12.30.2004

I had a saga

Oh, it is nice to be home. I had a very good Christmas, overall, and I spent a lot of time with my dad and stepmom and her family, including lots of kids and babies. It was somehow both hectic and relaxed, if that makes any sense. I ate a lot. They always have this incredible assortment of cakes and pies just hanging around. I think, in small towns, people drive around and drop pies off at each others’ homes. I witnessed such a thing twice myself, in just a week, so I think it must be epidemic.

I do have to tell the story of how I got down there. Watch out, it is a doozy! It approaches Planes, Trains, and Automobiles proportions. First off, I usually fly straight from DC to Atlanta and they just pick me up there, even though it is a good 3 1/2 hours from Albany, where they live. However my dad is not that big on driving, so he had the idea for me to take a second flight to Valdosta, Ga, which is still a 2 hour drive from Albany, but there is not nearly the same traffic or highways to contend with as there are in Atlanta.

So anyway, last Thursday when I left at 11am for the DC airport, I thought I had plenty of time before my flight. I got on the metro and I was on my way, but suddenly there were Metro Issues and we were stuck for thirty minutes. As we got closer to the airport stop, I checked my watch and saw that I was going to be seriously, really close to my take off time. I freaked out.

When the train pulled up, I started RUNNING dramatically through the airport. (Thank god Reagan is a teeny airport, because I am not in good enough shape for any kind of distance sprinting.) I used the kiosk check-in, which usually works fine, but for whatever reason, this time it only gave me the boarding card for the Atlanta to Valdosta flight, not the DC to Atlanta flight. Which I discovered once I got to the front of the security line (which, granted, and also oddly, was really short), and the security lady told me she couldn’t let me through without it. I went back to the kiosk and this time got both cards, and went BACK through securtiy, and then ran dramatically AGAIN to the gate…and saw that the plane was delayed because the incoming flight hadn’t arrived. So I was all sweaty and keyed-up for no reason.

Eventually we got on the plane, and onto the runway, and literally a hurricane blew in. We sat on the runway for 1 1/2 hours, with the plane trembling in the wind, and then the storm passed on and we took off.

In Atlanta I was due to have a 2 1/2 hour layover, but due to the delays I was now in danger of missing THAT flight. Again I hustled through the massively large Atlanta airport, but the Valdosta flight too was delayed. Everything was delayed. At this point it was about 5pm. The corridors were packed and people were just sitting everywhere. Apparently all of Ohio was shut down. New York shut down. We sat and sat. I treated myself to fancy coffee from Starbucks and I think they served it to me in a dribble cup, because I kept spilling coffee onto my chest. Seriously, you can’t take me anywhere. Yay for black clothes that hide all stains.

So, we were allowed to board at around 7pm, the time I was supposed to have arrived in Valdosta. I had called my stepmom to let her know what was going on, but my dad doesn’t have a cell phone, so she was going to try and have him paged in the airport while he waited, so he would know what was going on. Now, THIS plane was a scary, Buddy Holly-type plane. We boarded from the tarmac, which I had thought hadn’t been done since the 70s. As we sat, the luggage was loaded on. Each piece made the plane shake. There was no heat and we all sat in our coats. I was not excited about this flight.

Finally the plane took off. It was only a one-hour flight. We got almost all the way to Valdosta when suddenly there was a big noise. It was not a good noise.

Then, the pilot got on the loudspeaker and said that we were having “left engine trouble” and were turning around and going back to Atlanta. Everyone gasped and had about twelve heart attacks instantaneously. The flight back was super fast and involved a lot of dramatic banking and diving. Apparently the pilot REALLY, REALLY needed to get us back to Atlanta, like asap.

So, back in the Atlanta airport. It was almost 10 pm at this point. NOBODY came to meet us in the terminal to let us know if there was going to be another plane, or if they were providing us with a bus or hotel vouchers or anything. Wandering back and forth at the gate, I totally glommed onto four other people I recognized and we decided to rent a car and drive to Valdosta that night. Hurrah, progress!

The first rental car they gave us had a dead battery however. Of course. The travel story to end all travel stories!

ANYway, to make a long story just end for god’s sakes, we drove super-fast and arrived in Valdosta at 230am. My dad by this point had gotten a hotel room, so I called him there and he came out to meet me and my new four best friends. During our 3 1/2 hour car drive, we all exchanged addresses and learned each others’ life stories. When they dropped me off, we even took a group photo, which one of them just emailed me for posterity. My dad and I stayed in Valdosta overnight, neither of us with clothes or toiletries, and then in the morning we went to the airport and THANK GOD my bag had come in on that morning’s flight. I drove us to Albany. Finally, home, at noon on Friday, a mere twenty-five hours after I had left my apartment in DC!

