tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37130137932234394922024-03-13T16:51:24.609-04:00Dorothy Parker Was Being Nicethe bitch is backe.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-66075965219318747262012-05-30T17:39:00.000-04:002012-06-11T15:48:50.969-04:00sprung<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">spring. Finally!<br />
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This may have been the lamest, stupidest winter in recent history but I'm still glad it's over because there are absolutely things I enjoy more than wool, gloves, tissues and boots. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Easy, oven-free dinners like sandwich night - (almost always from </span><a href="http://www.fairwaymarket.com/" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">Fairway</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">) honey maple turkey on Portuguese rolls with cole slaw (because that kicks mustard's ass every time) and a (corn or pasta or whatever) salad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A colorful break from the possibly chic but definitely depressing black and gray manicures to pastels and corals. </span></div>
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<a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ea470c60daaf&attid=0.1&disp=thd&zw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img alt="photo.JPG" border="0" height="200" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ea470c60daaf&attid=0.1&disp=thd&zw" width="148" /></span></a><a href="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ec3237900355&attid=0.1&disp=inline&safe=1&zw&saduie=AG9B_P_OhByotGEAJbrE0M_l95r5&sadet=1338398649032&sads=Ld4RHTdgf7LkAnT5GkBz30SuUB4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://mail-attachment.googleusercontent.com/attachment/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ec3237900355&attid=0.1&disp=inline&safe=1&zw&saduie=AG9B_P_OhByotGEAJbrE0M_l95r5&sadet=1338398649032&sads=Ld4RHTdgf7LkAnT5GkBz30SuUB4" width="200" /></span></a></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /><br />I'm </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">loving</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><a href="http://www.essie.com/" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank">Essie</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">'s corals (which is weird because despite a deep adoration for orange hues I've never been a coral enthusiast) from the left; Pink-a-Boo, Cute as a Button, Boathouse (which I'm wearing - above) and Coral Canyon. </span></div>
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<a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ea558cf59d72&attid=0.1&disp=thd&zw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="photo.JPG" border="0" height="200" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=0505fb5a31&view=att&th=1379ea558cf59d72&attid=0.1&disp=thd&zw" width="149" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My coffee addiction goes from burning hot to iced cold. I'm way too much of a Goldilock-control freak to let others make my coffee (I've tried but Dunkin' is way too watery, Starbuck's is too burnt, the bodega is hot coffee poured over ice - are you fucking kidding me?!) so I brew it and ice it myself. Toss in a little dark chocolate Hershey's and some milk and it turns out I make the most amazing "o</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">mbre" iced coffee if I do taste so myself. I've also managed to make enough so that I now have a stash at home and a stash at work - sometimes, I'm frighteningly easily to please. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no, I couldn't find a crappier picture </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Most of the year I adore my giant Marc Jacobs </span><s style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">oceanliner</s><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> bag. It's a neutral, go-with-everything brown leather behemoth, full of pockets that accommodates everything, and it should because it weighs as much as a trailer. By mid-March I'm usually </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dying</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to shed that 50 pound beast and start carrying my orange Goyard or anything made of nylon. Earlier this year I found this super-lightweight Cole Haan crossbody bag (the Alexis bag) and though I'm slightly scared of the light color, I've been using this bag for 2 weeks and I love it. It's got pockets for my phone, keys and metrocard, it looks neat and it leaves my hands/arms free, I know this is going to be my go to bag for a while (*update* - did I spill coffee on my bag as soon as I posted this? Of course I did. Here's an awesome feature, a little hot water on a rag and the bag was back to pristine in under 5 minutes. Miraclebag!). </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41QXfDWUt-L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41QXfDWUt-L._SL500_AA300_.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My most recent haircut was at a new salon near my apartment. While I didn't particularly love the cut I did love the products they used on my hair. I've seen Moroccan Oil stuff for sale a lot lately but I assumed it was meant for thicker, coarser Moroccan-like hair. Of no good use on my 16 strands hair. Wrong. Not only does everything Moroccan Oil smell </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">phenomenal</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> but it's completely lightweight enough to use on very fine hair and it's great at beating humidity. Whatever your hair-type is, at least give this a sniff, if you don't love the smell you probably eat puppies. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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But truly, my favorite part of this time of year? Lounging on the grass, with a good book, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">staring out at this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><img height="300" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/4173_85371318802_628858802_1970916_6579568_n.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Happy spring everyone!</span></div>
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</span></div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-65709307724947477612012-03-13T15:17:00.001-04:002012-03-15T10:46:16.904-04:00such a baby for an old lady<br />
<center><a href="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/03/13/1736.jpg"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/03/13/s_1736.jpg" style="margin: 5px;" width="210" /></a></center><br />
I lied. My birthday has been awesome so far (I mean really, look at the card <a href="http://www.thisfish.com/" target="_blank">Heather</a> MADE me!) and I have a sneaking suspicion it's only going to get better. And then it'll be over. Whew.<br />
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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhonee.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-49869448379550474062012-03-09T13:32:00.000-05:002012-03-09T13:32:58.262-05:00who's a debbie downer?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUz2q50tyVZdM59w3KnmG-mLmu7pwvxTTQN9Uvuvn4nCa8HCJ4IaP9i4nvcOXALBp89r3oM6GGEmfTKWMmFlL_QaM4S6kxGdzjPzUS1A7AwZAMJkRdF9MX-G9UZL1i25qfh8EOyI6KQ32i/s1600/sadbirthday-cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUz2q50tyVZdM59w3KnmG-mLmu7pwvxTTQN9Uvuvn4nCa8HCJ4IaP9i4nvcOXALBp89r3oM6GGEmfTKWMmFlL_QaM4S6kxGdzjPzUS1A7AwZAMJkRdF9MX-G9UZL1i25qfh8EOyI6KQ32i/s200/sadbirthday-cake.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm so ill prepared for a big fat birthday. I'm just not feeling it. It feels nothing like a celebration and completely like a "Calling Before the Yardstick" ceremony where I bear witness to my lack of accomplishment. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Married? No.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Children? No. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Published? No. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well surely then I've made great strides in my </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">professional growth and am experiencing an enriching and lucrative career. Ha! No.