I am in BUffalo for a wedding and have W here with me.
A lot of fun stuff has happened so far. It really has. But here are some other things that happened:
On Thursday, NYC experienced tornado warnings and severe thunderstorms. As a result, we sat on the plane, on the runway, for EIGHT HOURS. Why eight hours? Well, after three hours, anyone who wants to deplane has the right to do so (after that PR nightmare JetBlue had last year). A handful of people wanted off, which means we had to drive back to the gate. Problem is, we were blocked in, so that took forever.
Because we left the line of planes where we had been sitting for four hours, we lost our place in line and had to get back at the end of the line with 75 planes ahead of us. That was after we were able to get to and leave the gate, which was closed because of lighning and other planes blocking ours.
Departed apartment: 2:15 pm. Arrived in Buffalo: 12:30 am. Total in-flight time: 45 minutes.
Since Monday is my 1-year anniversary with W, I had planned a surprise overnight trip to Niagara Falls, Canada. I had rented a room with a heart-shaped tub. Because it was so late when we left, I cancelled the room. They probably still charged it to my credit card because it was less than 24 hours. This I will fight if it shows up on my bill.
When we arrived, the Budget counter was closed, even though the reservation said they were open 24 hours. It took us several tries to locate the Budget van.
Went for drinks with Leanne and Bob this evening and had a lovely time. Returned to car to find passenger window smashed out and my GPS (purchase price $600) stolen. Should I have left it on the windshield? No. But we were parked on Elmwood and Allen, in a busy area.
Budget office would not answer and national office could not help. Called 911 and filed police report. Brushed glass off of passenger seat and drove straight to Budget location (on the way back to my dad's). Little troll working behind counter was unhelpful and didn't have another car for us. Didn't offer to call other rental car agencies to see what they had. Two other employees buzzed around behind counter not helping us while troll assisted clueless old people. ("Sorry we can't accommodate you! Let me try to help you find something else!" Um, no.)
Had to call dad to pick us up. He was surprisingly accommodating. Not sure if it's because W is here, but enjoying lack of martyr syndrome.
Fuck whoever stole my GPS. RIP, Mrs. Garrett. Hoping karma will come back to him. Learn to respect other people, you piece of shit.
At the end of May, I received a parking ticket. It was graduation weekend, and I was with my dad. It's a place I've parked many times before and I didn't see any nearby signage. My dad is pretty observant, and he didn't see anything either.
Regardless, when we walked out of the store I heard a grinding noise. I didn't even realize what was going on until I unlocked the car. I was about to be TOWED! You should have seen the look the miserable traffic cop gave me as she skulked back to the tow truck.
I was still in partial shock when I realized there was also a $60 parking ticket stuck under my windshield wiper. Fucking a!!!
Had it been a less expensive ticket, or even if I hadn't have been about to be towed, I might have just paid it. But it was the combination that killed me. I wasn't blocking a driveway or a hydrant, after all. It was a royal pain when I got towed in May, but I was admittedly too close to a hydrant. But this? A ticket AND trying to tow me when my car wasn't creating a potentially dangerous condition? And, where I DIDN'T SEE ANY SIGNS? Hell no! I determined that this was cruel and unusual punishment.
It took two trips to the municipal building. On both occasions I encountered judges with dickish attitudes. Like seriously aggressive and offensive without provocation. (Though I can see how one can develop a prickly manner working there. On my first trip, I witnessed a man insistent on fighting a five-year-old parking ticket, who stood dumbly and unmoving from the service window despite cutting insults from the head judge.) regardless, I'm just not sure what people get out of being assholes straight away.
On my second visit, color photo evidence in-hand and right-hand-raised testimony, my ticket was dismissed. Was it worth all that time? Absolutely, esp given that I was almost towed. (And if you gave ever been to the Brooklyn tow pound, you know what I mean!)
In another victory against the po-po, I did a post on CHB about how the local cops were permanently parked in the bike lane. The story was picked up by Gothamist AND Streetsblog. And you know what? The cops moved the cars.
My blogging technique as of late has been drafting up these mega-long posts on the iPhone while commuting. Right now I am walking down DeKalb Ave!
What else...
Happily, baby Jeffrey is home with mom and dad, and I was able to visit over the weekend. I was able to hold him, and since he was sleeping, I found it very relaxing. I also saw him pee on his own face during changing. I'll being that story out when he's about 16.
I also went a steamed crab and burger BBQ in Jersey City, where I learned how to get a decent amount of meat out of the steaming Old-Bay-seasoned shells.
I had a frustrating day today, and I just went for an evening run. I can't say that I'm becoming a better runner -- I don't have time to do it enough -- but it definitely clears my head to sweat some of my annoyance out.
If you're going to pick up the habit, go get fitted properly for a pair of running shoes. It'll make a huge difference. Seriously.
In more exciting news, I have procured two tickets to see the New Kids on the Block reunion tour, and Beth is coming with me. I'm kind of embarrassed about this, but not enough not to share it with you.
NKOTB was the only famous-person-crush I had as a tween. I'm glad I it out of my system by the time I finished 7th grade. While I technically grew up in the '80s, it was the late '80s and early to mid '90s where I felt like I came of age. Before that, I was fairly oblivious to the world around me. I was aware of cultural phenomenons, but I didn't really live and breathe them like I started to around the age of 11.
Anyway, I have insanely fond memories of listening to my NKOTB tapes while playing Nintendo (the same Nintendo I have in my current apartment -- original NES -- and yes, it still works!). I went to one New Kids concert at the Buffalo Aud on November 9, 1989, with my friends Erin and Dana. Erin's older sister and her friend "chaperoned" us, and we went without adults.
I'm hoping at least one of my old New Kids tees still fits me. They're in a box, in the attic, in Buffalo.
While I'm not embarrassed to admit to going to the show, I was embarrassed today when my iPhone rang at work, playing my new ringtone loudly. ("Cover Girl")
Why is financial management software so effing confusing? I bought Quicken a year ago, and abandoned it long ago. Some stuff downloaded directly into the program and some did not. Now I am using something called Fortora Fresh Finance. It is also confusing.
This last week, I have been unbelievably cranky, in a way I haven't been for months. Part of it can be blamed on PMS, for sure, but I think the rest is Stress Fallout.
Back when my mother had her second surgery, I was in Management Mode for several months, traveling to Buffalo to be there for the operation at the last minute. Two months later, I retreated into anxiety and depression. I do a lot to cope with timely stress -- stay busy, maintain control of whatever I can, etc. Weeks and months later, when things have resolved themselves, it hits me.
