4 times in a century

In the last 100 years, Christmas and the beginning of Hanukkah have fallen on the same day, so I felt it was necessary to post today to both honor that and wish all my readers, my friends, and anyone who stumbles upon this post a Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Merry Christmas!!!

Goddamn Pop Tarts

I guess I got what I deserved, since I'm 28 and still eating kids' foods like Pop Tarts. I made a PT in the toaster this morning, set it on low since they cook very fast, and lo and behold - I got a fucking blister on TWO fingers when attempting to remove the said pastry vessel from the toaster. Apparently, some of the delightful strawberry filling can secretly ooze out of the bottom of the PT and burn the shit out of your fingers. 30 minutes later, fingers are still stinging, but mmmmm - love those pop tarts. Other childish foods I (and my husband) still indulge in: (yes, I'm trying to get really fat before the new year so I can vow to lose more weight for a resolution)

1) Lucky Charms (these colored marshmallows can mess with your bodily functions big time)
2) Brownies - baked from the box
3) Fruit by the foot - I only get these about 3x a year; you mean it's not part of the fruit food group? My bad.
4) Super pretzels - 4 minutes in the oven; such an easy snack

I guess the good news is after being married about 1 1/2 years ago and hitting my all-time lowest weight since I can remember, I weigh only 5 pounds (ok, 6. well really 7 but that depends on the time of day) more than I did then.

A true transit tale.

You're probably aware of the transit strike in NYC. No busses, no subways. It literally crippled the city to the point that it looked like a summer weekend when everyone goes away. In a way it was kind of delightful - I usually hear honking off the West Side Highway and today was peaceful. If you don't live here, you don't realize that EVERYONE, I mean EVERYONE, relies on mass transit to get around. Workers from restaurants, employees, teachers, students... and to top it off, all cars were restricted from coming in unless they had 4 people from 5am-11am. No commercial vehicles could come in. I bet a lot of people didn't get their Big Macs for lunch because no truck could deliver them on time.

My husband works with this guy Brad who lives around here and has to get to the office, which is here. This is a 2.4 mile walk. Brad had to do the walk to get to work today, or so we thought. At around 20th and 6th Avenue, Brad sees 3 kids, about high school age, line up to board a big yellow school bus. In an instant, Brad decided, "Hey - I'm gettin on the bus. 6th Avenue goes North, I'll see where it takes me." So Brad gets on, goes to sit in the back (of course that's where all the cool kids sit), and pulls his hood up over his head so no one recognizes him, or doesn't recognize him, for that matter. He starts talking to the kids about where the bus is going, and one tells him, "Our private school in the Bronx". The Bronx is the borough north of Manhattan, which means about a 25+ minute DRIVE out of Manhattan to get there. The bus turns west, heading even closer to the office, and the kids tell him the next stop is 52nd/10th. So what does Brad do? He goes to the front and says to the bus driver, "Hey - I got on the wrong bus can you let me off" to which the driver replies, "I can only let you off at the designated stops". The bus continues on, Brad sits behind the bus driver tapping his shoulder every time a light is red and the bus stops, and eventually, Brad gets off right near the office at 41st between 8th and 9th Avenue.

How scary is it that a 24-year old man could get on a high school bus without anyone asking who he is, sit in the back for 10 minutes, talk to the driver and then get off? AND - all the students were in UNIFORMS, so picking out a stranger would be pretty easy to do... Or - the way I see it, how cool that, despite the transit strike, Brad got to work only 45 minutes late and for FREE?

I think this story deserves a "hell yeah".

The decisiveness of Mrs. Indecisive

So, I said here that I was going to leave my singing group. I pushed up the date today after a whole lot of undue stress that the group was causing me and that I was probably causing the group. I had my last show, my last solo on Monday with the group. Don't you hate it when you make decisions that you're not 100% certain about, but you still feel like you have to make them now?

I have to start learning to take my husband's advice about "Once you have made a decision, it's made and you should never look back on it."

How busy can you be? Damn, I'm shallow today.

Disclaimer: this is a bitchy post; granted - I am a complainer by nature, which is not my best quality, but this one might make you think I'm shallow, which I'm not if you know me personally. It's a really stupid post but just got my blood racing a little. Speaking of complaining, a good friend of mine just told me that every time he calls, I complain about my health, like my back hurts, I'm tired, I don't feel so well. Am I really a negative person?

I have a group of friends that is exchanging Secret Santa gifts tomorrow (well, Santa and Hanukkah, too). We've known about it for 2 weeks. One person said she wants to postpone it for a week because she hasn't had time to get a gift. If she lived on a remote island off the coast of Alaska and had to take a boat and sled full of dogs to get to the nearest store, I'd be fine with it. But no - she lives in NYC and in a very populated area. Our gift has to be under $20. Let's see - she could've bought a candle, jewelry, food, stationery or even a purse all within about a 10 minute walk from where she lives and had two weeks to do it. This person does not deal with stress well (what is a typical day of work for anyone to her is the end of the world) and though Secret Santa is not a big deal at all, I'd like to buy her a clock and teach her time management for Secret Santa. Too bad the person I have isn't her. I bet she has me.

What makes you nostalgic?

Pictures are usually the one thing I can see that bring up the strongest feelings of nostalgia, but this morning, it wasn't pictures. It was dishes. When my husband and I first started dating, he lived in a 400 sq foot studio in NYC. We both went to work during the day, met up at graduate school at night, and usually came home for dinner to his studio (I still had my own place) no earlier than 9:15PM. Our favorite meal was grilled chicken on the George Forman, which he hasn't made in years, a baked potato, and some kind of caffeinated drink to keep us awake to do our homework. We ate on these plain, cream-colored plates with a little blue trim every night. When we'd eat at my place, it was on dishes that weren't as great. When we moved in together, we had the new fortune of two sets (!) of dishes to share. For the last 6 years, I think we've used my dishes once and use his cream/blue trim dishes every night. They were pretty cheap, but in 6 years not one bowl or plate was broken.

Today I gave away those dishes. Now that we're married and finally got our wedding gifts (most of them) from Florida to NYC a year and a half later, we have a new set of dishes to use. They're really pretty, really grown up, and really not our old dishes. I have so many memories of late nights in front of the couch eating on those dishes, eating our wedding cake on our one-year anniversary using those dishes, and even cooking for friends - or should I say 'pretending to cook' - when we have rare company come over to visit.

The dishes are neatly bubble-wrapped and ready to go home with someone else. This posting is an homage to them so I don't have to physically say goodbye to them and look like a crazy person. Then again, dedicating an entire post to dishes makes me crazy as it is.

What makes you nostalgic?

Florida - 80. New York - 25.

It may look like a sports score but it's a temperature battle. I feel so badly for my apartment, my mom, and all of the NYCers who are 'back home' while I'm on Thanksgiving vacation in Florida where it's already 80 degrees in Ft. Lauderdale. I guess even with Black Friday being today, there are droves of insane people in NY for just this holiday who are literally going to shop until their lungs drop from the weather.

This past year was one of the first Thanksgivings in recent memory that

a) I didn't stuff myself

b) regretfully, there was no sliced fake cranberry sauce jelly to eat

c) I didn't unbutton my pants until I got in bed, opposed to doing it at the table

Websites I Love To Stalk

Seeing as I'm at my computer most of the day writing, arranging music or procrastinating (who me?), I have a list of web sites I love to stalk now and then when I get a little bored. Perhaps after I finish writing a book and make millions or grow a penis, whichever is more realistic... these sites would clue into what my next career move should be. None of these are really "I've never heard of them" sites, but it shows what an Internet moron/dork/expert/sponge/addict I am.

1) Gawker I don't read trashy magazines ever, except when waiting in a doctor's office. This is the closest I get to that and revolves mostly around NYC socialites and celebrities making asses out of themselves.

2) Curbed I am obsessed with Manhattan real estate. It doesn't have to be anything I can afford. I love looking at $35 million dollar apartments as much as I love looking at $100,000 ones. Ok it doesn't get that cheap in Manhattan since we're in an insane real estate world. I love floorplans, prices, neighborhoods, learning about new developments, what's getting landmarked, and even googling buildings I find to learn more about them.

3) Google Maps In most of the country, you know where your nearest dry cleaner is or there aren't that many to choose from. For me, when I move soon - I won't know anything in the neighborhood. Something could literally be a block away and I wouldn't know. Type in any address (street and state) then when the map comes up, click "Find Businesses" and you can type in anything: banks, grocery stores, hospitals - and they'll be mapped out from your address.