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A well appointed home that I've poured my non-marital, empty-wombed self into decorating? To the contrary, I think the Con-Ed construction going on right outside my building actually resulted in a tiny mouse skittering across my living room floor last night. At least that's what my dog's sudden crazed behavior indicated. Ah metropolitan living, so high end and pristine. Enviable, really. You're feeling envy reading this, aren't you? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are of course a few consolations; Jennifer Aniston for example. She is very hot, very rich and famously single, more so even than me (my mom would violently disagree). If </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">she's</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> having a hard time finding someone to ring and ding her what hope can there possibly be for me? That's right, none (insert awkward </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ha ha </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> here). Also, no children means I very very rarely get peed or puked on. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sure, last Friday I was hanging out with my 5 year old friend and sure she leaned in to give me a good-bye kiss and of course in reality blew a raspberry in my mouth, but as a non-mom that just happens a lot less than you'd think it would. Sometimes I spend entire Saturdays or Sunday in pajamas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />Then again, this could all change. Especially considering I recently learned that David Duchovny lives 9 blocks away from me and I have 4 days off coming. I think I'll get myself a Mulder for my birthday. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or this: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2kVQfqk645QkMBJNpnBmKsG3rWeEqwulWVcsopuuN6K1DLEVgVhw-cj9dT18Thsjftmxf8i7xR-TbZ_8CIoFm1jcpccA7478tMubUeAx9aTmsYUjryCwEMT3PKTzCwFdHligfKrDL5jc/s1600/HAMM.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn2kVQfqk645QkMBJNpnBmKsG3rWeEqwulWVcsopuuN6K1DLEVgVhw-cj9dT18Thsjftmxf8i7xR-TbZ_8CIoFm1jcpccA7478tMubUeAx9aTmsYUjryCwEMT3PKTzCwFdHligfKrDL5jc/s400/HAMM.gif" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-42462915785818500862012-02-29T16:48:00.000-05:002012-03-01T15:33:03.314-05:00the one where I'm way too into Friends (part 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BC7HATbqeAH5ZtMUiXdvNogQyhqqReITRkO9nmcNBXGPLia9E7lW-uew37KrWaRN3dsP0i1DvJg9Fm5AyT1nsqsLL171szYnsjfXZEJ23FJ_4mMkDyvExGhPGh-Hu1XCKA4woKYP3FPa/s1600/total+series.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BC7HATbqeAH5ZtMUiXdvNogQyhqqReITRkO9nmcNBXGPLia9E7lW-uew37KrWaRN3dsP0i1DvJg9Fm5AyT1nsqsLL171szYnsjfXZEJ23FJ_4mMkDyvExGhPGh-Hu1XCKA4woKYP3FPa/s320/total+series.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm the sort of person that gets caught up in things/obsessed rather easily. When I realized I loved <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2012/01/shamelessly-obsessed.html">sweet potato Popchips</a> I wanted them to be the thing I snacked on daily. Luckily though my obsessions have a decent ebb and flow to them, I don't generally get too obsessed for too long. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I used to watch Conan when I got into bed at night. But then Leno ruined everything and now Conan is on too late for before bed watching. So I switched to Sex and the City, but either that too was moved or I just stopped caring if I caught it. All this explains how I rediscovered my adoration for <i>Friends</i>. I forgot how annoying and un-worthy <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0062636/">Emily</a> was. How slippery, slimy and cave-manish <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0299289/">Paolo</a> was (by the way, if you have any interest in having your mind a little bit blown, click on the Paolo link and see what he looks like now). How <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000610/filmoseries#tt0108778">Giovanni Ribisi</a> was a random guy with a lost condom (accidentally dropped in Phoebe's guitar case) a few seasons before he became her doofus brother. Mainly I forgot how much I liked the core 6. So it began that every night I'd get into bed about 11pm, flip the cable box over to Nick at Nite and catch an episode or two (they air 4 episodes back to back but 2 usually does it for me) and then fall asleep dreaming of an over-sized gorgeous periwinkle apartment, perfectly smooth hair and endless cups of coffee (that may or may not be "s<span style="background-color: white;">tupid big cups which, I'm sorry, might as well have </span><b style="background-color: white;">nipples</b><span style="background-color: white;"> on them" - according to Phoebe's then boyfriend Roger the shrink a.k.a. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001770/" style="color: #444444;">Fisher Stevens</a><span style="color: #444444;">)</span></span><span style="color: #444444;">.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cut to December. This year, for Hanukkah one of my brothers gave me the boxed set of of the entire series of Friends. Pretty awesome, right? Yeah, I think so too. Well about a week or so ago, all caught up on <a href="http://www.sho.com/site/shameless/home.sho">Shameless</a> I decided to start re-watching Friends beginning to end. I've already barreled through the first season (very easy as the episodes are only about 22 minutes long) and I'm halfway through the second. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here are some things I've discovered regarding season 1 and part of season 2 on my second go round of <i>Friends</i>:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rachel wears an inordinate amount of outfits that involve shorts and tights. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If <i>Friends</i> were on today, the cast would have to dress soooo much sluttier. These ankle-length skirts and long sleeve t's are cute but they'd never cut it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Considering the focal point of the show was Central Perk or Monica's apartment it is Chandler and Joey's apartment that goes through the most incarnations. They have a sofa that comes and goes, a desk that space shifts a lot and an open food pantry (behind the refrigerator door) that goes from overflowing, to pared down, to having doors on it, to completely disappearing. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Carol that tells Ross she's pregnant is not the same Carol that delivers their baby. </span></li>
</ul><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Also odd, there's a book that comes with the dvd set. It's a full episode guide and it gives you a little back story on the characters. According to the book:</span></div><div><ul><li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ross is Monica's younger brother (even though he's clearly the older one and was 1000% the older one in the flashback prom episode when he was sporting Tom Selleck's 'stache)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Monica is blue-collar (instead of just barely less spoiled like her <i>Long Island</i> neighbor and schoolmate Rachel), she's also kinda badass. The book describes her as a brash NYer with a personality similar to Rosie O'Donnell or Sandra Bernhard. Uhm... ok. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Rachel leaves Barry at the alter after getting high with Mindy and realizing she doesn't want to spend her entire life living in Teaneck, New Jersey and because she can't picture Barry without a Mr. Potato head head. <i>Friends </i>ends up being the rare 90's/2000's sitcom where no one ever smokes pot (except for Jon "<i>we gotta make this</i>" Lovitz). Actually, they barely even drank. What a sober bunch of twenty somethings! </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Phoebe is homeless and has a habit of crashing at the place of her one night stands. She has no belongings except for (ready?)... her<i> BIRD</i> and her guitar. Her bird?!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Joey makes ends meet between acting gigs with his other two jobs. You see, he's also a bike messenger and he's a bouncer at the hottest clubs in the city. You could have fooled me.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I didn't notice anything especially odd relating to Chandler but given the other surprises maybe I should re-read the book. </span></li>