I think that's what's happening now. All of the medical tests, the phone calls, the errands made for said tests, the thoughts of a scary cancer and the ways it would have affected my life, applying for new jobs, going on interviews (my first since I was 24 years old), preparing for an intimidating 8-hour written exam, wrapping up a job I've been at for 5.5 years, coming up quickly on the second anniversary of my mother's death, facing turning 30... it's all kind of hitting me, and I feel like crying all the time (though I've actually only cried once in the last few months). I also feel like snapping at anyone and everyone.
Even good change is stressful. But I know myself well enough to know it's time to schedule an appt with the head shrinker.
Next up: an MRI at Mt. Sinai next week. The latest doc is pretty sure whatever this is is fairly harmless, but I won't rest my mind until I know for sure. I remember when my mother first became sick, and how they came up with every excuse under the sun for the strange tumor she had until they finally did a biopsy (hello, cat scratch disease?). I'm sure it's easier for the doctors and the patients alike.
This experience has been exhausting. My main doctor has been great with keeping in touch (via email!), but I'm left to make the appointments, constantly call the insurance for authorization, make follow-ups with the various doctors, etc. Thank god I'm feeling fine now. I don't see how people who feel genuinely sick and weak can keep up with all of this.
Best thing about the MRI is that there is NO PREP INVOLVED!!! That's right. I can eat, drink and poop normally beforehand and won't have to drink anything foul. Here's hoping that Tuesday's scan will be the final step in this obstacle course of medical navigation. I'm tired.
Before I get to the big vaca post, just an update on my weird health maladies.
Thankfully, all of my symptoms had disappeared by Friday afternoon. Let me tell you, I am going to fully appreciate every second without pelvic discomfort for the rest of my days (after two weeks of constant pain and irritation).
On Tuesday morning, I saw a urologist. He was a nice man, but loud and overzealous, and kept cutting me off while I was describing my strange litany of symptoms and maladies. He looked over my lab work and said, "To be honest, this is a bit of a mystery to me. So you didn't have any flank pain?" "Well," I responded, "Back in January, I had one week of excruciating back pain on the right side." He called the radiology place to ask for my ultrasound results to be faxed.
Then, he casually said, "OK, well, let's do a cytoscopy and look in your bladder." Go to the link if you want, because I'm not going to describe it here. But Wikipedia says that the instrument is "as thick as a pencil."
To be honest, it really wasn't bad. In fact, I'd say the average pelvic exam is much more uncomfortable than this. I was nervous, because one of my bosses has these tests frequently and always makes a big production of coming back to work all hunched over and in dramatic discomfort. Either this test is much more painful for men, or men are pussies.
Been waiting to post this for ages.
Thankfully, my bladder is completely fine. The urologist suspects I may have been passing a kidney stone. Didn't know the stones hung around for several months, but the severe back pain from Vegas certainly suggests that's what was going on. Props to me for hoofing it around Vegas with a kidney stone! Hopefully tomorrow's CT scan will reveal more.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. UPS IS THE DEVIL.
Two weeks ago, my father sent me a box for Valentine's Day to my office via UPS. The box had the correct address on it, but it was delivered to a high-end apartment building one block away on February 6. It must have accidentally gotten in with a different batch of packages on the truck. The box was signed for at the other building, but then immediately returned to the driver because it had the incorrect address on it. (I know this because I WENT TO THE OTHER ADDRESS TO TRY TO FIND THE BOX once I figured out where it had been delivered.)
Two weeks later, the box is not at my office. Every time I call, the representative cheerfully recites the delivery information to me, as a "Ha ha! See? I have proof of delivery!" How it is not adding up on their screen that IT WASN'T DELIVERED TO THE RIGHT ADDRESS? When I explain that I called last week and was promised that the box would be here Friday, they say, oh yes, here's an exception here on the details. It's as though they do the least amount of work possible on the phone unless you prod them.
To be honest, I don't even want the box. It's likely filled with 100 sugar cookies cut from a Pillsbury roll and filled with preservatives, which I think are gross. But it's the principle! My box is somewhere on this planet and I want to know where it is. And of course, I'm sure I'll have to track down the refund money for my Dad, and I'm sure he paid in cash because he never uses his credit card, so that'll be a pain. But dude! These people cannot get away with this shit!
Use FedEx whenever possible.
Aside from this, I'm fine. I know I've been quiet, but I am preparing for a big exam. And, I actually got flowers on V-Day! I think that was a first, seriously.
I just went to the career center, hoping for a magical moment when the career woman would take one look at me, read deep into the inner depths of my soul and tell me exactly what kind of job I'd be best suited for.
Instead, it went something like this:
She yelled at me for not notifying her that many of the job links on the career site aren't working and she told me she can't help me until I know what I want to do. BUT, she did give me some homework to complete and return to her, which may provide some insight into what might be best.
I don't know why I hate job hunting so much. Not even just job hunting, but figuring out what I want out of a career. I've always been afraid to commit to a field, and I think that has to do with the music business ruining music for me. I'm afraid that I'm not an expert on any one thing, that I'm a jack-of-all-trades who will never make a really good living, that I'm intimidated by responsibility and yet bored with taking orders, that maybe I missed my true calling years ago by growing up in a town where we never learned to take chances.
I know deep down that I have to figure this out for myself. So why am I so scared to just do it?
I haven't been this pissy about something in a long time.
Last week, I realized I was out of birth control. I order it via mail order, which is significantly cheaper, allows me to get three months at a time, and allows me to avoid Duane Reade (aka SATAN) Pharmacy. I was positive I had one refill left, but I was wrong.
Last Monday, I submitted a refill request online. I also called to make my yearly appt, where I usually obtain the next year's prescription. Unfortunately, the wonderful NP I've been seeing for years is no longer there, and the wait to see my normal GYN was a few weeks. The office assured me they would approve one refill because I had made an appointment for my exam.
Finally, on THURSDAY, I received an email saying my refill was approved. I called them to request the meds be shipped overnight because I needed them for Sunday, but they told me it was already being shipped. I crossed my fingers for Saturday delivery. I also called (ug) Duane to ask for their fax number, seeing as my GYN office will not call in contraceptives, but they will fax an order in for you. Duane told me they needed the actual script and would not accept a fax.
Saturday... no pills. Monday... no pills, but I did receive a package slip (which I thought was strange, seeing as they always leave it in my mailbox). I was sure it was my pills, but when I arrived at the post office at 8:30 am, the clerk told me it had been sent back (!!!!). Turns out, the slip was dated January 10. No word on why the hell they'd wait 18 days to leave me a package slip, but whatever it was, it wasn't my birth control. Fucking Adelphi Station post office!
