so, last night, I couldn't sleep.

because I couldn't take my eyes away from this b/w Judy Garland special. First off, I love anything in b/w, and secondly, Judy Garland equals Wizard of Oz--a movie I've happily watched more times that I can count. I can sing the entire soundtrack word-for-word...it's etched in the thread of my brain.

Anyway, it's 1am in my bedroom and Judy is doing happy-go-lucky duets and trios with Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Lena Horne, Barbara Streisand and the like--and I can't help but be annoyed that they're so freakin' over-the-top with high-off-life glee--but then...I'm REALLY enjoying it. So much so, I can't turn my eyes away. Thinking how cool it'd be to be there hi-dee-ho-ing in a sugary duet with the doe-eyed Judy, wearing matching gingham tops and fitted white capris. (see, now I know that it was too late for me to be up watching tele. I had to be delusional to even consider wearing gingham.)

But then I start to think--how Judy, with all her troubles--drug addiction, love woes...too many to list here, could hold onto such a convincing smile. I'm sure behind the cameras, there was a lot less glee...a lot less singing. Or perhaps performing was the only thing that made her at least want to try to be happy...a temporary escape from some of the darkness in her life otherwise. There's a very human quote by Judy that speaks volumes about her world--"If i'm a legend, then why am I so lonely?" But then, I think most folks lucky enough to reach "legend" status are meant to be lonely...there's not a lot of room up there.

I muted the tube at quarter to 2am, and finally got some shut-eye.

try to NOT laugh.

i almost forgot.

I watched The Savages last night. "Sad" pretty much describes the movie and how I felt after watching it with my roomie. I must have "awwwww"ed 20 or so times throughout. Ever watch a movie and wish you could re-write and make it more satisfying? My sentiments exactly--when the credits rolled. It didn't leave me with a good feeling overall. And not that I look for movies to lift my spirits--I don't--I love a good tragedy--but a hopeful one. I'd say, this one was 99 percent dismal, 1 percent hopeful. To me, anyway.

Still i worship shy/timid characters a la Laura Linney, and Phillip Hoffman can do no wrong. If you're a Phillip fan, netflixx Before the Devil Knows You're Dead instead. As for Laura, of all her roles, I still get misty when I watch her in Love Actually.

Have a lovely weekend folks...xoxo

once again, my cinnamon bagel...

...tastes like some weird combination of onion and everything. lesson learned, i'm done with cin-raze bagels from the job cafeteria.

and in the WTF category: I struggled out of my front door this morning at 8:15, luggage in one hand, bursting garbage bag in the other, and what do I see? Not a rat, not a pigeon aka "rat of the sky," --but roaming down the sidewalk, actually, pacing is more like it, was a big white duck--possibly a sea gull (i'm a city girl, and not sure I know the difference).

Anyhoo, his feathers are ruffled and greasy, and it was clear he'd lost his way. I stopped and stared at him for a minute or two, asked "what are you doing here?" (he didn't answer,luckily), and contemplated how I could help the little guy--or gull (lol). But since I don't speak bird, and I don't know the neighbors well enough to ask if it belonged to anyone on my block, I just wished the duck luck (okay, i'll stop) and kept it moving. I truly hope no one eats him.

I passed a cop car on my way to the subway and actually considered telling him about the lost duck, but I'm 95% sure I'd get the "Who da fuck doo ya dink i yam--da ASPCA or sonthin, eh?" he looked a lot like this guy...only dirty and ruffled.

i think i'm losing it.

or maybe i'm getting older and therefore naturally more fearful of life and of losing it. More than ever, I'm afraid...afraid of the Dominican teenagers that "congregate" on my block and yell "mami" at me and other things that I'm happy I cannot understand. I now walk on the other side of the street to avoid them--the side with the large cemetary. This also frightens me, and I have crazy thoughts of someone grabbing me, taking me inside the cemetary, raping me, and leaving me, or even worse--murdering me. Awful thoughts. I think I'm crazy. After hearing about the woman who was raped and tortured for 19 hours (WARNING: you may not want to read this story--it's NOT for the faint of heart)--just blocks from my house--I'm afraid to walk home from the 1 train at night. I either take the C, or take the bus, and if it's very late, a cab.

