legs

i guess because half of me comes from a stock of relatively hairless people i have some how made it into adulthood with barely any hair on my arms or legs. many of you know this about me. well, this morning, after i got out of the shower, i was putting lotion on my legs and found a white hair that at first i thought belonged to the cat, but it was attached to my leg! and, i shit you not, it was like...2 inches long. at least. incredible.
when i was growing up my mother had this one hair that grew out of her chin. she never plucked it because she said it was good luck. sometimes people would see it and think that it was some stray cat hair or something and reach over and try to get it off her face and they would pull it out. she would scream and cry about how they stole her luck away from her and then wait for weeks for it to grow back. then the cycle would repeat itself.
i'm not saying that my leg hair is good luck or any sign of wisdom, but it just made me think of that. like the guy at tan tan.

i was not made for cold weather.

it has definitely been confirmed that although i was born into this weather, i was not meant to be in this weather. don't get me wrong...i love snowmen and gluhwein and skiing and sledding and iceskating. but i hate the cold. it may be one of the few things that isn't a people that i feel really passionate about.
the past four days in mexico were exactly what i wanted. falling asleep all lazy in the sun, listening to the ocean.
lips, we totally took your advice on the drinking and staggering, but isla de mujeres will have to wait until next time. we did go snorkeling in chakanaab, though. we were stalked by a barracuda...i've had Heart in my head ever since.
sometimes, when i'm greeting people on the plane, i feel like i'm a cast member in "the love boat", but i know that what i feel doesn't even compare to what the hotel staff at this resort must feel. everyone says hello. everyone smiles. there are activities planned all day and night.
in my head it is similar to what david foster wallace describes in "a supposedly fun thing i will never do again". but i would totally go on a cruise. and i would totally go to this place again for mindless drinking on the beach.
the weirdest thing must have been on the last night we were there. on the way back from dinner the theater doors were open and i heard music from the musical "cats"
the staff was on stage. dressed as cats. dancing and lip syncing to "jellical cats". the back drop looked like it had been painted by a 5th grader. a lot of thought went into the choreography. it was a whole mix of broadway. phantom of the opera. chorus line. chicago. cats. i just wish someone had seen it besides us.
i found pretty shells but michael told me they should stay on the beach.
i think he's probably right.
it's cold in ny. we're going to a holiday party in westchester dressed as a band on tour. van and all.
i wonder what it's like in texas. i think i'm going to miss gayle's party...did i miss gayle's party?
my toes are really cold.
but i think i have enough brown to last me until we make it to maui. i can hold out for two more months...two more months.

habit creature

i ended up back in the south the other day. early december was warm and sunny. my girlfriend and i sat in this bar called earl's near the big open picture windows. wooden benches, worn and crooked floor boards, ashtrays on every table and an easy breeze coming through reminded me of an older, lazier texas. slowed down and resigned. there was a fruit fly that kept coming between us and our conversation and i raised both my hands and brought them together hard and when i pulled them apart i was amazed to see the little guy smashed against my palm. and as i gloated in my victory, another appeared.
later that night three of us ended up at an ugly sweater party. which is so pleasant during the holidays. and our sweaters may have been a little too warm. out on the back porch it was a gorgeous evening. the kind that new york prolly won't see again until at least march. possibly may.

michael and i leave for cozumel in 9 hours.

4 days of sea and sun, and now, on lips's recommendation there will also be rum, staggering and cursing. and possibly some snorkle.

my plan is to stay as brown as i can all winter long. instead of getting the ultimate winter corpsey .

you were perfectly fine

she wondered how she was going to handle standing up. laying in bed she could sense that it was really going to have to be a triumph of the will. it hurt to think about it. her drinking muscles really over exerted themselves the night before. maybe putting both her feet on the floor first while keeping the rest of her body horizontal for a bit would make the transition easier. vertical was not going to be fun.
she lay in her half vertical for a bit. contemplating her hangover. she seemed coated in a dull sense of shame that she couldn't quite place.
maybe if she kind of rolled her torso up to a sitting position she could think more clearly.
she heard him in the kitchen. it might just be best to bite the bullet and waddle out.
her mouth tasted ... unpleasant.
she sat down across from him at the table and put her head in her hands.

she: man, i got wasted last night.
he: yeah. i don't know how. you didn't have that much to drink...
she: yes i did.
he: me too.
she: i have this weird feeling. like i may have tried to make out with your ex.
he: if i had to make an educated guess, she was probably trying to make out with you.
she: huh...you think?
he: ummm, yeah.
she: ...that's cool...
he: ...i've gotta stop dating lesbians.

my hangover reigns supreme.

it seemed like a nice time to be talking to a girlfriend. fuzzy-headed, in bed, catching up.
she listened to her ripple-dipple:

"have you ever used a sponge before? they're weird. ugh. anyway, i was just really freaking out and having a hard time with it because, you know, i only stick things inside myself for recreational purposes. not utilitarian."

girlface, that totally makes sense...

life at the timeshare

this morning the knocking started at about 9:30 this morning. i tried to ignore it. i didn't feel like getting dressed. i didn't feel like dealing with what it probably was. then i heard the keys. i jumped up, got dressed and answered.

before i started staying at the condo in williamsburg patty warned me "don't let them in to do anything. they'll make it worse."

a couple of months ago i had my first encounter with them wanting to come in and i had been able to avoid the situation until this morning. they rushed in and before i could finish saying "don't you think if the water is falling out down there, that's prolly where the problem---" they were taking a hammer to the wall. it really happened that fast.

i didn't know what to do. i decided to send an email to patty. i hate being the messenger.

i wrote "they're here. the leak. i tried to avoid. i tried to stop. no avail."