SO. I call the gyno this morning and leave a message that I need to pick up a script for one month of Yasmin. They call me back at 10:30 to come pick it up, and I have to go INTO the office in Soho, where the receptionist ignores me while she tries to figure out why a woman (behind me in line) was charged a co-pay on her last visit. Finally, I have the script in my hand. I head back down to CVS (because they are so much nicer and fill scrips while you wait, unlike Duane who can take 2 days to fill something basic). Unfortunately, my insurance has already paid for my mail order refill and won't authorize this other script, which means I have to pay FULL PRICE ($60.99) for it. But, I need it, since I've been on the pill for eight years straight and I don't want to fuck up my system, and if I can get it today, I can be back on track and only have to use backup contraceptives for seven days instead of fucking up the entire month (per the Yasmin website).
SO. Had I just picked up a script last week for one month to tide me over, I would have been just fine. GAHHHHHHH. And where did my NP go? She's nice enough that I'd track her down to continue seeing her.
The silver linings of my day are my tickets to see the Jerry Springer opera tonight with W (only playing two nights at Carnegie Hall!), and the fact that TWO strangers complimented my new shoes today. And in NYC, where everyone tries to remain in their own little personal space, a compliment from a stranger means the complimented item is truly gorgeous.
I've been thinking a lot about jobs lately. Insert the word "panicking" or "stressing" in place of "thinking" and you'll have a more accurate picture of where my mind is at. I've been out of undergrad for almost eight years now, and am about to earn a Master's degree. I kind of feel like the types of jobs I could apply for right now might be a little soul-killing. It is possible to find a job that doesn't involve selling or schmoozing?
How is anyone supposed to know at age 18 what they will find satisfying at age 29?
(And more importantly, why couldn't I have grown up with a trust fund?)
Since it's technically Saturday, I'd say this counts as my Saturday post.
UPS will only tell me that the ottoman will be delivered on Monday, and that they "can't guarantee a delivery time." Is it just me, or do we NYers have to put up with the shittiest service on the planet? It's not MY fault you couldn't make it here by MIDNIGHT. So how about you either deliver my package by 9 am Saturday morning, or hire another company to do it for you? Because you fucked up, and now you need to make up for the inconvenience. And this isn't the very first Friday night before Thanksgiving that UPS has delivered packages. Guess what! It's gonna be busy! So be prepared ahead of time, assholes!
What does a person have to do to get some decent ass-kissing around here? Who is responsible for this? Someone needs to take the fall. You over at UPS - talk amongst yourselves and figure it out, and whoever takes the blame should bring me my ottoman in seven hours. Just load that shit in your car and drive it over here and put it right in my living room. Won't happen, but it's nice to just throw that demand out there to the etherworld.
Yep. Still waiting. It's still "out for delivery." And I've already been waiting for 14 hours. What's a few more? I feel like I've put this much time into this to give up now.
My ottoman still isn't here. I've been inside all day, literally, aside from taking Mallow out once around 9am. Come ON already!
Also, I tried to be all organic and good to the earth (and to myself) by using natural deodorant. You know, the kind that just smells nice and is made out of natural things and doesn't contain aluminum and thus isn't an antiperspirant so that you won't get Alzheimer's? Yeah.
That shit sucks. Because about 7 seconds after putting it on, I smelled like armpit.
In an attempt to jump on the Al Gore bandwagon, I've decided to put a stop to receiving so many catalogs. To do this, I collected all of them for three months and have been working through it, calling every one to ask to be removed.
This has been a large and frustrating task to say the least, and has been exacerbated by the fact that my info is clearly being shared between catalogs. Oh, you requested a Pottery Barn catalog in the year 2000? Surely you'd like to receive a catalog called Great Windows from Next Day Blinds! I've been on hold with Newport News now for 6+ minutes, listening to some electronic elevator music and a becoming even more disgruntled. Al, here's a call to action: please create a website where people can enter their information once and be removed from all mailing lists.
I especially love the catalogs that spell my name Robyn, which means that Rolling Stone magazine is still sharing my information years after I ended my subscription. (There were only so many Top 100 Greatest Classic Rock Songs issues a girl in her 20s could take.)
So it took me 13 minutes and 9 seconds to get off the Newport News list. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes to be removed from the Container Store list. I love the CS, but they send way too many mailers. Plus, I'm going to shop there regardless. When I call places I like, I almost feel guilty, as though I want to reassure them that yes, I still like them! (Anthropologie will not be receiving a call, as their catalog is far too pretty to abandon.)
The call I'm dreading most? Sloan-Kettering. No, I don't want the holiday return address labels you sent to me, because you killed my mother's spirit. The labels do not compensate for that.
I spoke with my dad on the phone the other day, and he mentioned in passing that he hasn't been able to put any money aside for Christmas presents. This brought up a red flag immediately. He followed with, "So I guess I'll just get you a gift card from Target or something."
It's not about the money, or the lack of creativity, but when combined they make me feel like absolute shit. If you don't know what to get your only child, at least get her a gift card in a denomination that allows her to actually BUY something. OR, if you're really strapped for cash, pick out something a little meaningful. Problem is, you don't really know your daughter at all. Never mind that I chose a $200 clock for my dad for Father's Day, because I knew he'd love it and would never, ever buy one like it for himself.
I intervened at the mention of Target by saying something like, "Well, maybe you can mix it up a little? Like, maybe get me a gift card for the Gap?" Awkward silence. Then he replied, "Or how about Old Navy?" I don't know where that came from, but I suspect that he somehow feels more comfortable about the idea of Old Navy than of the Gap.
I am not asking him to get me a gift card to Babes in Toyland. Just the Gap. But the Gap is not a part of his routine. The Gap is a place where normal people shop, who have normal lives and do normal things, and buy khakis and deserve things like khakis.
I remember Christmas a few years ago when my mom bought me a nice new set of luggage. There were a few other gifts under the tree for me, but she had hidden a huge stack more inside the luggage. This, my friends, will never happen again. My dad's not trying to be a jerk, but he sincerely doesn't get it.
That night, I had a dream in which my mom showed up, smiling, with a gift bag in-hand. I was thrilled to see her, like, "Oh my god! You're here!" And inside the gift bag were dozens of gift cards from all of my favorite stores.
***
I've really been struggling with this again lately, with the things we pick up in our childhood and the things that are hard to shake in adulthood. These things, too, are a part our personal narratives even when they are never spoken aloud.
Having another cranky day. I can't seem to get my hands on my loan money, and I just received my first half-time paycheck. Yikes. I'm just feeling blah, and even with less time in the office I still can't seem to get a handle on my life. I know all the freelance stuff would have been too much but I still feel bad. It's been awhile since I really threw myself into trying for something. I mean, I've been at my current job for five years now! It was kinda nice to think that I could make it as a writer and get paid for it. Maybe I still can. Why is it so hard for me to just relax?
I know I've been really bad about updating - something that has really never been a problem in the last... 4.5 years of this site. I don't know why I can't seem to find the time. For some reason, I seem to have even less time for homework now that I'm working part-time, and I feel guilty blogging when I haven't done my homework. What's happening is that I am using my days off to take care of errands and stuff around the apartment, instead of reading. And by the way, I technically should be reading about 5 books per week per my combined syllabi. Even without working at all, I don't think I could finish all this work (plus write the 2-3 page weekly response paper for Class class). I think I need to get myself onto a new schedule. and stick to it.