Yesterday, I wondered "I'm I cut out to live here again? In a city where assault is not just someone robbing and attacking you, or even stabbing you? Where there are so many sick, twisted people who get off on seeing strangers suffer?" In the past month, I've been haunted by this rape story, the story of a couple who killed a 3-year-old (the story is too horrific to post here), and a bit about a biker who stabbed a woman in a random ride-by...and the list goes on. This all makes me fearful for myself--and mostly fearful of men.

Maybe I should stop watching local news. I'm considering moving back to Brooklyn. I know it's still NY, but I always felt safer there.

this is the kind of day i'm having.

my cinnamon-raisin bagel tasted like an onion bagel. I like onion, but not when i'm expecting cinnamon-raisin. if i'd known i was having onion, instead of cin-raze, i'd have opted for wheat. **poking lip out**

in happier news: we hired a new senior editor today, which means, a little less work and a little more play for little ol' me. AND, and...perhaps now I will commit 100 percent to my 3x-a-week workout-while-at-work goal. **fingers crossed**

p.s. i almost peed my pants watching this.

very sad, kinda odd.

okay, can we all agree to keep our hearts healthy? normally I'd say emotionally--but today I mean it in the physical--get your cholesterol, blood pressure, and stress levels checked. Lose weight, exercise, quit smoking. First Tim Russert, and now George Carlin. Our hearts are killing us :-(

While I was not a faithful fan--I've liked George Carlin ever since I first saw Outrageous Fortune, and let's not forget Carlin as "Rufus" in the classic Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventures (below). Anyway--it's odd--late on Friday night, or very early on Saturday morning...the BF and I were standing outside our favorite pizza place on 18th, waiting for our pie and people-watching, when I spotted a long-bearded, white-haired, skinny, slouching, old hippie--and I said "Hey, doesn't he look like George Carlin?" It's odd, because I rarely see guys who'd make me say "doesn't he look like Carlin?," nor do I bring him up in normal conversation--and then, 2 days later, he's gone...r.i.p.

a few months ago...

...i started getting these snarky but sweet little e-cards from the BF. On days where we were too busy to run down the trivialties and obsessions of the moment, we'd swap "some cards." They never fail to make me giggle. When i got this one today, I thought it'd be fetching of me to share...dontcha think?

i needed a diversion...

...so I had cheese pizza and champagne for lunch, and then I saw THIS, and thought "how'd she know?"

:-)

today started out just plain shitty...

...you know the feeling of being exposed for what you really are? the parts that make you but you'd rather imagine you made yourself? the parts of you that you're ashamed to reveal to anyone for fear that they'll either judge or feel sorry for you...the parts that you never want to repeat or relive, and that you'd prefer remained buried deep inside your gut...the parts that conflict with your soul, but somehow manage to still tug at your heart and make you sad about who you are...and that stick to and tangle you like a spider web...and that i can't even reveal here...well, today, and all before 10am, I was reminded of those parts--and why there's no way to ever bury them. And it hurts...

in life, there are many tiny pleasures...

...and for me, IKEA falls somewhere on that list. The artful room displays, the shelves and shelves of useless, useful apartment decor, the colorful kids section (makes me wanna be a kid again just so I can have one of those green beds with the leaf hanging over it), and the swedish meatballs! It's like a resort for the cool-decorating-storing-shelving-and-lighting obsessed...and of course, the teeny-tiny- apartment-organizing-genuises.

I say all of this to say--tomorrow marks the long-awaited grand opening of the new Red Hook Ikea. No more hitching the weekend-only bus from Port Authority to Joysee--and schleping your city-chic findings all the way back to Manhattan...ugh, how I hated sitting next to the lady who insisted on buying the flippy-floppy palm plant. Now, you can schlep on the subway, city bus, or water taxi (hmmm...sounds a lil risky to me). Get there early if you can--it's gonna be sheer chaos, but a little birdie tells me there will be free stuff for the early birds and eager beavers.

p.s. i think i just wrote a commercial.

so last night, I took a very very long walk.

it started out as a juice run, but then, without planning to, I found what I needed: to sort out some things on my mind. You are one of those things...one of the good things. I think of my life without you...then get sad...then push those absurd thoughts away. Then there are just other things in my life...not good, not bad...just there...lingering...along with all the uncertainties that I'm sure diminish slightly over the years but never fully go away. It's okay...I've learned to live with them...we share a goal and our souls are alike.

