Friday night

yelling at driver in crosswalk--check
worrying about looking for an apartment--check
eating at a very chic restaurant on someone else's expense account--check
seeing a guy light a cigarette after his run--check
thinking 'I love New York' after above incident--check
having boss' serious boyfriend imply a threesome--check
witnessing bar fight--check
taking a cab less than 20 blocks when I have no money--check

Good night.

Moving right along

It seems moving might be inevitable... Though I haven't put my charms to work yet.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, last night I went to dinner with an old friend of T. He is 40 has 3 kids was married at 22 and ripe with advice on how I should throw in the towel. Actually, I don't think I have ever gotten the advice to 'stick it out' or 'you don't want to always wonder what if' about this matter. Plenty of times I have been given the 'stick it out' or 'you don't want to always wonder what if' about acting. Acting, which never loved me back vs. T who has never faltered in his love (though he has definitely acted like an asshole). People are so strange about relationships. I feel like I can't date no matter what anyone suggests I get over until I can imagine the possibility of loving someone else. I don't know if that will ever happen.

I am aware that sounds dramatic as hell.

However, I feel it would be wrong to start dating someone when I feel incapable of really loving them. I haven't been sexually attracted to anyone enough to force it or pretend I could love them since E--and we all know that was a disaster.

That is all. It was on my mind and I have a million things to do. Luckily I have a temp today--I'm totally pumped!!!

Apologies

My sincere apologies to anyone google searching carbon monoxide mouse traps that I mooned by accident. Seriously, sorry. If you are interested in what I wrote about the mouse traps click here. I was unable to find the sound clip on NPR unfortunately. Nothing new to report really. Working a lot, recovering from my huge bruise, and while driving with a co-worker back from an event in Long Island I cried over love song lyrics. I'm wicked cool.

Sympathy

Did I show you my ass yet? Call me an exhibitionist.


I somehow think I'm safe from attracting stalkers.

Bootylicious

I have never participated in HNT (half-naked thursdays) like some bloggers, but I had to show you my bruise. I helped my friend AC load in to do a concert with his band, and fell down some slick stairs carrying music stands and guitar stands and whatnot. This bruise proves I am more than a great friend, I have the potential to be a great roadie.

Oh, and, I got the raise--not overly generous, but what was asked for. So I'll have a little extra to buy arnica gel.

Okay

My co-worker (the one who's going part-time in lieu of flat-out quitting, which might be right around the corner) and I went to an event yesterday. The event was pretty low-key and the two of us got to talking: drugs, sex, pay, you know, girl stuff. She admitted to me (she is talkative person, and I look trustworthy) that she was told that she would have a share of the company when she started working there. It never materialized. That has caused a rift.

Today I was supposed to receive my raise. It hasn't happened. I am trying to find an appropriate way to bring this up.

Some ideas:

"Hey, boss, remember how you said you would let me know about my raise yesterday. Well, since my pay was the same does that mean you decided I shouldn't get a raise?"

or

"So yesterday when I was doing co-workers job, I felt pretty excited about the new responsibility. I'm excited to see the change in position reflected in my pay."

or

"Remember when I had to borrow money from my father to pay my rent, and you heard the entire conversation because we share an office? Well, last night at home I had a conversation with him about how he thinks I need to start considering my options since you still haven't raised my pay."

or

"Did you forget to put my raise through?"

I'm not sure how, but it will be talked about.

news

Well, today Katie Holmes had a baby. If it were a few hundred (one hundred?) years ago it would be the cultural norm to call this baby a bastard, and if she left it on someone's doorstep it would be called a changeling.

Also NYC is considering offering housing subsidies for math, science and special education teachers. Funny, one would think a salary should be able to cover one's cost of living... Just further proof that New York real estate makes absolutely no sense. I wonder if someday they will have to bus anyone who makes under 6 figures. Is that what those Jersey buses do?

100 years ago today, the largest earthquake recorded in the United States hit San Francisco--it figured prominently into a historical novel of the Sweet Valley Twins. One of the Wakefield ancestors eloped to San Francisco and then her new husband died in the earthquake, but not before impregnating her with a legitimate Wakefield child. Unfortunately, in the fires following the earthquake the marriage license was lost. The child grew up believing for years it was a bastard until later, the license was found!

Yeah, I used to read the Fear Street series too.

I heart NPR

This morning when I woke up there was a story on NPR about mouse traps. The interviewer was talking to a guy who inherited the mouse trap business from his father and I think they might be the family that invented the famous old school mouse traps with the V on them.