I am never going back to Valdosta, ever.

Well. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and that you enjoy the last day of 2004. To anyone who has family or friends involved in the tsunami disasters, my thoughts are with you, and I wish you and your loved ones all the best at this time. That is a ridiculously small offering, I know, and I wish I could do a lot more.

supine @ 10.38 pm |

12.22.2004

Summary of today, in no real order

I finished my last day of work before Xmas! And, other than next Friday, my last day of work in December!

My boss is a toolio toolhound. I have worked for him for a year and half now, and the closest thing I got to a present from him was a “So long - remember, I need you in next Friday” as I ran out the door.

The t-shirt that I wore today is my absolute favorite but I’m afraid it’s ready to be retired. It is beige, with a bear and the words “Bronx Zoo” printed across the chest. My best friend in college (Azalea) gave it to me at one of our many Clothes Swap Nights. I have no idea where she got it, but I’m thinking some vintage store because it’s really thin and soft and comfy. Which is great, but it’s so thin that I can never wear a regular bra with it; I wear a beige undershirt that doesn’t show through but still has some semblance of support. I have always thought that this looked fine, but suddenly today it occurred to me that wearing something so see-through might be a little unseemly.

Eating chocolate after dinner really did keep me up all last night. Whaddya know, mom was right!

The guys at my local indian takeout place are so sweet. They call me “miss” and I don’t even mind. I asked one of them tonight if he was doing anything special for the holidays, and he said that they’re only closed for Christmas Day. Wow - that made me realize I have things pretty good after all.

My latest haircut is HOTT! It is messy and floppy and I can run my hand through it and grab chunks of it and it will still fall back into place in a cool way.

I need to start packing. Have calculated that I need to leave my apartment at 11:15 tomorrow. Eh…I have HOURS in the morning; I’ll do it then. Dun dun dun! Famous last words. Man, I suck at packing.

Chocolate sounds good again. Surely I can counteract all the caffeine with alcohol and get a normal night’s sleep?

Thank god the CDs I ordered for my dad for xmas arrived today. When I walked in the door I actually let out a little “woop!” of happiness. Nothing like waiting til the last minute to do your online shopping.

I love the new Stevie Wonder mix CD my friend Jeremy made for me. Wish I had a CD walkman for the plane… (see, look at how un-techie I am! I am not even wishing for an iPod; I am wishing for a CD walkman. Maybe next year I will finally try out Tivo!)

It actually made me kind of sad not to have any physical therapy appointments this week. I like my trainer guy a lot. Plus he does a lot of shoulder massages and it is really nice to just have some kind of human contact. I really am like a hermit. How pathetic is it that I am so grateful for being touched by a physical therapist??!

(Thoughts like that are the reason why I probably will not be posting anything while at my dad’s this coming week. I am not savvy enough to fix it so that my stepmother can’t see the sites I have been on on her computer, and there is no way I want any of them reading any of my sad-ass “I am a nun” entries. As far as they are concerned, I am a virgin, as are all my friends and acquaintances and everybody who I have ever passed on the street. In fact, no member of my family has ever had sex! My parents certainly did not! One day long ago, my parents gazed adoringly at each other, and nine months later the stork arrived and they gave me a name. The end.)

That was just a long and winding way of me saying bye for now, and happy holidays. Happy Holidays, all! I will be back next Thursday. Have a lovely week.

supine @ 8.05 pm |

12.21.2004

This post is all about vision, for some reason.

Apparently today there was a big robbery and a “hostage situation” (which was later proved to have been a misunderstanding) at a Rite Aid near my apartment. I, of course, knew nothing until it was old news, because that rock I live under casts a really big shadow. I did notice, while walking to work, that one of the streets I crossed was closed off with police tape, but I just figured someone important was staying at the hotel on that block. It is funny how, living in DC, you get completely used to the fact that one VIP in town has the power the disrupt the routines of thousands of Little People.

But anyway, no, it was not a dignitary, but a big serious robbery. At a Rite Aid. At 8:30 in the morning. How much money could a drugstore have at that hour?

The only reason I heard about this was that my boss and I had a bunch of appointments today with phone and IT vendors at our new office space, and one was late because of all the roads being blocked off. When she arrived, I got a shock. This is a woman who I have been dealing with, over phone and email, for weeks, so I had a pretty clear mental picture of her. The funny part was how wrong I was.

(This would be a cool psych experiment, I think: to get people to describe what they think a person looks like based on their writing style or phone voice, and then see how it compares with reality.)

The woman was eight feet tall! And wearing high-heeled boots! And she had big hair and lots of blue eyeshadow on. I had totally been expecting someone kind of timid and demure, so I was blown away by what an amazon lady she was. I mean, she was nice and capable and thorough and everything, but still…amazon. When I introduced her to my boss, she towered over him, and he’s probably 5′10″. I know that I personally felt like an eight-year-old child standing near her, so I wonder if he felt emasculated.

