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Tue, November 30
The Day Flies By...
My first moment of solitude all day...Its 12:23 am, and I know I have yet to work on some writing for the show on Monday, but I need to do the blog thing. Its compulsive behavior, I know.
It was so weird to work on writing a piece about my college boyfriend, and get into that "mood" (popping in the Tori Amos cd's, the Ani D. cd's, anything depressing), while my great boyfriend was in the next room. After seeing The Incredibles last night (awesome), the only time I had to work on my piece was around 11pm! I was completely zoned out to my current world, and totally reliving past feelings and events. Which is an odd place to be.
And whenever I go home, I always find myself leafing through my old journals. Its almost scary to read words that I know I wrote, that sound like me, but just seem so foreign. Like, when I started dieting after my freshman year, and slowly fell into an eating disorder, my journals read like I'm having the time of my life! It is not until one entry in particular, that I actually realized I had a problem. I was almost euphoric in my starved state, but nothing in the journal reflected any deep thought, any real emotion...It sounded more like "reporting", more like "this is what I did today." I know this blog sometimes sounds like that, but that is because I am sometimes afraid to really get it all down here, for everyone (all three people who read this :) ) to see.
Speaking of the past..I was walking up the subway stairs on 2nd avenue, and who was at the top of them looking not even surprised to see me after all these months, but Phil. The guy I was absolutely nutty about last year, last January to be exact. So odd, because that was a year ago, but seems even longer ago. And of course, by Murphy's Law (For Makeup), I HAD to run into him after having just gotten back from the gym, wearing absolutely no makeup and my hair a mess. It took him nearly 10 minutes of chit chat to ask me about ME and my life...I can't say it wasn't awkward. I mean, the way we left things, we'd dated for a while, he'd decided to go back to his long-distance 17 year old girlfriend, and then a month later called me crying and wanting to see me. We got together for dinner, spent hours together and of course, I never heard from him again. And then there he was, same as the last time I'd seen him with his crazy hair and thrift shop sweaters (you always expect people who've burned you to have gone through some major transformation during the time that you don't see them anymore).
I met Stephen for dinner tonight- we went to John's on 2nd Ave and 12th street. At some point, during a racier part of our conversation, a table of people across the room were obviously listening in. So we started talking about circus folk and how much we enjoy having sex with clowns, etc. and I think we scared them off from eavesdropping.
Ok, time to get down to business. I feel like this is homework...
Posted by lexzog at Tue, November 30 | Comments (0)
Thu, November 25
Off-Color
Just got back from Thanksgiving dinner in Flemington, NJ with my grandparents, some family friends and my family. I don't know how this tradition started, but every year it is my job to decorate the sweet potato pie (well, there actually isn't any crust, its just mashed sweet potato in a crock). This year, my ten year old sister was an actual help. I think her artistic skills are beginning to match mine (when she tried to help me decorate a pie four years ago, it resulted in a mess of haphazardly placed marshmallows and raisons. She insisted that it was a picture of our cat.) Inspired by the fish tank in my grandparent's living room, we decided to do a Rainbow Fish motif. Grandpa took pictures, so you can see the masterpiece too, when he sends jpgs to me:
(to come)
On the ride home, mom mentioned that before dinner someone told an off-color joke. Of course, my brother and I asked her to tell it to us.
"No, no, it's inappropriate." she said.
"Mooooom, just tell us!"
"It has the "p" word." she cautioned.
"Penis?" I asked.
She didn't say anything.
"Oooooh. You mean the other "p" word."
"Uh-huh", she responded.
"OK, then just use a different word when you get to it in the joke."
"What, like beaver?" she asked, and laughed.
Just then, my little sister spoke up:
"MOM! JUST TELL THE JOKE ALREADY AND SAY 'BEAVER' IF YOU NEED TO!!!"
Lord almighty...
As for happenings earlier this week: I finally got my stitches removed and was able to take my first spin class in two weeks. Being a bit rusty on the bike, I wasn't sure if my seat was adjusted properly, so I asked the (much older, with a marriage band on his finger) man next to me (who seemed like a more seasoned spinner) if my seat looked OK. He kindly got off his bike and helped me fix the seat so it was at the right distance from my handle bars. During class, he kept on looking in my direction instead of at the instructor, or even straight ahead. I figured he was looking at his posture in the mirror, which was right next to me. Occasionally, he'd make a comment like, "Pretty rough, huh?" and then when we were nearing the end of class, "This is my favorite part of class- the end!" (hardy har har).
Just as I was leaving class, he cornered me: "That was some class!"
"Yeah, she's a great instructor."
He smiled: "Well, I found it really enjoyable...Mainly because of YOU."
Ewwwww. Creepy-Older-Married-Guy.
On my way home from the gym, I stopped at the cleaners. There was a new guy working there. He helped me figure out that it wasn't necessary to dry clean one of my shirts, when soap and water would do a better job. As I left, he said, "I really hope to see you soon. It was a wonderful pleasure to meet you."
What? You hope I stain another shirt? And didn't you and Creepy Older Married Guy notice that I look like ass and am in desperate need of a shower? I must be exuding weird pheromones or something PMS related.