A sidenote here to complain! I am thoroughly annoyed with a handyman I've been using. He always blows off our appointments and then does a shitty job. This happens to me often, and it really pisses me off. Why can't handymen just be fucking reliable? I'm paying you cash, so just fucking show up, do the job and be done with it. He came to wash my windows yesterday and told me he'd be back this morning at 8am to fix the shit job he did on reinstalling my air conditioners. (Instead of putting plexiglass on either side of the ACs, he reused the warped cardboard stuff that was up before causing huge gaps to the outside. I've had to seal it up with duct tape.) I got up extra early and was back from walking the dog by 7:55. Do you think he showed up? And why don't I ask someone else? Because at leas I know this guy, and I've already paid him to do the job. Also, I just realized that this is the first time I'm using the "cranky" label in awhile.
I'm going to Philly on Thursday night to Friday. I'm kind of excited about it, since I've never been. Been to Iceland twice, but never to Philly. Weird, I know.
I got a haircut a few days ago. My hair had been growing out, and I was kinda digging it. I asked for a trim but was once again convinced into getting a shorter cut. Stylists love giving me short cuts because they say I have a "nicely-shaped head." And it is true that I always get more ass with short hair. It must work for my large face. Now I have a Rihanna cut and I'm not sure how it's going to work out.
I was woken up around 6am by a massive-ass thunderstorm. Mmmm, I thought, and snuggled back under the covers. I woke up and thankfully signed onto gmail, where Beth informed me that the trains were all flooded.
I've lived in NYC for more than seven years now, and we've only had problems of this sort for the last two or so. Yes, it was a LOT of rain in a short period of time. But really? A pussy rainstorm can wreak havoc on NYC?
Still, a rain day! The G train entrance was roped off! An excuse to stay home! It started out to be just fun and games, but after a power outage and several brownouts, it's become less fun. Plus, I'm scared to take the elevator for fear of being stuck in it (it would be much less nice to be stuck there than in the elevator at work), so I haven't left the 14th floor all day.
I'm supposed to go out for a fancy dinner tonight. I think the infamous burger might be too much to resist. I'll likely be braving the MTA later this evening.
That's not totally true. One of them is definitely on a flight and over the Atlantic right now. Lufthansa is not sure where the other bag is.
So let me tell you about my travel hijinx yesterday:
I arrived at the Berlin airport early, as to not miss my flight and in the hope of doing some tourist shopping. Sadly, the only stuff beyond security were a perfume stand and a sad pretzel stand.
My flight to Frankfurt left an hour late, and I only had an hour between connecting flights to JFK. However, the flight attendant assured us that most flights out of Frankfurt were delayed due to thunderstorms, so everyone should be able to make their connecting flights. They even announced a gate change for the JFK flight before we landed, implying that we would make the plane and they knew we were coming. Nevertheless, I ran for the gate when we landed. European airports do this annoying thing where you have to deplane on the runway and then take a shuttle bus to the gate. Think of how much time is wasted doing this for people with connections! Bah! This is what we did.
Inside, I realized I had to go to another terminal, so I ran for about 10 minutes. I had to go through passport control and the security line again, where the guys told me, "JFK? You'd better run!" Really? No shit.
I get to the gate, and everyone has boarded. The ladies go to scan my boarding pass, and it says, "ticket not valid." They spent 5-10 minutes talking in German and searching the computer before they figure out what's happened: I've already been rebooked for a flight a day later. However, since they didn't realize until they tried my boarding pass, they tell me my seat is still open and I can just board. Every time they try to print me a new boarding pass, it prints a ticket for the following day.
Meanwhile, 5-6 other passengers connecting from Berlin make it to the gate (they didn't run as fast as I did), and a flight attendant comes off the plane and tells them snottily that the flight is closed and they cannot board. Thank god I ran so quickly, as I was the only one to be let on! As soon as I stepped on board, the automated voice said, "Boarding complete!"
As you can imagine, my baggage did not make it. After waiting for an hour at the baggage carousel, I had to wait 90 minutes in line outside the Lufthansa baggage office. By the time I got home, I had been up for 22 hours straight.
On the flight, we had to watch a 10-minute video on how to navigate customs in the USA. For some reason, I had never realized what a pain in the ass it is to enter the US, even as a fucking resident! When you go to an EU country, you wait approximately 30 seconds for an agent, get your passport stamped and go on your way. In the US, you must fill out a customs form and wait in line for 30+ minutes. As a VISITOR to the US? You now have to be fingerprinted and photographed. How fucked up is that??? I understand tighter security, but fingerprinting everyone? I can't say that I'd come to the US from abroad for vacation if I had to be so carefully documented. It seems kind of creepy.
Sorry this is so poorly written. I feel like a zombie and just spent an hour going through my mail. I did have brunch at Maggie Brown this morning -- ahhh, American coffee and no weird cheeses.
Before I get into the harrowing details of my day, I'l give a brief recap of our last night in Krakow:
Classes ended early, we slacked and packed all afternoon, some people went to town, we got dressed up and had one last dinner at the castle, followed by dancing. The sound system crapped out, but before that we all did a really simple but fun traditional Polish regal dance. I picked Piotr to be my partner, and we were totally the best ones. I got drunk, and then felt even worse re: sinuses, so I went to bed around 1am (I think).
So... on to today. As you know from my earlier post, I missed my fucking flight to Munich-Berlin this morning. Maria and her sister drove me to the airport. I wonder if a cab driver would have gotten me there on time, but whatever. There was a huge traffic jam on the highway. We get to Pope John Paul II Airport (yes, that's what it's called) about ten minutes before my flight. Maria started yelling at the airport staff when they told me boarding was closed (which I figured it would be), so I was mortified. Thankfully, the airline changed me to a flight leaving at 12:50 pm, connecting through Munich and arriving in Berlin at 3:30. However, this meant I had to sit on the floor of PJPII airport for 2+ hours until the check-in for the Munich flight opened, as there are no seats near check-in and the effing airport is so small that you can't check in more than 2 hours before the flight. So, after having tea and cake with Maria, I convinced her I'd be just fine waiting on my own.
Having a head cold and running on less than six hours of sleep, I sat reading Harry Potter. Then I ran into my Gender Prof, Ann! Turns out several people from the program were on my new flight (or leaving around the same time). Ann, bless her soul, actually had two Advil Cold + Sinus tablets in her bag!!! We rushed the check-in line as soon as it opened, and waited for a good 20 minutes while two old people held up the line. I groaned and rolled my eyes, until it was MY turn to check in. And then I held up the line.