i'm afraid to leave because they don't shut the door. there are pieces of wall scattered all over the kitchen. the last i heard they were looking for a sawzall, which can't lead to anything good at this point.

patty called and we had a small, yet meaningful panic session.
she called them to inquire.
i think they are delusional. they are under the sink. they don't know what they're doing. they are going to leave a hole in the wall. the cat wants to jump into it.
i just want to run away. there's no water. i don't smell great. i've gotta pee. i guess it's time to shut dorcas into the front room and push the dresser in front of the door.

they're gonna leave that hole in the wall.
they're gonna leave that hole in the wall.

mama's little helper.

i sat in the airport for 4 hours and didn't fly anywhere. i spent most of the time waffling between talking to dustin and reading "glamour".
i came home thinking there was at least a quarter of the big bottle of gato negro...but i was totally wrong. not even a full glass.
sometimes you just want to get sauced.
they were out of polish beer.
now it's just me, a bottle of yueng ling and a shit load of gin.
god help me.

the excitement

i wobbled into the kitchen this morning and looked out the window and snow everywhere.
i ran back into the bedroom screaming "ohmygod, michael!"
he sat up straight in bed, visibly alarmed. "what!?"
"it snowed!"
"jesus christ, you scared the crap outta me."

he definitely was not as excited as i was.
it's my first snow in 10 years.
it's a big deal.

i have to leave for work here in a minute. we'll see how excited i am when it comes to the commute...

people do change...

as soon as he left that morning i could feel the crazy setting in. i knew that i had to do something. like leave. not be there when he got back. i had to do something that would calm me down without the use of valium. it was going to be tricky.
and then he called. he's on his way home. he has bagles. we're gonna have sandwiches and i try to pretend like i'm normal.

"i'm not at home. i'm on my way to china town. wanna come?"
"sure."

it would have gone over great if i didn't call right back and uninvite him.

three hours later i end up back there. a hot mess and a bunch of i-don't-know-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-with-me-so-please-stop-asking (which is very similar to the i-know-exactly-what's-going-on-with-me-but-i've-had-too-much-to-drink-and-can't-talk-about-it-now scenario). and i try to explain to him. i desperately try to explain to him

b: "i didn't always used to be like this."
u: "like what?"
b: "like...this...i dunno. like this crazy."
u: "really. so if i called ali right now she would tell me you used to be different?"
b: "well, no. she's a bad person to ask because we had 7 years of no contact..."
u: "so, if i called andypants right now..."
b: "oh, god no! please, don't ask andy...i mean...ok, i have always been crazy, but i didn't used to be like this. i used to be....i dunno, somehow more of a cold-hearted bitch and somewhere along the line that just went down the shitter."

but it didn't matter what i was saying at that point. the text message was already being sent: "hey andy, has she always been THIS crazy?"

we sat and waited. waited for andy pants to write back "yes. but she used to be a lot meaner."

thanks, pants. now he'll never believe my pleas of "not-crazy"

and on that note, thanks, scottie-revo for leaving this for me:

Crying in Restaurants

yesterday

i saw this parker posey movie last night. it was categorized as a romantic comedy, but there really wasn't anything funny about it except for the fact that her character, nora, was how you might imagine me and jenn daly smashed together into the same person. i was really suprised what was in the comedy section over there though. "the puffy chair" was hanging out over there not too far from the "porky's" trilogy. and there is absolutely nothing funny about the puffy chair. i'm kind of suprised i didn't see "sophie's choice" over in comedy after that.

also included in the yesterday:

ice skating (so much fun)
kerouac exhibit at the library
bbq food coma from daisy may's (this place is soooo goood)

and today is cirque du soleil.
it's been a full week.
i'm so glad my man is home.

my girlfriend red

red alert used to always talk to me about her loyalty to her friends and the people she loves. and i've seen it displayed over and over. and she's a fierce fuckin' bitch when it all comes down to it. and although it's never been my style, it's something that i totally respected her for, and it made me happy that she was in my court.
and now, i think of her all the time. because i swear to god, someone is gonna get their front door pissed on. and hey, jd, you wanna get witchy with me on someone's ass? hey red, wanna bring that temper to ny?
and simo, i don't know if you ever read this shit. but i know you're exactly the kind of person i want with us.

i sure do love the ladies in my life. and i sure do have bad feelings towards the people that intentionally hurt the ones i love.

sea, sex and sun.

we booked it yesterday morning. cozumel. touristy, cheesy, full of white people. but we're going. and i am so excited. three nights at an all inclusive resort. first class tickets. ocean view. and a big bottle of hawaiian tropic. swimsuit and a smile, y'all. that's all i need.
and mid december...it couldn't have come at a better time.

harry chapin wrote a song about a circle

it's really strange being in the northeast after years of being away. i remember the first winter i was in texas and having a bbq on my birthday. outside on the patio in shorts and a tank top thinking "i can't believe this is really possible after 20 years of sledding parties on this day." riding around in an el camino, drinking beer because the open container law still hadn't gone into effect and fixing my hangover from the night before. in my desperate attempt to leave the northeast and cold i had found a paradise. of lazy and slow. and warm and sunny. and i was never going to leave.
so now, 10 years later, after swearing-to-fucking-god that i would never ever ever ever ever ever come back, it's crazy being here. i bought a winter coat last week. down and puffy. hooded. gloves. fur lined winter weatherproof boots. sweaters. things that i had long gotten rid of in my life. tank tops are now just undershirts.
i think about how i'm here and how i got here and how my life just seems to have gone full circle after all these years.
i just went to a staged reading of a play tonight called "knives and other sharp objects"
it was written by a man named raul castillo. he used to live in austin, and the entire play is set in texas. and i loved it. it was awesome.
and i miss texas. but with everything right now. where i am, what i'm doing, who i'm with, where i live...it's like it could never have been any other way.
i'm glad i'm in ny. they sell gato negro here. i miss my girlfriends. and my boyfriends. but i am sitting at the kitchen table right now, and it feels really good to be home.