Then, walking back to the office, I passed the woman who modeled nude for my Saturday painting class. It was incredible! She was wearing a big overcoat, and, you know, pants and clothes and stuff, but I still recognized her. I almost said hello, but she probably would not have known me. We did chat a few times before each class began, but seeing as she spent the bulk of the three hour period staring off into the distance, whereas I spent it staring at her naked body, I’m thinking that I have a slightly stronger mental image of her than she of me.

Anyway, I have one more day of work until I leave to see my dad and his family in Georgia. Everybody please keep your fingers crossed that I manage to restrain myself from tearing my boss’s arm off and beating him with it tomorrow. He is being a crazed ogre lately, what with us moving right after the new year. Also, he has not said a thing to me about any sort of holiday bonus, and I am thisclose to pulling a Clark W. Griswald and kidnapping him in protest.

supine @ 9.04 pm |

12.18.2004

Ye Olde Convention Center

So, I dragged my ass out of bed to see the old convention center get detonated at 7:30 this morning. It was a pretty cool experience. The building took up about 10 blocks, and all the streets for a block or two around it were cordoned off too, so downtown was pretty mad-looking. There were squad cars and yellow tape and people waving flashers and people in cars throwing their hands up in frustration as they got detoured. Also the usual construction crews were out, and it was still sort of dark and murky out, but thankfully not very cold, so it was just general chaos everywhere.

I am very glad I went though. I was standing on the corner at 11th and G, and the edge of the convention center was only a block away. There were about twenty of us all packed onto this sidewalk.

null
If only I were not so short! All these guys were like redwoods!

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Anyway, that beige building, the one between all the guys’ heads, that is the one we are focusing on. A bunch of air horns went off at 7:28, and then right at 7:30. And then…

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This is where I got really excited and jiggled the camera, because A HUGE SONIC BOOM WENT OFF. It was the loudest thing I have ever heard. Louder than the Grand Finale of fireworks when you watch them on the Mall downtown. It was a bunch of booms in rapid succession, and my first throught was fear for anybody who was on the metro underneath us at that moment, because I was sure that something was wrong and the entire block was going to collapse.


See? Explosions. This guy was PUMPED. Everyone oohed and aahed.


Then the smoke started to billow up. ("Billow up?” Is that an actual phrase or did I invent that?)


The smoke was a-blowin’ down the street towards us. One guy said, “Here comes the convention center!” and everybody laughed.


Okay, but the convention center REALLY WAS COMING. In about ten seconds I started to feel thankful that I was wearing my glasses instead of my contacts, because look…


This is that exact same street, half a minute later.


We all started to clear out. I have no idea where the cop who was keeping watch on that corner went; I guess he had to stick around. Here is a view from that same corner, but in the direction away from the convention center.


Here it is again, in a slightly cloudier format.

(I started to get a weird feeling right about then, like an uneasy, is-this-okay-what-about-9/11-feeling. I just kept reminding myself, it’s okay, buildings still need to come down sometimes, dust is okay, crowds are okay, there’s nothing dangerous about this. I felt like maybe I was wrong or selfish for watching this and getting some entertainment out of it, and for thinking funny thoughts, like it was insulting somehow. I was thinking that over for a bit, but then I decided that maybe it is a good thing to be able to watch such a thing with group of people who were all obviously enjoying it, espeicially in DC. Like a reclaiming of certain images that were never meant to have such painful associations attached to them. Anyway, that is what I decided for myself, so I went back to thinking funny things in my head. I hope I was not wrong to do that.)


I was heading back home with convention center in my eyes. Do they make a Visine for that, do you think?


Okay, this is kind of crazy. This is the view a little bit north, on 13th and New York, of the demolition site…


…and this is how lovely and clear the sky was when I faced the opposite direction!

Anyway, the actual demolition and falling down part only lasted a minute, but it was fascinating. I have never seen anything like it. Even the walk home had its moments. I had put chapstick on that morning, and by the time I got home, I had, like, grit stuck to my lips. I know, right? Gross. But sort of funny too. I mean, you can pay cash money for fancy “lip exfoliators,” or you can just walk around downtown DC for a few minutes and take advantage of the pulverized convention center swirling around. This city is crazy.

supine @ 10.38 am |

12.17.2004

Yes, if everybody else jumped off a bridge, I probably would too.

Alright CSM, you asked for it! Here are my answers to that quizzola…

Three Names You Go By: supine, another name, and another nother name.

Three Screennames You Have: garv8675309, and that is it.

Three Things You Like About Yourself: my independence, sense of humor, and eyelashes.