One more funny story (unless you are terribly bored by the preceding ones): Last weekend, I was waiting in Port Authority for the bus to go to Jersey, when a young guy walked into the waiting area and asked if the 20T bus went to Giant's Stadium. I told him that it doesn't go anywhere near there. The next day, I got an email from one of my readers, who comments on this blog once in a while. He wrote, "Were you by any chance in Port Authority around 1pm on Sunday? Do you remember a dashing young gentleman asking you for directions?" It was HIM! How odd! No, he wasn't stalking me. It was the purest of coincidences. He told me he thought it was me at the time, but in case it wasn't, didn't want to sound like a freak and be like, "Is that you French Kitty?" (my alias on Friendster).
Yesterday, on the way to work, a very old woman was about to cross the street on 2nd and Avenue B. She was hunched over, with a cane, and holding very heavy looking shopping bags. I offered to carry her bags, and help her cross the street. She kept on saying, "No dear, you go to work." But I insisted. We ended up walking to 1st Avenue together, mostly in silence. It took 20 minutes. It was so weird to walk that same path that I walk every day, at such a slow pace. It was like seeing the world you think you know so well in a totally different light. I couldn't imagine what it must be like for her to go through every day that slowly, and that carefully. Every curb was a new obstacle: She leaned on me for support when she stepped onto one. What does she do when there is no one to help her? I know I sound like Miss America, but I wish I could do that every day...Too bad I'd only caught her because I was running very late to work that day.
During that walk, a man on the sidewalk shouted after me, "Your slight smile made my almost complete day." I never realized that I half smile at everyone on the sidewalk, or maybe I did realize it, but no one ever openly acknowledged it. I found his statement to be quite poetic...Even though as I walked away it was followed by hoots and whistles and other profanities...
City life.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, November 25 | Comments (1)
Sun, November 21
Whew!
When J goes to L.A., Lex goes out to play :)
Friday night, I worked until after the two janitors on our floor had packed and gone on their way. I don't think they knew I was still working away (wasting away) in my cube, because one was talking about his audition to be on that show "The Third Wheel" and said to the other guy, "When they asked me what my best feature was, I said, "My body--NO question."" Or, maybe he DID want me hear that...
I'm reading this book called "French Women Don't Get Fat" (which sparked me to email all the working girls I know on Friday and take an informal poll that asked, "What unhealthy foods have you eaten today?" I realized, happily, after reading thirteen replies to my query, that I am a very petty offender. Phew.) On the way back to my apartment, I decided to do something totally novel: To go to the grocery store, buy food, and (drum roll please), cook it!
I came home, thrilled with the menu plan: Chicken sautéed in parsley, artichoke hearts (the kind that come in oil, in jars from Italy), and lemon; sweet potato; and endive and radicchio salad with shredded parmesan. I was so looking forward to making this meal, sitting down, and relaxing until it was time to rally and get ready for a big night out.
The moment I opened my apartment door, and saw the familiar sneakers (Zach's) and heard kitchen-clanging-TV-blaring-people-talking-noises...I knew my hopes were dashed. The kitchen was being monopolized and the couch was fully inhabited.
I am a mere visitor in my apartment. I own only my bedroom.
And lately, this four people in a two person apartment thing (we converted it to a three bedroom, not counting that year round, one boyfriend or another would also be living there) is too friggin' crowded.
So that is my complaint portion...I did get to make dinner, but it wasn't as relaxing as I'd hoped, since I was so starving by the time I had room in the kitchen to cook and room on the couch to sit, that I inhaled it.
Anyway...The rest of the evening went much more smoothly. I went with Erica, Zach, and Kath to Planet Rose for karaoke. Shannon and her friend Amy met us there, as well as "Stephen from art class" (can I just call him Stephen?) I would have sung "Criminal" by Fiona Apple, because I'd like to think that I have a nice alto voice (I was mistakenly cast as a soprano all through school, and always struggled with those high notes). But a very off-key, painfully bad karaoke-er beat me to it. Ah well. Stephen and I got bored of the scene after a while, so we went to meet his friends at Pyramid (the predominantly gay bar) for 80's dance night. Note: Stephen is not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with it.
That was where the real fun was--there were of course, good looking guys everywhere...and none of them (ok, oddly enough, a few) gave me leering stares! I think this was the first gay bar I'd ever been to (on purpose that is, because there was that one time last year that our college guy friends took us to a bar in the East Village thinking it was a regular dive bar, and didn't realize until an hour after the girls had already figured out, why the men there were buying them so many drinks!)
I've never seen so many guys dance! I mean, really dance! Not just grinding their hips in overtly sexual ways, the way most men do at regular clubs, but this was good old fashioned go crazy and jump around dancing. Yes, of course, there were some couples doing the horizontal mambo (clothed), but mainly everyone was just having un-self-conscious fun.
I really wanted to dance on stage, but a shirtless guy with a dog collar hogged it the whole time.
Another night...