moot.

but whatever.
the other night i walked down to mulholland's to sit next to michael at the bar while he went absolutely berserk watching the patriots game. as i sat there watching i suddenly realized how different the dating world is here in new york compared to austin.

example
the following is how i would have described a guy that i thought was a total catch to one of my girlfriends in austin:

"you should totally meet him. he's really fucking cool, he's totally funny, he's sweet, he rides a hot bike, and he's really REALLY good at kickball."

compared to nyc:

"you should totally meet him. he's straight, he's single, no kids, and he's employed. total catch."

how pathetic is that? ladies of nyc, my heart goes out to you...

thanksgiving in chicago was cold as fuck, but very nice. hanging out with alison's future husband did me good. it's good to be back home though, and be off for the rest of the month. michael and i are trying to plan a spur of the moment vacation but can't decide between mexico, puerto rico, or a couple of nights at "the sherry" in miami for some flight crew debauchery. i need inspiration.

i need the beach.
i need a valium

personal drops

although i respect the privacy of the lives of my friends, it is frustrating when they tell me about their amazing lives and follow it with "you can't put this in your blog."

let it be known that my friends lead some pretty incredible lives. i think that that's all any of them will let me say about it.

the man i'm in love with is finally home and for the first time in a long time i don't feel like the universe is conspiring to keep us apart. i spent all of the quarters from the laundry money last week. i don't think he's noticed yet.

i don't drink alone every night.

san diego is beautiful, and all of the new first officers coming in from express jet are hot. male and female alike.

on one of the flights from somewhere to nowhere this past week the captain called to tell us that the landing gear wasn't coming down.
holy shit.

it eventually did, but i swear to god. it is really hard to look calm in the face of 100 passengers when you think you might die.

i mean, we pulled it off, but still. i sure am glad i had the house stocked with liquor when i got home.

better than hbo

the downstairs neighbors are fighting. i can't actually hear her at all. just him yelling about how she's a whore and he'd given her another chance but she's still a whore and he wants her out of his house.

i actually just learned the background of my neighbors yesterday. apparently girlface has been cheating on her husband with this guy for years and she just won't stop. her husband has begged her to stop and she just won't. she had a 1950's movie style nervous breakdown last year. bloody handprint on the wall in the stairwell, etc. she spent some time in bellevue and came back.

well, anyway, dude's finally kicking her out. i guess he's tired of taking care of her while she cheats on him and he works and pays for everything and raises their kids.
i wonder when she'll be back.

it reminded me of this apartment i used to live in on 33rd street in austin. there was a building behind me and every saturday morning the couple would fight. and he would be standing on the balcony yelling down to her by her car "you're a fucking whore! i'm never letting you into my heart or home again!"
and she'd cry and say she's sorry and cry more and drive away eventually.

then the next saturday it would happen all over again.

i'm sure most all of us are guilty of the backslide, but there really comes a point when you just have to stop.

the sherry

i was excited about going to miami only because i heard that the hotel was on the beach and had a vending machine that sold $1 beer. so cheap beer and the beach, a swimsuit and a smile. but that's not really how it worked out.
we land and it is not sunny. it is windy. the torrential rainfall was sporadic. we get to the hotel and i'm confused as to whether or not we are in a classy place or a dump. the lobby is huge. a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. fancy couches everywhere, but there's totally a weird feeling about the place...comparable to the lounge of a youth hostel or a college dorm. behind the front desk are two older cuban women with hair bleached so blonde it was almost white...or maybe they were so old that their hair was truly white, and slightly yellowing. there are a shitload of airplane models behind the desk representing every airline you can think of.
i walk past the desk and there are more lounges. huge wooden pool tables. more chandeliers. shuffle board. a patio. a big pool with a fountain in the middle.
people hanging out and drinking all over the place. and then i realize that they are all flight attendants.
downstairs, on the lower level there is a fitness center. a beauty salon. a huge kitchen. the infamous vending machine.
the mezzanine level is a library with computers. there is a ballroom. a micro-cinema that doubles as the place for free breakfast. the sherry lounge is the bar that you go to when they lock up the vending machine with cheap beer.
the hotel caters only to flight crews. it is right on the beach.
it is like a cross between the bates and the shining. it is complete debauchery.
no children allowed.

it's the most amazing, bizarre place i've ever been to.

and i can't wait to go back.

miami, baby.

miami. who wants to go with me next time and party hard with the flight attendants and pilots? we're lots of fun.

it's not a russian novel.

i was watching "heathers" today, and i swear to god, christian slater and winona ryder making out is still as hot as it has always been.

right now seems to be a time of extreme change for so many people in my life. and with a large portion of them, including me, the changes have been so ... unforseeable, that it makes me stop and think about how amazing time is. and what it does to you...or what you do in it.
the conversations i've had with people in the past few days...
"did you ever think when you were shooting dope a few years ago that now you'd be the head chef of a restaurant?"
"did you even think a few months ago that you'd be in nyc?"
"did you ever think when you were a mess of a person that now you'd be a school teacher?"
"did you ever think that our girl of a hot mess would be in grad school with everything paid for?"
"did you ever think that when you were working at the peep show that now you'd be a yoga teacher?"
"did you think you would ever leave your comfort zone?"
"did you ever think you'd go there again?"
"no, and it's fucking scary as hell..."

it's just totally crazy to me how quickly time passes, and the changes that happen...i'm just totally stunned on a daily basis.

i drank a lot last night.

according to jenn daly i came home very drunk and leaned in her bedroom doorway and decided to tell her what i saw.