Three Things You Dislike About Yourself: my stubbornness, impatience with stupid people, and height (lack of).

Three Parts of Your Heritage: German, Russian, and Irish.

Three Things That Scare You: the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, operations, and carnies.

Three of Your Everyday Essentials: music, conversation, and a bra.

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now: blue sweater, brown corduroy pants, and a bra.

Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists (at the moment): Stevie Wonder, Rachael Yamagata, and Belle and Sebastian.

Three of Your Favorite Songs at Present: “Chariot’s Rise” by Lizzie West, “Bedshaped” by Keane, and “The Killing Moon” by Echo and the Bunnymen.

Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months: printmaking, using a bike as my main mode of transportation, and cooking nice healthy meals.

Three Things You Want in a Relationship (love is a given): affection, respect, and big, belly laughs.

Two Truths and a Lie: I can read Hebrew, I don’t tan; I burn, and I am double-jointed.

Three Physical Things About the Opposite Sex (or same) That Appeal to You: hair, smile, and shoulders.

Three Things You Just Can’t Do: a back-handspring, tongue curling, and whistling.

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies: city walking, painting, and coffee and conversation with a friend.

Three Things You Want to do Really Badly Right Now: give interesting answers to these questions, finish the book I am almost done with, and take a nap.

Three Careers You’re Considering: gallery director, college professor, and jockey (horse not disk).

Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation: Venice, Japan, and Transylvania.

Three Kids’ Names: I have six, because I am equal opportunity. Paul, Joseph, and Ben; and Amelia, Chloe, and Nina.

Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die: raise a child, fall totally in love with someone, and give a great speech to a crowd of people.

Three People You Want to Take this Quiz: Peter, Kat, and phizz.

supine @ 10.27 am |

12.16.2004

! Bienvenidos !

Welcome and do you love my beautiful new site??! I do. Ohhh, how I do. My pretty little site! It is so fine. I want to take it home and seduce it, but I think that might be illegal in most states.

Thousands of thanks to Zoot and her mad internet skillz! She built this site with her own two hands, so it’s all about Zoot. She is so fetching and lovely.

I do still have to figure out how to use this new WordPress program though. It is a little intimidating; not all nice and soft and coddling, like Blogger. I mean, there’s no effing spellcheck, for crying out loud! I might as well be free-falling from a jet.

I would love to write more right now (and wow, that gave me a Jesus Jones flashback), but I have a headache from my jerk-ass hangover, so I am off to guzzle some Advils. I can’t believe that I left drunk-comments on people’s sites. Sorry about that and feel free to delete them. Also, please admire my site some more while I convalesce! Thank you kindly.

supine @ 9.23 am |

12.15.2004

Oh Eva, thank fucking god

My friend Julie called me during the fianale for America’s Next Top Model tonight, and together we were SCREAMING and SQUEEING with relief that Eva beat our Fucking Yaya. Yaya! Go back to Brown. Oh Eva, I adore you. So spunky and open. And such gorgeous skin. Oh, to be Eva tonight (or six months ago, or whenever the actual finale of this show took place).

Tonight I had an xmas party for work. We had a “Moroccan Tent” reserved at Mie N Yu in Georgetown. There was free wine, and it was red. Coincidentally, I drink red! Oh ho ho, you don’t say, my good man.

Also there were snacks. There were dumplings and coconut shrimp and stinky cheese and meats on a stick. Also little banana custards in teeny frosting cups. Also, you know, free red wine. Open bar! Moroccan tent! Unisex bathrooms!

Also a very drunk General Manager who camped out at the table where my girl friends and I sat and TALKED TALK TALKED for eons about what good work we were doing, there “in the trenches” with the clients, working the long hours, etc etc etc. And, oh yes, what were our names again?

Check please.

I called my dad in the cab on the way home, to say hi. I was all, “Hi Dad! I’m in a cab! A cab that will be expensed! Because I am drunk on the company dime!” He is so proud of all that money he spent on my schooling, for real, you guys. How could he not be? I am fantastic.

I am drunk! Drink drank drunk. And wow, this more than I write some days when I am SOBER. Tomorrow there is another work party too, so I am going to have some water and go to bed. Good night, good night, adios.

supine @ 9.32 pm |

12.13.2004

A new entry

I am still alive, just lazy.

So I am alone in the office right now as my boss is in Chicago and my coworker is shopping in Georgetown. Yes, seriously. She was all, “I’ll be back in a while! Byeeeee!” Oh, to have power at work. What I wouldn’t give.

I had a really fun weekend. Friday a friend from high school came over for dinner and a movie. I think when I invited him over for dinner he was expecting me to, like, cook or something. Whatever! I ordered Chinese. I will be such a good wife someday, seriously. We were in the mood for scary movies so I had Session 9, which I don’t remember ever coming out in the theatres but a friend told me it was very creepy, and yes, it was.

