud and really scary. some dude was banging on my neighbors door, calling them a f&$*^# b^%&# and telling them to quit banging on his ceiling. my guess is that he's the same douche that cranks shitty 80s music at 7am every weekend, but i have no actual proof.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
pancakes and fish hooks
there are days in ny that are indisputable reminders that this is where i'm meant to be (at this stage in my life). trying to plan these days are like trying to plan new year's. high expectations and hype that lead to utter disappointment - and usually a terrible hangover. today was a spectacular day, completely without a plan. it was a string of random events - mostly mundane and obscure - but collectively they made me so happy that i live in a place where these days can happen on a fairly regular basis without it being strange. i'll try to explain it as best i can but on paper (screen), though i can guarantee it will seem ridiculous and boring.
the day started with banana pancakes. it should be stated that i really don't like pancakes in general, but banana ones are pretty awesome. bananas are the only fruit i'll tolerate in anything beyond pie. meg was cooking - which is important to this story only in that i completely forgot she moved this week. here i am goofing around at my apt cleaning up and doing random chores for a few hours, when i really should have been moving my ass to harlem. luckily i realized this just as i left my building, but nonetheless going to brunch in the wrong borough is usually not the makings of a great day.
despite any geographical snafus, the weather was amazing and i really didn't care about the extra trek. plus there were fresh blueberries waiting for me when i got there, making up for my lack of planning. after pancakes the decision was made to go to central park. in the 3 years i've lived here i can count the number of times i've been to the park on one hand. one was a borderline-scary first date where i feared i would be chopped up into little bits, scattered on the great lawn. this has since left me a wee bit fearful of the park in general. today though, i saw the place with fresh eyes. maybe it was because we entered at the northern-most point. maybe it was because it was daylight and i had no suspicions that i may end up as the season opener of 48-hours. whatever the reason i was damn happy to be there.
when we got to the park, we saw a sign for canoeing. not just canoeing, but FREE canoeing. we jumped in line next to a bunch of little kids, soon finding ourselves in the middle of the pond in the nexus of the park. surrounded by greenery and gorgeous architecture, we barely noticed the surplus of algae building up on the corners of our boat. i've left out the racial profiling the park rangers did on us: assuming we had canoed before because we were white. but that's a minute complaint compared to the tiny turtle that hung out next to the boat and the little kid who stopped to tell us about the GIANT snapping turtle that he caught with his lure. (he was probably 5 with a lisp and an insanely loud voice. one of those boys who is great to talk to for a few minutes, but you'd want to strangle if you had to babysit.)
thankfully we made our way back to the mainland without maiming any turtles (or children) and headed to the bathroom. post-loo, we ran into some little kids fishing. we come to find out that fishing is FREE too. turns out the park will give you lures and corn (?) as bait for an afternoon of "catch and release" fishing. early-on, we realized the allure of fishing (HAHA - get it?) was not so grand. neither of us wanted to touch any fish we caught, and the danger of a turtle attacking our lures just added to our stress. those suckers are MEAN. so here we are camped out on the steps of the pond, two 25 year-olds too afraid to even fathom having to grasp a slimy, googly-eyed fish. BLAH. the object of the game then became to avoid catching ANYTHING. for the fish that wasn't too hard. counter to the "expert" advice of the parks department, fish don't actually like corn. you could hit the fish over the head with a kernel and they wouldn't bite. (i tried a few times.) the turtles though, those suckers have corn on the brain. the second meg put her lure in the water, a giant turtle surfaced and tried to attack her bait. after a good 15 minutes of anti-fish fishing, we thought it best to leave it to the 7 year olds and their parents. we weren't fooling anyone that we were being hipster "ironic" by taking up elderly activities. we turned in our lures and headed to the santeria shop.
my interest in the practice mainly lies in the sublime song. the song was the ringtone on my first cell and will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between "the general" by dispatch and "crazy game of poker" by O.A.R. these songs symbolize my first taste of independence, doused in smirnoff and natty light. in terms of a spiritual following though, i'm a total gringa and don't know the slightest thing about santeria. but why not? with no church and no true spiritual beliefs, the least i can do is check out what else is out there. plus candles and nice smelling things are always a plus. so we moseyed on down to the santeria store in spa-ha (ahem - spanish harlem) from the park. on the way, we passed a lively street fair that turned out to be a giant ruse to get people HIV tested.