"laying there. in bed. you look just like. an african princess."

this might not seem like an unusual thing to say to someone.

but jenn's not black.

arghhh!

so i have this kind of twisted fantasy where some one i know of, but have never met walks onto my plane. they also know of me but have never met me. anyway, they walk onto my plane and i give them a piece of my mind and say "you're a douche."
or something to that extent.

last night i have this dream, and they are totally on my plane or maybe in my restaurant and i am talking to them and totally am about to lay into them but i decide that i better make sure it's the right person and ask them for their last name....and it's the wrong last name. and then they shape-shift into something totally different, and my moment is lost.

ugh.

the ex-factor.

the smoke detector battery has FINALLY been replaced!

i just had lunch with my college boyfriend. and it was nice to sit there and laugh and be able to still see everything that made me force him to go out with me 12 years ago.
his girlfriend is a really lucky woman.

but then again, so am i.

i'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming.

anyway, i had this dream last night. or the night before. i posted this in someone's comments, then copied and pasted. so everytime you see the word "you" not in quotes imagine the name "nicole". i apparently dream about "nicole" a lot. ok, here goes:

so i had this dream last night (does this sound familiar?) and it's a two parter.
part one: i cut open my finger and i kept bleeding and someone says to me "how do you get off like that?" and you say "you can always use a water pick" and i say "highly overrated."
weird. then, later. i am at your house. i show up i don't know why and i am tired and disshevelled and i fall asleep on the ottoman. in the morning you wake me up and people are drinking wine and i go to the bathroom to put on my jordache jeans and you knock and say that you have a paper t-shirt and a diaper if i need it. i wonder why you are telling me this. then i realize that i must have like...menstruated all over your ottoman. but i look in my underwear and i swear to you that it was not me. that i was not menstruating. then i realize that the same thing had happened the last time i stayed at your place, and i wasn't really sure what to say for myself. i mean...i knew i didn't do it. but i really couldn't prove that.

it will congeal?

just moments ago i sliced open my thumb and index finger as i was washing the dishes. a glass broke into 3 pieces in my hand the moment i put the sponge inside it.
it seems as though i definitely could use a few stitches...but it's 3:30 in the morning. i'm by myself. and i have no idea where the nearest hospital is.
my bandaids are starting to get a little soggy.
but i think i'm going to try to sleep on it until day light, and hope that the blood decides to go someplace else in my body.

msg. a love story

i just put down the chopsticks and picked up a spoon so that i could scoop all of the little bits of ramen that are left at the bottom of the bowl. my love affair with msg will never die.
in the past 30 years it has only done me wrong a handful of times. and that's not enough to end our relationship.
she's so good to me when i'm not drinking.

when i got back from austin 5 days ago i noticed that the smoke detector in the hallway outside of my apartment needed a new battery. it beeped approximately every 3-5 minutes. well...now it's 5 days later and it is still beeping. what i don't understand is that the landlady lives upstairs. i haven't been here for the past 4 days. but i'm sure she has and i wonder how it hasn't driven her absolutely insane.

i feel that as the months go by my pms is getting worse and worse.
i had to turn off the tv this morning because the movie "flicka" wasn't giving me a chance to stop crying so i could put on eye makeup. why the hell anyone would ever want to come between a girl and her horse is beyond me. it was bad. "it's ok daddy. you can shoot us." that was actually a line in the movie.
i totally lost my shit.

bongiorno out on work stuff i have the next 2.5 weeks to myself when i'm in town. i think i just cut my finger on a potato chip.

sodium levels are soaring here. god help me.

jealous bitch

as i rolled over and saw girlface i found comfort in the fact that i couldn't possibly be the only one in the room that felt like absolute death. i know that she was humouring me by agreeing that a bottle of jealous bitch on the rooftop was the way to go, ending her 7 month stint with sobriety. how either of us thought that it could have ended well is beyond me. she said it wasn't because i was a bad influence, which i guess was enough for the both of us.
the skeezy neighbor was letting out his hired hand as we were coming down from the roof. calling ali by the wrong name only prolonged the awkward moment where we all knew what was going on. moments later he knocks with a consolation prize. a small baggie of weed that al held it in her hand asking "can i smoke this?"
that should have been at least one red flag. maybe the next would have been the claim that i would rather be sodomized than walk three blocks for a cheaper pack of cigarettes. that being said we simply crossed the street for gucci cigarettes and two highly priced beers only to find a bottle of wine from the neighbor on the welcome matt. flag number three might have been "i should ask him if he has any coke."
back on the roof with wine, weed and outrageously priced cigarettes the camera came out and the rest of the evening documented. flag number four would have been my sudden need to moon the camera.
some people would be pleased to know that jealous bitch is going to give the gato negro (gato oh-no) a run for it's money.
so here we are this morning. head's pounding.
i look at ali and she mutters "glad i got that out of my system."
yeah. me too.
hey, al, can you see my buttcrack?

how 'bout now?

slots a fun

my shabby greek isles hotel room in las vegas was everything i needed to make my experience complete. this place stopped ticking somewhere in the 70s, i'm sure. they might have made it until 85, but that would be a stretch.

they have a rat pack tribute show and flyers advertising their nightly karaoke sessions that are simple color photo copies. and clip art. karaoke everynight except the night i was there, which they refered to as "dark wednesday."

the roomservice menu is black and white photo copy on legal size paper in a plastic cover thing. they have an excellent pool. i do not need to gamble.