</ul><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is kinda cool to see how the character's were originally fleshed out, Monica being older would have definitely explained her control freak-ness but her being younger explains that huge Ross shaped chip on her shoulder. I'd like to see Rachel as a pothead and I'm really glad Phoebe didn't have a bird (for 10 seasons!). No doubt I'll have lots more to share with you on this series which has been off the air for 7 years. I like to stay current. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hey, remember when they looked like this:</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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Monday I went to work (stupid, I only ended up feeling shittier), I got home from work and promptly fell asleep, waking up at 8pm to watch How I (endlessly tease you about how I) Met Your Mother. I took cold medicine, had soup for dinner, slapped a breathe-right strip across my nose and went back to sleep. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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Tuesday I woke up feeling the exact same but I was positive a massage would help (because I lack common sense but enjoy indulgences) and I really wanted to just get there. I found two Claritins in my drawer from the last time my sinuses attacked, popped one, took a long hot shower and was actually beginning to feel better (all in my head). I even managed to get there on time, despite being in the worst location Manhattan possesses; Penn Station area. I warned the masseuse that I'd probably have to interrupt our session for a few nose blowings and we were on our way. Hippy-dippy chimes chimed in the background, I was doused in Neutrogena sesame oil and things were going well if not a little greasy. Then I sneezed.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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The masseuse decided she'd help alleviate my sinus congestion by massage my face. After pouring oil over it. She spent, no joke, 15 minutes rubbing my cheeks and my nose and then doing this weird butterfly finger thing all over my face. Just as I was noting how weird that was I was also thinking I probably had another 15 minutes left. Suddenly she squeezed my shoulders, announced we were done and disappeared. Uhm, what the hell? How did a 60 minute massage lose 20 minutes? I got dressed feeling really annoyed, as I made my way down the hall to find her and ask what happened I could hear her voice through the wall, she was already getting started in another room. So at best no one at the desk would know why I'd lost 20 minutes and at best they'd offer to have someone else fill in but I'd have to get undressed and start all over just for 20 minutes... I was annoyed and not sure what to do so I left. That definitely wasn't the thing to do because know now I'm just annoyed and I screwed up my chance to have them fix it. What would you have done?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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Wednesday I still felt shitty so I stayed home again (remember, 20 sick days). I cleaned up around the apartment and watched </span><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1055292/" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Life as We Know It</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. It was kind of really cute and totally watchable. Normally it seems like Katherine Heigl has a tricky time being watchable. I think it helps that Josh Duhamel was in this (Josh Lucas is too for that matter but eh... Josh Lucas is bland) and both he and the house the movie is shot in, are ridiculously gorgeous. Ok fine, the movie was decent the house was the star, it was house porn, are you happy now? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Which reminds me of a thought I had while I was in bed last night, watching a few </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Friends</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> episodes</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> before bed. Remember when Phoebe carried her brother Frank and sister-in-law Alice's triplets? Well that was back in 1998 so the triplets would be nearing 15, for what it's worth I'm </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dying</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to see that sitcom. Frank and Alice with their crazed brood (including littlest triplet, the girl named Chandler) and wacky aunt Phoebe. Can anyone make this happen for me? An early birthday present perhaps? </span><br />
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Today I woke up feeling better than I have in a few days. I got up and showered and went to the kitchen to get coffee when I discovered the dog was now not feeling well. Ah fuck. Well I guess </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ah crap</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> is more appropriate. I clean that up, get dressed and ready to go when I realize I can't find my glasses. Any. Where. This is not so crazy, I'm awful with my glasses, constantly taking them off and leaving them in whatever room I was just in. I've been surprisingly good about not leaving them anywhere but really I think that's just because I need them to see distances, that's the only reason they're not at a nail salon somewhere. I check the living room where I watched </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Law & Order: SVU</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> last night. Nope. The kitchen, bathroom, my room again, my closet, in my bed, under my bed, under the sofa, no, no, no, no glasses anywhere. I'm late now, if I don't go I'm going to miss the last bus. I give up, put in my contacts (hate!) and rush out getting to the bus stop just in time to see the last bus pull away. Of<i>fucking</i>course. I walk over to the subway because subway and bus through the Bronx is my plan B. I get on the 4, I'm pretty much as pissed off as I can be, the morning could have barely started off worse and at 125th Street a lady gets on, sits next to me and starts literally screaming in my face about how Jesus saved her life. She needs to be punched in the face. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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But what I really want to ask her is does she think he'll save it twice? </span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-81316476941797626822012-02-15T11:16:00.000-05:002012-02-26T15:55:50.858-05:00my hot valentine's day date<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://api.plixi.com/api/tpapi.svc/imagefromurl?size=medium&url=http%3A%2F%2Flockerz.com%2Fs%2F173951480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://api.plixi.com/api/tpapi.svc/imagefromurl?size=medium&url=http%3A%2F%2Flockerz.com%2Fs%2F173951480" width="320" /></a><br />
last night I skipped out on a movie to go to the gym. I gave up sitting (sitting!) in the dark and snacking. Sitting and snacking are the shit folks and they are activities (eh?) at which I greatly excel. I gave that up for fast paced movement, bright lights and sweat. I'm not saying I insist on a reward or anything but if 5 pounds off my ass could be a reward I'd think that was very very fitting especially because the treadmill tvs kinda suck and How I Met Your Mother comes in really dark and I've watched everything in my itunes. Incidentally <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1821681/">Touch</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1836195/">The River</a> seem pretty interesting so far but after Lost I think the numbers aspect of Touch might piss me off after awhile.<br />