You see, my bag was overweight. And not just that -- it was OVER the overweight limit. So the check-in girl made a few slow calls to see how much to charge me, and then just ignored me for awhile, until she told me I could take 4 kg out of my bag and then be charged for the regular overweight rate. Ann to the rescue again, as she had an extra bag for me to use for carry-on stuff.
You'd think it was the first time in history anyone ever had an overweight bag (Ann had one, too). We had to check our bags, bring a receipt across the hall to pay the overweight charge, and then go BACK to check-in for the boarding passes.
After all that, they only had ONE SECURITY LINE OPEN. People, avoid this airport. Please.
Given how the day was going, I was quite sure I would miss my connecting flight to Berlin, which was only 30 minutes after we were due to land in Munich.
However, my luck began to change. The Munich flight was delayed, and I made it to the gate before boarding even started (this even with having to deplane on the runway and take one of those lame shuttle busses to the terminal). The hotel pickup towncar was waiting for me (I had called to reschedule after the morning disaster, and the front desk guy wasn't sure he could rearrange the driver's schedule) and my heavy-ass bag even made it (though it wad the LAST bag off the plane, and I was sure it had been lost somewhere in Munich).
Thanks to Marc for recommending the place I'm staying, Circus. It's actually a hostel -- I know, I know, I rolled my eyes at first, too -- but it's in a great area. I have a private room (which is small but adorable) and it looks like a trendy hotel. The only problem? Even though I booked two months ahead, I couldn't get a room with a private bathroom. Meh!! It's only two nights, so for 50 Euros a night I figured I could rough it. (And, as a note, I'm not even sure what the EUR-USD exchange is -- I think it's kind of similar?)
So. I get to Berlin in one piece and I arrive at the hostel, and the guy at the desk is super helpful. I told him I wanted to go shopping for some "cool, unique Berlin stuff," so he showed me a map, gave me train directions and sent me on my way. I didn't even know what neighborhood I was going to until I looked it up later (Friedrichshain, FYI). Dude, this area was awesome. There was a cool store every time I turned my head, plus restaurants, bars and coffee shops galore. I was a little nervous about taking the subway, as someone told me it was kind of confusing, but I did just fine.
The Berlin subway map looks a lot like the London tube map. But here's the bizarre thing -- the system is kind of run on the honor system! There is no card-swiping to get in!!!! You go downstairs, buy a ticket and insert it into this validator thing that prints the date and time on it. If they do a check and you're caught without you pay a 40 Euro fine. Anyhow, I attribute my time in London and NYC for being able to just hop on and not get nervous or lost. I kind of felt like I just jumped into Berlin life.
There were so many shops that I was a little overwhelmed! I know, hard to believe.
Tomorrow, I have decided to do an 8-hour walking tour of Berlin. I know this sounds insane, but it was highly recommended by the guy at the front desk. An he clearly knows his stuff. Plus, with getting in late today, a full walking tour will allow me to see all the major shit.
I feel like I should go out clubbing or something. But I'm too old, too tired, too sniffly.
So I woke up with The Cough and I missed my flight to Berlin because of traffic. I now get to Berlin at 3:30. All I want is some Advil Cold + Sinus and there is none to be found.
Oh, SHIT. The above was a long post I started when the wifi crashed, and I guess it only saved those first few words. Fuck fuck fuck. That's so annoying.
Anyhow, the post was about how I had a mini-meltdown in town the other day, because I was hot and sweaty and cranky and I ended up staying in town until late in the evening, and I felt like I had no control of my day and was generally bored with the political discussions going on. Plus, a group of younger people have become kind of cliquey and they are always congregating outside my door. Part of me feels left out, but the other part is just generally annoyed with the need for people to join up with a set group.
Maybe I'm homesick, or overtired, or PMSing. Most likely, though, I am just reacting to my impending nervousness of going to Auschwitz. When I am experiencing emotional stress, I tend to become irritable and withdrawn. My roommate is already giving me some flack about it. She's not going, as she's been to other camps before, and is also a Polish Jew. But she's being very vocal about how I "better not come back all upset and overdramatic and looking for comfort from her." Um, what? Trust me, I won't be seeking it in our room. Perhaps that's her own emotional reaction being played out. I just get very uncomfortable when I'm in a group of stressed out people, and they act all loud to compensate for their anxiety. It makes me withdraw more.
It's difficult to communicate cross-culturally in times of high emotion. And today, I am missing New York.
I went to my chi-chi gym this morning for a fitness evaluation, which I get for free along with one personal training session each year. As usual, it made me feel like a giant sloth. Even when I weighed 20 pounds less than I do now, I still tested poorly on the body-fat-pinch test. Dude, I go to the gym 3x a week and teach tap! WTF!
Lately, I've been feeling like a real frump. I have no new crushes to focus my attention on, my hair's looking gross in its weird growing-out stage, I'm tired and am feeling down from dealing with my Dad. Hopefully I can snap out of it soon.
I remember having an ear infection once as a child, and waking up in the middle of the night crying and screaming because my ear hurt so bad, forcing my mom to call my creepy pediatrician immediately. This is how I knew I had an ear infection when I arrived in California. When I woke up Saturday around 2am and could hardly stand the pain emanating from my ear, I knew what was up.
Thankfully, I was in Cali for the AIDS LifeCycle once again, and was able to drive over to the medical tent in the morning for some antibiotics. Oddly enough, the woman who treated me was the same woman who treated my face last year after my unfortunate fall. First thing she said to me was, "I remember you..." Heh. Yes.
My ear is feeling a wee bit better, but it still hurts. Right now, it's a tickly hurt, which is driving me crazy. It's the first day that I've been able to not take any Advil so far (the last few days I was popping 3 at a time every 3 hours). I was terrified of flying yesterday, but the discomfort was minimal. Plus, I flew JetBlue, which means I finally got to see The Namesake, as well as several hours of Law and Order.
I don't understand why American shows such shit movies on their flights -- it's either an old movie, or a kids movie, or a movie no one has ever heard of. HOW ABOUT... showing a recent release that at least three passengers might like to watch? I flew AA to LA, and was crammed in the last row with a very interesting character - a woman, maybe about my age, dressed in a power suit with crazy long blond hair, juggling a BlackBerry and a regular cell phone. We shared snacks and magazines, and tried to jointly ignore the adult biracial woman with Down's Syndrome throwing up across the aisle. My rowmate was punchy, commenting, "What, are they loading coffins on the plane?" dryly, as the plane banged and groaned as all of the doors were being closed before takeoff. I liked her, and yet was intimidated by her. When worlds collide...
Aside from the ear situation, Cali was nice (yet frenzied). Our flight was delayed last night (shocking) and I arrived in JFK to encounter the longest taxi line in the history of JFK. I probably waited an hour in line -- a line that was actually continually moving. That's how long the line was. I'm at home now, unpacking and catching up on things, but have to go to work later for an evening event. Bah.