It was set in an enormous mental institution that had been built in the 1800s and then shut down in the 80s. This team of asbestos removers came to work on it and over the course of a week they start discovering weird things, seeing movements, disappearing, going crazy, etc. Oh holy god, there was one scene where a guy was alone in some dark basement corridor, and at the end of the hall there is a light, and he suddenly sees the shadow of a man step into the hall and start moving towards him. Both the guy in the movie and I screamed simultaneously. The friend I was watching with was unaffected, because he has a heart of tin, or something.

Also, a funny thing happened. Earlier on Friday, my friend Azalea forwarded me an article which said that the old convention center near my apartment was being detonated Saturday the 18th at 7:30 in the morning, and did I want to go see it? Well, that’s early, but it sounded cool and it’s not something you see every day. We arranged to meet at 7 in the morning the next day. Which was Saturday the 11th. Which I learned at 5-something the next morning, when Azalea, just home from her job checking coats at some club, calls and says: “Dude. We are morons. I just realized it is next Saturday, not tomorrow.”

Oh my god, we ARE morons. Morons who cannot read a newspaper or check a calendar.

Saturday afternoon I went to painting class and then at night to a house party with a bunch of friends from high school and from a gallery where I used to work. It was pretty good. We mingled a lot. A lot of the people there were “hipsters.” I got caught talking to this one guy who told me about a puppet show he was putting on in his living room the next day, and did I want to come? The best part was when he first mentioned it and he asked me if I had heard of it yet. I’m sorry, it’s a puppet show. In your living room. I guess I had missed that news bulletin.

Sunday I met up with my mom and we got facials together, which we do once a season to keep things working correctly. It was lovely and relaxing and splendiferous. We also bought some presents. I also bought some shoes, because I am weak to the power of the DSW and its siren song.

Then we made latkes and soup with my stepfather, and lit the menorah and did presents and all that jazz. I had gotten them gift cards to their favorite stores and they gave me money to put towards school, and also I think my mom bought me some stuff off my Amazon list because she said to keep an eye out for a package soon. Nice! Family bonding, spirit of the season, giving / receiving, tra la la, etc.

Hope everyone else had a good weekend too. Back to the grind.

supine @ 11.37 am |

12.9.2004

Ubiquitous Search String Post

Presenting…the weirdest search phrases this site has seen!

old maid gone wild (twice!)
Yes, it is I, that gray-haired lady from the last Girls Gone Wild video.

christy cream
I bet these people are REALLY disappointed when they end up here.

cosi signature salad recipe
Because I write about food a lot, geddit?

“trash chute” + girl
I don’t want no proto-serial killers coming around my site!

“by his thighs” - gay
????????

johnny knoxville pants
“peter krause” chest
chris isaak gay
jared leto’s boyfriend
kelly mcgillis taller
Maybe I need to quit obsessing over celebrities…

ethipian free gay web sit
This person is a very bad speller. Also, I have no recollection of ever having written an entry about such a thing.

tomato heart killer
In the words of Dave Barry, this would make an excellent name for a rock band.


Ohmygod, that incredible amout of creativity and typing took a lot out of me. I am needing a nap now…
/sarcasm

supine @ 11.43 am |

12.8.2004

These are not my people

My office is weird. The people are weird, the set-up is weird, the neighborhood is, yes, weird. Structurally, my company of three people shares office space with our sister company of about ten people. The room I share with my boss, luckily, is one of the only two rooms that has actual windows; the rest of the offices are along a corridor and are tiny and windowless.

This sister company is mainly women, all under thirty-five, and mostly around my age (twenty-five). The only one I am even remotely close to is the adminny girl. She is going to night school for graphics, so we talk about that a lot and we have gone to one art opening and out for one night of drinks together. In almost a year here, this is my closest friend. Which is sad.

In my defense, the other girls are super-girly. Whenever one of them has a birthday, they order in food and invite us, the redheaded step-children of the office, to come and join them in the conference room. But these people are all on Atkins or South Beach diets even though they are built like gardening rakes. So the food sort of sits in the middle of the table, and they will, like, cut a pizza slice in half to share with each other, or pick just the veggies out of the Chinese food cartons, or they will just order salads with Dressing on the Side. Always accompanied by diet cokes (which I am not knocking, but teamed with the non-eating thing, it’s a little over the top).

Meanwhile my boss are I are like frat boys. “Pizza! Free pizza? Right on, we are THERE!” And we go tearing down the hall and shovel pizza into our mouths with two hands. Sexy!