So, in the story the mouse-trap guy talked about mice and how they are very inquisitive and very easy to catch because if you set up basically anything they'll investigate it. He also talked about all the different kinds of mouse trap inventions that people would come to him with and while interesting it's usually just not worth making a new mouse trap because the old V kind are about 88% effective and cost next to nothing.

Well, anyway, the interviewer asked what was one of the most interesting traps he had heard of and he told about this trap:

"It is a box trap that the mouse goes into and a door shuts behind it." mouse-trap guy explained. "Pretty typical up to this point, but then when the mouse nibbles the bait, a pellet drops into a little water and the mouse dies of carbon-monoxide poisoning. It's basically a little gas chamber."

"Oh, my god," says the interviewer. "Where these ever used anywhere?"

"Germany" answers the mouse-trap guy

"You are kidding" replies the interviewer, horrified

"No." the mouse-trap guy sounds like he's trying not to laugh, "Seriously, they marketed them in Germany."

"As a Jew," says the interviewer "I find that really disturbing."

I immediately wrote T in Munich with the subject line: thinking of you.

movin' out

It looks like I'll have to vacate my fantastic midtown apartment. Then I will have nothing to help me prove I'm better than all my friends. Boo. I might end up in Brooklyn in June. I may have to start taking the subway again. It's awful. As further details arrive, I will inform you. We got an eviction notice stating past due rent that has already been paid, but St. Matthew has no intention of staying on the lease when he moves since the landlords are clearly out of their minds. It seems to be sorted out, but he's gonna walk, and if I stay I can't get the same rate and blah blah blah. Who knows it might be for the best. I've been nothing but high-faluting for these wonderful years I've been able to masquerade as a Manhattanite. Hubris, you know.

Play by Play

voicemail received at 9:35 pm (I was in the shower before heading out to a party)

"Hey, yb, it's E. Don't be scared, I'm not drunk or trying to sell you anything. I have two tickets to the matinee of Broadway-play and I was thinking of you and then I was going through my phone and thought you might want to see it. If you can call me back in the next hour, I won't offer them to anyone else."

My original response is "Tickets? I don't need your stinking tickets!" But I remember that he and his girlfriend had already seen said play where my friend JA ran into them. Then I realize that my plans for tomorrow are to do laundry, and if I don't get free tickets to said Broadway play then I definitely won't see it. I think, sure, why shouldn't I take these? I return the call:

E: Hey
yb: Hey, thanks, it's sweet that you thought of me
E: hold on, I'm at work
(I hold on)
E: Hey
yb: Umm, hey, I just wanted to thank you for thinking of me, it was sweet
E: Do you want the tickets?
yb: yes
E: Okay, umm, are you at your apartment?
yb: Uh, yeah, but I'm about to head out. (this is mildly true, I have an event that I was thinking of bailing on, but I feel that I don't look good and don't want him inside my apartment ever again)
E: Oh, okay, well, do you want to stop by here?
yb: Can't you just leave them in an envelope for me?
E: Well, I...
yb: You think someone will take them?
E: Well, I, uh, yeah?
yb: John isn't there?
E: no, he's not, look I could meet you outside so you don't even have to show your face in here
I become deeply offended
(silence)
E: Is it really out of your way to stop by?
yb: No, I just don't want to.
E: Oh, well, uh
yb: I can, I just don't want to
(silence where I refuse to apologize for telling the truth)
yb: Okay, I'll come by, it's just...
E: No, no that's okay I'll leave them in an envelope for you.
(phone rings on his end)
E: I have to get that
yb: okay, bye, thanks

A text message arrives saying where the tickets will be and who to ask for them
I text back 'thank you'

I hate him. I 'show my face' in his restaurant, a public place, all the time. I just don't go there when I know he'll be there because I prefer not to see him if it can be avoided.

How is it that we don't speak for months and within seconds of talking he has offended me?

NYC

Went to the Met tonight with JH(f). Everything about the night was decadent and beautiful. Yay New York!

Separation

I went out with JH(m) tonight who is one of my closest friends from college. I usually go out with him and his boyfriend, but we had some rare one-on-one time tonight. We saw a play [title of show] which I recommend to everyone in the world and my fingers are crossed that it will transfer to Broadway. Then we got some drinks and started truth-telling. All about the things that you feel like you can't talk to with friends who are your 'adult-friends' the people who think you have your shit together and are what you appear to be. You know what I'm talking about--and I'll elaborate tomorrow.

Stressors

Work has been crazy. My co-worker is considering leaving. She had told me this in secret awhile back and finally on Monday told Boss. It will be okay--no matter what happens. At this point, it looks like things will take awhile and we will phase her out (even doing a long stint of part-time work for her). Then we're going to get an intern. I feel like I was an intern yesterday--2003 is practically yesterday. So, that has been on my mind and causing office tension which is a relatively new phenomena for me, because, let's face it, it was only back in 2003 when I was in intern.