I have many little snippets of into flying around my brain right now. The last two mornings at work have been blissfully quiet, only to turn murderously busy in the afternoon. Here's what's on my mind:
I'm having one of those days where no one listens to what I say or reads what I write. I write that I need to meet at so-and-so time, and the other person confirms for an hour earlier. I want to shake everyone I see today!
One of my good support friends is moving to Portland in August. I am psyched bc now I will have two people to visit there, but also sad that she'll be far away! Yay, and poo.
I had a scary dream last night that I watched a building collapse, and screamed out to Jim telling him I had dreamed it would happen. Let's hope it doesn't.
My Modern Letter recipient for June lives in Brooklyn, so I am going to mail the letter from LA. I'm doing a LOST-themed letter, so if she doesn't watch she will think I'm a big tool.
I'm thinking of jumping on the green bandwagon and starting to buy some "environmentally safe" cleaning products. Any recommendations?
I need to buy a silver pen.
Should I check a bag tomorrow, or do carry-on? If I do the latter, I may have a sunscreen shortage issue.
I went to the dermatologist yesterday, to get this horrific bug bite checked out, after Bob suggested I might have West Nile:
It's just a bite, nothing special about it. While I was there, I had a strange red spot removed from my hand. Good ol' novicane shot and "shaving" off of skin. I also picked up a few prescriptions, which ran me $100. Thanks, crap insurance.
You know, I was just thinking this morning about how I haven't tagged a post with "cranky" in awhile. I should have known that would incite some sort of irritating phenomenon.
So, in an attempt to be a wee more budget conscious, I've decided to both cancel Showtime and get rid of the TV in my bedroom. I don't even watch Showtime right now, and if a new series comes out, I can always get it on DVD eventually. Plus, everything I read on home decor says to avoid a TV in the bedroom at all costs, just for enhanced zen vibe. It's going to be mighty difficult to get rid of it, as I love turning on NY1 while I get dressed and the news when I crawl into bed. But the extra TV is costing me $11 or so a month and it's an ugly tube TV anyway. So tomorrow, my spare box is off to a TW location. Plus, this will make me feel slightly less guilty when I upgrade to an HDTV in the living room.
When my DVR broke last month, the friendly TW representative noticed that I was still being charged for premium On-Demand channels, at $8 a month. I had tried to cancel this ages ago, once I realized I could just use the DVR to watch what I want, when I want. I could never get connected to the correct person, though, and gave up. Apparently, On-Demand for premium channels is now FREE, and she told me she'd take it off my account immediately. I was astounded that she noticed, AND that she told me. How was I to know I was being charged an unnecessary $8 a month? But lo and behold, my latest bill came with the charge still on. I became curious and suspicious -- how long has this service been free? It's fucking slimy, what these huge utilities do, changing their offerings to entice new customers but not offering these things to their long-time subscribers. Dude, if this is a free service, why is it even still in your system?? Because TWC is slimy, that's why, and they know they can continue to make $8 a month off of people who don't know it should be free. I spoke to "Jake" today about this, and asked how long On-Demand had been offered for free. He kept getting flustered, and told me he could see the charge on my bill back to January 07 and he would give me two months' credit for it. Not answering my question, Jake. I just wanted to know when the policy changed for charging for On-Demand. He wouldn't answer. Either he didn't know the answer, or he was supposed to confuse me (a la AOL's cancellation brou-ha-ha). I convinced him to credit me from January onward. Hey, in all likelihood, TWC owes me for 2 years of On-Demand charges. It's not unbelievable though that Jake doesn't have access to my account offhand from previous years, so the January credit sounded OK to me. Six months of credit versus two - that's a whole new ball of wax for me, who's usually afraid of being nasty and demanding when it comes to customer service. Baby steps for Lesterhead.
...until July 7, anyway. I had a lovely evening of boozing and karaoke with organic novel classmates last night, and should have a plethora of photos and videos up later. Our professor did not edit our submissions as promised for the last class, so it looks like we need to do it all together. If you want a copy, let me know. I'm interested to know what you think (and to know if you can figure out which character is mine). The experience was a little intense, but definitely worthwhile. I've certainly made some new lifetime friends -- important for me as a part-time student who missed out on a lot of bonding last semester.
I wasn't even hung over today, though I did get mighty cranky on my commute. The trains were totally fucked, and I had to take the: F (mysteriously running on the G line) to the A (running on the F line) to the J (but couldn't get on, and the next train was 20 mins away), back to the F to the 6 to the R.
Aside from that crappy annoyance, NYC's been quite nice. We're actually having a proper spring - sunny and warm every day! I'm in the mood for an old-fashioned closet purge. I love shopping, but I love getting rid of stuff almost as much. I'm also getting ready to buy new rugs -- going with Flor, since most kinds are washable and single tiles can be removed for cleaning. (Ahem, Mallow, I am looking at you and your tendency to pee NEXT TO your wee pad).
I stopped into Papyrus at lunch looking for new stationary. What I got was an eyefull - a large poster directing shoppers to the MOTHER'S DAY card section.
I wish there was some sort of national registry you could sign up for, indicating which celebrated events were inappropriate for you. Then, your TV and email would automatically block relevant announcements. I don't need an email from 1800-flowers.com reminding me NOT TO FORGET TO SEND MY MOTHER FLOWERS ON MOTHER'S DAY.
Overall, I have been doing OK lately. Though kind of cranky - maybe it's my subconscious being pissed off about Mother's Day. I just don't like in-your-face reminders about things I can't participate in.
UPDATE: As I was leaving work, a rude man handing out fliers on the street yelled right in my face as I walked by: DOOOOOON'T FORGET MOOOOTHER'S DAY! If I see him again on Monday, he's getting a slap. If he only knew. "Don't forget." Fat chance.
Yesterday, I slept from 12-4, and woke up feeling much better. However, before I went to sleep at 11, I started to feel crappy again.
I woke up at 1:30 am with the chills and a sharp stomach ache. I finally got up to go to the bathroom and realized I was going to barf, again. Fucking a! Just once this time, thankfully. I heated up the Bed Buddy (which has been a lifesafer for my midsection) and after sleeping on the bathroom floor for 45 minutes went back to bed.
Today I am feeling decent -- a little light-headed, with a grumbly tummy. I am supposed to go see Bill Clinton at 2:30 - argh! What to do??? I think I will decide around noon. I do NOT want to pass up this opportunity, but at the same time, I want to stay in my bed. Who gave me this flu????? And right in the middle of this spring weather??? Wahhhhhh.