It never fails that long walks really DO add some sort of aloof peace to what often feels like the up-and-down mumbo-jumbo of the day-to-day. I stopped to buy two UO shirts (I couldn't resist the soft, thin cotton--and the $9.99 sale price), had a chocolate ice-cream cone (in spite of the un-forecasted chill in the air), and then, tried to catch the train at 76th, but it wasn't running...a little sign, maybe, that I wasn't finished walking.

So, I got lost inside the NYC bus system...ended up taking 3 buses, but I didn't mind. My hair can wait, I thought. On the final bus, a smiling baby sat next to me, flashing his 4 teeth and touching my arm...every time I turned away from him, he touched me again to get my attention.

What else? Nothing really. I bought strawberries because I love them, and nectarines, because you do.

i want to say something about tim russert...

...but nothing but heartbreak comes to mind right now. this is just the worst news :-(

ahhh, just a couple wedding pics...

i meant to post these earlier in the week...but it's been a busy one. Better late than never! Enjoy! Awwww, 'Mones!! You look so happy...and hydrated!
Yummmm cupcakes!!
papier-mache wedding reception!
Looking lovely in black I must say.
The bride and the girls.
for giggles

**yawn**

i think i need sleep. today, i saw a spot on the carpet in the hallway at work, and it was calling my name...beckoning me to curl up on it fetal-like and enjoy an afternoon nap. I had to fight off the urge by getting a big Coca Cola. Sitting here at my computer, I closed my eyes for two seconds, and nearly fell into a deep slumber. sad.

a "huh?" moment.

Snakes in a crib? (I could make all kinds of tacky, corny movie references, but I'll hold back.) What the heck's going on in Long Island? Okay, nevermind that question...but this is just bizarre so I had to share.

And while i'm relieved the sweet baby was not hurt, I'm bothered by the grubby grandparents who actually want to sue the makers of the crib mattress because they claim the snake came pre-packaged with/in it. What kind of snakes hang out in mattresses? Snakes like the outdoors and airplanes (sorry, couldn't help it), don't they? Seems like it'd be stuffy inside a mattress. Maybe he/she was hibernating. Okay, now i'm freaked out.

if for no other reason than to reminisce...

...on the fun times of Hammer Pants...watch this! I couldn't resist, and I must say, this dude has some impressive moves...but maybe it's all in the pants (never owned a pair, so I can't say for sure).

it seems to have happened overnight...

...little flashes of my 30s showing up at my door...knocking, and I wish I didn't have to invite them in. For my entire 20s--a full lifetime--I never watched what I ate, and considered myself genetically blessed to have somehow dodged the onset of cellulite-tis, love handle syndrome (well, for the most part), and all the pudge-ility that seems to present itself in all the wrong places in the late-20s.

Then...

...yesterday, I was trying on a sundress in a boutique fitting room, and I saw them. The early signs of them, but still THEM...sitting there, smiling, waving, letting me know that they were here, planning on staying, and also had invited friends. PUCKERS!! Skin puckers...those bits of fat that plant themselves on the upper back part of the thighs. I don't even have hips...how on earth can I have puckers?? Not me...genetically-blessed-and-happy-with-my-small-uneven-tits ME??! Not me, scarfing-down-burgers-and-fries-for-lunch-and-a-steak-with-potatoes-for-dinner-followed-by pancakes-with-full-fat-butter-and-full-sugar-syrup-for-brunch ME?!?!

:-(

fuck it...i'm going to the gym RIGHT NOW!

so the wedding was lovely.

we all know how I feel about marriage, but my dear friends who tied the knot yesterday are the owners of something rare and effortlesss. Without a doubt, they'll be in their 80s in matching rocking chairs--sharing fond memories with their grandkids. The bride was lovely, the groom was happy (and hilarious), the day was fab--and HOT! Ninety degrees in the shade. I think the theme of the day was "love is the exception to the rule," or so one speech-giver stated :-( Sounds dismal, but I think she might be right on the money. How hard is it for two like-minded hearts to meet--and keep loving eachother for years through good and bad, richer for poorer, sickness and health?