4) Friendster Seeing as my single friends get sites like JDate and Match.com to stalk profiles, the married folks get things like Friendster, where you can look up people from 4th grade, add them as your friends, never actually e-mail them or try to get in touch with them, but feel somehow cooler. I am up to at least 30 friends. It's the first time I've ever felt like the popular girl. Who am I kidding?

Coming soon - I might actually be ready to reveal to my 1.2 readers (my husband and my dog who can't really read) what my book is going to be about.

A reminder why I love NYC.

I went to dinner tonight with my husband. We walked over a mile, were wearing long-sleeved shirts and jeans (no jackets) and sat al fresco (ooh fancy words for outside, huh) on Broadway and had a great Italian meal. Surprisingly there weren't lots of horns honking, loud-mouthed pedestrians, and we were 4 blocks north of Times Square and 5 blocks south of Columbus Circle; both VERY busy places. My view was down Broadway of all the neon lights, billboards, spinning advertisements and hotel rooms.

Since we were outside there was only one table next to us, we could hear the conversation (opposed to a typical inside restaurant seat in NYC where you're cramped in and can't hear), and the food was just enough to fill you up and give you that sleepy feel without being bloated and overeating.

How many people can do that for a Friday night meal?

The Odd Couple. Really Odd.

We went to see The Odd Couple on Broadway last night. First of all, I never take for granted the fact that I live within walking distance of the theater district and people travel from all over the world to come see broadway shows. Secondly, when spending about $200 for the evening, I expect it to be worthwhile; breaking down to about $50 an hour for a 2 hour show. Thirdly, knowing that Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane, starring in the show, sold out the entire run ($21 million in ticket sales!), I figured it was a good chance that I would walk away loving the show.

We had amazing seats (I'm the dork that was online at 10AM when the tickets went on sale) and were in the 3rd row. However, because of the close angle, we couldn't see past a table that was on stage or some action going on that was on top of the table. That aside, it was like having the actors in your own living room we were so close! It was fun to see Brad Garrett (cop from "Everybody Loves Raymond") and Lane and Broderick got a warm welcome upon their entrance. That was the highlight of the show. Matthew Broderick has the challenge of playing this stiff, anal-retentive character, but I literally heard him slipping in and out (from line to line) of this whiny voice he had created for the character. He was really stiff, as he should be, but so stiff that it was as if you could see the gears in his head turning... "Ok now I move to this side of the stage and put my glass down." It was a really awkward performance, funny only at times, and there was no 'pizzazz' between Oscar (Lane) and Felix (Broderick). When they were supposed to get under each's skin, I didn't buy it. Nathan Lane was hysterical at times, good at playing a guy who was a slob, but I almost felt there was over-delivery of his lines to compensate for the under-performance of Broderick.

I think part of the problem is the play itself really relies on perfect chemistry between the leads, but something was missing. I walked away dissapointed that we shelled out so much money for the tickets (we could've sold them on eBay for close to $400 a piece!), and woke up this morning thinking my favorite part was the huge Kit Kat (we're talking 8 bars!) we shared at intermission.

Hurricane Wilma

Naples, FL is my hometown (lived there until I was 14 and my Dad still lives there). My Dad's apartment is about 100 yards away from the Gulf Of Mexico. He's up here for now but has no idea if there's been any damage to his apartment... many of his windows have no hurricane shutters. My in-laws had a window shatter and soak their living room and have a leak in their kitchen ceiling. I can't help but think, "It sucks that they have damage, but they have their lives and aren't homeless." Not to belittle the suffering anyone goes through a hurricane, but what about these people who are still in shelters from Katrina?

Today was the first day I really felt I would prefer the NYC winters over the FL summers and FL hurricanes. We'll see how long that feeling lasts when it's slushy and grey here for weeks at a time.

Straight Men Can Go To Spas

There have been an influx of articles in the past year about 'metrosexuals' - men who enjoy pampering themselves, are into their looks, clothes, and in my mind - are essentially taking care of themselves the way many gay men do without actually being gay. However, I've discovered a mutation of this - the kind of man that isn't a metrosexual. He scoffs at dressing trendy and still dresses laid-back, watches sports every weekend, burps, and is a 'man-man'. I took this kind of man to a spa yesterday for a massage; a good friend of mine who also happens to be a sportswriter for a living, and realized how few spas cater towards this type of man.

We went to a 'budget' spa (if it can be called that for a $78 hour massage) that felt very sterile. The walls were thin enough that he could hear me laughing in the next room when Zamfir's version of "Proud to Be An American" was playing. There were no men's and women's changing rooms - only one room with 20 lockers and shower curtains between a wall for us to change in. Seeing him come out in a robe and the same slippers I was wearing was worth the trip. I think I could make a lot of money having a spa that truly catered to men and women: instead of frilly white robes, tea and Cosmo Magazine, there would be Coors Light, the latest Sports Illustrated and grey, dense robes would be available for the guys.

I hope men around the world read this blog, unite, and say 'enough you sissy metrosexuals - we deserve our own kind of pampering, god dammit.' However, I hope this falls short of the "happy ending" that all too many men secretly wish for with their 'massage'.

At least it was a damn good massage.

Prediction: bye bye, singing group

Another member of my a cappella group quit last night. I've had many people talk to me saying they hope I don't quit, but the reality is I've made the decision, am sticking to it - but in my heart I want what's best for the group and between now and when I leave. Out of 10 old members (sadly, we just took 3 new ones in the fall), I know every last one of us has considered, some more strongly than others, to leave the group. What makes me more upset is that I've put so much time and effort into the group, probably more than anyone else, and yet I feel totally responsible for the demise of us. Fucking sucks, but no one seems to understand that when I wanted things to head in another direction, the direction we are currently in seems to be what's tearing us apart in the first place. I'm stuck in the middle of "I need to let go of control" and "people need to step up to the plate to help" but the reality is, I'm not sure how easy it is to make either one happen seeing as people don't have 5 seconds to copy music and 'volunteer to help'. The irony is, at the start of the downfall, this was when we recorded our CD. We had a meeting at one member's apartment about who would mix the CD. I said I did not want to do it or be involved and wanted others to step up and get involved so it could be a group effort. I was quickly told, "No - as the director you need to mix." I NEED to. How quickly everyone forgot that I didn't want to do it in the first place. That really pisses me off as I write this.

Can you say "drama"?

I just hope when I leave they're all not saying "Wow we're so much better off without her". At least I still have my friends I've made in the group and they're still going to be my friends.

I also hope for the readers of my blog they aren't bored to tears by this entry, since the dynamics of an a cappella group affect about 0.0000000004% of the population.

Blech

I have an away message on my AOL IM list that says "Blech" and it's a perfect way to describe today. It's pouring rain (Note: I grew up in FL, home to torrential downpours and can't tell you the last time I saw this) so it makes today even more 'blech'. There is a ton of tension in my a cappella group and I've been told by almost everyone that I have caused it. I tried bringing something up that directly affected one person, even told her blatantly in an e-mail that I would be bringing it up, and the roof basically caved in on me. She said we weren't going to discuss it and I wasn't about to print out the e-mail where I said we were. I was accused of all of these things which weren't true but wanted to stick to the topic at hand, so I wasn't prepared to say 'that's not true let me show you the e-mail that proves otherwise'. So guess who is the bad guy now?

I used to believe in the adage that you get out of something what you put into it. So why is it that in a group of 13 people, when I put in the most effort, I am the one that has to leave to make things work? You know that feeling when you throw-up a little in your mouth (I love that image)? Imagine feeling that way. A lot.

In Her Shoes

Saw this movie yesterday with my good friend Sara - it was so cute but man, what a slow start! It took about 25 minutes before the movie got going. The funny thing is, my Dad saw the movie and said I should take my husband b/c it's not a chick flick. Um, Dad? Are you living under a rock? That movie could not be a bigger chick flick unless it had some music by David Foster (see: tons of cheesy 80s flicks music).

The irony of it is that I'm in the midst of a 3 day quasi-fight with my sister over something trivial, not as serious as what they're fighting about in the movie. We're fighting over lamps my Dad gave to us, and that I took one lamp before she got to see both. Go figure. Lame!