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Are you watching any new shows that have piqued your curiosity so far?e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-83396229222818933612012-01-31T16:43:00.000-05:002012-02-01T09:53:58.995-05:00quiet and carrot cake<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've had such a quiet and domestic time of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I laundered nearly all my clothes (certainly every last pair underwear and all my gym clothes).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I made <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/">Deb's</a> amazing <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2008/12/carrot-cake-with-maple-cream-cheese-frosting/">carrot cake with maple cream cheese frosting</a> (it's amazing so I then spent 2 days foisting it on neighbors so I won't actually eat it). The only modifications I made were to reduce the amount of sugar in the cake by half a cup, to swap nutmeg for cloves (out of nutmeg and didn't feel like going back out) and to make less frosting than the recipe yields (having made it last year and being left with a ton of delicious frosting was a challenge I chose not to revisit on myself - damn that frosting is delicious!) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then, since I had about two cups of grated carrots left I made tuna pasta salad to bring to work for the next few days (but no carrot cake because my co-workers; especially the narky one, don't deserve such goodness). I also mixed some carrots into mac & cheese because I find that to be tasty and the colors match up well. Oh, your foods aren't usually color compatible? I don't know how you live. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I watched <a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Day-David-Nicholls/dp/0340896965/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328030696&sr=1-1">One Day</a>, not a good movie at all (and I knew this, for I'd been <a href="http://filmchaw.blogspot.com/2012/01/all-these-movies-are-terrible.html">warned</a>) yet a fairly good book, go figure. I also watched <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1637706/">Our Idiot Brother</a> which was a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be. The saddest part of the weekend was surely when I realized I was totally caught up with <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2012/01/shamelessly-obsessed.html">Shameless</a> and now I have to wait and watch it as it airs. Like... like... a commoner. I also finished reading a book I didn't care for at all. <i>Everything We Ever Wanted</i> by YA phenom Sara Shepard. This blurb could not have missed the mark more; </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This riveting, provocative and well-crafted family drama surprised and delivered at every turn. I could not put it down.” (Sarah Mlynowski, author...</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">)</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was so able to put it down I left it at work over a weekend, started reading another book forgetting I had this going and then speed/scan read to finish it already. I was not-riveted, reading this tiny little book quickly became kind of a chore to finish, specifically because it was neither provocative, well-crafted or surprising. The surprises in the book? How small the story seemed, how one note the characters were. The big twist/big reveal is so small and unremarkable I kept going back to see if I'd missed something bigger. I'm going to go out on a limb and say this book was mainly published on the strength of her young adult writing/books. There was genuinely no story here, though I could feel that way because I'm coming off of reading a rich and intricate <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Room-Swept-White-Sophie-Hannah/dp/0340980648/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1328107515&sr=8-1">book</a>. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And now for pure hypocrisy; I think I watched the entire season of Kourtney and Kim Take NY. I'm not proud per se, just accomplished. </span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-47904055353945440052012-01-19T15:50:00.001-05:002012-01-27T12:33:44.076-05:00shamelessly obsessed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOleCap0F2R__ZQ9qBHKabz06NLNmU6VS8rMGxeI6x1N8dicXXArQPvOKZm1M_MtkfQDn4efOFoUkvO2N4xbAvRjxHbuxecqzrWtUIbYksUukEjxn0YtkA2o_bygm0XVIIMJAt99uMTOO/s1600/shameless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOleCap0F2R__ZQ9qBHKabz06NLNmU6VS8rMGxeI6x1N8dicXXArQPvOKZm1M_MtkfQDn4efOFoUkvO2N4xbAvRjxHbuxecqzrWtUIbYksUukEjxn0YtkA2o_bygm0XVIIMJAt99uMTOO/s400/shameless.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'd seen so many billboards, bus ads and commercials that I recently started catching up on last season's episodes of <a href="http://www.sho.com/site/shameless/home.sho">Shameless</a>. Turns out I'm really digging it. It's got William H Macy and Joan Cusack (love them!), the super annoying son from War of the Worlds plays Emmy Rossum's boyfriend, and I like him here, a lot. The rest of the kids, the neighbor couple, I find all of the characters interesting and funny in their own ways and really, after watching nearly all of season one my only question is why does Emmy Rossum look hollow-eyed and jaundiced in every episode? I get that the Gallagher's are poor but she gets dressed up fairly often and hell, they have a washer and dryer, surely she's got a smidgen of concealer hiding around somewhere. If, like me, you find your tv watching suffering a slight dip with the absence of <a href="http://www.sho.com/site/dexter/home.sho#fbid=1Vg8uFtoEpi">Dexter</a> and <a href="http://www.sho.com/site/homeland/home.sho">Homeland</a> (Homeland: too good for words) I highly recommend catching up on Shameless. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_6lAsk3vsMG5L_jG60pf2G9i7ijRoxcPI9Y2enm27o2SySfJDmytuDJUcevFHm24dCDG1Gb8QwmPv8wHi82S4i3zCYBBYEKi2txzsaJxmRhM65Ic5Fnc4CNt8pqnQo8kjf7EX8-BKabd/s1600/sweetpotpop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_6lAsk3vsMG5L_jG60pf2G9i7ijRoxcPI9Y2enm27o2SySfJDmytuDJUcevFHm24dCDG1Gb8QwmPv8wHi82S4i3zCYBBYEKi2txzsaJxmRhM65Ic5Fnc4CNt8pqnQo8kjf7EX8-BKabd/s320/sweetpotpop.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A few blocks away from my apartment is one of those still rather elusive NYC 7/11's. I constantly forget it's there but the other day I was headed home from ... I don't remember... and I noticed 7/11. Thinking coffee would be nice (and necessary because that's what addiction means) I stopped in and found these!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sweet Potato <a href="http://www.popchips.com/">Popchips</a>? Yes please! I love regular popchips and I like sweet potatoes, how can this go wrong? It could not go wrong is the answer. They were freaking delicious. The only down side to them was that I'd only bought one bag and it was 12 degrees out. I did what any self respecting adult would do. I took to twitter to whine about my poor purchasing judgement (one bag? just one? did I think the Kremlin would not allow 2 bags?!) and the fact that it was simply too cold to correct my poor purchasing judgement. Well about an hour later <a href="http://www.noshwithme.com/">Hilary</a> tweets to me that she's got a popchips contest going on her blog and she suggests I enter (it's a very complex system whereby I must leave a comment. I handle the confusion deftly if I do say so myself). So deftly actually that a day or so later I discover... I won! Popchips sent me a carton of their (baked, never fried) deliciousness. Sweet potato, chili lime, bbq, sour cream & onion, regular... all of them! This is naturally incredibly exciting as in all the years I've been alive I've won a box MAC cosmetics, a who-caught-the-biggest-fish contest and now these (not a lot of winning for as many years as I've been alive): </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIN0q_0nSHb-LOCuE0UlvyimGCmf8q1q7OEDiwh9XsK2QbtZ_y_XSuWbDw4gEa2XRUBlx6-1e3DlXTJ1iG3hL7rJ_deGCacCDZ79ZqNC4ERkdLVafIsI6Zx-UgZOcmANfxq_zGVURxa3M_/s1600/popchippic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIN0q_0nSHb-LOCuE0UlvyimGCmf8q1q7OEDiwh9XsK2QbtZ_y_XSuWbDw4gEa2XRUBlx6-1e3DlXTJ1iG3hL7rJ_deGCacCDZ79ZqNC4ERkdLVafIsI6Zx-UgZOcmANfxq_zGVURxa3M_/s320/popchippic.jpg" width="239" /></a> </span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(a carton in a variety of flavors, score!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvpXLG51dBIUcWmO8wZ8IB5n7QaNVOrBJCVBN6as4cG1F7qKCDKgM8Phovbc51yrims036W9MMLEIk4uvBMeaBNfRyzuGsZo3Hm86-sp6b9oBlARCo_IIvuImuViRnN_2ghCJFRKNcZmh/s320/sophie+hannah.