I've Been Away--Obsessing

I was sick, then hungover, then just tired, but this is my new obsession. Just wanted you all (all 4 of you) to know

Morning Becomes Spastic

I was just awoken by what sounded like a squeaky wheel. It took me several moments to actually wake up and realize it was a bird outside my window. Presumably the chicken of discontent or the wren of clumsiness.

A squeaky wheel bird. Insane. Thanks, nature, but no thanks.

R.I.P. Samsung t219

The most spectacular of phone deaths occurred last night.

Whilst walking to meet a friend in the driving rain
my phone slipped from my gloved hand
hit the sidewalk
split in two
one half landed in a puddle
where it was immediately run over by a delivery truck
(important to note is that this also created a fabulous arc of dirty puddle water which made it's way to my jacket, tights, skirt...I just can't clean up nice, it seems.)

Luckily, a shiny new T-Mobile store just moved in around the corner from my home. I went in today, got an upgrade and they found it in their hearts to give me a new phone at my 100% discount as my plan was coming to an end in July. When gazing lovingly at my new phone, I exclaimed, "It's so fancy!" to which the youth behind the counter said "Ummm...not really."

Earlier he described to me his busy lifestyle in a laconic monotone reserved for those under 30 years old.

His attitude made me giddier than usual, and I think by the end of our transaction I had acquired a bit of a southern lilt to my voice and I started looking at all the techy things with wide eyed wonderment. "Goodbye now, y'all hear!"

T.G.I.Amex

Last night after a boozy Easter bruncheon in Brooklyn Heights, I thought it best to check my American Express account online as I hadn't done so in about 4 days. These are the things that go through my head when wine is involved.

I was shocked to see the high balance, so I turned the volume on my new fancy speakers I just bought a few weeks ago and took a closer look at my recent card activity. Smack dab in the middle of the usual charges was evidence of some foul play.

Target Store: $971.58
T.G.I.F.: $55.43
UA Sheepshead Bay: $23.00
UA Sheepshead Bay: $9.50

Amazing date with baby momma: Priceless (Lit'rally, cuz it was on MY credit card, bitches!)

What to Say When You are Not Expecting*

Friday I woke up with two certainties: I needed to sort out the pain in my right shoulder and I needed new clothes. Tackling the shoulder pain was easy, I just made my way to my favorite Tui Na place in midtown. The latter was another issue as a) I hate shopping sometimes and b) I am on a bit of a budget. On a whim I stopped in at Kenneth Cole at Grand Central and spying a young sales woman whose outfit I admired, I asked that she throw some things together for me and start a dressing room. She sized me up then started right away, picking and choosing items without consulting me on color or design, but going by what she thought would be the best fit-in all arenas. I was thrilled. I tried on about 12 things and chose 4. While in the changing room I got an invite to a preview of 9 to 5: The Musical including a Q & A with Dolly Parton (yeeeehaw!). This change of events required and justified my walking out of KC in one of my new splash outfits.

My personal shopper assured me that I could just cut the tags off at the register and walk out as such. While waiting at the register, another salesperson (male) walked by and told me that my new tunic looked smashing and he gave me a thumbs up. The new ensemble was like anything I have ever worn, but I loved it. This is why people like shopping, I mused, and handed my lil' green credit card to the man behind the register. As he handed it back to me, he looked at me and said "How far along are you?" I froze. I had just been thinking about which lipstick color to go for and how I planned on wearing jeans more often and this question snapped me out of my revery like a rubberband on the eyelid. I paused, glanced to the clerk who had raved about my new look, but he was crimson and looking through an invisible pile of things, then I glanced back at the man who'd just done damage to my credit card, looked him in the eye and quite soberly said "I am not pregnant". At this he looked down, exhaled an apology, and hurried along with printing the receipt. I chuckled half heartedly and said "Are you mortified? Because I am." He didn't reply, but just said, "How about a do-over" which made little sense to me so I collected my packages and walked away.