Bye bye, crappy neighborhood

It's almost official; official enough that I can announce it to my quasi-readers of the blog... we are moving. For those who don't live in NYC, it's hard to explain the varying neighborhoods in the city that change from block to block, and even harder to explain the craziness that is Manhattan real estate. What I can honestly say is, for the last 4 years, my husband and I have lived in one of the most awful neighborhoods out there. Let me rescind that comment, somewhat - it's not awful as in "gunshots and unsafe" but awful as in we have to walk 10 minutes to get to the nearest grocery store, bank or anything remotely civilized. Ooh wait - we do have a giant Fed Ex distribution center near us, we have a condo going up across the street, and the 1/2 block piece of land next to us is contaminated so that's under construction to clean it as well (think Erin Brockovich). We're on the river which in most cities would be wonderful, but for us it means a perpetual wind tunnel and highway traffic.

So, goodbye Falun Gong protestors that sit outside our building every day and try to shove pamphlets at us, goodbye 15 minute commute just to get to the nearest subway, goodbye delivery people that don't know where I live when I tell them the cross street is the highway, goodbye nasty construction workers who sadly fill the stereotype of "hoots and hollerers"... but there are some things I will miss: our amazing gym, quiet sidewalks at any time of day, easy access to the highway when we do actually escape the city. Yeah, that's about all I'll miss.

I can't believe I will actually be able to sing "We're movin' on up - to the east side" since we actually are. No moving date yet but I was too excited to contain myself.

10 things that make me happy right now.

In no particular order. I thought this list was necessary because I'm getting too bogged down by the news lately. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

1) Having the same goofy sense of humor as my husband
2) Thinking of something funny &, when merely thinking about it - I can crack up loud. Home alone.
3) Dogs. All shapes and sizes. Particularly mine.
4) Singing.
5) Fat babies.
6) Eating a great meal and not feeling sick or having a stomach ache afterwards (ok that one is a little depressing)
7) Turning the air off in my apartment.
8) Writing (most of the time).
9) Using coupons at the grocery store.
10) Helping friends or total strangers.

Don't Be A Killjoy

Lately when I want to write on the blog, I can only think of depressing things to write about, like my grandmother who had a stroke 2 years ago and how it's hard for me to visit her, how I am stuck in a career crisis, how I want to help out friends but have to be selfish with my time... and I realized I'm such a killjoy for anyone reading my blog. This site serves two purposes: a) for me to have an outlet to write how I feel, and b) give some entertaining, informative, emotional, insightful, or just every day reading for those out there actually reading this. So I'll try to balance the "woe is me" entries with more uplifting or interesting ones.

Did you know my blog has an RSS feed? I can't remember what it stands for but you can bookmark the feed and then every time I post a new entry you can be alerted (usually just a number next to the bookmark as to the number of new entries). So just add a bookmark to this link and then you'll see mini blurbs of my latest entry. It is no frills, just text - and if I could explain it better I would but it's a cool feature. Neato.

How can one stranger fire me up so much?

I was in CVS with my husband buying light-bulbs. We were play-arguing over the wattage, and as he walked away, I said to him in a loud-ish voice something playful and joking. A woman is squatting below me, complete with her giant Louis Vuitton purse over her shoulder, and says "Ugh (that annoying "ugh" sound) - could you not yell?" so I said "So sorry you have such a bad attitude, that's not my fault." I don't get why, in the midst of having a perfectly good day, some bitch can come along and basically reprimand you for enjoying yourself too much. Nearly 24 hours later and I still want to slap her.

Coldplay Concert - the good and the bad

The bad: I put this first because it's the funny part. We were stuck next to a drunk asshole and his drunk girlfriend at Coldplay last night. Here's my list of the top 10 things NOT to do at a concert, all of which we actually experienced last night.

1) Do not put your garbage directly in front of my seat, so when I first arrive I have to kick it back over to your bitches' chair.
2) Do not raise your arms in the air every time you recognize a note and yell "WHOOOOOO" like you just won a fucking Oscar.
3) Do not dance with your girlfriend in the small space between our row and the row in front of you like it's a high school prom. Wrapping your arms around each other and doing the lambada is inexcusable, and I don't like your girlfriend's ass in my face while I'm sitting down.
4) Do not scream "you fucking moron" for the entire 2nd song of the set at your girlfriend, then ask the people behind you to shine their lighted cell phones in her purse while she tries to find her $70 Lenscrafter glasses that she lost.
5) Do not high-5 your friends when she finds them on the beer-stained floor and immediately puts them on her face without wiping them off.
6) Do not leave your girlfriend so you can "crash" the floor seats; she will cry and whine and generally be a killjoy for my listening pleasure.
7) Do not rip off your cheap Strawberry (yeah, you know the store) Brooklyn fake baseball jersey to reveal a wife-beater underneath.
8) Do not allow your drunk-ass girlfriend to lean over on our shared arm rest to put on her jacket, then seemingly punch me (oops) when she's trying to find the armhole for her arm to go through.
9) Do not try to pick a fight with skinny white dude behind you, simply because he was asking nicely for you to chill out a bit (this is when I realized sitting next to this asshole wasn't as bad as sitting behind him).
10) Do not ever attend a concert again, for the sorry people behind you and next to you will feel like they wasted their money as well.

The good: They played for about an hour and a half, played a lot of their best songs, and even did a few acoustic songs. During "Yellow" these giant yellow balloons fell from the ceiling of MSG, filled with confetti, and trying to bounce one to the front was like trying to catch a fly ball at Yankee Stadium. I got one good swing at one, accompanied by one total miss (looking like a flailing idiot as I tried to strike one that went past me).

Live - the band is great. Chris Martin sings sooooo well in concert, the music basically rocked out, and the visual effects (I usually hate the cheesy stuff bands do) were simple lighting and a cool screen behind the band with their images projected on it. At one point, they flashed "Get your camera ready" then did a countdown, then had this great effect, showed the audience on the screen, and cameras went off everywhere. I was the only goodie-two-shoes who really listened when they said not to bring cameras, but then again - a tiny flash will not light up the 20,000 person arena.

Feeling randomly old: Lighters have been replaced by cell phones. When a slow song came on, thousands of cell phones were held in the air with their phone lights on. I felt SOOOO old when this happened.

A stranger found my blog!

There was an article today in the Wall Street Journal about searching people's blogs, finding topics of interest to you, etc. With so many blogs out there, and with me feeling bad that only a few of my friends read mine on a regular (or even semi-regular) basis, I was SO excited today to get my first real post from a total stranger! A few days ago I got one from someone that basically spammed me (with a response like "Came across your blog and thought you'd like to see my pics"), but I think this person today is legitimate. Here's his blog, all about being afraid to fly. Apparently a search for aviophobia (mentioned in a post a while back from me) returns lots of people's blogs on the topic.

My first TRUE paid writing gig!

Ahhhhhhh.... I got my first paid writing gig as a beauty/fashion stringer (insert tremendous laughter here) for an online shopping web site/blog. The premise of the site is that you don't have time to scour the 'net for the latest trends and fashion deals or cool items, so 'we do it for you'. Yes - the same girl who still shops at Gap and Old Navy (hell yeah) and realized this weekend that my most frequently worn shorts are from 10th GRADE (that would be 13 years ago), will be writing about $700 jeans and $100 make-up products. So glad my creative writing will be put to good use.

It's the first time in years I feel somewhat validated that my brain's not going to waste and I am actually happy in the career direction I might be headed. I'm not ready to write "The Devil Wears Prada" but we'll see what comes of this. Big bucks? No way (closer to an illegal minimum wage!) but big personal reward? Some fun swag (makeup products I'll never use?)? Definitely.

Here's my first "application" review. I had to write about this specific pair of jeans that cost $695 and try to get some psycho women convinced that their worth purchasing.

If you do nothing else today...

Stop what you're doing, go to the Red Cross web site, and donate whatever you can, even if it's just $1, to the victims of Hurricane Katrina. It's so tempting to get in our car and drive down there, but everyone keeps saying that cash is the best way to help and volunteers aren't needed. At the same time, to hear Bush keep saying for over 48 hours that help is on the way is bullshit. How long does it take to fly a plane down or even drive a bus?

Do whatever you can to help.

I hate stupid people.