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taken from <a href="http://littleraindrops.blogspot.com/2011/05/book-review-sophie-hannah-spilling-cid.html">here</a> </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvpXLG51dBIUcWmO8wZ8IB5n7QaNVOrBJCVBN6as4cG1F7qKCDKgM8Phovbc51yrims036W9MMLEIk4uvBMeaBNfRyzuGsZo3Hm86-sp6b9oBlARCo_IIvuImuViRnN_2ghCJFRKNcZmh/s1600/sophie+hannah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIvpXLG51dBIUcWmO8wZ8IB5n7QaNVOrBJCVBN6as4cG1F7qKCDKgM8Phovbc51yrims036W9MMLEIk4uvBMeaBNfRyzuGsZo3Hm86-sp6b9oBlARCo_IIvuImuViRnN_2ghCJFRKNcZmh/s1600/sophie+hannah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Also on my list of obsessions; Sophie Hannah books. Dark, <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2011/02/riff.html">twisty British mysteries</a> are pretty high on my 'favorite kinds of books to read' list. My obsession with Sophie Hannah books has gotten so bad that I've taken to using my Hanukkah amazon.com gift certificate to order her books from their UK site. I just received the most recent books of her two days ago and it took a ridiculous amount of wherewithal to go to work instead of cracking the book open and lying around eating popchips and reading all day (I'm only this <i>stoic</i> because tomorrow is Friday). I'm a big guesser of outcomes, I'm the one you hate seeing movies with because of my compulsive need to deduce what comes next. An impossible thing to do when it comes to Sophie Hannah books, she's thoroughly engaging and completely baffling at the same time. And, to some degree, her characters are often unlikable, it's strange when the author prevents you from empathizing with the protagonist by keeping them at a distance, it's a device that I've found throws me off in a terrific way. It forces me to stop trying to guess the outcome and to just enjoy the story. I don't do that enough. If you like dark & twisty but aren't much of a Britlit fan I'd recommend you check out either of <a href="http://gillian-flynn.com/">Gillian Flynn</a>'s creepily captivating books. You're welcome in advance. </span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-62748038827018429042012-01-09T11:20:00.000-05:002012-01-09T11:20:19.820-05:00frosty, liquefied, pedophile. mmm.<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my brother ordered dinner from a burger place the other night. He ordered a black & white milkshake to go with it. The receipt that he posted on his facebook page: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-37229544255131199202012-01-08T13:34:00.000-05:002012-01-08T22:47:23.402-05:00pajama Sundayhow do other people get dressed and do things? It's chilly outside, there's an occasional breeze lifting my blinds. This is my favorite Sunday thing. Bed. Coffee. Book. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqwNF0Hsxu9seqJSLgj8MQ3t1BIAeBGb6KVIaxVh4r_yvw61ismwkB82QU81DV5BMxMohg7zeaQcBVexIH4rQvqzbqfEmQh3iA8kQ1Cgp1doK1NMYb7i0tLcTL1ClDHcX-cNlutpC5ZQf/s640/blogger-image-1612826290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqwNF0Hsxu9seqJSLgj8MQ3t1BIAeBGb6KVIaxVh4r_yvw61ismwkB82QU81DV5BMxMohg7zeaQcBVexIH4rQvqzbqfEmQh3iA8kQ1Cgp1doK1NMYb7i0tLcTL1ClDHcX-cNlutpC5ZQf/s640/blogger-image-1612826290.jpg" /></a></div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-59027367405662249092012-01-05T12:41:00.000-05:002012-01-08T20:15:02.638-05:00Heather O'Rourke would be cool with it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Happy 2012 folks (who are still left checking in despite my laze).<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">2011 was good only in that I barely hurt myself (no real falls and only one broken toe!) and found beneficial (if not financially gainful) employment. It was also the year I had the luxury of turning down a job offer and telling them exactly why. Circus peanuts is a phrase, it's not an actual salary offer, 'miright?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
So I welcome 2012 and I welcome myself back to my blog and I promise that you'll see more of me here. </span>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-12099274420629269242011-11-14T12:26:00.001-05:002011-11-14T12:31:55.713-05:00drowningin debt because when the economy started to tank I panicked and took a job that pays me $10K less that I'm used to making. Turns out 10 is a shitton of K's and I can't pay my bills the way I thought/hoped I could and now the holidays are coming and I'm really panicking. Anyone have any ideas on how to bring in more money without taking a second job/ my hours are just way too prohibitive. And yes, I have been applying for higher paying jobs.e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-17208256076218208272011-09-12T14:08:00.000-04:002012-01-23T16:43:59.093-05:00(the life of) Riley<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwh0vlaxMdJzlXQYsEZaYHrR2XzmyB7oy1hMLkW-DEqd2OHYLO6T8fL07bxJ7ZjUbTUsYP-psGYGDzAPmI-JZJtIT4ozggLAoZ6tPdw-kWg3b0f43NETHWXRbYVvwGLDSW3FrnHQjytPqq/s1600/Doggies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwh0vlaxMdJzlXQYsEZaYHrR2XzmyB7oy1hMLkW-DEqd2OHYLO6T8fL07bxJ7ZjUbTUsYP-psGYGDzAPmI-JZJtIT4ozggLAoZ6tPdw-kWg3b0f43NETHWXRbYVvwGLDSW3FrnHQjytPqq/s320/Doggies.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley (front) and Bama (rear). Summer 2010.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>(*update* Riley went to sleep this afternoon (9.13.11) at the vet's with his favorite people cuddling him.)</i><br />
<div>
<br />
9.12.11<br />
So, it looks like I'll be putting my amazing dog Riley to sleep. I'm not sure if it will be today or tomorrow but it's completely inevitable as he's about 15 years old, and this weekend he pretty much stopped eating. He stopped eating and I started crying, non-stop, all damn weekend. Walking him and tearing up, crying louder in the shower, tears rolling down my fat blubbery cheeks when I scratch the top of his head. A full on sob-fest as I sat in the car by myself this morning waiting for alternate side parking to finish. I'm a huge salt-watery mess. This morning, after another teary walk my building's super saw me, looked at Riley and just hugged me. Then the cute doorman that flirts with me caught up with me at the bus stop, I guess the super had told him and he came over to hug me and to tell me how sorry he is and that he loved Riley too. Normally I'd have a second to mock him because his Red Sox are 3.5 games behind my Yankees but I didn't even realize that until now, about 4 and half hours later. For what's it's worth I was properly embarrassed when (at the bus stop - no pride, no shame) a woman asked me if I'd lost someone on September 11th.<br />
<br />
I don't <i>really</i> feel badly for Riley, Riley has had a GREAT life, one that he got two extra shots at. I adopted Riley as a 4-5 year old dog, from an animal clinic where they told me that Riley had been moved around several shelters to avoid being put to sleep. It's unfortunate but it's my understanding that 5 year old dogs are not in hot demand. So that was his first extra shot. Last September after enjoying a piece a boiled chicken Riley fell over and started convulsing. When he finally stopped having spasms I noticed his eyes kept rolling. His paws were tightly clenched. He'd had a stroke. I was beside myself. I cried all night certain that the next morning was going to be his last. He couldn't walk so I carried him into my bedroom, took the plaid blanket off my bed and laid it on the floor for him.<br />
<br />
Before that night I don't think he'd ever slept in my room before. Not even the time I saw a mouse and dragged Riley's bed into my room hoping his presence would deter another sighting. Riley picked up a corner of his bed in his mouth and dragged it right back into the living room. A definitive creature of habit. After his stroke though, he slept at the foot of my bed every night on that plaid blanket.<br />
<br />
The morning after his stroke I took him to the vet positive this was it. I sobbed on the way there stopping constantly to nuzzle his neck one last time and whisper my love for him into his deaf ears. Turned out the vet disagreed with me. He put Riley on Prednisone and some other stuff and Riley (and I) got an entire bonus year (his second shot). I really can't feel cheated, but I do. I really shouldn't feel this sad, after all, a <i>whole entire bonus year</i>, but I do. I want Riley to be my dog forever of course.<br />
<br />
I'm sad, very sad and very selfishly, for me. Because I love Riley and very soon I'll be without him. And I'm sad for Bama, my boxer/pit mix who has never known a day without Riley and who doesn't have the ability to know what's happened. I'm sad that she'll be without her brother. Riley, my gorgeous sweet boy will simply take a nap as he does a thousand times a day, he won't be in pain, he won't miss us or feel alone, he won't ... anything. This should comfort me but instead it makes me do that thing where you gasp a little as you cry. I told the vet this morning on the phone; Riley has been an addition to my life every second he's been in it. He was always terrific with everyone that came into my apartment, I could let him roam at my parent's lake house and he never took off. In the city I walked him off the leash and he never strayed or made me worry. When my cousin brought her toddler over and her toddler repeatedly pulled herself up using Riley's lopsided ears he licked her. He's always been a wonderful, trustworthy, loyal dog and it would (further) kill me to think he's in pain, he deserves to die peacefully and comfortably with me hugging him. I don't want him to get to where he can't move and can't go out and can't tell who I am. That's not the ending a loving, wonderful and dignified dog has earned.<br />