salt lake city is hot and dry. when i turned the tv to hbo Big Love was starting, which i found wildly appropriate. but what i love best about this particular labor day weekend at the salt lake city sheraton city centre is that there is an adolescent roll playing convention going on. it is truly incredible. all the young boys and girls walking around in their misfit t-shirts and samurai swords. there are signs everywhere informing attendees that real weapons may not be brought into the conference, and that all large bags and weapons must be checked at the security desk. there is somebody here in an excellent optimus-prime costume. lots of glasses. lots of long stringy hair on boys that i'm sure are really good at math. there are also the roll playing sluts, which are easily identified by their short skirts and knee high socks. there aren't many, but they are here, and i tell you what, they are a gamer's wet dream, i'm sure. in the dealer's room they are selling romulade. which seems to be some kind of lemonade beverage marketed to just this kind of crowd. endless hours of entertainment and people watching. i wonder how many of these kids are mormons. i wonder if they would be disappointed if they showed up at "dark wednesday" at greek isles and found out that it just meant no singing. their parents keep dropping them off in their mini vans.

i just really feel that there wasn't a venue for this kind of thing when i was growing up. was there? if there was, i feel seriously jipped. all i had was band camp.

i am in no way trying to dis band camp. they were the best times of my life. but i just feel like there should have been more.

the poverty diet

i opened the cookie jar on my girlfriend's kitchen counter to find it full of peanuts, pretzels and snack muffins. the closet full of liquor minis. stacks of single portion cheerios. i wondered if other people would find it strange.
i have been bringing less and less with me on trips so that i have room for stuff i pick up. potato chips. candy bars. mayonaise packets. sandwiches.
i am afraid of becoming a food hoarder. i returned from a 3 day trip last night with a garbage bag full of airplane food. i put it in my silver bin in the corner of the kitchen. michael could barely get through it to find a coffee cup. i wonder if this is what it was like to live during the depression.
when i die and people have to clear out my home will they just find tiny packages of pretzles under the mattress? cans of ginger ale and bloody mary mix stacked high in the basement? ham and turkey sandwiches in a deep freezer?
who ever thought it would come to this?
i lost 15 lbs in 3 months thanks to ... poverty.

letting go of control

after trying in vain to pick up a 4 day trip for tomorrow i gave in and decided to let the airline assign me to whatever was open. i hate letting them decide. but this time they did good. they're sending me to denver. which is where the man i'm in love with will also be with his job.

it's going to be incredible. i hope.

it wasn't pms.

while watching the coney island hot dog eating contest in the waiting room of the airport health clinic i desperately wanted to believe that i was on the verge of bleeding as i started crying when the american won over the little japanese guy.

but i haven't gotten a period. so i guess i must just be really patriotic.

god bless the usa.

the cherry on top.

it wasn't in her head. she was definitely locked in the basement. the likelihood of him hearing her pounding on the door from their 4th floor apartment was slim to none. based on her mood before she left he probably imagined her going out for cigarettes and never coming back. she took slight comfort in the fact that a first floor apartment shared a wall. they were so close she could hear their tv through the wall. there was no way they wouldn't hear her. she began pounding.
no sign of movement in the neighbor's apartment. she waited. after some time spanned she tried again.
nothing.
a few minutes later she tried again.
she was right. they definitely heard her. she could tell as they turned up the volume on the tv.

well said.

dml: so the last time i was at planned parenthood i looked at the receipt and the top of it said "please come again." like i'd ever want to step foot in that place again.

ff: the next time they tell you to come again you should politely inform them that you have coat hangers that have better attitudes than they do.

back sweat.

it is really fucking hot in brooklyn. the fire hydrants are open on every corner. i am sitting at the table sweating balls. the fish bowl is on the window sill next to me and the water is turning green. i wonder what the likelihood on contracting hep-a is. looks like a stagnate pool to me. i think i'm killing the fish. the fish that i gave michael for his birthday instead of the strap-on that he was apparently expecting. not that he needs one...nevermind, long story.

so the fish, henrietta, is a boy. annick so kindly informed me last night on our way to celebratory drinking. it's a boy. the colorful ones are boys. they're like birds. i don't know if i should tell michael. i think he really wants the fish to be a girl.
anyway, so i'm killing the fish. it had been swimming--well, actually, barely moving--towards the bottom of the bowl for so long. i asked michael if he thought she was dead and he said "no, if she were dead she'd be floating at the top". well i changed out half of the water yesterday and today it is even greener, and she is swimming (barely moving) closer and closer to the top.

oh, it just started raining. the fish seems to be intrigued by the rain.

so all i need is to have michael come home tomorrow and find a henrietta dead at the hands of his emotionally-unstable-more-than-he-bargained-for-trainwreck-of-a-girlfriend.
he'll think it's about the knee pillow. i won't be able to explain. then he'll leave me claiming it's my un-nurturing nature that drove him away.

yeah, so i don't know if i should tell him that she's a boy.

it is so fucking hot out.

layover

as soon as he sat down two stools away she knew he had plans on talking to her. she tried to put it out of her mind. instead she focused intently on her beer and the flat screen tv. he asks the bartender to refill his drink and lights a cigarette. he takes a couple of drags and then goes for it.