So, Grey's. Gosh, I have so much to say! But only about Izzy and George. The others I don't care about so much right now. Dude, I want them to get together. George and Callie are not right together. I know it's much more complicated than that, of course. But there is nothing worse than having a good friend make a move and then pulling away, after you've realized how good it could be. Really, the worst. The scene in the closet where George leaves Izzy behind? Ouch.
I was thinking about that scene a lot when I woke up sick again, and felt really alone. It's one of the problems with being single. Yes, I have many, many good friends who are helping to take care of me, but it sucks not having that someone special around who is obligated to take care of you. What if I ever had to go into the hospital?! I have a feeling I'd be taking myself.
I haven't had a stomach flu in approximately 15 years. My stomach is usually pretty good to me -- when I get sick, it's usually a respiratory infection. And those I get a lot of.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling a little nauseous. Actually, I went to bed on Tuesday feeling a little nauseous. I thought it was from getting pretty tipsy after work on Tuesday. I just cannot get drunk anymore without feeling like shit.
I felt OK during the day, but began feeling crappy again before I headed home. I took two big swigs of pepto and left 15 minutes early.
The train was packed, and I began feeling woozy. Then I got stuck waiting for what seemed like 20 minutes on the Hoyt-Schermerhorn platform, waiting for the G train. Someone had already puked on the platform. Maybe that was a bad omen. Without realizing it, I stationed myself next to a trash can -- you know, those disgusting tall black cans. All I could think of was Linda having to puke in one when she was preggers and had morning sickness.
And then it came, before the G train, twice. I had to stand on my tip-toes to lean in and yack. It was bright pink, thanks to the pepto. When I finished, I looked up and saw an ugly woman grimacing at me, as though what she had just seen was THE single most disgusting thing in the world. I'm sure it was nasty, but give me a fucking break! At least I threw up into the garbage can! I could have just puked on the platform, or better yet, on her shoes.
I made it home just in time before another wave came again. I had to call my neighbors and ask them to walk Mallow for me. I threw up another few times, alternating with the other end. I had canceled my TV night, but one of my classmates showed up anyway, not knowing I was sick. Awkward!
I tossed and turned all night. I haven't puked today, but my entire body aches and my stomach still kinda hurts. The last time I threw up was when I got my nose pierced a few years ago and before that, in 1999 after eating a pot brownie. I do NOT get sick like this.
whine whine whine whine
(Craige- I was nervous it could have been from the Coffee Shop, but I don't think it would have taken 24 hours to get me sick.)
I recently ordered a set of moo MiniCards via flickr. I'm sure I'm late to the game compared to flickr pros, but DAMN these cards are fun! Truly excellent. If you like fun things, you should order some. Next time you see me, ask for one!
Other fun things:
On Friday, my coworkers and I are going to hear Bill Clinton speak! *swooooon* A DREAM COME TRUE!
Next Tuesday, Bob and I are going to Martha Stewart's studio for a crafting demo and breakfast, and then to see a taping of her show! I wonder if we'll get to craft with her...
This afternoon, I cut my ass at the gym. I was in the tiny shower stall after spinning and I was shaving my legs (they offer free razors!). In an effort to avoid bumping my elbow into the wall, I moved my hand up too close to my body. Only I would cut my ass in the gym shower.
I'd like to tell you when the "vibrate" setting on your cell phone is appropriate.
It is appropriate for very loud locales, where you cannot hear your regular ringer. Thus, you can "feel" the phone ringing.
Vibrate is NOT for silent situations, such as:
class
a business meeting
Why? Because the vibrating MAKES NOISE. Thus, the phone owner AND those around him/her are still distracted when the phone rings. Might as well leave your damn ringer on. It's so rude.
You see, cell phones have this c-r-a-z-y setting called SILENT. This means the phone remains ON, but does not make noise. As a result, you can check your messages immediately after class/meetings, OR even check the phone on the sly without disrupting everyone/everything around you. UG!
Also, why is ice falling from the sky right now, when it was 70 degrees a few days ago?
I'm now on spring break (!!!!). While I won't be topless and drunk in Cancun next week, I will be at home after work and NOT in class. Yum. DVR, here I come!
21 February, 2007 Tar-zhay and the Missing Proenza Jackets
A few weeks ago, I went to the sneak preview for the new Target Go International line by Proenza Schouler. The stuff was amazing, but most of it was picked over by the time I arrived (lunch time on the FIRST day of the preview). I picked up this adorable spring jacket, but I was only able to find one size medium. The rest were, like, XXL:
I got the jacket home and accepted the fact that it was, in fact, too big. So, on the day of the alleged store premiere of the line, I headed over with bag and receipt only to find almost nothing left. I ordered a small jacket online as soon as I returned home, which was also the first day the clothing was available at Target.com.
Problem was the jacket was not set to ship until the end of April! WTF? I SAW these jackets with my own eyes, so why was there a delay on shipping? Why couldn't they ship NOW? Then yesterday morning, I received this email:
Unfortunately, the following item is not currently available from any of our sources.
"Proenza Schouler Show Purp Bubble Prt Cotton/Twill Jkt - S"
We have cancelled this item from your order.
Huh? Any of "our sources?" What does that mean? The sweatshop where they were being hidden away burned down? How could this be? I mean, I ordered it THE DAY it became available online! Where did all the jackets go? Who bought them all up? Plus, they misspelled "canceled."
So, I wrote them a little email:
I received an email this morning canceling the rest of this order, as the bubble jacket is no longer available. I'd like to express my extreme displeasure and disappointment. I actually attended the preview event in Manhattan where I wrangled the last size medium, which was too big. I then ordered the size small online the DAY it became available at Target.com. I have no idea where all these coats have gone, but I've just had to purchase one on ebay. I don't understand how, when I ordered on the FIRST day, the coat is now not available!
Yes, Anita, please DO share them with your team, as well as with the a-holes responsible for the disappearance of all these jackets! I'm sure it's not Anita's fault (or IS it?), but maybe she could at least read my email?
All is not lost, however. I was able to purchase a size small on ebay, as a buy-it-now auction, for just $10 more than the jacket originally cost. No worries, as I can easily pawn the stuff that doesn't fit on ebay to some other forlorn shopper and make a little cash on it.
(Really, I'm not THAT pissed. I'm more perplexed at the mystery of this whole thing! I mean, where did all those jackets go??)
I was all packed and ready to head to JFK for my flight to DC. I double checked my flight info to confirm the flight time. Thank GOD bc my flight is leaving from LGA! Christ. Imagine if I took the subway all the way to effing JFK.
Then I had to call a car, and was hit on by the brother of the driver who was riding along. He made it very clear he was looking for US citizenship.
LGA is such a crap airport. Plus, I never fly out of here. I'm pretty familiar with the AA and JB terminals at JFK, but not this overcrowded craphole.