Our hiking trip out of town was amazing. In less than a week, I come back and learn to be an angry NY-er once again. I have been dealing with one doctor for 4 months over billing issues, none of which is my fault. I saw this doctor 3 times and just found out they have billed me for 4 visits (one was a fake visit, apparently). In addition, 2 of the 3 visits were regular office visits (insurance pays them $145 for it) and 1 visit was for a test (insurance pays them about $2000 for it). The office/secretary/billing department/stupid person billed the insurance company 4 TIMES for 1 TEST! It's either a stupid mistake, major insurance company fraud, or (what they tell me) "computer problems". Either way, I keep getting billed my silly little co-pay and have to deal with this every few weeks. Stupid people.

It's that time of month again...

Haha - gotcha with that intro... not what you think (men! Take cover!), but I can't believe I waited a month to post again, for my 3 faithful readers. If it becomes a monthly post, so be it, but I will try to get back on track. If there are more readers out there, let me know. Leave me a message. It's nice. We're off to go hiking in Colorado for a week, and believe it or not, Mrs. Aviophobia (look it up) is actually more worried about altitude sickness. Many of you know that the day before my engagement in Aspen two years ago, I landed in the hospital with altitude sickness that could stop Lance Armstrong in his tire tracks. I'm not in shape like him, but just pretend you understand my analogy. I was hooked up to oxygen, was told I might need a spinal tap because maybe I had an aneurism, and had to get an injection of Imitrex to rid myself of the headache. Then, the next day I climbed a mountain for an unforgettable engagement... but I digress...

We're out of town for a week with fresh air, 70 degree days and 50 degree nights. No air conditioner to dry me out, no soot in my eyes when I walk around, no fresh smell of urine (I love that phrase. fresh and smell don't have to be describing something pleasant, right?) on the subway platforms, no ringing in the ears from jackhammers and construction. One. Week. Did I mention in the meantime, we are looking to buy a place in NYC and make it home for at least the next 5 years? Am I crazy or do I have an incessant love/hate relationship with this city that I have called home for the last 6? Just how I can't finish one sentence in this post without starting a new one mid-typing, that's how often my love affair with this city changes.

Ahhhhhhcappella.

We have finally finished mixing and mastering our CD that was started (recorded) in January 2005. Thank heavens I'm not on the committee to do the layout, because I can sit back and say "not my problem" when weeks go by without a design. I feel really proud of what we created. Granted, I'm not the engineer with the technical skills, but I spent many hours mixing and re-recording to get an incredible CD, and I can't wait to hear the public's (i.e. our friends and family) reaction.

Rockstar: INXS

I'd normally be completely against a show like CBS's new reality show, Rockstar, which is the search to find a new lead singer for INXS after the death of Michael Hutchence in 1997. It's fine to want a new lead singer, but for a rock band so well-known by the sound and talent of their lead singer (U2, Smashing Pumpkins, Coldplay, etc), please change your name or change something so you don't offend fans thinking "they're trying to replace Michael Hutchence".

BUT - I am totally sucked into this show because an old friend of mine from high school who also happened to be my prom date is one of the finalists. I've written about him before, will probably write about him again, but am totally psyched to know that he's on the show and getting national exposure. In his video he even talks about "taking up music when he was 16" which was at the peak of our friendship. I'm sure he'll dedicate his first Grammy to me (HAHA). Guess who he is - pick him out, and leave a comment on my blog. I know you're out there. I know at least 5 of you read my blog and never comment.

Holy technology, Batman.

I just used Skype for the first time today. In layman's terms, it's a way for you to speak through your computer microphone to another person anywhere in the world. I think you can also use it to dial phone numbers anywhere in the world. Did I mention it's free? Not that I ever need to use this since I have unlimited local/long distance phone service, but my good friend Elizabeth is living in Germany for the summer, so I asked her to download it and give it a try. It's certainly a little bit choppy (i.e. your cell phone's average service) and you will hear your own voice come back to you from her speakers outputting the sound then treating it as input, but if you put headphones on, that takes care of that problem.

We spoke for 1/2 hour. I was completely floored. I'm such a geek.

When's the next meal in Chicago?

Dave and I just came back from a weekend in Chicago to visit my college friends, Brett, Adrienne, Olga and Nick. We had spectacular weather the entire weekend until we departed from our gate at O'Hare yesterday. That resulted in a 2-hour delay on the tarmac. Scared-to-fly-me did surprisingly well, even with no medication. While in Chicago, we made no plans other than meals. A great Italian restaurant on Saturday night, the fatteningly-famous Original Pancake House, where everyone made fun of me for ordering 5 tiny silver-dollar pancakes, a BBQ at Brett/Ade's place on Sunday night, brunch at Tempo, a quick stop at The Taste Of Chicago, then crusty airplane snacks to top it off on the way home. We had no other plans. We didn't go sight-seeing, catch a Cubs game, or see my alma mater. It was food, friends, food, friends, food friends. And I wouldn't have changed a thing, other than moving some of my greatest friends closer to us.

Wicked Good

Saw "Wicked" yesterday for the 3PM matinee. 3rd row mezzanine, slight partial obstruction view (didn't say it on the ticket, dammit) and had a great time doing a first - hitting up a Broadway show by myself. Saw David Ayers (guy I went to college with, had some classes with him but didn't really know him) play the male lead, Fiyero... and I gotta say, he was good but not great. At least he's made a career for himself: in college if I had to guess which of my classmates would've been starring on Broadway, he'd be one of the 5 I would've picked.

Sent bad karma to a total asshole on the bus today. Got on the M72 with most seats taken except a few in the back and one double seat. A guy was sitting on the outside seat with the inside being open. I stood there, long enough for him to know that I wanted to sit, and politely said "excuse me". He didn't break from his cell phone conversation. 5 seconds pass, so I said "excuse me" again and tried to gently nudge to sit. He looks up from his phone and YELLS (literally) "Just a minute!". Apparently he can't do two things at once: talk on a phone and shift his weight sideways so I can get by him. Must've been on an important business call, so I YELLED back (right in the direction of the mouthpiece on the phone, "What an asshole, I just wanted to sit". Got lots of smiles and chuckles from fellow bus friends. :)

Poker = too trendy

So the entire world seems to know how to play poker. It's on every channel, the 'real' poker players are annoyed that the 'wannabe players' have entered their world and are actually winning money. We're going to Atlantic City this weekend with my Dad and his wife to play Dave's favorite game (mine too), craps. Lots of different bets to make, you don't have to lose your money too quickly (or you can depending on how many bets you make), and all the players at the table are rooting for each other. Generally, when you win, they win. When you lose, they do too. Instant friends. Let's hear it for crazy summer Friday afternoon driving (I think it's going to be a long trip), comped meals (by my Dad, not the casino), and getting out of the hot city for a change. Then again, it's Gay pride weekend which is always one of the most festive weekends, so I'm a bit sad to be missing out on watching the parade.

I also love that there's an actual casino game where you can say "I crapped out". I'm such an immature dork deep down (actually, it's not deep down at all).

Am I a newlywed?

Our one-year anniversary was yesterday. Does that mean I can no longer say I'm a newlywed? I don't know what the official rules are. We actually went to the gym yesterday for the first time in months (getting ready for a hiking trip in August to Aspen). Feeling blah because I have a lingering sinus infection (or so I think) because the entire right side of my face has been hurting me every day until I take Sudafed.

What a pointless post - no exciting details, just more complaining :)

Daddy always said...

...get it in writing. I was once in a semi-professional group in college where I sang a cappella for a summer. I took the time to learn music, travel to places like Bumblefuck, Illinois to perform, and it basically took away from the time that I would normally have had a paying job. The person I sang with (a friend of mine) had promised payment per show. Once the end of the summer rolled around, he basically said he had nothing to pay me because he had to pay off his debts for obtaining all of the equipment we had used for the shows and paying the gas/van rentals for each show as well. It was that day that I learned to finally listen to my Dad after all those years. Whenever money is involved, whether it's friends or enemies, GET IT IN WRITING.

I'm now dealing with a job I recently left (keeping it oh-so non-descript since I don't want to get burned) and my former boss is trying to determine what I should be paid based on hours, even though our contract is based on time (# of weeks) I spent with the job. The contract even says from week to week that I get to determine my own hours. All of this being said, and 6 pages later in my contract -- the boss is trying to swindle me out of getting what I deserve. The sad thing is, the maximum amount of money I am asking for would work out to about $4.50 an hour as a full-time job. So take that "I'm going to calculate your work on an hourly basis" and shove it.