"are you here on business too?"
"me?" slightly suprised at the opening line she continues "uh, yeah, i guess so."
"with Mattress Firm?" ohmygod he did not just say that...
"uh...no."

he finished his cigarette in silence before returning to the other side of the bar.
she looked at the manager and said "i think he just asked me if i was a prostitute."
with interest jimmy asked her "why, what did he say?" she told him the scenario.
"oh. you know, we actually have an account with Mattress Firm. they are having a meeting here early in the morning."

well, it certainly is an unfortunate way to approach a woman.

totally your boyfriend.

the resemblance to buster from arrested development was incredible. the glasses. the balding. the relative social disfunction. and then to top it off there was the glove. he wore a glove on his right hand. a precautionary measure. part of the healing process. the result of some kind of freak accident involving alcohol, a hot dog and three days in the hospital. anyway, the glove just brought to mind buster after his hand had been eaten off by a seal.

i stood there in barcade, taking it all in when he suddenly decided to play ding-dong-ditch with the ass of some guy at the bar. he runs back and looks at me and smiles.

d: that's right, you saw it. i just grabbed your boyfriend's ass.
l: doug...that's not my boyfriend.
d: that guy?
l: no, doug. michael's over there...nowhere near the bar.
d: oh, good god...

the resemblance to buster was incredible.

i can't believe this really happened...

while driving to amherst, mass, from austin, tex jules decided to make a short pit stop in brooklyn, ny with her awesome dog mingus and we went for a walk. had some lunch. walked some more. passed street vendors mostly selling junk and used stuff, some cute, some useless. on north 6th a woman had her clothing line out on a rack. mannequin. soft soft soft jersey cotton. super cute dress on the dummy. although i knew it would be way out of my range i had to stop and look at her stuff. when i asked her how much the dress was she told me a reasonable price for a dress made of the softest stuff ever. but i didn't have any money on me. she said she'd be back next saturday, i said "so will i."
when we walked away jules said to me "do you have off next saturday?" fuck. no. i would definitely be flying.
on the way back home we stop by her little set up again and i ask if there's a description i can tell michael so that he will know which one it is so i can send him with money. the following exchange happened:

"i take credit cards"
"i have nothing. we were just going for a walk."
"try it on. there's a mirror. put it on over your clothes."
"...ok..."
"it looks great on you. with your hair. your eyes. you should have it. as a gift. i mean it."
"...ohmygod...well...if i can't make it next saturday i'll send someone with some money."
"you can do whatever you want. but i want you to know that that dress is a gift from me. and i don't want anything in exchange."
"thank you."

seriously, y'all. the dress is hot. the woman's stuff can be found here.

and my tear stained pillow

after eight days away from the man i'm in love with i greet michael with nothing but a whole bunch of sad party and uncontrollable what-the-fuck. while he catches up on sleep post-red-eye i decide that it is in everyone's best interest for me to leave the apartment.
so i do the aimless walking and crying that i'm sure we are all familiar with when it comes to the moods.
then he calls. he finds me. we walk. i cry. we are walking hand-in-hand on a desperate yet silent search for lip balm when i look up at him and say "let's go to coney island."
"i was just about to say that."
"really? i want to go."
"when? tomorrow?"
"no. now."
so coney island it was. bumper cars and cyclone. flume. break dance. boardwalk. photobooth. pay toilets. beach. bums. hot dogs. and there is this game...called "shoot the freak" you pay. they give you a paintball rifle. some guy comes running out of his stained mattress hut, or something, and you shoot him with paintballs. although intrigued i found something fundamentally wrong about it, and as the barker continually peaked my interest i backed away at first slowly, but then we actually had to turn and run.
later patty told us that shoot the freak travels around, and would be at the 12 day our lady of mount carmel church function in williamsburg in about 3 weeks.
my thighs and back are bruised from the cyclone. i screamed and laughed so hard i gave myself a headache. our photobooth pictures are amazing.
coney island. totally corked my cry-hole.

let the gin do the talking.

it's got good things to say.

so b, inspired by johnny depp, decided that a bottle of rum would be a good thing to have around the house. and now, for the first time in 10 years, i am officially a lightweight. a lightweight that's very much in love with her bee.

bees waxing moronic.

did you read the job description?

she wasn't sure whether or not she should laugh or cry when her co-worker looked at her and without shame said "i don't know how to multi-task."
she pushed the pain back down to her stomach where it belonged and prepped herself for the longest 5 hours of her life. unfortunately she didn't push it down far enough because it resurfaced back into her mouth during the dessert service.

don't know how to multi-task.
it's so hard not to judge.

i wonder what they're hiding.

were those leaves in her hair?

"where have you been?"
"i thought i would take a nap in the leafy knoll behind the car port. except it wasn't as pleasant as i imagined it. so i ended up taking a nap in the back seat of a parked car."
"who's car?"
"i don't know. the door was unlocked so i just fell asleep for a while in the back. then i took out my lipstick and left a note. i was here."

sometimes i wish i had gone to library school too. 1998. what a year.

how did you get your job?

after 2 hours of waiting somebody finally called her name. she waded through the sea of 14 year old girls towards the woman with the clip board. she followed her down a dark, backway stairwell that reminded her of china town when she was young. the bathrooms were always in the basement and the basement was always dark and she was sure that those were the kind of places snuff films were made.
so, down the snuff film stairwell and into an office. she got on the scale. she'd lost 10 lbs.
she sat in a chair while the woman asked her questions.

woman: are you interested in birth control?
girl: possibly an IUD.
w: there are two kinds.
g: how long do they last?
w: about 10 years. how old are you?
g: 30.
w: you need to start having your children soon.
g: but i don't want children. that's why i want an IUD.
w: why don't you want children?
g: there's enough children. why does one need to come out of my body.
w: don't you like children?
g: i like them just fine. they look great on other people.
w: you're a strange girl.
g: i'm sorry. i thought i was at planned parenthood.

gunspoint...

so, we live in this hotel. a marriott. it's ok, you know...clean rooms, a/c works. indoor/outdoor pool. and Kicks, the hotel bar. it's a somewhat surreal existence, but it's worked so far.