Saturday, Badman called and asked me to brunch. I decided that the grape nuts and soy milk I'd bought the night before could wait another day (or another, and another), and went to Cafe Le Charbon (Badman's choice) instead...We each brought our writing pieces for INNER MONOLOGUES. My piece is going to be about my college boyfriend. Oddly enough, Cafe Le Charbon was one of the college boyfriend’s haunts, when he used to live in the L.E.S. (before running off to Harvard to pursue his PhD in Renaissance studies). And just as I was taking out my piece to hand it to Badman, I looked to my left and saw all of my exes' ex roommates! Of course, only the girlfriend of one of them gave me a polite smile, but the rest of those guys are too assholic to even nod to the girl who spent almost a year sleeping over their apartment. Real nice.
After that, Badman helped me lug all my clothes to my coworker Sophie's house for her "Switch and Bitch" party. This is a truly genius idea for a party: Everyone brings the clothes they no longer want, or can't fit into, or just are plain sick of, and showcases them to the other guests. It is a free for all for hand me down clothes...All the clothing that does not get swapped is given to charity.
I scored a string bikini (perfect for Mexico), a mint colored scarf, and a camisole that I will now call my "magic" camisole because even though I was having an "ugly day" yesterday, later that night three separate people looked at me like I had just lost ten pounds, gotten my teeth whitened, and had a professional blow-out, and said how great I looked.
After that (and mind you, I went to bed at four am the night before), I met up with five of the writers that are going to be in the next show. We met at Lalita Java, by my apartment, because General Store supposedly closes at four pm (makes no sense, but that's what the host told Buttercup.) I really love these writing workshops. If I could do that every day, I think I would be a better person. The five of us sat around for hours, reading our pieces aloud, critiquing them, and of course, applauding them too. I think this group is going to be great...Again, a nice mix of people. After the boys left, Buttercup, Michelle and Em and I sat around chatting about boys, engagements, and celebrity gossip (just in case we thought we had gotten too high brow intellectual for the day).
All I wanted to do, by 9pm that night, was sit on the couch and watch "Someone Like You" for the third time. But no. There was partying to be done. Helena came over, and I showed her how to do eye makeup (Beck’s recommendation). At around ten fifteen we walked to the Indian restaurant on 6th that Erica and Zach had eaten at, and took a cab uptown to Cotton, on 27th and 6th for Kristin's birthday.
Cotton is the kind of club I imagine the young girls in the "Gossip Girl" book series would frequent...Or the kind of club I would have felt really cool going to when I was fifteen. Because that's the main age group that was there that night. I can't really complain though--there were free vodka drinks (as long as it was Belvedere), and good hip hop. We didn't get to stay long enough though, because just as the birthday girl got there, Helena and I had to leave to meet Jay (not J) at the F train on 1st avenue. We were headed to meet Becks at a party in Brooklyn.
I never go to Brooklyn, and here is why: The F train royally sucks, but the G train--that makes the F look like a carriage ride through the park. At least I know that the F is terrible, and predictably, at around Jay street, it decided to turn into a C train. For absolutely no reason. So we all got out, and transferred to the G platform...And waited there...For over half an hour!
In half an hour, Jay, Helena and I had made a top three list of our least favorite words (Panties, moist and a word so awful, I can't spell it here, but begins with a P and ends with a Y. Ew. Gross), complained 50 times about how stupid it was not to bring beer with us for the ride (bad subways drive me to drink), and also, told some of our more embarrassing childhood memories (I think that was just me, but I have enough to go around).
We finally made it to the apartment on Smith street in Cobble Hill. I couldn't believe how big that apartment was...Well, yes, I could. It was Brooklyn--everything's bigger, and cuter, and cheaper...But you know why? Because the train system is AWFUL! The L sometimes doesn't work for entire weekends, the F train hardly ever comes and let's not even talk about the G again...
The party was a lot of fun, but I was too tired to stay and have that much of it. I didn't drink at all, because I could tell early on that Jay would not be leaving early...And if I was to find myself a way home, I certainly wouldn't be doing it in an inebriated state. The girl who threw the party (with her boyfriend) was so cute--she walked around with a cookie tray, she gave people party hats (it was a "Everybody's Holiday Party" themed party). I met a lot of nice people...But after talking to this one guy about how different he is from his uncool, frat boy brother visiting from out of town ("He thinks Brother Jimmy's is the best bar EVER! But I still love him."), for half an hour, my eyes started closing. Not from boredom so much as exhaustion.
Becks introduced the amazing idea of taking a cab home. Yes, it was sixteen bucks, but that was sixteen bucks I didn't spend on expensive drinks.
My bed was never so inviting and comfortable...
And now, bed beckons. I spent today loafing around in Jersey, and recovering from the full weekend. I did the NYT crosswords with my grandfather. We ate Domino’s Pizza. My sister brushed out all my curls for fun, and it took her the entire "Desperate Housewives" show to get every knot out (after three days of not washing, my hair looks great (sadly, it is so dry it never gets greasy), but underneath there are Rasta type dreads going on).
I wonder if J's plane has landed yet.
Posted by lexzog at Sun, November 21 | Comments (0)
Thu, November 18
Soaring to Ecstasy
Isn't that a great title? I didn't make it up...It is the name of an event I went to earlier tonight at The Turkish House in United Nations Plaza.
No, I didn't happen upon this on a cultural whim. Brian (my ex physical therapist!) invited me, because one of his clients is the wife of the Professor who gave the presentation.