Other stressors include that no one ever seems to care as more and more information surfaces that the Bush administration ARE HORRIBLE CALLOUS MURDERING LIARS. I hope this Iran nuclear thing doesn't distract people again.

Good Stuff

To counteract Tarzan the Musical I saw Rabbit Hole with Cynthia Nixon at MTC's Broadway space. It was fantastic. Everyone in it was great, and just amazing writing. JF was in town before she jet sets to Michigan in the fall to get her PhD--which will take 5 years.

I'm listening to a CD I was given by a guy at my office who helped produce it and thinks I'm the other guy's type. He caught me on a good day, so I was like, what the hell, give him my email--with the warning that I'm a total mess and shouldn't be dating i.e. 'I refuse to let you think I will go on more than one date with anyone--let alone some sight unseen musician who he later described as a 'Teddy Bear'. I think we all know that in terms of blind dates 'Teddy Bear' = morbidly obese. Sigh. Now that I'm listening to the lyrics, we're looking at:

'I wanna build a castle in your sand'

and

'I'm a nice guy barking up the wrong tree in anger.'

Heavy sigh. Dying alone--how hard could it be? Tolstoy suggests we all do anyway.

Lord, I'm ridiculous today--at least I donated blood. I may be a depressed person, but I'm a conscientious depressed person.

Oops

Tarzan the Musical

Tarrible.

bait and switch

I realized my last post was about an arm-pit rash and sex. Then I realized I have a friend coming into town this weekend and I may not get back here til Monday, so let me tell you about something more pleasant.

Star Sighting: With my father in the West Village on Saturday, I walked past Peter Sarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhaal eating outside. I told my dad after we passed and he said he didn't know who they were, didn't care, but if I wanted to we could go back and he'd take a picture.

Unduly sad

A day that started out great with crazy huge white snow-flakes and unstoppable energy quickly spiraled down. I got on the wrong train to go to a stupid dermatologist appointment and there is nothing worse than thinking you are a New Yorker and taking the wrong train. No, there is nothing worse, except for having a bizarre rash in your arm-pit that your bizarre, short, probably-Turkish, ancient dermatologist seems perplexed by. Then when I came home my roommate had moved some stuff in my room to use my computer. When I say stuff I mean clothes and when I say moved I mean, threw on the floor. I love him, he can throw my clothes on the floor as much as he wants if he picks them up before I get home.

So I've decided that the solution to my being stressed and freaked out by all this crap is that I need to have sex.

progressive

I had the money talk with my boss today. She tried to put me off. "Can we wait on that? Blah blah blah." I used the word deficit. She is going to 'think about it.' I'm going to give her a week and then a nudge, if necessary another week and a push. I'll let you know how it goes.

Honesty

When my father and I were drunk, the subject of my mother came up, as it often does when he and I are alone. I have a lot of issues with my mother, because of (mostly) how alike we are and how much I want to be different from her. My dad said (for the first time) that when he met my mother he was really down on women (having gone through a divorce and the difficult marriage that led up to it). He said that he looked at her and thought, 'this woman is really going to mess up her life unless someone helps.' He found out that the way to help was to love her, though he said he realized both things simultaneously. In falling in love with her, he saw her learn to help herself. My mother is a fighter. She lives her life running uphill and doesn't want it any other way, but she was going to kill herself without any back-up in her battles.

I have always marveled at my parents relationship. They seem about as opposite as two people can be. She's a massage therapist with a masters in Psychology and he is a retired Air Force officer who worked at a very high level with environmental clean-up (my high-school boyfriend was born in the town where the A-bomb was assembled). They have very different views on so many things, but they love each other.

I told him that the example I have seen my whole life between them is the 'mystery of love' and that I want nothing less for myself. I think that's part of the reason I hold on to hope over T, because that was what he and I had. The kind of love that doesn't need an explanation--because it defies all explanation. I feel so lucky to have told my father that.

Growing Up

My father came to visit me this weekend and we had a really good time. We walked all over the place, had some great meals, saw 'Inside Man,' and got hammered. We had some cocktails and the best conversation of my life. I think my Dad is a near-perfect guy, but he's quiet, so an open free-flowing, quick-witted conversation is a rarity. The only downside to the evening was at about 3 am when my father, rolling out of bed to go to the restroom plummeted from my 6.5 foot tall loft bed. I was on the couch and heard the thud. Luckily everything is fine, he had a few scrapes but is a-okay. When St. Matthew moves out, I have to move into the larger loft-bed-free room.