(Also, right now there are a ton of chocolates and cookies in the office, and I am the only one who is willing to take one for the team and eat them. Help me, please! They are so good! We have a whole TRAY of those fancy European chocolates with the gold foil wrappers. You know the ones, with the commercial where the attractive European person eats one, accompanied by a deep-throated voiceover, and promptly orgasms. (European people are so easy!))

As another example of the weirdness around here, the sister company’s Big Boss Lady brings her two dogs in to work sometimes. I am a dog person, but I cannot condone or approve of these specific dogs. They look like wingless bats. I have no idea what the breed is, but…bats. They are squat, like little bulldogs, and are dark and have squat faces with small triangular ears. And their tongues hang out. They run freely up and down the halls and hang out in peoples’ offices.

Now, my boss hates these dogs. I am not sure whether it’s because he hates all dogs, or because he has an aversion to bats, but whenever they come in here he hustles them out and shuts our door. They both wear tags, so you can hear them jingling down the corridor towards us, and my boss will say, “Ohhhhh noooo, here they come. They are not coming in here.”

Just now one of them came in, stood in the center of the room, and just stared at the boss, panting. He picked up a hackysack he keeps on his desk (I don’t know why either) and lightly beaned the dog with it. Seriously, he looked dead into the dog’s eyes, tossed the hackysack at it, it bounced off the dog’s forehead, and then there was no reaction. Dog just kept staring and panting. We looked at each other and burst out laughing, and then he got up and shooed it out the door in his normal manner.

********************************************************

On another note, I was reading a recap of the Apprentice earlier, and the sidebar of one page has the quote “Personal Grooming Fever – Catch It!” Is that a shoutout to the title of my blog? I think it is…

supine @ 1.29 pm |

12.7.2004

Have yourselves a nice little Chanukah

When I left my mom’s house after Thanksgiving, she got me to take one of their menorahs and a box of candles with me, to have my own little Chanukah celebrations all week. It is nice. It is the first year since I left home that I will be doing this, so I feel kind of Adult. I remember in college, they had rules in the dorms about no candles/incense/open flame-type-things, but if you were jewish you could submit a special application to the dean or something in order to be able to do your menorah biz. I never did, because I have always hated calling attention to myself.

But now I have the privacy of my own apartment and can light away, starting tonight! For those of you who are in the dark (oh, my sides!) about menorahs, they hold nine candles. One candle is usually set apart from the other eight, and this is the shamus (sp?) which you use to light the main ones. The deal is that, back in the BC years, the jews in what is now Israel were defending themselves against the King’s army in order to avoid being converted to Greek Orthodoxy. Eventually, they reclaimed this important synagogue and were hiding out in it. There was only enough lamp oil to keep the synagogue lit for one night, but miraculously the light burned for eight nights, and that is what the eight main candles (which might have a name, but I am no SuperJew so I don’t know everything here, people) on the menorah represent.

So for each of the eight nights of Chanukah, you light that many candles, and by the end of the holiday the whole menorah is lit and it is very pretty and fire-riffic. Also you let the candles burn all the way down on their own, so after each night each candle holder is filled with hard wax and you have to scrape it out with a knife before the next round. I am fairly klutzy, so this whole combination of long-burning open flame and chiseling of tiny holder with sharp knife is a dangerous one for me. But I will persevere, because I am a good jew.

One fun part is doing patterns with the candles. Every menorah I have ever seen used the same size candles: these special JewCandles which are very skinny and roped and come Straight From Israel, Ordained by Holy Peoples (or so the box says). When I was little, my mom would always make a game with me of how we would set up the candles each night, in what pattern, because the possibilities are endless! She was partial to alternating blue and white, which are the colors of Israel, but I was a plebian and preferred using one of each color (if memory serves, they are red, blue, white, orange, yellow, and green).

Anyway, I am going home to visit her and my stepdad on Sunday and we will do it up “chosen people-style” with the presents and the latkes (potato pancakes) and the blintzes and matzah ball soup. Wish me luck that I do not burn down my apartment before then and am forced to move back in with them.

Happy Chanukah, everyone! (Also, today is Pearl Harbor Day, but I am not sure what to wish everyone for that. “Safe Pearl Harbor Day,” I suppose?)

supine @ 1.18 pm |

12.6.2004

What I have been doing

Saturday night kicked Friday’s ass around the BLOCK, people. I went to this 80s night at a bar and had an awesome (see? 80s) time. First off, the first hour was open bar, so we got our drinking over and done with fast. I don’t get drunk (very often) when I go out, and especially if I want to dance, because it just makes me get tired earlier. So I had one bourbon and coke, and then later a tray of free margarita shots were passed around and I had one of those. They were delish and came in shot glasses that have a flashing light at the bottom of them, and no I am not kidding. I stole mine. I mean, it fell into my purse. As did my two friends’ glasses (is a miracle of physics and chaos theory). They all kept blinking, in my purse! Astounding!