Schweaty Balls

Ok - not the fun treat from the infamous SNL skit, but last night I think I lost a pound of weight from sweating my arse off. My a cappella group had our semi-annual big show, and we showed up to the venue about 2 hours before the show. Keep in mind it was in the high 80s with 10000% humidity yesterday, and rain made it even stickier. We walk into an oven with 6 or so portable air conditioners like this one (unfortunately they didn't come with the lame guy in the picture). The bar never told us their air broke 2 WEEKS AGO, so the 13 of us sang in 90+ degree temperatures under stage lights, but managed to pull off one of our best shows ever. I think it helped that most of us chugged out of a Jack Daniels bottle about 1 minute before we got on stage. Kudos to our audience for sticking around, and shame on the club for not telling us. It's too bad for them b/c we brought them 140 people and a lot of drinks/business at a time when they're normally not even open.

Posting Via E-mail

Not that my internet connection is slow, but I recently discovered I can
post to my blog via e-mail, which makes it a lot easier for me. Let's just
see if I can figure out how to get it right and not screw up HTML tags and
headings.

On May 13, I said I would write later about three topics: babies having
babies, quitting my job, and a particular rockstar. I'm finally getting
around to writing about them.

Babies Having Babies
I was on the subway about a month ago, and two strangers struck up a
conversation with each other. One was a woman around the age of 23, the other was an older woman, probably in her 40s. I'll call them OW (older woman) and YW (younger woman) because even in a blog, I feel an incessant need to abbreviate. OW complimented the YW on her shirt, then started to talk her (and everyone else on the train's) ear off. OW talked about going back to her group home, and how with AIDS it's hard to keep getting paid. She told her about her 3 kids, 2 with HIV, one with no symptoms (luckily with the third child she had figured out she had AIDS, and when pregnant with her they gave her medication so she's disease free), and how being a mom is such a great thing. This woman looked homeless - ripped shoes, horrible teeth, her hair hadn't seen a brush in weeks, and she reeked of cheap alcohol. YW listened intently from across the subway car (OW was sitting, YW was across the way against the door). YW then reveals she has a 18 month old child as well. OW asks if she's in school, YW acknowledges, and says "I'm a sophomore". So now I am thinking "Wow - 20 with a kid"? OW asks how old she is, she says 16. 16. She then points and says "That's my baby daddy" to a guy across the train, clearly ignoring her. She was pregnant at 14. This entire conversation was so uncomfortable for me, becauseI wanted to say "ok - enough about your personal lives in front of the rest of us" but also because I wanted to somehow reach out and help both of them, but didn't come up with anything in about the 4 minutes this all transpired.

Quitting My Job
I left my job as an events planner (of sorts). I was getting no reward from the job emotionally and was basically resorting to a 9-5 job where all I was responsible for was calling schools. Without coming off like a complete educational snob, I know I didn't work my way through a great college and graduate school to do a job that required one skill - talking on the phone. I think it also didn't help that I really didn't believe in the company itself, because it was too wrapped up in suing another company with a similar name and concept. "Blech" is the best word for the entire thing. So now - over a month later, and the measly amount of money I was supposed to be paid every two months still hasn't been addressed. My boss asked for all of my old files so she could 'determine' what I should be paid, but all I know is that I have a contract with her (6 freakin' pages) and I can't believe I may have to fight with someone over paying me what equates to less than minimum wage for the amount of work I put in.

Prom Date Turned Rock Star
At this point, my hands are starting their usual carpal tunnel cramp, so this one will be short. My high school prom date (I'm such a dork referring to him like that but it's true) who was also a really good friend of mine in high school, and someone I e-mail every so often, is now getting his (hopefully more than) 15 minutes of fame on a reality show. The show is called Rock Star, which is the search for the new lead singer of INXS. For the 3 people who read my blog, you already know this, but for the other 'pretend' people I like to imagine that read this, I'll let you take a guess which one of the contestants was my friend from high school. Whoever wins, I hope they don't pick a female. I can't see a woman singing songs like "Suicide Blonde" and "New Sensation". Come on, you can't really replace Michael Hutchence.

You don't bring me anything but down

Last night in rehearsal, we were in the middle of singing a song, and someone says "This is fucking awful". She says this 4 days before our show. She says this to 12 other people who have been working hard, while she comes to each rehearsal with her hands on her hips, doesn't warm-up, and basically only sings when she feels like it. She has an opinion (who doesn't) but when the rest of the group disagrees, she argues until the rest of us can do nothing else but give into her so she will just stop arguing. Manhattan is an island, so it's time to kick it into Survivor mode. Someone WILL be kicked off the singing island, and hopefully it's not me. I have never thought of myself as a mean or threatening person, but I'm off like Paris Hilton's underwear if this mean-spirited member sticks around.

I'm sensing a downward trend, here

I don't read my own posts: I just edit as I write them, post them, and then they become the intellectual property of the Internet for everyone else (note: the 3 people who read this) to consume. However, in seeing the titles of my last few posts, I'm realizing there's a negative trend of what I write about. It's very typical of me. I kept journals in high school on and off, and if a stranger were to read them, they'd think "crap this chick is depressed". However, whenever I recount my time in high school, it's always with incredible memories and vivid recollections of how much I discovered who I am (at least back then). But - the majority of the time I'd write in my journal, it would be when I was depressed about something: some boy who didn't like me, people who made fun of me when I gained weight from steroids and Crohn's Disease... there were a few choice entries of "ooh so and so is such a good/bad friend". I hadn't seen my journals from high school in a long time: they were boxed up at my Dad's apartment for over 4 years and I finally retrieved them this past April when visiting Florida.

So now, I get in bed, take advantage of a wireless laptop and a wireless internet connection, and what comes to mind to write about? All the reasons that I'm depressed. Ok not clinically "I need prozac" depressed (been there, done that), but depressed as in "I better start eating healthy and exercising". I've got so much to be thankful for, but constantly struggle with what my purpose is, as least for the near future. Since June 2003 I haven't held a full-time job. I've looked, though not that hard, because after a really ugly experience at a record label I vowed not to take a job unless my heart was in it. I have had a few other quasi-full time jobs since then, but my heart hasn't been in it each time. I have even started to feel a distance with friends: it's so hard to talk to them about work and I feel so stupid that I don't have anything to share on that front. I know that music and writing are where my heart is, but it's taken me this long to figure out how to make money at doing what I love. I'm still trying to figure it out. I know the things that I can write about that could fill a book, but they are so personal that even seeing the words on a page (or a computer screen) freaks me out a bit.

Though there are no real rules about blogging, I think one of them should be that posts can't be too long. Otherwise it's not really a post. It becomes an article of sorts. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead and see if my next post will have me in a better mood and better spirits.

Fat ass is around the bend

I've gained about 7 pounds since my wedding almost one year ago. I think the number of times I've been to the gym since then I can count on two hands. The gym is in my building - an elevator ride away, and I work from home. Damn am I lazy. I am continually frustrated by hurting hands battling with the desire to write in this blog every day, but I can barely get my job done!

My a cappella group has a show coming up in 8 days, and by some miracle we seem to pull ourselves together at the last minute and actually sound good. I'm finally excited after having the 'crap I hate rehearsals' attitude for the last month. I am still constantly annoyed at one woman in the group who talks INCESSANTLY every time we stop singing. It's like if she doesn't talk her head will explode. I then wonder why is it that any time I say "ok here's what we're doing next" she has to stop me and say "Wait I know you said this but what's next?" I want to tell her to (in the words of a good friend from the group) SUCK IT.

Complaints complaints complaints. Makes it tough that I married into a family whose motto is 'don't complain'. Ha.

A**hole New Yorkers

This happened today. I am the character "Me".

Scene: Starbucks at 42nd Street and 11th Avenue (yes, 11th Avenue exists). Waiting in line for a treat or coffee, I am undecided on just how much sugar I want to ingest. A woman waits at the register while she places her order, and I am standing approximately 3 feet (perhaps the width of 2 people away?) to the right of her. There is no room to wait directly behind her as there is a table there, so the line must form to the right.

Enter: a man (certainly not a GENTLEman) in his 40s with newspaper tucked under his arm and brow furled. He steps in between myself and the woman at the register. I glance over at him.