It was a celebration of the poetry and teachings of a spiritual leader in the 13th century, named "Rumi". I didn't quite grasp everything, but there was a lot of talk about "whirling" and "dervishes" (I love that word). Rumi, was the author of the "Mesnevi", which is considered the "Koran in Persian". The underlying idea in his poetry is an "absolute love of God."
"How lovely to halt and rest-and then to go on your way,
Not frozen nor muddled, to stay fresh by flowing away.
Yesterday is past and gone - so are your words of yesterday:
How lovely to find for each new day something fresh to say."
-Rumi
Basically, the Professor, and his daughter who is an actress, took turns reading portions of Rumi's writings and poetry, accompanied by a beautiful band of drummers and reed players, against a backdrop of slides depicting Rumi in tapestries and mosaics.
There was some Turkish food (black olive salad, some little meatballs), but by the time I got to it, there were only scraps. Hey, Turkish wine is pretty good!
After the show, the wife of the Professor repeatedly introduced Brian to everyone there, as "the man who helps me to walk." (Brian makes at home visits to his more elderly patients).
So that was the evening...
Tonight I came home to, who else, Erica and Zach on the couch. It looks like Zach is going to write something for the show, so I am crossing my fingers.
I went to J's last night to watch a bootleg version of the "Incredibles", but ended up having to just watch "The Tao of Steve", which I thought was a pretty smart movie.
I hated work today. It was this time last year too that I got so involved in my work, that it became like this automatic engine that just kept running all day with no purpose but to produce, produce, produce. I felt like I couldn't tell the difference between what "I" wanted to do, and the work I wanted to finish. Hard to explain...But kind of like there was this pull to do so much, and it was completely internalized...I like it when I feel that way about things that are "mine" like my painting, writing, dancing, etc. Yet, it was a pull that had to do with my job, and I wonder, is that healthy?
I can't wait to get these stitches out my back...I need to exercise. I need to move around. Grrrr.
I realized just this evening, that the "good guys", the ones that make good boyfriends, are guys who have gotten their hearts broken at least once. It humbles them. And then when they are able to trust again, they become that much more emotionally tangled in the girl, because they are so happy to be able to feel that way again. Or is it just a certain type of guy who is open to love and being loved? I am sure this goes both ways, for women as well as men I mean, but I feel like women in general are more open to falling in love or opening up to another person than men.
J's on a plane to L.A. for the weekend.
We're going to Mexico! For three weeks. Three weeks! I can't believe it...I've never been anywhere for that length of time...I've never spent three weeks with one person. He's asked me over and over if I'm cool with this, and I really am. It is a thrilling idea, because it is a risk in many ways.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, November 18 | Comments (0)
Wed, November 17
Sucked In
I meant to come home early tonight and work on my piece for the upcoming show (Dec. 6th!) but instead I got sucked in to the abyss that is Apocalypse Lounge. Rebecca called me to meet her after my dinner date with Karina at Barmarche (14 Spring St.) It's kinda nice that Rebs now has this dramatic thing going on with our friend Jay (who has a show every Tuesday at the bar, featuring different live music acts), and for the past few Tuesdays I've been able to hang with her before going back to my apartment a block away.
Tonight we sat at the bar and oggled "the most beautiful girl I've seen in person in a long time" (we both agreed). First of all she was French, so that just makes her a notch above all the rest if only for the fact that she can roll her r's unlike anyone else at the bar. Second, she had the most gorgeous face. And third, was the type of thin that can only be achieved by good genes and no muscle tone. Funny because I find girls that are athletic looking, attractive, but also girls who are waif thin--but that must be my own weirdness. Definitely not a feminist sentiment!
Strangely though, Becs and I agreed that the girl singing on stage, who was not "model pretty" was also strangely mesmerizing and sexy. The verdict? It is all in how you hold yourself. Either of those girls would have been unnatractive if it weren't for their innate confidence in themselves.
Beauty is something you carry. Some people just carry it better than others.
Earlier this evening, at Barmarche, I found myself in the midst of quite an awkward moment: When the mohawked, British (and also impossibly beautiful) waitress tried to seat us, I realized we were about to be placed in the table two inches from a guy I dated last year. And he was on a date.
To be honest, I wasn't so nice to this boy when we'd dated. We dated a few times, and I thought he was adorable, but then I started dating "The Neighbor" and Kjell (my friends called him K-Jell 'cuz it sounded more thug) kind of fell in the background. I didn't know what to do the night that my roomates and I threw a party with the boys next door. Initially, The Neighbor wasn't supposed to be home that night, as he was away on business. So I invited Kjell to the party (well, any time Erica and I threw parties we'd invite at least five guys we were either dating or flirting with at the time!). Of course Neighbor ended up coming back early, and I ended up giving all my attention to him. The other boy left without saying goodbye, and when I called the next day to apologize he never called me back.
Actually, he found me on Nerve.com earlier this past summer, and we exchanged emails a bit. So maybe it wasn't the worst ending.
Anyway, upon seeing him there, I stopped in my tracks, gave him a little wave, and said to the waitress, "Actually, I think we'll sit over THERE instead" (pointing to a seat out of his view).