the folks at the fair were so nice that we couldn't say no to the test. fishing, santeria, pancakes - why not round out the day with a sexual health exam? all it involved was a cheek swab and a list of somewhat vague questions, "have you been to the doctor in the past 2 years? if so, how many times?" we both had been tested before - i think doctors dole those out with almost the same frequency as pregnancy tests for the common cold at the university health center - so it was more of a courtesy to the nice folks running the place rather than any sort of fact-finding mission.
after our mobile health test, we moved on to the santeria store. once inside, we learned about natural african sponges and bath incense meant for "money growth". these things will probably serve me well somewhere down the line, but true hunger took the place of spiritual hunger, and we made a beeline for a nearby mexican restaurant. post tacos, we parted ways, and i headed to 500 days of summer (a movie). i won't ruin it for any other fans of the indie faux-love story, but all i have to say is that there's no way better way to round out a solid afternoon with a solid movie with a killer soundtrack.
so here i am sitting in my apt, a little burnt, a little sweaty, but more than a little content. i know i'm in danger of a breach of confidentiality with this statement, but the only thing negative about my day was my HIV test.
the day started with banana pancakes. it should be stated that i really don't like pancakes in general, but banana ones are pretty awesome. bananas are the only fruit i'll tolerate in anything beyond pie. meg was cooking - which is important to this story only in that i completely forgot she moved this week. here i am goofing around at my apt cleaning up and doing random chores for a few hours, when i really should have been moving my ass to harlem. luckily i realized this just as i left my building, but nonetheless going to brunch in the wrong borough is usually not the makings of a great day.
despite any geographical snafus, the weather was amazing and i really didn't care about the extra trek. plus there were fresh blueberries waiting for me when i got there, making up for my lack of planning. after pancakes the decision was made to go to central park. in the 3 years i've lived here i can count the number of times i've been to the park on one hand. one was a borderline-scary first date where i feared i would be chopped up into little bits, scattered on the great lawn. this has since left me a wee bit fearful of the park in general. today though, i saw the place with fresh eyes. maybe it was because we entered at the northern-most point. maybe it was because it was daylight and i had no suspicions that i may end up as the season opener of 48-hours. whatever the reason i was damn happy to be there.
when we got to the park, we saw a sign for canoeing. not just canoeing, but FREE canoeing. we jumped in line next to a bunch of little kids, soon finding ourselves in the middle of the pond in the nexus of the park. surrounded by greenery and gorgeous architecture, we barely noticed the surplus of algae building up on the corners of our boat. i've left out the racial profiling the park rangers did on us: assuming we had canoed before because we were white. but that's a minute complaint compared to the tiny turtle that hung out next to the boat and the little kid who stopped to tell us about the GIANT snapping turtle that he caught with his lure. (he was probably 5 with a lisp and an insanely loud voice. one of those boys who is great to talk to for a few minutes, but you'd want to strangle if you had to babysit.)
thankfully we made our way back to the mainland without maiming any turtles (or children) and headed to the bathroom. post-loo, we ran into some little kids fishing. we come to find out that fishing is FREE too. turns out the park will give you lures and corn (?) as bait for an afternoon of "catch and release" fishing. early-on, we realized the allure of fishing (HAHA - get it?) was not so grand. neither of us wanted to touch any fish we caught, and the danger of a turtle attacking our lures just added to our stress. those suckers are MEAN. so here we are camped out on the steps of the pond, two 25 year-olds too afraid to even fathom having to grasp a slimy, googly-eyed fish. BLAH. the object of the game then became to avoid catching ANYTHING. for the fish that wasn't too hard. counter to the "expert" advice of the parks department, fish don't actually like corn. you could hit the fish over the head with a kernel and they wouldn't bite. (i tried a few times.) the turtles though, those suckers have corn on the brain. the second meg put her lure in the water, a giant turtle surfaced and tried to attack her bait. after a good 15 minutes of anti-fish fishing, we thought it best to leave it to the 7 year olds and their parents. we weren't fooling anyone that we were being hipster "ironic" by taking up elderly activities. we turned in our lures and headed to the santeria shop.