Man (to Me): You waitin'?
Me: Yes I am.
Man: Welll how am I supposed to know, you're too far away from her. [He then steps to the right of me.]
Me: After being on crowded subways and crowded restaurants, I figured it's nice not to crowd people if you don't need to in this city.
Man: [pregnant pause]
Me: [delighting in his idiocy]

Woman leaves register with her $8 coffee, and I slide over to order at the register.
Man: Well cuz you know you need to be in a line so I actually know it's a line.
Me: Now I know why people from out of town dislike New Yorkers.

And dammit, I've lived here six years and I'm not an asshole, am I? I secretly hoped he burned his mouth on his coffee or it gave him diarrhea.

Argh!

Just wrote a long post after not being online for a month with my blog, and it disappeared! Argh, technology. Too frustrated now to write it again but will re-write tomorrow. This is more of a reminder for myself than anything, but I will write about:

1) Quitting my job
2) Babies having babies
3) Prom date turned rock star

Interesting topics, huh? Makes you want to check back in, right?

Sunshine State of Mind

Florida in less than 24 hrs. Still fragmented typing (carpal tunnel in BOTH wrists). Happy Passover!

Doctor's report

- carpal tunnel
- tennis elbow tendonitis
- rotator cuff tendonitis

- ice, therapy, wrist splint, ice therapy, no medication (thank you crohn's disease for no anti-inflammatory pills allowed dammit).

one word. fuck.

what is the sound of one-handed typing?

wrist is still in SUH-VEERE pain. too hard to type many caps (or full sentences) with one hand. this sucks. no computer use on this hand for 2 weeks? more? you are shit out of luck when taking two plates out of a dishwasher at one time is too much weight on hand. also shit out of luck trying to play piano at rehearsal one-handed. oh yeah - and the desk job that's 100% e-mailing? fuck fuck fuck. how depressing is this? ok not so bad - in the words of my dad it's more "high quality problem" but i feel so useless. at least it's- right hand - i'm lefty. don't even get me started on how long it took to type this, but being at the computer is a bit addictive for me. or is it addicting? ack - brain going to mush, too.

Aaaarrrrrrgggghhhh

New desk. Adjustable legs for optimal height. Fancy schmancy desk chair for optimal positioning. So why the fuck does my wrist and arm hurt all day and all night long? This is so depressing - it makes it so hard to have a desk job and makes working really painful.

American I-DULL

Don't you people get sick of "American Idol"? How stupid do the producers have to be to assign the wrong phone numbers to the wrong contestants? I watched one season of this show, season 1, then said "I've had enough". Each week, they each sing a song, they slap together some stupid montage, have Paula/Randy/Simon fight, and oh wait! Oh goody! AMERICA gets to pick who wins a crappy recording contract that means you basically sign your life away and have to sell over a million records before you'll even see one cent of earnings.

I was mildly annoyed - at my singing group's rehearsal (oh the irony) we HAD to delay warm-ups so people could videotape this week's show. They almost left the volume on during warm-ups. Are we serious? A group of singers want to watch these Disney-esque fabricated robots perform with waaaaay too many "swooping crane camera shots"... enough to make me nauseated from the motion.

Oh how I despise that show. But - at a rehearsal where the majority of people like it, I just sit in silence about it, which is a rareity for me. Even better - Frenchie Davis (yes, the infamous "I kinda did porn but not really") lives in my building, and she still turns heads! She was outside on a photo shoot with someone and had another person with a video camera filming her. My building has glass entry doors, and they stopped right on the other side of them. Here I am with dog in tow and a giant, awkward package that I had to pick up, and they STOP in front of the doors. I say excuse me, practically nailed Frenchie in her not-so-small ass with my box, and headed to the elevator. They followed me in and continued to film her documentary-style, so I made sure to say my dog's name very loudly and "good girl" so whatever footage that they had would go in the garbage. Luckily I was behind the cameraman. I guess Frenchie deserves a 'good for you' because she's on Broadway... oh wow. I had to check Justin Guarini's web site... he could've been pretty famous from Idol, and look - he hasn't updated his OFFICIAL web site in over 7 months.

Wow, I never realized how much I hate that show. Maybe I just love to hate it.

Living Up To The Length

After so many lengthy entries I'm worried I'll dissapoint myself with a short entry. So - I'm breaking the cycle and making this short. I visited my sister and her family this weekend with my husband, and my niece looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid. HUGE cheeks that make her facial features look smushed. So cute.

15 Year Friends

I have this friend Dave who I've known for 15 years. We went to middle school together, then the same boarding school, then stayed in touch somewhat during college. The last 6 years we've both lived in NYC and I can honestly say (which I told him) that he would've been a bridesmaid at my wedding if he didn't look terrible in purple (and a strapless dress).

It's so great when you hear someone has finally decided to 'decompress' (aka "leaving a 80 hour/week job at Goldman Sachs after 7 years") to discover what he's been put on this earth for. Dave, my husband and I all went to dinner last night and it was such a simple reminder to be sure to do what you REALLY want to do for a job... he said "I want to leave the world in a better place than when I got here".

So am I doing that by promoting music at the high school level (save the arts!) - definitely - but I still feel like there's more for me to be doing. Not just writing checks to charities, not just giving leftover food to homeless people... I think this is why ever since I left my life-sucking corporate job at a major record label I've been so torn with what the next step should be.

Maybe writing makes the world a better place because I can impart what knowledge I have to others. Too bad (or perhaps good?) that you will rarely, if ever, see anything about politics, current events or religion on here. Those are the futile discussions that go in circles for me... I'll leave it up to the people who are fueled with a passion to discuss those, not a "eew get me out of this conversation" mentality.

If only I wasn't such a huge ass procrastinator with so many things I do (insert fear of failure, rejection and no concept of how long things really do take... which is not that long) and had more of an explorer-type personality (insert insane love for dog and apartment life).

Why Do I Care?

Our a cappella group is trying to come up with a name for our CD. We formed a CD committee - three people in charge of the entire 'production' side of the CD. Thankfully I'm not on it since I'm busy mixing, but why do I give such a crap about the CD title? Maybe because the two options we were given to vote on were:

1) Flair - as in the choice red items we wore at one show. One show. And hello - "flair" as in the "flair" that Jennifer Aniston and her co-workers have to wear at their restaurant... a minimum of 15 pieces. Interesting - there are 15 of us in the group (or there were when we recorded).

2) Better Than Karaoke - ok that's just insulting. It's like saying "take a form of music that's really shitty, and say we're better than it". It's like "feel bad for us, buy our CD because hey - we're better than karaoke".

I went overboard sending suggestions, phrases that might spark good titles, and not to say my ideas are any better (because at the end of the day we all have our own opinions) but could someone please help me not give a rat's ass about this? If the name sucks, so be it - at least I'm responsible for the music part only.

On a non-music sucking topic, I went to see Duwende with my friend Sara last night. They were amazing. I sat there with a shit-eating grin on my face thinking "Now THIS is the level of a cappella I'd love to do" but then again, guys aren't as much fun to gossip with as girls. Then again, most of the gossip I do is whining and complaining about a very small number of people in my group (emphasis on small).

Tomorrow - our first gig since December. This is an easy one - 3 songs at a brunch. Phew - no solos for me to screw up!

Why cheap blogging sucks

I need a blog where I can have private posts instead of making everything public. The chances of certain people in this world of 6 billion plus reading my blog is not as 'slim to none' as you'd think. I've told a handful of common friends about my blog but haven't told others, knowing that I might want to bitch about them soon on this cyber-dumping space of nonsense.

I'm hitting that point right now with absolute amazement at how much people can annoy me. Staying as vague as possible for a slight fear of my oh-so-secretive blog getting out, let's just say that if you are an adult and decide to do an extracurricular activity (get your mind out of the gutter this is not a drug or sex reference), why would you be involved in it if you don't actually do the activity? Like why would you join a chorus, go to rehearsal, and not sing? I just don't get it. Especially when I'm the one teaching the music, I hate to sound like a school teacher and say "Now Susie - why didn't you do your homework"?

Maybe this cold is just getting to me. On a lighter musical note, check out MatisYahu who is this amazing Hasidic rapper who sings reggae like the best of the Jamaicans... it's incredible. Worth a watch, and no - nothing perverted or that the boss can't see.

