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Mon, May 15

Magnolia Cupcakes and Sad Clothing

I always make the same mistake: I eat out way too late (say, 10:30 or 11 pm), in the Village (say, "Extra Virgin"), eat way too much (say I share a plate of fried calamari, and have salmon tartar, and grilled codfish), and then decide that I absolutely MUST have a Magnolia cupcake. I mean, since I'm in the nighborhood and everything.

And this is strictly hypothetical.

Who am I kidding. Its not. Any time I am near Magnolia, rain or shine, full or beyond full, I cannot pass up on the opportunity. Every time I pass the Marc Jacobs store on my right, just a block away from sugary goodness, my heart starts to beat really fast. And then when I get there. Oh the dilemma! Should I have a good old fashioned cupcake or...the banana pudding? What to do?

This past Friday, I opted for the pudding. Good call. J asked for a glass of water and the cashier was like, "Oh, we sell bottled water." J said, "No, thanks. Tap is just fine."

"Really? I don't think you want to drink that." said the cashier.
"Why not? Its just New York Water."
"But its from the back and we rarely drink from there," she countered.

Isn't it funny that water comes from the same source, but somehow loses its appeal when it comes from a bathroom faucet, or the laundry room faucet, or WORSE, the faucet that Magnolia employees "rarely drink from?"

J decided to forego the water. Thank goodness Jarett purchased some chocolate milk with his four cupcakes. Best of all, I got to drink it with a straw. How fourth grade!

Speaking of vices, I wilfully went to see "Stick It" last night with D. Yes, it was formulaic (the badass girl with a mysterious past trumps going to Juvy by going to Gymanstics camp instead. She wins over the girls who hate her and befriends the "popular girl" who isn't pure evil, in fact, she has a really awful mother and that's why she acts like she does. Oh, and then she kicks butt in the end of the movie.) I really liked that fact that the heroine did not have a love interest. Most of these movies always have that cute guy character (not the HOT guy, he's always the decoy, the one that the girl thinks she likes and then realizes he's a total jerk) who engages in witty banter or competition with the protaganist. By the end, they form some kind of bond and there's an inevitable hand holding or kissing scene. Cue the youngin's in the theatre who say "Wooooooooh!" Anyway, it was a great feel-good flick.

I've found a new bar I like. Or rather, Aly suggested a fun new place. Belmont Bar on 15th between Lex and Park. All the college buds met up the other day because our good friend Jessie who has moved to Cali was in town. It was a really nice time, though too short. And when I went to use the bathroom, I was following this girl inside, when she looked back at me, glared, and SLAMMED the door on my finger. I still am black and blue and it is a miracle she didn't chop it off. Obviously I didn't realize it was a one person bathroom. It wasn't like I'd walked in on her peeing or anythinng--she had JUST walked in. I waited until she walked out and told her she'd slammed the finger on my door. No, that's not a mistake, it hurt so badly I could hardly speak English. Miss "I'm too busy to listen to your problems, I'm on my cell phone even though I just exited the bathroom a nanosecond ago" looked at me, and said a curt, "Sorry." She so wasn't.

Phew. Just got finished with laundry. What an accomplishment.

I can't help it but every time I open my closet, there are these same eight or so shirts/dresses/pants that scream to me, "Donate me! Give me away!" but I just can't. I'm such a wierdo that these things weigh on my mind as actual "dilemmas", but sometimes I feel the burden of owning too much, or owning things I do not use. I am trying to rebel against my inner hoarder. It is too hard. I attach sentimental value to shirts that make me feel ugly when I wear them. For example, I have this one shirt that is way too short, has lace sleeves, and some kind of painted girl face on it. Its really pretty looking, in the abstract sense. Like, on the hanger. But on ME, it looks like something I might have worn in 8th grade. You know, shirts with "pictures" on them? And, I don't mean the ironic ones. I mean like, teddy bears and kitty cats. You know what I'm talking about. Anyway, I cannot get rid of it. I bought it my Junior year abroad in a flea market and I thought it was just so original at the time. Original, and really cool to actually wear. Now I just think it is original. I swear I've placed it in the "donate" bag five times, and by some unknown force it manages to wiggle out of the bag, and climb back onto a hanger in my closet.

What would Freud say?

The worst part is, when it comes to said ugly piece of clothing, I feel guilty for not wearing it. Guilt! The same kind of guilt I used to feel when I'd favored one stuffed animal or doll over another, and then realized " but what about the other animals/dolls?" Even if I didn't really like the neglected doll all that much, I'd sleep with it by my pillow to make "it" feel better. And then, when I grew too old for dolls, I made sure I put them in a box all nice and cozy so I wouldn't feel too guilty about having become a teenager and needing to hide them from what I imagined would be the many many boyfriends that would frequent my bedroom. Hahahhaah. No seriously. You could open one of those boxes and see that the dolls are having an actual tea party in there. Just so I know they're um...not too unhappy with out me.

Now that I think about it, this is how I feel about my various creative interests. Guilt. I feel guilty for not working on "my book." But then again, I just finished putting together a production last Tuesday. Don't I get a break? "No." Says my conscience. Must. Make. More. Must. Write.

By the way, this drivel doesn't count.

Now I'm gonna go pack a neglected shirt to wear to work on Wednesday since I'm staying at J's tomorrow to cook a "healthy" dinner inspired from a Mario Batali cookbook.

Posted by lexzog at May 15, 2006 11:26 PM

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