As if that wasn't interesting enough, guess who stepped outside of the restaurant for a couple of cigarette breaks? Our very own JENNA BUSH. With her very own gaggle of Republican girlfriends. I actually jokingly said to my friend, "G-d I wish I could k--l her father", and then realized that probably wasn't a good idea to say, as the restaurant was probably thoroughly tapped.
So, the food: Delicious, but very small portions. I ate the loaf of olive bread they served to us, to fill me up. The appetizer (grilled asparagus with pecorino cheese and arugula salad) was perfectly seasoned, but there were maybe six thin asparagus total. We each had a tiny salad, neither of which were served with greens. I must admit the endive/walnut/pear/gorgonzola salad was delicious, but not big enough for dinner (or a starving girl like me). I wondered if this place scorns big eaters: Even the apple pie was served on a fingerfull of pie crust, so it was mainly apples. Really good apples, but still...It ain't no pie if it ain't got crust.
This reminds me of my grandfather's favorite joke: A Jewish woman says to another Jewish woman, about a restaurant she went to, "The food was AWFUL! And the portions...They were SO SMALL!"
Speaking of Jews...I was talking to one of J's friends last night at his apartment (he'd made dinner for his roomates and friends) abotu Jdate. As soon as I was reminded of this dating website, I made remarks about how awful it is, and how everyone on it sucks. After a little back and forth, I realized that when I was once on that site, I was only about to be a Junior at college. So of course all the guys I dated (who were all older than me) were going not be what I was looking for at the time--they thought they were dating a young college girl who couldn't possibly want anything serious--and they treated me as such.
No wonder after a second date with one guy in particular, he insisted that he couldn't possibly let me take the subway all by myself from 72nd street to 110th at 11pm at night. He said, "I would be much more comfortable with you coming home with me to Astoria. That way I know you'll get home safe." I am so glad I had the foresight to call for backup: I called a girlfriend of mine and pretended that we were meeting for coffee in a couple of minutes and that she had decided to come down to the 70's. But really--who did this guy think he was? And that was only one loser story...
And then again, I realize that J hasb een on jdate too, in the past. Had I remaiend a member, perhaps we would have dated years ago. Which is scary, because I know that up until this year, I still wasn't over the college boyfriend. And, for the record, I only joined Jdate because my mom convinced me that all my problems with the college boyf. stemmed from the fact that he wasn't Jewish. I think that was the least of our problems!
I was at work until 7:30 tonight. I caught one of the young cleaning guys picking his nose while taking a break from tidying the women's bathroom...
Posted by lexzog at Wed, November 17 | Comments (2)
Sun, November 14
'Round These Parts...
So I just got back from Racine, Wisconson and I was sucessful in NOT purchasing a cheese hat (though they were quite abundant at the airport, and I had three hours of waiting for our delayed plane to deliberate over buying one).
I did, however, buy some Wisconson cheddar cheeze, and an apple called a "Pink Lady" from a local vendor (have you ever heard of that kind of apple before? Must be a Wisconson thing.)
Just to clue you in, I was there on a business-related trip with one of my bosses. I can't say I was "away on business" because then you might picture me in a smart suit, making a presentation to a conference room full of middle-aged (and above) publishing head-honchos. What you CAN accurately picture me doing, is climbing up a shaky ladder in the warehouse where all the Golden Books are stored (from when Racine was the Golden Books headquarters way back in the day, before Waterbook press, then Random House bought them), and picking out one of every Little Golden Book there is, for archival purposes. The warehouse was a bit creepy, because it was adjoined to a working factory that had chipped mottos on the walls from god-knows-when that said "COURAGE" and "TEAM WORK". Every time we had to use the bathroom, we had to put our name on little pink slips by the door to the factory so that we wouldn't get locked out of the archives. I was a little disturbed that the door had a sign that said "Must Wear Eye Goggles Beyond This Point". I had no eye goggles, needless to say.
It was such a hoot to see books like "Good Little, Bad Little Girl" about a little girl who is sometimes very good and sometimes a hell on wheels, where the moral is that little girls should be as good as they can be, because then they will be happy. Simple and wholesome, but also eerie.
Does anyone remember that board game about dating called "Girl Talk?" I saw it lying out in the warehouse, and it turns out that the son of the woman in charge of the archives there was photographed as "The Hunk" in the playing cards that came with the game. It was so funny to see that game after all these years...I remember the "Will he, or won't he?" cards that predicted whether "The Hunk" would ask me on a date or not (in the game).
I still am waiting for him to ask :)
Going to places like Wisconson highlights for me just how unfriendly New Yorkers are...First of all, people smile. All over the place. Even when they're not asking for something! I've never met such friendly restaurant workers, hotel workers, bus drivers. Our cab driver didn't know how to get us to the hotel (Ok, so NYC wins in the department of cabbies with geographic proficiency), so we asked one woman who pulled up next to us at a stoplight if she knew where our hotel was..Instead of just giving us directions she said, "I'll take you there", and had us follow her all the way to the Radisson. If someone asked the person next to them to roll their windows down in NYC, I swear he/she would get a bizarre stare from the other driver..."What? Help? Help you? What does THAT mean? Peace out."