yesterday i was on the phone with josh discussing whether or not a visit would be in order. he asked me where i was staying.

in greenspoint, i said.
oh. so you don't leave your hotel then, do you?
no. never.

well, last night i left the hotel. over dinner we had a conversation about desperate times and people in l.a. doing fucked up shit. devin said "it's not just in l.a., y'all. it's everywhere." she wasn't joking.

about an hour later, after riding the technically mechanical bull in walmart (now that gilley's is gone what else is there?) we started walking back to the car. we looked back at one point to see our girlfriend in somekind of confusing struggle and we watched for a second before we realized that some fat chick was trying to steal her purse.

y'all...girls make-up was jacked.

anyway, there were three of them, but it was an unsuccessful mugging. not because any action was necessarily taken, but because they were so fucked up. and then they just disappeared. we climbed in the car to try to run them over, but they had vanished. which must have been a serious act of magic, cuz girl was big.

devin told the story in class this morning. that's when carlos told us that he was pistol whipped in his car at the intersection in front of our hotel. they call the area gunspoint.

we have fantastic bull photos.

and kathlene still has her purse.

yo, andicat

the half naked pillow fights are insane.

wish you were here.

xo

b.

i can't believe this is my life.

i walked in the first day to hear frank sinatra singing "come fly with me" followed by a semi-reggae arrangement of "leaving on a jet plane." i thought of andicat and cried and was totally caught by a woman named faye...

i eat airplane food twice a day. my coffee intake has increased by 10 extra cups a day. i wake up at 5:30am. i listen to morning radio.

it's like a cross between the apprentice and survivor. two have already left. we're in the middle of grody outskirts houston.

my roomate is a 22 year old stacy love from new jersey. there are two women here that could be doppelgangers of natalie and stacy of kickball/sidebar...both in appearance and personality.

it's also kind of like friends. a group of people. that are unemployed for all intensive purposes. that live in nice hotel rooms and all hang out at the hotel bar called "kicks."

i wish y'all would come and visit. it's surreal. i wear high heels every day.

trainspotting

that morning, as they dressed and readied to head back home she out louded "i wonder when my period is going to start..." "today" he said, offering her assurance.
later on the train she looked out the window instead of at him when she said "it hasn't started yet." again, he offered her a certain "it will."

once in the city they walked hand in hand through the passage towards their train. her mind on it's own mission.
he squeezed her hand as he started "hon, our two options..." she took the slight pause as him waiting for her answer. "kick me in the stomach or push me down the stairs."

his grip loosened momentarily while he processed her response. "ok. yeah. well, i'll do both just to be safe. but right now do we want to take the L train or the JMZ?"

oh. either one. i don't really care.

much like a tumbleweed...

new england looks exactly like it does in the movies. i almost felt like we were part of the set in beetlejuice as we drove through the little town of i can't remember what it's called, 15 miles south east of boston.
i saw my first light house. and the atlantic ocean up close and personal for the first time ever. it was cold and beautiful. sunny, and windy.
a baby seal lay injured on the beach, still furry and looking at us with his whiskers and big, dark eyes. the village by the water reminded me of mexico in a way. but whiter.
we managed to get lost and drive in circles and not really think anything of it. there were bunnies everywhere.
i was somehow freaked out by steamers and foreskin come dinner time. and afterwards we went to some corner cafe. and they told us about parenting. and those that don't.
riding back to the city on the train reminded me why i didn't miss the east coast. the cold, wet dark. the fog that lasted forever. the grey.
i wonder how you become a light house keeper.

conjoined...

the past couple of days i have noticed an ingrown hair near the hairline of my bush. this morning, as michael and i were lying in bed i brought it up, saying i wanted to attack it with a needle or a pair of tweezers. michael says "you can prolly just squeeze it out by now...judging by the looks of it."
y'all, i squeezed this fucker. it was no ingrown hair. it was my fucking unborn twin laying dormant in my bush for the past 30 years. it was completely insane. i held it in my hand. jaw dropped. we haven't decided what to name it, but i tell you i must have lost 2.5 lbs.
we said a little prayer and i shed a little tear before i threw it into the wastebasket by the bed.

good bye little friend.

maybe my pants will fit better now.

no shame

while trying to overcome the performance anxiety that sometimes occurs even in solitude she imagined a gently flowing stream, hoping it would induce urination. as the moment finally arrived the door knob attempted to turn. unsuccessfully. thank god she had locked it. she needed this moment.
but wait. it's happening again. this time the lock turning too...how can that be? who would want to walk in on this?
the door opened. there he was. fucker.
he walks in and closes the door behind him.
frantically she yells "what the fuck are you doing?"
"i have the key" he says with a calm that noticeably raises her blood pressure.
"you couldn't wait?"
"i have to floss. it smells like piss in here."
"that's because i'm peeing!"
"and box. it smells like box too...i just farted."
"you couldn't fucking wait?"
"i had to floss."
"you just broke into the bathroom so you could criticize my urine and my box and fart in my face?"
"are you ok?"
...
"yes."

i mean, what else could she say? he'd just made her dinner.

goodness...how...awkward...

I.

b: did you just come inside of me?
o: yes.
b: i'm not on my period.
o: ...
b: in fact, i think i may be ovulating.
o: ...is there anything else you'd like to tell me?
b: hi.

II.

it took a second for her to realize she wasn't dreaming when her boyfriend climbed on top of her and hastily, sloppily attempted penetration. although she thought he was well on his way, he seemed to doubt his own abilities and removed the portion of himself that was inside of her.
still groggy she watched as he attempted to fluff himself at which point she reassuringly said "you almost had it there, hon."
he responded well. he simply lost whatever remaining erection he may have had, rolled off of her with a gentle, yet firm, heart felt "you fucker."