A couple other honorable mentions of the day:
♥ I caught the bouquet, but dropped the cupcakes--twice.
♥ Some nice gentleman slipped the garter around my thigh (Oh BF--you should have been there!!)
♥ I actually know how to do the Cha Cha slide (but what the hell is "Charlie Brown"??)
♥ And finally, I think I might be warming up to this whole wedding/marriage tradition thing...but maybe it's only b/c the romance and whimsy of the day is still so fresh in my mind.

oh, what a week...

...i feel like i'm repeating myself, but it's has been A WEEK. I need a beach to lay on immediately...and I need to be far far away from my laptop for at least an entire day...maybe two.

On Saturday, and I'll talk more about it tomorrow...I'm wearing a dress very similar to this one here to Shamone's wedding...though mine is black, and a very airy, lightweight silk. Appropriate? Boring? I think accessories will be key...but I'm feeling like, because it's an outdoor wedding and it's going to be in the low 90s on Saturday, maybe less will amount to more. I'll take suggestions if you have them....since I'm not feeling all that creative (but maybe that's b/c it's almost midnight).

nite nite!

this IS the DL post.

Last Wednesday, I was having mexican at a tiny Harlem in-and-out with my Old Roomie--who is gay. I tell you he is gay because I think it's a necessary part of this story. As we're enjoying our rotisserie chicken in tortillas with black beans (yum, btw), and yap-yapping away about our future plans to move, to finish grad school, to pay off debt, to be more self-loving, and yadda yadda yadda--a guy walks in and stops in his tracks at the sight of Old Roomie. Old Roomie is a handsome, statuesque, poised guy, so why shouldn't anyone fixate on him? Old Roomie is also open and obvious about his sexual choosings...you would not, in a million years, mistake him for my lover. Staring guy is buff. I mean, BUFF. Let's just call him Buff Guy. insanely buff...to the point, where I wonder how he fits his uncomfortably large neck into button-down Oxfords. Ha! Leave it to me to see a built, brawny guy and immediately imagine how awkward he must look in his non-gym clothing. lol. Back to my story...

wait, first...everyone knows what DL means right? Down Low. You come off straight...you date and sleep with women, but you also date and sleep with men. And most importantly, the part about dating and sleeping with men is a big secret. This secretive lifestyle is prevalent in the black community, and quite possibly could be prevalent in the white, asian, latino communities as well...but i'm speaking from what i know, and so there--I think I defined it.

Where was I? Yea, so he's buff and all that, and while he's staring at Old Roomie with a "where do I know you from?" expression, I pick up on two key things. Well, three. He's totally ignoring me. He's totally checking out Old Roomie. He totally does not LOOK gay. Nothing about him says, "I'm gay and proud"... except maybe his fervor for strength training--and his perceived infatuation with Old Roomie.

Buff Guy starts a convo with Old Roomie--so it appears they have seen eachother at the gym. (Old Roomie is a trainer/dancer and Buff Guy is a trainer as well.) He asks Old Roomie "what's your rate?," meaning how much do you charge for training sessions. Then he compliments Old Roomie on his training style. Hmmm...I'm thinking, "why hasn't he looked at me yet?" and "why does he need a trainer? He IS a trainer?"

Let me state again, not only is he buff, but he looks rough-around-the-edges, fully straight and a typical Harlem hip-hop chick-magnet. I don't know why, but I'm just not getting a look-and-feel gay vibe from him, if that makes any sense.

Next he offers to give Old Roomie his number, so as to set up the training session. Old Roomie is totally playing it cool and professional and maybe a bit coy (I don't think Buff Guy is his type anyway), and offers to take his email address instead. Buff Guy scribbles down both the number and the email address, and gives an enthusiastic "Yo, definitely give me a call. I'd like to train with you."

I'm so confused.