<br />
*and aren't I kind of an ass, I don't post forever and then this? Sorry, I had to.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://petbook.s3.amazonaws.com/1011464_600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://petbook.s3.amazonaws.com/1011464_600.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a good boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://dbworld.s3.amazonaws.com/2158606_600.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun at the dog run </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I also had to stalk an online posting from when I adopted Riley 'lo those many years ago. It's below the jump.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<span style="color: #351c75;">From March 24, 2002</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">At 9pm last night I brought New Dog home.</span><br />
<b style="color: #351c75;">YES!!!!! IT IS TRUE. NEW DOG IS HERE. HE HAS ARRIVED. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THEM APPLES?????????</b><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">I have a new puppy!!! He is a three (four? five?) year old setter-collie mix. He is 46 pounds of mush. He is obscenely friendly and seems to like nothing more than laying on the floor and being scratched. And scratched. And after that, maybe a little scratched!! He is black and white and brown and patchy and spotty. He is beyond delicious.</span><br />
<b style="color: #351c75;">HERE IS THE RUNDOWN:</b><span style="color: #351c75;">I went to the ASPCA with Ethan and Fran yesterday and I played with a dog but he was totally wacky!! Hyper as fuck, seriously wild. He would have eaten my house. So I came home and started looking on the internet and expanded my search and saw a picture of a dog named McGee. His mini-bio made him seem truly beyong the perfect dog so I sent an email to the clinic where he was. Unlike most dogs, he was waiting at a veterinary center not a shelter. The director sent me an email back immediately saying that the dog was in hot demand but I could come over Sunday to see him if I wanted. But there were two couples already interested and he may be adopted. She said she'd call Sunday and tell me what was going on. Sure enough she called today and told me to come over so I dropped everything and ran over to 83rd St. on the West Side. As soon as I got there they went to get the dog andhe came down the steps and the second I saw him </span><i style="color: #351c75;">I knew</i><span style="color: #351c75;">. He looked like my dog from childhood. He was so sweet and shy. Then the women there just shoved a leash at me, some dog treats and poop bags and told me I could take him wherever I wanted. I should just be back by 7pm. It was 5:30. So, off we went. He was a prince on the leash. We went to the park and found a dog run so I sent him in and took off his leash so he could socialize and run with the other dogs. Aside from trying to mount only the </span><i style="color: #351c75;">biggest fucking dog in the run</i><span style="color: #351c75;"> he seemed to be real chill with all the other dogs. Then the big dog that New Dog kept trying to mount tried to mount me!!! It kept jumping all over me and it wouldn't go away and it was really freaking me out and suddenly New Dog lunged between us!!! But not meanly, simply as a buffer. He didn't bark, or growl or bare his teeth or anything. He was just </span><i style="color: #351c75;">there</i><span style="color: #351c75;">. It was adorable. The sweetest thing!! I melted!! We stayed at the dog run for 45 minutes or so and walked around the park and the Upper West Side for a while and got back to the clinic at about 7:30. Weirder yet, when we got back the director started to ask me a zillion questions and then this other lady shows up and says "I walk him everday, I know him. Let me talk to her!!" And who is this lady?? Bernadette Peters!! How cool! She is so beautiful and she was so cute and friendly!! It was great! She tells me she adores New Dog, walks him everyday, etc. I had the picture of Willy- the dog that looks just like New Dog and I show them all and they couldn't believe the similarities. We all agree; it's kismet. I fill out a ton of paperwork, become best friends with the clinic staff, give them a donation (they asked for $75 but I so love the dog and they were so nice I gave them $100 and I'm broke as shit!!) and I called Ethan and he drove in to the city from New Jersey and picked New Dog and I up and brought us back here and hung out with us. And it is unanimous. New Dog rocks and we love him. </span><b style="color: #351c75;">LOVE. LOVE. LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</b><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">We brought New Dog home at about 9pm. That is why I am ditching you today dear Joe. I cannot adopt the dog and then leave it totally alone, in my home, (with my </span><i style="color: #351c75;">leather!!!</i><span style="color: #351c75;"> couch) less than 24 hours later. Please swear to me you are not mad? Will you come over after work today and meet New Dog?</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">I loved the hell out of that furball the moment I met him. What a great dog.</span></blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">I </span>love you Riley, always and ever, even with my broken heart <3<br />
<br /></div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-53056280101372908172011-05-26T16:08:00.001-04:002011-05-26T16:18:32.712-04:00the heart of TexasI'm dying to post about my trip to Texas but there was so damn much that went on! Until I can whittle it all down let's just go with this:<br />
<br />
My dearest <a href="http://thisfish.com/">Heather</a> got wed.<br />
It was fantastic.<br />
Even though flying there was a disaster. And there was an <i>incident</i> on (one of) the plane(s).<br />
And I smoked a cigarette with a lizard at 2am (that's neither a drug nor a Doors reference, it just happened).<br />
And I didn't touch the Glock 9mm. I think that's the part I require the most credit for.<br />
Being sober helped.<br />
<br />
Congrats Heather and Chris. Your life together should be as beautiful as your wedding and as interesting as your history. Love you.<br />
<br />
<img alt="Heather + Chris Sneak Peek" height="317" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5101/5749358862_9fea991590.jpg" width="400" />e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-74658038533292562422011-05-16T12:05:00.000-04:002011-05-16T12:05:22.141-04:00the definition of laugh out loudquite possibly the best Happy TV Funhouse ever. Jon Hamm is a god.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Yf-rSZ7CG6s?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-6263757566540058202011-04-14T14:03:00.000-04:002011-04-14T14:03:14.481-04:00question of the afternoonwhat the fuck is it that I'm allergic to and how do I avoid it because if I keep blowing my nose at 89 second intervals it's going to look like Michael Jackson's nose.<br />
<br />
(I have a suspicion: mildew; stay out of recently flooded, carpeted office)e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-45310547010723847782011-03-29T17:16:00.001-04:002011-03-29T19:46:52.318-04:00everything in life should have an 80's sax soloI am so inexplicably infatuated with this song again. I need to hear it at least once a day. I don't care if it's from 9 B.C., I loves it.<br />
<br />
Also Michael Douglas was firmly in his 'hot leading man' phase here. Kathleen Turner too kinda. <br />
<br />
<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7NW-gpfRM54" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-83194143208429821702011-03-24T15:28:00.001-04:002011-03-24T20:46:24.510-04:00mama said there'd be days like thisI grew up in Brooklyn. I took the subway to school or my dad would drop me off on his way to work. Without fail my mom would kiss me goodbye and send me off by yelling down the street; "have a smart day".<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I could have used her directive this morning. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I woke up late.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then I almost walked out of the apartment without realizing that one contact lens was in fact not in my eye but instead, shriveled up and suctioned on to the side of the sink.</div><div><br />