This morning, I had an all-out tantrum. Seriously, I did. I got out of bed late (again), and was about to feed Mallow before darting off to work. My apartment was a mess, and I never get up early enough to straighten it up. The last few nights I've been busy (or sleeping off a headache) and I just keep adding to the piles of papers and dirty dishes. My closets are a mess. Despite my lovely Container Store organizational systems, I do need to tidy them up. Worst of all, I've just had to make a shitty decision I didn't want to make. The non-decision was becoming too difficult and had worn me down. It was one of those situations where you just say, "Fucking A! I fucking hate this! How did I get to this place? I don't want to leave, but I don't want to stay." I'm a real ball of frustration today.
So, I looked around, balled my hands into fists and stomped on the ground, making loud and annoying whining noises. I scrunched my face into an ugly contortion.
Someone recently told me that I deserve to get what I want. Tell that to the fates.
Last night after class, I attempted to take my latest route home: L to the G. Sometimes the L is mad crowded, but that usually means another empty L is right behind the crazy L. Something was amiss last night. Even though I was standing at the platform edge, I couldn't board the next THREE trains that came. The platform was seriously about 10 people deep. The headache that started during class quickly swelled to migrain status, and I began to worry I might barf on the platform or go careening onto the tracks. After the third train left, I pushed my way through the crowd (aided by the 10lb school book in my hand) and went all the way across the station to the 4, 5 train (the two trains are at exact opposites of the Union Square Station). Wouldn't you know when I arrived at that platform, I heard that announcement we NYers never want to hear: Do to an earlier incident at 110 Street, Brooklyn-bound 4 and 5 trains are running. The next train is approaching 42nd Street. The platform wasn't that crowded, so I decided to wait. Surprise, surprise, I couldn't get onto the train. I waited there another 10 mins or so, and then headed back to the L, thinking maybe the crowds had calmed down.
Nope. Just as I got downstairs, a Brooklyn train left with people shoved against the windows and doors. By this point, my head was throbbing, and I did NOT want to stand like a sardine on the train. So, I got on a nearly empty 8th Ave-bound L train (going the other way), which thankfully terminates about three stops past Union Square and then turns around. I was not the only one who did this, as I noticed I was not the only one to not get off the train when it stopped.
My plan worked. When we got back to Union Square, lots of people were left off the train. But I was enjoying my seat. Ha!
About an hour and 45 minutes after leaving class, I got home, head throbbing. I fed the pets, popped two Advil and got into bed. I woke up at 10:45pm, watched one episode of Extras, and went back to sleep for the night.
At 5pm tonight, it was still light out! Spring is on its way, I guess. I absolutely hate when it gets dark so early, so longer days always cheer me up.
My weekend started off being frustrating, but I packed a lot of good stuff in. The problem was that I needed a sci-fi novel for class, and I didn't feel like buying it. So, I ordered it from the library. Problem was, when I picked it up on Friday afternoon I realized the library had sent me the Polish version. Yeah, as in written in Polish. Fuck.
I visited several book stores to no avail. Later, I realized I had been looking in the fiction section, when I should have been looking in sci-fi, but how would I know that? It's not like I have EVER been in that section. So I finally found the book.
I also went to tap, which continues to thrill me. This morning, Berna and I went to Target at 8:45am, in the hopes of scoring all the new Proenza Schouler collection (the preview in Manhattan was nearly sold out of good sizes when I went last week). Heh- I swore it was scheduled to be available starting today, but it was completely picked over. COMPLETELY. Thanks -- those size zero pants and those size 13 shorts are perfect for me. So, I had to order the stuff online. Plus, a lot of the cute stuff I wanted at the preview wasn't even listed online!!! WTF! Design For 'All?' Really? I'm emailing them.
I was invited to a Superbowl party tonight, but opted to stay in and work on this book, along with my other boring reading for my other class. I was just flipping through the guide, and noticed that Oxygen is playing "Beaches." Ha.
I go to a swanky gym. This is because it's close to my office, and because it's very clean and well-designed. The convenience, the lack of sweat stench and the absence of offensive color schemes (if you've been in an NYSC, you know what I mean) combined make this expense worthwhile for me.
You'd think my fellow attendees might be more polite than at the average gym, but no. Plus, being in close quarters with sweaty people makes me annoyed in general. Here's a list of things that get under my skin:
The woman who ALWAYS wears the same pair of purple yoga pants, EVERY time. If you can afford our gym, you can afford a few pairs of gym pants. If they were black pants, I might not even notice.
The women who chat loudly on their cell phones in the locker room. It echoes in there.
The women who chat loudly about their children, and what schools they've applied to, and how the one kid is in special ed.
When someone spreads all of their stuff out on the one bench designated for 10 lockers, especially when said patron has walked away to use the shower or blowdryer.
The woman who wears the enormous granny panties.
When women must dry their hair fully nude.
The guy who wears a wedding ring and does splits on the stretching mat, and also keeps riding his spin bike long after class has ended like a little antelope.
The fact that the gym always tosses the magazines patrons leave behind and include ONLY their gym magazine. Because I'd love to read it every day for a month, thanks!
This post could alternately be called: Things I "Love." And by "Love," I Mean Hate.
No surprise -- the requirement class was as expected. A real replay from last semester. Different TAs, but the same song and dance. They told us the discussion sessions (aka recitations!) were "almost mandatory," and that if you go, you're more likely to get funding. Of course, the sessions are Thursday afternoons and Wednesday evenings at 8pm. Heaven forbid we do anything like an online discussion! Too bad for them that I'm an MA and not a PhD, since funding means nothing for me. The professor was sick and is often absent, but we've been informed that we will receive every scheduled lecture even though it might have to be in a make-up class. Right, because I can just run over to class at any time during the day.
I love how on the syllabus, there was a reading assigned for today! A reading conveniently on reserve at the library (again, putting it online might be TOO easy). I bet there's one copy set aside for 50 students. As though anyone is going to go read it now when we're expected to read 14 whole books on sociological theory. And speaking of those books, I really wish we had received a list of these "social theory classics" at orientation, so I could have purchased them months ago and been done with it. Even better is that the first book, which as you can imagine sounds absolutely tantalizing (The Old Regime and the French Revolution), was not available at either Barnes and Noble store nearby. Another person from my class snagged the only copy at the textbook B+N, and the Union Square one didn't even carry it (after I had to track an employee down since there was a reading going on and the history section was roped off and guarded by security). I just love when professors claim to have placed a book order for an ample supply when they clearly haven't. After that, I treated myself to a nice McD's Value Meal #1 before heading home. I really deserve a Big Mac today.
Once again, I was crying when Grey's ended. God, I could just eat George up, he is so in sync with my brain. He knows! He gets it! The worst part was the very end where he freely expressed his love.
Tonight, I feel like I am on a wild goose chase for everything in my life. And I'm fucking pissed about it.