After dinner, I ask Old Roomie if "that guy was gay?" And again, he's coy, and answers (or rather, doesn't answer) "I'm not sure, but he certainly wanted to get in touch with me! I don't understand why he needs a trainer if he's already a trainer. Oh well." Then laughter. I'm not sure if he's telling the truth, or if he's just as confused as I am. So I let it go. I don't want to sound like I don't think a perfectly straight man could hold an anxious, dripping-with-compliments conversation with a gay man. It's quite possible and normal--but you truly had to see the intensely interested look on Buff Guy's face.

So there are a few things here...if he's Down Low, he's Down Low...I'm not as perplexed by that though as much as I am that he didn't look at me. I might have a bit of an ego, but I rarely come into such close contact with a guy without garnering at least a 5-second stare or a flirty smile. You know what I got instead? A loose, obligatory handshake. hmmph.

Or, what if he isn't gay or DL, and I'm just thinking too highly of myself in thinking that if he is indeed straight, he should at least have checked me out a little more. I'm in no way interested, yet I do want to be acknowledged as an attractive, flirt-worthy woman. Is that so wrong? And then there's my other thought...the one that the BF would probably side with: Maybe he didn't stare because it was that reverse pyschology, hard-to-get thing that men do to show you they're not interested, even if they are...because they know women will first be perplexed, then annoyed, then enticed. OR, quite simply--he's gay, and he really just wants a "training session" with Old Roomie.

Thoughts?

p.s. sorry for the long post...i'm normally anti about longer posts...but this one had so many layers in need of explanation.

p.p.s. So I just came to another conclusion...Maybe Buff Guy didn't look at me because he prefers a brown-skin lady with a big booty and basically a little more meat or muscle on her bones, and he caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye and figured I didn't fit that type.

okay, this is not the DL post...

...i'm finishing it up, and re-asking myself--"is there even a point to this post?" No worries though--it'll be up and running tomorrow.

But for now, it's a lazy lovely Monday night here, and it's just me, my laptop, and a Coca Cola...I'm in ultimate chill mode. How sweet it is!

Drunk people--that's my opener for this quick bit of humor. Drunk people. Last night at a bar, I sat sipping my ice-cold Yuengling watching people tell jokes. After the BF gave his schpiel, he walks over to me to digress, scribble a note in his Moleskin, and sip my beer (it was a very big glass). Then, a woman at the bar leans in to ask a couple of questions about our lover-dom--how long had we been together, did we know how lucky we were, and blah blah and more blah. She was drunk and giddy, so we humored her...because we're nice people, but of course, in the back of my mind, I was planning my escape. It was late, I was sober and pleasant, and not in the mood to listen to drunk talk. I guess I shouln't have been at a bar then...but hey, I was being supportive and they had good, ice-cold Yeungling. The BF escaped first...DAMN HIM!! and drunken lady turned her attention to me. She says something like this: "I could tell you were his girlfriend, by the way you looked at him." Okay, that's kinda sweet to say, but likely BS. What she doesn't know is that I look intensely at most everyone...it's my way of feeling folks out.

Next she hands me her card and says, "Call me in five years. Call me on June 1, 2013. I'll remember you, I will. I want you to call me and let me know if you guys are still together. And if you are, I'll have a gift for you." I said I'd call her. I probably won't. But I say probably won't, not definitely won't. Cuz, for one, it's bizarre to call some stranger up in 5 years and say "Hey, remember I met you at blankedy-blank Bar and you said to call you in 5 years? Well here I am, calling you. We're still going strong, now where's our gift?" It's bizarre, but I like bizarre things. Even if they are bizarre, and borderline corny...but yet still somewhat romantic, and besides, I want this damn gift.

I told her she should film a documentary, about random couples she meets and asks to call her in 5 years. She agreed...quite possibly pleased with the idea that it might renew her faith and many others' faith in lasting love. (backstory--she had recently been engaged and had broken it off.)

Then, she goes, "Babies are a bonus." And we all know how I feel about babies. I fought off a frown, and to get her off my back, I said "Yes, I will most definitely call you on June 1, 2013." And hey, I dunno, I just might.

there's nothing on this earth...

...that compares to hard, stomach-achy laughter with a dear friend over beer (followed by yummy jumbo slices)--in a crowded room where no one else matters. I don't know why we were so tickled by a silly conversation on how we find it practically impossible to fart in front of our lovers...but it was the best therapy I've had in months.

p.s. the DL post is coming next...