</div><div>When I finally made it out the door I was doing much better. I walked the dog, put coffee in my travel cup, made sure my Metrocard was in my coat pocket and I was off. I walked a few blocks to the subway station, swiped my card, descended to the bottom level and waited for a 4. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The 5 came first, I stepped back, let it pass and continued to wait for the 4. A few weeks ago, in a '<i>the train has arrived</i>' hysteria I blindly got on only to discover I was on the wrong subway. Today I slightly prided myself on looking before leaping. A few minutes pass, the 4 arrives, I embark and we're headed uptown. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm sure Liz Taylor was a lovely, oft married lady but in the greater scheme of things I don't really care about her so I left the newspaper (print media! I'm Amish!) in my bag and tried to 3 star the Angry Birds screen I had been working on since last night. I'm pinging irate avians around and doing a little bit of people watching. The guy across from me looks like Biggie (but I think he's Biggier), he's rapping quietly but forcefully to himself and holding a discman. A discman. He looks at me, I look away in observance of people watching rules. He gets up, stands in front of the door, tips his Yankee hat to his reflection and starts dancing and pointing at himself. I guess the Mr. Disc Man told him to. </div><div><br />
</div><div>WannaBiggie gets off at Jackson Avenue. That was about the time that I realized my commute doesn't involve a Jackson Avenue. Fucking fuck fuck. There are few things more self esteem shattering than being bested by the MTA. My Metrocard is really low and until a week from tomorrow, I'm pretty broke so I try and get off at a station that has the free transfer walk-across. The subway map says the Jackson Avenue station is such a station.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Ha ha, MTA, got me again!!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Refill the card, double back about 20 minutes and eventually get to work.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Where I am utterly confused by the fact that my office building elevator is being deranged. Every time I hit the button the doors open instead of closing. What is this now?</div><div><br />
</div><div>"You keep pushing 1. We're on 1", says a voice from behind me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Today is shaping up to be the sort of day where I'm glad I don't handle hazardous materials, babies and/or steering wheels.<br />
<br />
<b>*Update*</b><br />
After work I tripped<i> up an escalator</i> (who does that?!)<i> </i>and I'm pretty sure I broke my big toe. Vicodin and I are home now where I'm avoiding all the knives and have no plans on showering with a toaster.<br />
<br />
</div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-66971840808881992192011-03-14T20:14:00.001-04:002011-03-14T20:19:11.566-04:00god how I hate the Spice Girlsthere are the things you say out loud and the things you wouldn't dare. And we know which things are which.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>OMG! Your baby is gorgeous!</div><div><i>Holy shit, your baby girl/boy looks exactly like your husband/wife and damn if that's not a good look on a girl/boy. </i>Sure, you be the one to tell someone their baby girl looks Harvey Fierstein or their son is the splitting image of Roseanne Barr.</div><div><br />
</div><div>That said, while my parents have been asking what I want for my birthday I hear myself rather reasonably responding; "an iPhone". To my brothers; "a gift certificate at the salon I go to would be great, I'm dying for a cut". I do, I want those things, quite badly even. But (Spice Girls) what I really, really want are flowers from a guy that I could genuinely see myself talking to for the next 40 years or so. I'm not quite sure where the flowers part comes from (but the heart wants what it wants?).<br />
<br />
**<br />
I can't ask for the new <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trish-McEvoy-Sexy-Eau-Parfum/dp/B002C11UOA/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=IN8M6TTQKKYM1&colid=1L8HLQ49LMJWZ">Trish McEvoy</a> perfume I've been dying to try, or my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Coconut-Cove-Highly-Scented-Candles/dp/B0018C372W/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I3A967AR4875P3&colid=1L8HLQ49LMJWZ">favorite candle</a>, because the awesomely wonderful Hank already <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/registry/wishlist/1L8HLQ49LMJWZ/ref=wl_web">took care</a> of that for me. I know the nicest people, thank you!!</div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-7797083934887113732011-03-08T15:36:00.002-05:002011-03-09T10:29:09.731-05:00offering the gift of self(since I am a horrible person, destined to die alone, unloved and without children) I have a ton of free time on my hands! Left to my own devices, I don't spend free time wisely. I sleep, <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2011/02/riff.html">read</a> and watch crap tv (ie: last night's Lifetime tv movie starring <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1735357/">Heather Locklear)</a>. I don't go to the gym (god how I should/must), I don't read to underprivileged/blind/illiterate/troubled kids. I only once (and so briefly) participated in a political campaign.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Well, now I think I want to get involved in something. Nothing as time committed as big sistering a girl but a cause that's a little less intense (and where I'm less likely to have a child's development in my hands). When I was in junior high my friends I did volunteer work at local hospitals and schools and I loved it. Now maybe something involving elderly people (though a deeply life changing Tuesday's With Morrie scenario is not at all a must). I'm not even a fan of elderly people, I'm just not sure what my other options are. Basically, the problem is I don't have direction, I just know I have the will and the time. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Any ideas? </div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-11241089521866175742011-03-07T14:33:00.001-05:002011-03-08T11:02:11.402-05:00thoughts about things that might happen next weekI hate being the one in the restaurant that the waiters holding cake and candle are walking towards. There's something about people who don't know me singing Happy birthday to me that's always bugged me. Is that weird? I feel like that's sort of reserved for people who know you and really awkward for those who don't. Like moving a strand of hair out of your eye or taking a piece of food off your face, these are things that strangers don't (read: should fucking never) do.<br />
<br />
In the same vein I think blowing out candles is weird. Because it's my birthday I get to spittle all over everyone's dessert? Uhm, gross. Surely I'm not alone in this either.<br />
<br />
So feel free to <a href="http://amzn.com/w/1L8HLQ49LMJWZ">celebrate</a> with me, just don't make strangers sing or touch me.e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-12522596279753961152011-03-01T11:30:00.000-05:002011-03-01T11:30:14.676-05:00a moment of graceyesterday, as I was leaving my office building and walking towards the bus to go home I suddenly found myself sideways. Then face down. Since I'm quite lithe and graceful it all went exactly like a well planned reenactment of Black Swan. Slightly more so the crazy and delusional parts, maybe not so much the grace and poise parts. Such is the life of a ballerina. My first thought, while lying on the sidewalk and seeing two pairs of legs pass me (one sort of stepping over me) was; <i>holy fuck. I did it. With this fall I achieved invisibility! I fell but no one sees me. The first Jewish chick with a superpower.</i> You can imagine how excited I was.<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, are you ok?"<br />
<br />