Happy Birthday (yesterday - whoo hoo that I called her on time AND got a card in the mail) to one of my favorite lawyer friends, Grace!

Is 28 The New 65?

My husband is getting me hooked on NPR. Yes, National Public Radio. I have temporarily put my taste in music (Kanye West, Sade, any Chopin, etc) on hold to listen to two excellent shows in the afternoon:

The Leonard Lopate Show
Radiolab

Right now on Radiolab they're talking about the concept of time. The concept of the show is essentially discussing a topic and using various sound bytes to illustrate a point. Apparently some artist decided to stretch Beethoven's 9th Symphony into a 24 hour performance (imagine how slow that is?!?!) to show how to us, the piece feels painfully slow, you're waiting for the musical climax and it never happens. But - what about to a hummingbird? How fast/slow would it seem to them, because they beat their wings SO fast yet in 'hummingbird' perception of time, it's normal speed.

What an awesome mindfuck.

Celebrity Singer?

My Dad is throwing a 50th surprise party for his wife this spring, and she's not a fan of surprises... at least that's what I gather. Now the whole world will know how old she is, and for the longest time she seemed to keep it a pretty good secret. So - my a cappella group has decided to perform for all these upcoming gigs: bridal shower, birthday party, anniversary party, and we could use the money for our CD. So I asked my Dad if he wanted us to sing for her party.

Shocking reply: "Actually, I hopefully have a celebrity musician coming, I'm not 100% sure yet but it looks like it's happening." Me - the musician in the family, is dying to know who - and my OWN father won't tell me. He said "oh no I want it to be a surprise for everyone."

He's shelling out WAAAAY more than what my group would charge, I'm sure ;)

Macy's = The Devil

Don't ever buy anything from them. I had a HORRIBLE customer service experience with them. It lasted 2 hours on the phone to buy bedding. We signed up for a card so we'd save 15%. Oh hell I am so frustrated it's not even worth it to write about the mundane, mind-numbing details of the entire ordeal. Just do yourself a favor - never go to that zoo of a store on 34th at Herald Square, and don't allow your fingers to ever type www.macy.....

A Quiet Sunday Morning

My husband has noticed that, during the week, I usually wake up much later than he (his alarm is set at 6am and I'm out of bed around 7:30AM). On the weekends, something odd happens - I'm up no later than 7am. My only alarm is internal - so it must be my body telling me to get up and enjoy the peacefulness of a Saturday or Sunday morning in NYC.

I'm not talking about in Central Park or a coffeeshop - this peacefulness happens in my own apartment. When you live facing the West Side Highway and have a building of hundreds of apartments, here's what you get during the week:

There's a constant hum of cars, sirens, NYC busses, and delivery trucks buzzing by or droning their "I'm picking up speed in bumper to bumper traffic" sounds.

There's "I-can't-let-go-of-college" neighbor 11 apartments away who feels a constant need to yell at whomever he's speaking with down the hall.

There's the barking dog, left home alone each day, who must have vocal chords of steel to make that much noise each day.

There's the smoking neighbor - thanks to our cheaply built structure of an apartment, the smell of smoke seeps into our home office each day through the door jam in a bathroom. You can literally put your hand in front of the jam and feel the wind from an apartment above, or next to us, sucking the clean air out of our place and depositing nicotine-filled smoke back in.

There's the elevator ding. 7 elevators on our floor - 4 within auditory range of our front door.

There's the door slams. After all, everyone's door is on one of those hydraulic arms that makes it close automatically behind you - and imagine if people actually closed the doors instead of letting them close on their own.

It's not that these sounds particularly annoy me that much during the week - it's that I can sense their absence at 7am on a Sunday morning like today. This morning I hear the humming of my refrigerator, the humming of my computer, and can isolate 2-3 cars' wheels whirring by on the highway. Maybe that's why my internal clock gets me up so early on weekends.

Rollerskating in NYC

I never knew there was a place to go rollerskating in NYC (other than Central Park), until another member of my a cappella group told me about it a few weeks ago. The Roxy has rollerskating every Wednesday night, and she invited all of us on a group outing (something we all complain about not doing often enough). Well after all the complaining, a whopping 2 of us showed up (nice job ladies) and Beth was the gracious host from our group.

Beth, Dana and I had such a good time. Dana and I went together, knowing that getting there early would mean less people to crash into and more room for moves like "crack the whip". Despite being 6 1/2 years older than Dana, I felt young again to know that skating was an 'in' thing to do when she was a kid as well. Unfortunately - we never got to try crack the whip, but man - there were some characters there. A window into who we saw:

Spandex Ass Man: we chose a seating area right along side the rink (aka "dance floor"). You literally stood up from our couch and took a step down onto the rink. Ass Man, every time he went by us, managed to turn around and thrust out his hips to stick his ass in our face. Oh yeah - he was dressed in black spandex from head to toe.

The Doublemint Twins: Two adorable women, in their 50s, dressed in black cotton pants and a plain black t-shirt with identical haircuts; short, grey, cropped to the ears. They held hands in an arm-crossed fashion. Twins, sisters who looked alike but weren't twins, lesbians or a combination of them? We didn't know.

Dana's Rollerboyfriend: White afro hair, white heavy t-shirt, white knee socks, and rollerskates with wheels that flashed. So hot in a "I raided Mr. Rogers' wardrobe" kinda way.

Couch Crashers: Two girls who pretended to "not notice" our jackets at our table and chairs and sat there until I asked them to move. One was wearing a yellow "I Love the 80s!" t-shirt. I think she was 2 years old in 1989. They made me feel good because they were the worst skaters in the place (I was probably in the top 10 worst even though I never fell and never bumped anyone - I just didn't have 'moves' like everyone else).

There were over 20 people there who had "moves" - who could either go backwards, dance on skates (literally dance in couples formation) or could do moves like crossing your legs and putting one skate out and one underneath you with your body balled up inches from the floor. It was impossible to describe and more impossible to execute, I'm sure.

The nice thing about the evening was there was no hidden agenda - no pick-up lines, no girls in groups scowling at each other as to who was dressed sluttier... I guess it just wasn't like your typical NYC bar that I hate so much. Ok - maybe Dana, Beth and I were making fun of so many people, but hey - we amused ourselves and offended no one

There's a fungus among us

Bagel's test results came back. Not only did she not have a tumor, there's no cancer. She has some kind of fungal infection that caused her to lick her arm. We probably didn't have to do the surgery but we wouldn't really have known unless we waited it out for about a month... so I'm glad we did it.

All we have to do now is keep this silly collar on her, wait 2-3 weeks to bathe her (eew), and put some cream on her little scar. I felt like I took my first deep breath today and I've been unable to for the last 10 days. I'm so relieved - I want to send flowers to the vet, but I figured "She already has about $750 of our money from this ordeal" so a thank you note will be just fine.

5 Random Thoughts This Morning

1) I love when it snows and it's a holiday - streets are empty and I can get my errands done in 30 minutes.

2) My dog still hasn't gotten results back from her mass removal. I hope it's benign.

3) Cab drivers have great stories. Talk to them.

4) It will be extremely difficult to write in this blog once a day.

5) Chubby Hubby ice cream is the best flavor. Ever.

What goes around comes around.

A few years ago I found a cell phone (note: a nice cell phone) in a cab on my way home. I left it on, waited for someone to call me, and when the owner found me and his phone, I arranged for him to get it back. How nice.

Today, apparently I put my wallet back in my bag on the LIRR on my way home from a doctor's appointment. It didn't really make it into my bag. I hopped in a cab, and in front of my building panicked that my wallet was gone. I assumed the worst - it was stolen - and proceeded to dump the contents of my bag on my dining table while calling 2 of the 3 credit card companies to cancel my cards.

The phone rings. A Maryann Consiglio calls to tell me she tried calling after me on the train when she saw my wallet sitting on the seat. She looked me up (I'm SO glad I finally changed my license to the NY license after quasi-illegally having a Florida one for the last 12 years) and I got my wallet back tonight. I didn't even care about the money or credit cards or license. My wallet is one of those Filofax wallets with my entire life schedule written down. THAT's what mattered to me. Yippee!

A Cappella

I have a healthy obsession with contemporary a cappella. I just got the unmixed files for my group's recording that we did in January, and I am SO excited to hear the tracks. Even with no mixing, we're pretty damn good, and it's a great feeling to lead the group and hear the product of my efforts. Ok - a little self-absorbed, it's everyone's effort because everyone sings, but who teaches it?