my interest in the practice mainly lies in the sublime song. the song was the ringtone on my first cell and will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between "the general" by dispatch and "crazy game of poker" by O.A.R. these songs symbolize my first taste of independence, doused in smirnoff and natty light. in terms of a spiritual following though, i'm a total gringa and don't know the slightest thing about santeria. but why not? with no church and no true spiritual beliefs, the least i can do is check out what else is out there. plus candles and nice smelling things are always a plus. so we moseyed on down to the santeria store in spa-ha (ahem - spanish harlem) from the park. on the way, we passed a lively street fair that turned out to be a giant ruse to get people HIV tested.
the folks at the fair were so nice that we couldn't say no to the test. fishing, santeria, pancakes - why not round out the day with a sexual health exam? all it involved was a cheek swab and a list of somewhat vague questions, "have you been to the doctor in the past 2 years? if so, how many times?" we both had been tested before - i think doctors dole those out with almost the same frequency as pregnancy tests for the common cold at the university health center - so it was more of a courtesy to the nice folks running the place rather than any sort of fact-finding mission.
after our mobile health test, we moved on to the santeria store. once inside, we learned about natural african sponges and bath incense meant for "money growth". these things will probably serve me well somewhere down the line, but true hunger took the place of spiritual hunger, and we made a beeline for a nearby mexican restaurant. post tacos, we parted ways, and i headed to 500 days of summer (a movie). i won't ruin it for any other fans of the indie faux-love story, but all i have to say is that there's no way better way to round out a solid afternoon with a solid movie with a killer soundtrack.
so here i am sitting in my apt, a little burnt, a little sweaty, but more than a little content. i know i'm in danger of a breach of confidentiality with this statement, but the only thing negative about my day was my HIV test.
Monday, July 13, 2009
13 going on...
on my walk home this evening, i made the comment to one of my friends that her 13 year-old self and her 30 year-old self sound exactly the same. it got me to thinking...what was my 13 year-old self like?
and have i really changed all that much? 13 year-old jeni was tall and gangly, not unlike my physique now though i think when you're gangly as an adult you become pathetic and awkward. but lets do a quick assessment of where i was when i was 13, compared to now:
13 year old
- watched TV like it's my job
- daily uniform: t-shirt, jeans, converse
- lots of friends who are boys, no boyfriend
- covertly listened to top-40 pop music and read angsty pre-teen novels
- fought with my sister over the remote every night
25 year old
- watching tv is part of my job
- daily uniform (outside of work): t-shirt, jeans, converse, and messenger bag
- single
- thanks to facebook, not so covertly listen to top-40 pop music. still unwilling to buy the twilight series on my own - in the process of mooching copies off of friends
- still fight with my sister over the remote every night - now the fight includes wrestling over DVRed shows
hmm...maybe i should give myself a few years on here before i start judging myself.
and have i really changed all that much? 13 year-old jeni was tall and gangly, not unlike my physique now though i think when you're gangly as an adult you become pathetic and awkward. but lets do a quick assessment of where i was when i was 13, compared to now:
13 year old
- watched TV like it's my job
- daily uniform: t-shirt, jeans, converse
- lots of friends who are boys, no boyfriend
- covertly listened to top-40 pop music and read angsty pre-teen novels
- fought with my sister over the remote every night
25 year old
- watching tv is part of my job
- daily uniform (outside of work): t-shirt, jeans, converse, and messenger bag
- single
- thanks to facebook, not so covertly listen to top-40 pop music. still unwilling to buy the twilight series on my own - in the process of mooching copies off of friends
- still fight with my sister over the remote every night - now the fight includes wrestling over DVRed shows
hmm...maybe i should give myself a few years on here before i start judging myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)