Briefly. Fuck. So I'm not invisible (not fair). I'm just lying on the sidewalk with a throbbing knee/ankle/elbow/wrist. Well doesn't that seem normal?e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-42629978061929823402011-02-24T17:45:00.003-05:002011-02-24T19:26:59.946-05:00what a differencemy office floor pretty much clears out between 5 and 5:10pm. This morning I had an eye dr. appt and came in around 11am. I emailed my boss and told him I'd make the time up.<br />
<br />
Well, when he stopped into my office around 5:30 and saw I was still here this is the conversation we had;<br />
<br />
him: do you have to make up time? does someone somewhere know?<br />
me: I don't think so, I just fill out a time sheet every few weeks.<br />
him: so why don't you go home?<br />
me: I still have work to finish.<br />
him: well, only if you're sure and you want to. Everything's on time and looks great, I'm happy. You really can go, I don't care.<br />
<i>the voice in my head: but I'm so used to working for psychos, what if this is trick?</i><br />
<br />
Either way, I like having things done for him that surprise him, he's so nice, I feel like he should be rewarded for it (and there's a lesson to all the assface bosses in the world).e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-65978552594033780882011-02-23T13:04:00.003-05:002011-03-28T18:48:28.995-04:00R.I.F(f)we all know reading is fundamental(ly free) and that I'm always reading a book. Now that I'm employed (but still <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2011/02/ohmygodohmygodohmygod.html">poor</a> - go figure) I've really been on a low-cost entertainment spree. I've been maxing out my unlimited dvd rentals (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0427152/">Dinner for Schmucks</a> was funnier than I thought it would be, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1323045/">Frozen</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0960741/">The Canyon</a> were taut suspense movies) and pretty much looting the library.<br />
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Between reconnaissance strolls through Barnes and Noble and recommendations from an author/blogger I'm in smit with (I'm sure I mentioned her before but in case I haven't her name is <a href="http://www.jennsylvania.com/">Jen Lancaster</a> and she's hilarious) I have been finding new books and authors to read and it has netted me some great reads. I created a spot on the right hand side of this here blog, to tell you what I'm reading or have recently read and as I'm a book nerd, I assume others might be. Here are some recent stand-outs that I think you might enjoy (provided sweeping historical sagas written by depressed Russians/Icelanders with umlauts/priggish Victorians aren't your thing either). Here you go:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41j7-YDeYQL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Carla Buckley'sThe Things That Keep Us Here [Hardcover](2010)" border="0" height="200" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41j7-YDeYQL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" width="200" /></a>Incidentally, I've been into apocalyptic stories lately, maybe it's because I feel like my world isn't in my control, maybe reading about others who have it worse makes me feel better, but this book blew me away. I saw it at Barnes and Noble after a <a href="http://etypical.blogspot.com/2011/02/etiquette-is-this-still-thing.html">useless coffee date</a> and I knew instantly that I wanted to read it. I put in on reserve at the library and the minute I picked it up I started reading. There's a blurb on the back from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jacquelyn-Mitchard/e/B000APMT54/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1298489477&sr=1-2">Jacquelyn Mitchard</a> where she said she read the book in one sitting. I laughed at that, I mean really, the book is 405 pages, how do you sit long enough to read 405 pages? Well, I found out; a day and half is how long it takes to read 405 pages of incredibly suspenseful well written story telling. This is the rare Doomsday book that doesn't involve zombies. No. It's an avian flu pandemic and while it doesn't <i>sound</i> interesting Jacquelyn and I found it riveting and books don't make sounds anyway. This book is author Carla Buckley's first and I eagerly await her follow-up.<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/518RAiUIM1L._SL160_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-dp,TopRight,12,-18_SH30_OU01_AA160_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Product Details" border="0" height="200" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/518RAiUIM1L._SL160_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-dp,TopRight,12,-18_SH30_OU01_AA160_.jpg" width="200" /></a> Oh did this book blow me away. The moment I closed it I looked for someone to discuss it with. What a great, twisty, gothic story this was. In 1990's London a reserved college student befriends a wildly eccentric classmate who lives in 'Great Expectations' like mansion with her brother and other artsy types. Reserved coed becomes completely enmeshed in the mansion's hedonistic patchwork 'family' and before you know it she's not so reserved and soon after everything has gone off the rails. A grievous act occurs (the book flap will tell you precisely), lies ensue and no one is left unscathed. The book slowly ratchets up the tension while throwing in a red herring or two just in case (like me) you're a smug mystery reader who's surely figured it all out. You haven't. This is Erin Kelly's first novel and another first time author who has me looking forward to novel number two.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51HVOHHU50L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Amateurs" border="0" height="200" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51HVOHHU50L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>This book was a pick up from <a href="http://www.jennsylvania.com/">Jen Lancaster</a>. She recently <a href="http://www.jennsylvania.com/jennsylvania/2011/02/presidents-day-giveaway.html">posted a winter reading list</a> and this was one of the books mentioned. This is a straight up thriller with screenplay written all over it. It was not the most cerebral book I've read but the story was engaging enough that I eagerly kept turning the pages and read it in two days or so. Four longtime friends in their late 20's/early 30's, bored, slightly disillusioned and not where they expected to be in life decide to shake things up. Shaking things up rarely turns out well though (unless you're Julia Roberts in any movie and have a killer soundtrack) and what seemed like a good idea just might end up destroying each of their lives. My only two complaints: the ending was overwrought and the author has Jenn (the only female in the story) constantly brushing her hair behind her ear as though that's the only tic he could think of to assign to a female. She doesn't 'chew her lip', 'bite on her thumbnail', 'bounce from foot to foot'. Nope, she gets nervous she <i>brushes her hair behind her ear</i>. Surely the author could have mixed it up a little. Maybe next time. Still a definite page turner that was enjoyable without having to be a complex mindfuck.<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51N78TENzoL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Eighteen Acres: A Novel" border="0" height="200" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51N78TENzoL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" width="200" /></a> A slower than-Aaron-Sorkin-paced walk through the White House and still a juicy Beltway insider look at the things that go on over the 18 acres which encompass it. Nicolle Wallace (no apparent relation to CBS's Mike or his son FOX's Chris) was the communications chief under George W. Bush and a senior campaign advisor for McCain-Palin. That said, she doesn't use the words <i>strategery </i>or <i>refudiate</i> even once and no one ever shoots a moose! I found the writing to be sharp and witty, her 3 female characters are well thought out, they have individual traits while being smart and interesting. This is no David McCullough/David Halbertstam fare but it kept me entertained.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Your turn, what books do you want to recommend to me?</div>e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3713013793223439492.post-8980816467671589132011-02-22T14:15:00.002-05:002011-02-22T14:15:32.494-05:00blahgI'm bored. Be a dear and suggest blogs for me to read. Only caveat: must be interesting.e.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16937246226959911843noreply@blogger.com1