Then we danced crazily for hours and hours, and it was the best time I have had in a while. I am so glad to have some girlfriends who like dancing too, and don’t take themselves too seriously to bust out some moves. I was hanging out with a friend’s roommate for a while, and we were talking books and it was great, and then I said I was going to go join my friends and dance, and would he like to come? He was all, no, I’d feel too stupid.

Oh whatever. Nobody’s going to spend their night watching and critiquing you. If they do, then they are a jackass. Get over yourself and get out there.

So, I left him discussing books with another guy and found my friends. He did eventually come and join us later, so I guess it was just that old “I need lots of drinks in me before I will look anything other than ‘masculine’ and ‘in control’ at all times” chestnut. Yes, I know that one well.

We were there pretty late, until around 2 I think. My one girl friend came home with me and slept on the sofa, as is our custom when we have big nights out. It’s nice waking up and getting dressed with her, and then going out for coffee before she goes home. Is like having a short-term roommate.

Now I have spent a good deal of today sending out rejection emails and making rejection calls to people who have applied for a position with my company. My boss gave me free rein to handle all of them however I wanted, so I just emailed the people who we had no interest in and called the ones who got an interview but were then rejected. I hope that is personable/professional enough. I was unemployed and looking for a job for MONTHS after school ended, so I know how horrible it is to get impersonal emails (although it is worse to send your resume off and never hear one damn thing back), but I couldn’t bring myself to call everyone. I hate calling people.

I need to leave soon for my first physical therapy session for my sad broken shoulder. Have a good evening everyone!

supine @ 4.47 pm |

12.5.2004

Message left on my answering machine Friday night by my wacky uncle

“Heyyy there, it’s your…long-lost uncle. Eh…in the family manner, we have decided to have a party for our daughter [her two-year birthday party] …uh…of course it’s tomorrow night, so we’re giving you like…twenty hours’ notice. We’re hoping you can come. Your mom! Can come! And your grandma’s coming, and a couple of our neighbors…and, that’s about it.

“But there’ll be lots of festive things and drinking. It starts at 5, and if you can come…please call my mom. Your…oma, or grandma, or whatever you call her, and tell her, cuz maybe you can help with the driving -”

*beep*

“GOD DAMN IT, NICE MACHINE. Jeez, it’s like the guy from Swingers, I’ll call you like thirty times, and I never can say my phone number. Do you remember that movie? Anyway, call my mom to tell her whether you’re coming, and maybe you can…what’s it called… drive with them [grandma and her boyfriend].

Anyway, bye bye.”

Crikey, this is the gene pool I share.

supine @ 6.47 pm |

12.4.2004

Plus I think I saw Nicky Hilton

Man, I went to the worst place in DC last night. It was in the GW/Georgetown area, which is bad in and of itself, because once you are out of college who wants to hang out with snot-nosed college kids anymore? I was with some girls I used to work with earlier this year at an art gallery. Another one has gotten a new job too, and it was her idea to go to this Place o’ Hell. She was with some coworkers and is really hot for one of them. In the words of the email she sent me, “He is seriously hot and it’s been a really long time so I am going to try and jump him tonight.” Alrighty then.

It was one of those bars where you pay to get in, and then it is more crowded than Tokyo (so I hear) so you pay to get rid of your coat too. And, oh my god, we could not find this girl (the hot-for-coworker one) for the LONGEST time, and were walking in circles around this ginormous circular bar which looked like Daytona Beach at Spring Break, except that the kids were wearing less clothing than they wear at Daytona.

My friend has long blonde hair and is very tall, so we thought it would be easy to spot her, but HOLY GOD do you know what has happened in the 412 years since I have been at college? ALL COLLEGE GIRLS HAVE TURNED INTO HEIRESSES AND MODELS. Everywhere you looked, blonde blonde blonde, thin and hot and totally polished and no hair out of place. Is college now doubling as America’s Next Top Model™? Really, these girls all looked like they have an army of hairstylists and makeup artists at their beck and call, they are so perfectly turned out. When I was in college (in 1912, thankyouverymuch), it was All Study All the Time, except when we would hang out in each others’ rooms/apartments and watch Tommy Boy (if you were with guys) or Dirty Dancing (with girls), and the weekends would involve house parties with keg beer in a cup you paid $2 for, or one of the bars “downtown” where you got leered at by some local bikers.

Plus, people were cute, but we weren’t going out in clothes we got from BCBG or bebe or anything. Doesn’t the whole student stereotype involve having no money and spending your time in seedy locales? Maybe going to college in a big(gish) city is the difference, but it really is odd that a college lifestyle now includes (nay, demands!) professional highlights and enough spare cash for cover charges AND expensive drinks.