The man who drove us from the hotel to the Archives warehouse gave us a little tour of the town...We saws the most gorgeous lake-front houses, and by the way, that lake they have looks more like an ocean to me! Racine is the home of Johnson Wax of "S.C. Johnson Wax", so he put a lot of money into the town...It is so beautiful. They have indigenous yellow brick that I have never seen anywhere else (guess that's what makes it indigenous).
I ate junk food every day: Arbee's, Cousin's subs, greasy room service...Oh yeah. Good times for my stomach. I even had "cheese soup" at the airport, which tasted like beer, in a good way.
The editor who took me on the trip knew of an excellent restaurant, just a block from the hotel, called "Waves." I was so surprised- the menu was quite gourmet. We had baked brie with pecans, and a homemade chutney, a non-cream based pumpkin soup, a wonderful Australian Shiraz, and I had snapper with pineapple salsa. Oh, and pumkin creme brulee. I thought I would get right to sleep, but of course, the lure of watching TV from my bed in the hotel room got the better of me. I watched "Cheaper by the Dozen" which was not half bad, then flipped through channels until my brain went dead...At some point, I did sleep, but I was already so sleep deprived from waking up that morning at 4am to get to the airport, I was beyond wired.
I didn't get back home to NYC until 11:30pm on Friday night. J picked me up so we could sleep at his apartment and have a full day together on Saturday. He made breakfast for me (eggs with mushrooms, really good bread), and then we walked around Soho...Until Emily and her beau were ready to meet us to "watch the game." I think the last time I "watched the game" was back in Paris with Michele, when we were studying abroad, and we heard a nearby American bar was hosting an College Football night...Those french boys just didn't do it for us :), so that was incentive.
We met up with The Emster (new nickname for Emily!) and Jonathan at Brother Jimmy's on the Upper East Side. It was packed with rowdy upper east side boys eating hot wings and drinking pitchers of beer (If only I knew, two years ago, that THAT was THE PLACE to meet men, when I was into that fratboy type.) I have no idea what transpired during that game and already have forgotten who won--I was too busy eating barbeque ribs to pay attention, and I guess I'm still impressed with myself for being able to follow Game Seven of the Yankees/Red Sox. Football, that is a whole 'nother story. I DO know that it was Texas Tech. vs. Texas A&M. Shocked?
(I think I need to detox. Wait- I just ate a miniature pumpkin pie that Erica and Zach brought home from Zach's cousin's wedding.)
After "the game", J and I stumbled into a cab and then took a nap for five hours...Woke up at 11 and realized that we immediately had to get into party mode: My friends were meeting me at Table 50, where J's friend Pete was having his birthday party.
Once I took a shower, I was somewhat awake. Still could not get the red out of my eyes, so to make things worse I wore a crapload of eye makeup. J wore his furry, fuzzy scarf.
I like Table 50 because they have a pretty decent dj who plays hip hop music. But unfortunatley, there was a disgusting couple on the dance floor, who were so drunk that it was like watching the ring of a wrestling match: They swayed all over the floor in a liplock, bouncing against the backs of other people trying to dance, sometimes falling onto the floor, sometimes the guy would lift the girl up...Of course no matter where I went, they somehow ended up banging into me, right where I had my back surgery...
Today was pretty mellow...Ate brunch with J at Bar 6. (I had woken up craving pancakes, which J accurately predicted meant that I would want something completely different by the time I got to a restaurant. That always happens). I came up with a great combo for an omelette: Merguez sausage and artichoke.
Oh, and did I mention that we are planning a trip to Mexico, where I will be expected to only pack like, two items of clothing for three weeks and stay at places that may or may not have bathrooms in the rooms?
After we parted ways, I got lost in Urban Outfitters, among all the cozy sweaters and annoyingly trendy tank tops. I of course bought things I didn't need, but couldn't leave the store without...Made my way downtown and stopped in for a manicure/pedicure. I love the Essie color "Photo Op." It is a perfect brownish/reddish fall color.
Time to pick up my laundry from the basement, which I am sure by now has been taken out of the dryer and thrown onto the table in the laundry room which hasn't been cleaned since...ever?
Hoping that everyone will have their first drafts done by this Saturday, for the December 6th show..."Inner Monologues II".
Great quote from "Liar Liar" (Jim Carrey):
"Dad, my teacher says that beauty comes from the inside."
"Oh son, that's only something ugly people say."
Or something like that...
Posted by lexzog at Sun, November 14 | Comments (0)
Tue, November 9
Inner Monologues: The Lowdown
Wow. What a blast!
I was so friggin nervous the night before THE BIG SHOW--Hardly anyone had turned in a single final draft by then or the personal bios I requested each person write, and I had just come back from spending the day mourning my grandmother's passing (a year ago) with my family. As soon as I walked into my apartmnet, I managed to hit my head on the bottom corner of my glass medicine cabinet (I can show you the scar!) I guess nervous wasn't the right word, but more, frustrated and anxious. Oh, I don't know. Let's just settle on the idea that I had little faith in how this was going to pan out...But it did, quite brilliantly.
I got to Apocalypse Lounge early, and chatted with Buttercup and Michelle S. (two of my readers) about laser hair removal and spending too much money on clothing/accessories (oddly enough, my story and Buttercup's were very similar, in that they talked about how important buying clothes are!). After a glass of wine, I was like, "What will be will be" and decided there was going to be no practicing before the show.