Can't wait to work on this album, and I get to record my vocal percussion separately since I was too sick to do it the weekend we recorded. Big bonus. Ed - our engineer - said that we will record it differently from how I'd sing it live, because we'll lay down each instrument (bass, high hat, snare, etc) and it will rock out. Hee hee - I'll actually sound like I know what I'm doing with VP instead of sounding like I'm just spitting on myself.

Goodbye, Smokey

Last night, our family cockatiel, Smokey, died after living for almost 22 years. 22 years! We got him when I was 6 years old, so it's hard to remember what live was like without him. He lived with my parents, then with my sister, and she's had him for about 9 years. It's hit her the hardest because she's been so used to his squawking, cleaning his water dish every day... my 2 1/2 year old nephew Benjamin has gotten accustomed to waking up each morning, walking downstairs, and saying "Hi Mokey" (no "S") and loved to use the Dustbuster to clean up his seeds that he threw out on the ground.

When I was talking to my sister and she told me what happened, I didn't cry. I just listened to her through tearful sobs and reminded her how amazing it was he lived for so long. With her two children, it was pretty incredible that Smokey died when he did. It wasn't overnight alone, it wasn't when the kids were awake to witness it; it was during the small window of time after Benjamin was asleep and his sister didn't need a feeding and before my sister and her husband went to sleep. They were holding him, comforting him and petting him when he took his final breath.

I hung up the phone, then the tears started. I cried, felt better - then at midnight, after Dave was asleep and tv was extremely boring, I was alone with my thoughts and lost it again. As lucky as it sounds, Smokey is the first close 'being' to me that has died where I can feel the pain of death. I lost both of my grandfathers but was too young to fully understand it. We taught him to say "Pretty bird" and one of my grandfathers taught him his unique whistle pattern (a whistle my grandfather and my mom used all the time - my mom in particular - to locate me in a store and I'd have to shout "here I am!" as a little girl). Smokey also knew how to kiss - you just had to put your lips near his face and make a kissing sound, and he'd kiss back every time. We'd take him out of his cage using the wooden stick of a plunger as a make-shift perch, and sometimes he'd huff and peck when he sat on top of his cage and didn't want to come down. You could always pet him, get him to whistle, and he was a healthy bird every second of his life until he left last night.

Goodbye Smokey. I love you and will miss you.

Perfect Procrastinator

The motto "why do today what you can put off until tomorrow" is too-often my mantra. Dave and I were married last June. We haven't ordered wedding photos yet. The parents are teeming with frustration.

I just started a new job - no immediate deadlines, just lots of documentation/guidelines to create, and again - I put them off.

Even showering. Sometimes don't you think a shower isn't necessary if you just stay inside all day during the winter? Cmon - how sweaty can you get?

Fondue? Fondon't?

After two crappy days of dealing with Bagel and her health problems, we found out that the test results are inconclusive. So glad we shelled out $85 for a test that either has to be re-done or now do a biopsy. They ruled out a bacterial infection, which means either a good tumor or a bad tumor are the options that are left. Oh yeah - and today's her birthday.

For Valentine's Day my husband Dave and I were supposed to go out to dinner. He looked into reservations oh, last week, which meant in NYC we were either eating in the 'burbs or on the 13th. So we opted for the 13th. Then with everything with Bagel and basically not being able to leave her alone (because she's SO sneaky about getting this thing off her that prevents her from biting/scratching the mass), we're stuck inside. Then we decided to buy fondue ingredients. Our favorite. Shocking that it's a favorite since Dave - at the ripe old age of 18 - practically blew up his parents' house by waiting for oil to boil while making fondue for his then-girlfriend. Needless to say, the kitchen was destroyed as a flame literally rolled through the room, and his little white bichon had premature grey - as in her entire body was covered in soot and smoke.

Fondue is so evil. So tasty, yet so terrible for you. One ounce of swiss cheese (yes I researched this specifically for the blog, and if you knew me - I never obsess too much about what I eat since I love food) has about 8 grams of fat. We cooked about 16 ounces of cheese, each ate half of it and dipped in bread to boot. That means I consumed about 68 grams of fat at one meal. Holy crap - my wedding dress would never fit me now. So I probably put on a pound just from tonight. That means 3500 calories have got to go. Oh and since I suck ass at exercising, it means I'll have to walk to run errands and count stairs up and down the subway as burning it off. I'll lose the pound in about 2 months.

Aural Torture

Listening to a dog cry has to be one of the worst sounds imaginable. My dog isn't hurt, she's not in any pain, so that should be comforting, right? Wrong. She has this stupid cone on her head (I call it "funnel face" because it looks just like that) so she doesn't scratch or bite at this mass on her leg, and apparently she thinks this cone has magical powers to paralyze her. She refuses to walk with the cone on. I can put cream cheese (doggie heaven for her) on my finger in front of her face, try to lure her towards me, and she won't move.

It's so frustrating to try and get work done. Each whimper is a "hey Mom look how sad I am get this freakin' thing off me" or "look how big and sad I can make my eyes! I can even make my bottom lip tremble for you." I even put smooth jazz music on (yes we're dorks, we put that music on for her when she's home alone to soothe her - she told us it's better than rap or that pop rock kids put out today), and nothing helps. Oh wait - she just sat up, that's a good sign, she DOES realize she can move.

Working from home has it's ups and downs. It's certainly an 'up' to be able to be with Bagel (oh yes - that's her name) but a down to listen to this whining. It's nice to be able to make your own hours, but so easy to get distracted. It gets lonely. Makes you feel like the world is going by, doing its own thing, and you're at a bit of a stand-still.

The waiting game...

I just brought my dog into the vet this morning. She had a red mark on her arm, and from what my father-in-law said he sees on his dog all the time, it sounded like a "hot spot". Just some red irritation on the skin that the dog causes herself. So - I go to the vet, find out she needs to lose 2 pounds (I can't resist giving the treats to her - if you saw her you'd understand why), and then the doctor says she's going to just shave the hair around it and put some topical solution on.

Ten minutes go by. Then twenty. Then she comes out, and if she was saying "your table is ready" at a restaurant - that casually, I hear the word cancer. "We don't know yet..." her voice drifted off in my head and the word cancer just blinked on and off in my head like a flashing red traffic light. My dog either has a bacterial infection (good - caused by stress or being lonely, and she was home for a week with my friend Molly while we were out of town), a histiocytoma (not as good but still ok) where it will probably go away on its own and is a benign type of cancer, or a mast cell tumor (MCT) where further tests are needed to see if it's spread, what 'grade' level it is, and the best way to remove it. I can't even write what grade 3 would mean, but the 'lower' grades are treatable.

I'm totally beside myself. Thinking back to all the times when my dog would vomit a little after running around too much, or eating a treat too quickly, and we always say "yeah she just has a sensitive stomach". If I ever find out that was part of it, even after the other vet said she's just sensitive, and I could've treated it earlier, I couldn't live with that guilt. It would tug at my heartstrings forever.

So now we wait until Sunday to hear the results. What the fuck am I supposed to do until Sunday? Maybe I can lure friends to come over and visit me to take my mind off it. My dog would have to wear one of these 'funnel face' collars if I'm not around so she can't scratch at it, and I don't want her to deal with that. Yes - in a great city like NYC I'll be sitting inside until I hear the results. This is absolute agony.

What's in a name?

My friend Sara briefly mentioned on the phone last night that she keeps a blog, and it reminded me for the first time in 5 months, "Oh yeah - I started one of those". Right. One entry in September does not make me a blogger.

The story behind the naming of the blog. Perfect pitch was taken. A musical term to describe people who can hear any note and name it, listen to a song and instantly know what key it's in... here's a good site that links to a bunch of other good sites about perfect pitch. If you're on the main site, they sell you a product to learn perfect pitch. Bullshit. I really don't think you can learn it. And - my perfect pitch isn't always so perfect, hence, the name. In writing you also pitch stories, and since I'm not yet a famous author I guess those pitches are a bit imperfect as well (all none of them that I've actually submitted). Then I wondered how much in life is really perfect.

So - inspired by Sara, I'm making a desperate attempt to start this up again. I'm horrible at simply "letting it flow" and find myself editing each sentence as soon as it comes out. Let's keep this a short entry until I get back up to speed with this thing.