Anyway, my point is that Urban College Bars are intimidating. I could have done without a night of being invisible to a zoo of meatheads because I wasn’t wearing a tube top and a tiny skirt with my thong showing. And yes, I did find myself frequently thinking “Oh, how could she wear that? It’s so cold out tonight.” With that, I am officially The Archetypal Mother. Except that I can’t cook, so I am useless and need to be put out to pasture. Wow, I am really grumpy and the day has just begun. Bring it on.

supine @ 8.56 am |

12.2.2004

I AM the daytime wife, after all…

When I went to see that orthopedist the other week about my shoulder, he gave me these anti-inflammatory pills to take and told me to start going to physical therapy in about two weeks, but not to go if my shoulder still wasn’t better. Well, my appointment is almost here but my stupid shoulder is still not better. So I called the doctor up just now and left him a message asking him what I should do next, and when I hung up the phone, my boss, who, as you know, sits ten feet away, goes, “Well that sucks.” I said yeah, and I told him a story about how I was reaching for the laundry detergent recently on a shelf in the closet, and when I started pulling it down it was way too heavy for my shoulder and there was a big pain and I had to drop the jug, so I know that things are still far from healed.

He was all, “You might have to quit painting,” and I said that I’ll just have to start using my left hand or something. So he tells me this big story about some North Carolina basketball dude who was interviewed on national TV about how he managed to play so well after a big game, where he was defending the hoop with either hand, and his answer was: “I don’t know. I’m just amphibious!” And apparently that became a really famous quote, especially in North Carolina, where it is still used to this day when someone is trying to explain how they managed to pull something off unexpectedly.

My boss has told me this story before, but I laughed anyway, because I am a nice person. Also because he subsidizes my lifestyle, but that is secondary to my being a nice person. Really!

So anyway, then I was like, “You know, I still have not gone back to the gym. Can you give me a mantra or something?” because he too goes in cycles as far as eating well and exercising, so we frequently bitch to each other about how fat we are getting (although neither of us could be called “fat” by any measure, so really we are just being all junior-high-girly, all “ooh, please tell me I’m not fat,” which, yes, is lame).

And he goes, “How ’bout this: I’ve been working out, so I’m losing weight. So I’m getting hotter and you’re not.” Well, ouch. And DAMN, this is one good mantra. We both cracked up, and I was like, “Geez, I thought you were going to have to think about it for a while! Have you been waiting to be able to say that?”

He denied it but I know he has. Wily man!

Anyway, then work (work?) fell to the side and we just went off on it.

“You’re going to have to hire a hotter assistant, to match you!”
“Yeah! ‘Sorry, but you don’t fit the company image anymore, so…’ “
“Next you will hire two hot assistants, like on Ally McBeal or something!”
“Ha ha ha! Oh, don’t worry, there’s just more of you to love!”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT.”
“Ha ha ha - oh.”

Me: [Five minutes later, in a tiny voice] You don’t really think I’m getting fat, do you?
Him: [Wishing he had stayed home today] ARGH.

Heh. I am just kidding around, but it’s funny to watch him squirm.

supine @ 11.11 am |

12.1.2004

I will never sleep again!

Oh man, I had the worst dream last night. I dreamt that I woke up one morning pregnant. And not, like, “oh, I was older and married and we wanted a baby and yay, one morning I woke up and was pregnant!” No, more like “I woke up on a normal, present-day morning and had a HUGE PREGNANT BELLY.”

It was petrifying. I was pretty far along (I have no idea what the timelines are for these things), and my stomach was all solid and beach bally, and the next thing I knew I was going to a family party thingy. In real life, if I showed up (unmarried and at my age) pregnant at a family thingy, I am sure I would be disowned and cast aside all Tess-of-the-d’Urbervilles style, but for some reason in my dream all the relatives were totally happy that I was knocked up, and I was the only one remotely freaked out. People kept cooing over me and asking me when I was due, and I was like, “I didn’t even know I was pregnant! I just finished my period [sorry, TMI, but relevant to the dream]!” And everyone was completely off their heads and saying things like “That’s all right,” and “There, there,” neither of which have ever been uttered by anyone I am even remotely related to.

ALSO, in my dream it suddenly occurred to me that there was a father involved, and I decided to call him and tell him that I was hugely pregnant, but then I didn’t know who he was so I just stared stupidly at my cell phone, and then I realized that I was going to be all alone and pregnant and I started crying.

So it was not a very good dream.

Then I woke up, and you can bet that the very first thing I did was to grab for my stomach. Never have I been happier to feel a non-pregnant fleshy stomach than I was this morning. Ah, sweet insulating flab, you are too good to me.

supine @ 11.38 am |
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