(I wrote to everyone who participated today, to toell them that I just had a permanent smile on my face the whole time, as I sat next to the stage during the readings. Everyone was entertaining, and had their own personal flair.)
We filled the whole house, and I later realized that the bartender hadn't expected this kind of turnout for a Monday, and thus did not bring on a barback to help people order drinks (since they couldn't really get up during the readings). The full house was testament to the fact that I have a wonderful group of friends and people that support me.
I have appointed Lindsay as my Publicity Agent. She collects all the memorobilia that I've generated this year (newspaper article, magazine clip, the Stand UP NY thing, now this--unfortunately, all of which are related to my being either an expert dater or a woman obsessed with her looks). And by the way, it was her birthday recently, so since she is a frequent lexblog reader, this is her little happy birthday shout-out. Shout out!
Never knew how much I would enjoy hosting an event...No, OF COURSE I knew. It just felt so good. I wasn't nervous after my first time sitting up on the stage, and eventually I wasn't bothered at all that there was an audience out there, each time I went up to introduce the next speaker.
I also loved the whole process of putting the pieces together: The workshop, where we went over all the problems with our pieces and made suggestions to one another, and then seeing how each person addressed those problems in their final drafts; deciding what order would best round out the theme of the night, and make it flow...And this I didn't finish deliberating over until the last minute (unusual for me)...But the sequence of which speaker went after which ending up being perfect.
J took pictures of the whole thing, but kind of stayed behind the scenes after it was over, while everyone was chatting. I guess he wanted it to be "my show", literally. But it is so odd to see a man who is so outgoing and can command a room when he walks in, take a step back when it comes to MY friends. But maybe it is because we are similar in that way, and only one person can occupy that role at a time?
So there will be another show, on DECEMBER 6TH. Also at Apocalypse. I have a lot of people who have expressed interest in doing it, but I have to see who REALLY thinks they can get their act together by then....
Here is the piece I read:
And now for the update on LIFE since we haven't gotten to that yet:
My dad provided some entertaning stories this past week: On Friday morning, as he was getting dressed for work, he noticed a tie in his closet that he hadn't seen before. He was quite happy about it, it was like finding a present he had forgotten to open...So he put it on, and went about his morning routine. Then, just as he was about to leave, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and noticed something funny about his tie: On the back of it, was what looked like a picture of a leg. Upon closer inpection, the leg revealed itself to be attached to a body, which revealed itself to be a woman's naked body, getting it on with another woman's naked body! It was a PORNOGRAPHIC TIE! Horror of horrors--he could only imagine what it would have been like if he had worn that to work (as a gynecologist/fertility and hormone specialist) and sat across from a patient or a couple! Here is my dad, the serious doctor, dealing with touchy health issues (inability to get pregnant, menopause, etc.) and there on the back of his tie, peeking out like the face of irony--Girl on Girl Action...My mother called my brother later that day to as, "Hi Hon. Did you lose a tie by any chance?" He mumbled something quickly about getting it as a gag gift for his Bar-Mitzvah...One may never know. One may not WANT to know.
Second dad story: I met him up at Hunter College on Sunday so we could drive back to Jersey together for my grandmother's unveiling (more later). He was parked on 1st avenue but on the East Side. You know, on the other side of the MARATHON, for God's sake. Which was a good thing, because unless your car has wings, if you're west of 1st ave that day I can't imagine many leaving NYC by car. When we got to 70th street, we saw people running in hordes--no, no the runners--but pedestrians trying to cross teh street when there was a break in the crowd of marathoners. Dad and I got there just as the Po-Po started yelling at people. But an aggressive man with a stroller ignored the police and shouted to no one in particular, "Go! Go! Right after the red guy passes us!" so like obedient ducks, we all crossed the street. Of all people (mind you there were many baby carriages, toddlers, old people, all crossing in the same crowd as dad and I) dad was the one to nearly ruin the race for one poor fellow. He missed him by a hair, or maybe it was his BRIEFCASE flying in the air that missed the runner by a hair. It all happened so fast :) The runner dodged my dad, and flew to the right, nearly running into another runner, as people shouted to my dad and I, "You assholes! You idiots!"
I am happy it didn't make the news that night...
As for earlier that weekend...Friday night I met J at The Blue Note to see Bilal play (my first time hearing/seeing him) with Common as a special guest. It was PACKED-about 8 people were squeezed into long tables that could seat only four comfortably (and J was stuck next to a heavy guy eating chicken wings). Bilal's music is described as fusion of hip hop beats with jazz rythms into "his special brand of music." He did an amazing cover of the Radiohead song with the chorus that goes, "Everything in its right place". It was hard for me to not get up and start dancing (not crazily, just the way my body wants to move qwhen I hear a good beat)...I was very impressed with the piano player.
We ate a late late late dinner (1:30am) at Blue Ribbon...Their raw bar is excellent, especially the oysters, but I still think Balthazar has the best crab mayo. That place is hopping until 4 in the morning--and it isn't just chefs eating late. There are still dates going on, and friends meeting up. A very cool vibe.