Strangely, I didn't want to change back into my old outfit. I liked what I was wearing, and quite frankly, I thought it was flattering and I felt comfortable and good. But what I did regret was that I didn't react in a more extravagant fashion. Following are a few options I fantacized about on my way to 9 to 5:

At "How far along are you?" I wish I had:

A) Looked at the guy dismayed, then said "FUCK, I am pregnant?! NOT AGAIN!!!"
B) Punched my stomach repeatedly and yelled, "Get it out of me!"
C) Shrugged my shoulders and replied "10 months, it just won't come out. Can you believe that?"
D) Picked up the scissors next to me and started cutting off all my clothes and then just walked out.

It's a tricky thing, mentioning a strangers delicate condition, which is why I don't do it. I recommend the same for people in clothing sales.

*Thanks to L.A.B. for the working title.

Baby Jesus Made Me Do It

As I exited my building yesterday, I opened the door and knocked someone off the top step of the entrance into her colleague, thus causing a sort of domino effect of old ladies. Luckily, nobody actually tipped over onto the ground, but there was a lot of physical comedy to prevent a full-on face plant. I felt horrible, but I had to stifle a laugh. The two women who looked to be in their 60's were dressed in their Sunday best, hats and all. One was wearing varying shades of navy blue, a ladies skirt suit circa 1970 with a blouse, a blue velvety hat and her dark stockinged feet were packed into prim navy shoes. The other woman who I had knocked over with the door was wearing a light brown color, not unlike that of a teddy bear, and almost of the same material. She was also wearing a skirt/jacket/blouse combo, and her hat matched perfectly, but it was not as structured as the one her navy friend was wearing.

Following is the dialogue that took place:

Me: I am so sorry! Are you o.k.?
This was said in a rather high pitched voice, as I was really afraid I almost killed a stranger. It was accompanied by my reaching out for the woman's hand and steadying her. This hand she held onto with her soft, warm, pillowy hand during the entire exchange.
Lady in Brown: Why yeees, I am fine. But you startled me so. "Are you o.k.?", she asked the her friend.
To my relief, everyone was fine.
Me: I just didn't see you through the door window, I am so very sorry.
Lady in Brown: Are you saying I am short?
Me: No, I am just saying that when you stand-
Lady in Brown: You are! You are saying we are short! Well, how do you like that? (chuckle chuckle)
Me: Yes, o.k. You are short. It's true.
Lady in Brown: WHAT?! You've got nerve. Come on, girl, you wanna go?
Me: Yes, I do wanna go. I hate it when short people stand around my building.
Lady in Brown: Come on then, let's take this outside.
Me: We are outside!
Lady in Brown: O.K. then, which apartment are you?
Me: H4
Lady in Brown: I just rang that apartment!
Me: I know, I came down to tell you short people to get away from my building!

Me, Lady in Brown, Lady in Navy: LAUGHTER, oh, we laughed and laughed.

Again, throughout this entire exchange my left hand (yes, the one less a fraction of a finger) was safe and warm in her left hand, while she patted my arm with her right. It was all very familiar and nice, but steeped in jocularity reserved for neighbors who have known each other for decades.

Finally, she released my hand, bade me a bless day, and handed me an invitation to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses. If our five minute exchange represents what happens down at the Kingdom Hall, I just might have to go.

Forced Intermission

Whilst chopping cilantro destined to be added to a batch of guacamole for today's Campfire Women picnic, I inadvertently sliced off about a 1/8 of an inch of my left index finger, nail and all. Luckily, my hands were really cold and I could staunch the blood flow for a bit. I called a friend for an adrenalin talk down, then fashioned a band aid out of a cotton square and packing tape. When I had it re-dressed by another friend later that morning, she laughed at the hobo-esque quality of my bandage, but was gracious enough to wrap it up in gauze and surgical tape. She is a real adult with an actual First Aid kit. I am in awe.

It hurts to type.