Unfortunately, J was cranky and it wasn't the most comfortable of dinners...This crankiness lasted through brunch the next day, my waiting in the Virgin Megastore for him to pick out CD's for two hours, and through the early evening. Ever since our "Breakup for a Day", I've been a bit paranod/insecure...I began to worry that I was about to hear something about "how he wasn't comfortable with me right now" again. I sat quietly worrying and fuming on the couch, after he snapped at me because I didn't use a coaster on his table. The worrying slowly turned into getting angry as hell (Someone can do the kind of thing he did to me once, and at the time, you are sad. If he does it again, I would think, or at least hope, that being pissed off overrides the sad/sentimental feelings...) Glad I didn't have to find out because...
After he poutily announced that he "wasn't going to feel like going out that night", a miraculous thing happened that made him become a different person (or, his normal self) three hours later: He fell asleep.
That boy just needed a good nap. When he woke up he was his old party-planning, sweet, energetic self. He made plans for us to go out with his roomate Chien and Chien's "Swiss Friend" Martine (who is just adorable). We got drinks at a place near Sullivan and ate at Lupa. The table we were seated at, ironically, was the same table we sat at months ago, when I was still in my "Hm. J's nice, but...." phase.
On a work note:
I'm going to be writing two more books: Another Princess book and another Pooh book!!! So excited.
On Thursday morning, at 6:45 am, my plane departs for Racine, Wisconson to visit the Golden Books archives.
So I should get some sleep. Oh, this morning I had pre-cancerous tisssue from under my pre-cancerous tiny freckle on my back, removed. I never knew I was so queasy--I practically fainted when he stuck the needle in my back to give me local anesthesia.
My oh my my mind can run away without me...
Posted by lexzog at Tue, November 9 | Comments (0)
Sun, November 7
MY SHOW: Tomorrow Night
Come one, come all!
Posted by lexzog at Sun, November 7 | Comments (1)
Thu, November 4
Ain't no Taxis When it Rains
I was so desperate for a taxi tonight, when a small Mexican man (whose name I later learned was Luis) walked by Em and me on our way out of LIGHT (free drinks on Thursdays from 5-7pm!) I ran under his big umbrella without hesitation.
It was raining HARD and I was still just drying off from the hour long expedition of finding a cab in the rain from work to LIGHT (54th b/w Lex and Park), that I just couldn't bear the thought of getting any wetter.
Luis, who spoke little to no English, saw that it was his lucky day. He waited with two cute girls, huddled by his side in the rain, for nearly 10 minutes on a street corner.
He insisted on keeping his hand firmly on my waist, while I kept on trying to laugh and pull away without being mean--I mean, he WAS lending us shelter.
But then I felt like an Umbrella Prostitute. If those even exist.
When I saw a somewhat dry awning across the street, I figured it was time to let Pimp Daddy Luis and his Umbrella for Six go. We parted ways as he continued on his path to deliver dry cleaning to Midtown Eastsiders.
As we waited under the awning, two guys who had tried to pick us up earlier at the bar came up to us and said, "You again!"
This was the fabulous pickup line I got earlier that evening, at LIGHT:
"Hey, what's a good place to go out on Thursday nights?"
Which invariabley, meant that I was supposed to think real heard, searching my brain as if it were a living and breathing Citysearch search engine, until I realized that whatever place I told them, the guys wouldo try to get me to go with them there.
But I was better than that---I didn't spend three years crawling around NYC bars as a single gal for nothing--I recommended some place far away from where I lived and then said "Well, have fun, we're off, bye!"
They tried to get us to take a gypsy cab with them but we declined...
Instead Em and I ran in our heels, in barely warm enough for even a mild summer evening outfits, to the train on 54th between Madison and 5th (the only reason I remembered a train being there was because of that awful PR internship I did the summer before my senior year.)
Of course I got so wrapped up in conversation, I didn't realize we had taken the E and not the V train donwntown.
Grrrr...Across the platform, up the stairs. This was like last Monday all over again!!! Except I was soaking wet and freezing.
Finally caught a V, then a CAB to Croxley Ale on Avenue B.
Croxley...a Mecca. Who was the genius who decided to convert the closed-in outdoor space into a mini-theatre where one can eat a Fireman Burger (blue cheese, BBQ sauce, bacon) and Hot Wings, while watching the O.C.? I can't thank you enough. You fed me, sheltered me, and gave me Adam Brody.
Emily and I inhaled the wings, but barely finished our 12 dollar burgers...Next time we can share, like old people ordering Early-Bird-Specials.
Oh, but Croxley only takes American Express, How archaic is that?
Last night I hung out with Stephen (I always call him "Stephen from Art Class", even though Art Class has been over since last May!) at Hook and Ladder on 2nd between 33rd and 34th, to watch my friend Laurie sing. I always feel giddy after hanging out with him--he just has that kind of energy. Shannon met us there and brought her friend Jay, and I told them the George the Greek story (search Archives for "George the Greek")...we all had a laugh because back in middle school, Jay beat up George's roomate Louis pretty badly.
Oh, and apparently my butt is still famous from my little Dodgeball stint back in August...One of Shannon's ex boyfriend's friends called her 8 times last night because he knew she was hanging out with me and wanted to know if the "Gool" (Italian for ass, but I might be spelling it wrong) was still with her.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, November 4 | Comments (3)