III.

b: you kind of startled me last night...jumping on me like that...
o: i figured i better do it quick before you had a chance to wake up and say no.
b: do you realize what you just said?

IV.

b: "so, they were right about to go to sleep, i guess. they had just turned out the lights or something. anyway, as they were lying there next to each other he apparently reached his hand over to her and said 'can i touch your pussy?' at which point she was like 'are you for real?' and he said 'yeah.' she was like 'no. no, i'm not in the mood.' and then i guess he was just like 'ok' and fell asleep."
o: "no. he didn't really do that. he wouldn't ever do that."
b: "yeah, he would and he did. why would she lie about that?"
o: "because he would never say that. he wouldn't do that. he must have been asleep when he said it."
b: "ok. whatever gets you through the day. i'm just saying, he's a total horndog, and why would she lie?"

V.

dinner had been beautiful. the walk to the hole in the wall had been pleasant. the beer, expensive. the shot of jaeger a double. the breakup they witnessed on the way home, unfortunate. the end of the six pack a reason to go to the store. the jug of corona, unnecessary. the fight with the KY, amusing. the attempt...absurd.

come morning they lay there together basking in their hangovers.
her: that was a little ridiculous.
him: yeah...
her: i mean, considering i wasn't wet. and you didn't have an erection.
him: yeah...you know, it felt like that scene in Money...the one where he's trying to rape his girlfriend. he's got her pinned down, her clothes off and he says to himself "now all i need is an erection." i mean, seriously, what am i supposed to think when our sex life starts to imitate unsuccessful rape scenes in novels?
her: yeah...

i wondered if he understood...

bb: "i don't know if he understands the hormone thing...i guess he probably does, but i'm too much of a bitch to recognize it..."

mr: "no. men can never fully understand that. acting crazy and knowing why, but not being able to stop yourself because you feel insane."

bb: "i don't know if that makes me feel better or not..."

who is hungry monkey?

i've been going through the list of people it could be and can't figure it out.

it's already starting.

in retrospect it's really funny.
yesterday i sat on the computer watching michael walk all over the apartment looking for his keys. definitely a mystery as to where they went. i couldn't understand where they possibly could be. we had made it into the apartment the night before, and michael is exceptionally tidy, and i hadn't had a chance to wreck the place.
so, according to michael at least an hour had passed before i said "maybe they're in my pocket"
i stood up. put my hand in my pocket. and there they were.

there was absolutely no good reason for those keys to be in my pocket.

i was still drunk....

i was definitely still drunk from the night before when jenndaly, andypants and i drove to the airport.
totally dukes of hazard as i jumped out the passenger side window at the airport, grabbed my carry on and yelled "goodbye texas!"
it wasn't until we were in the air and i was listening to the "cinemagic" station on the XM radio that i lost my shit. pretty in pink was the featured film. i don't know if you know anything about this station, but let me explain what they do.
they play the musical soundtrack in it's entirety. during the songs, and in the transitions between songs they edit in bits of dialogue from the movie. so here i am listening to OMD singing "if you leave" with snippets of molly ringwald and andrew mc carthy have their exchange about believing in each other and love.
i totally lost my shit.
who knows what the guy sitting next to me must have thought. especially since just moments before i was still caught in my still drunk, transvestite voice (which has become very popular with me lately). then i'm suddenly looking out the window and crying, trying to decide if i want to order my bloody mary mix with vodka in it or not...
once pretty and pink ends and we move on to ferris bueller's day off i didn't have much of a problem pulling it together. i was able to keep it together until shortly before we landed. at that point i was on the 70s station listening to neil diamond's "i am, i said". i love this song. and i lost it even harder than i did listening to andrew and molly.
so anyway, i leave jfk, get on the A train, get on the J train, and as i exit the train at Hewes i start walking down the platform and the only other person there is my lovely michael. in his favorite orange mexican homeless shelter t-shirt. with a bouquet of sunflowers.

he's so perfect.
i have the next 2.5 weeks with him before i leave for training.
it's going to be incredible.

xo

i want to be a flight attendant....

i can save you all. look to me for instructions when the plane begins to fall...

i start flight attendant training on april 16th.

also...i leave austin today. for nyc. i'm totally gonna get laid.

finally.

i love you michael.

it's alright to cry.

i haven't masturbated in over 22 days.

the cleaners

as she worked her way across the floor with a bottle of simple green and a roll of towels she remained astonished by the fact that the river of blood that covered the floor somehow never hit the furniture or any of the rugs.
it made the clean-up exceptionally easy.

and in addition

saturday afternoon he sat on the back stoop. she walked into the garage and pulled out an old wine crate. in the sun she unraveled the hose and began to wash the cobwebs out of the corners of a wooden shell.
in the mist of his hang over he looked at the situation and without thought very matter of factly said..."you have a wet box."
she very matter of factly replied, "i sure do..."

i never travel without my box.

all grown up now the two of them sat side by side. drinking. telling and re-telling secrets of past and present. stories of being young and stupid. stories of acting young and stupid. as they raised their glasses to clink she opened her mouth to say "here's to tight lips."
she paused. you could see her processing what she had just said. she continued "...both kinds."

both kinds. truly.

i hate blogger right now. i really really do.

list. alison is rubbing off on me.

not to be confused with rubbing one out on me.

1. so, last tuesday night i turned the ringer off on my phone before i went to sleep.
in the middle of the night the phone rang. it startled me. i looked at the number and it was an austin number so i answered it. (i have a houston phone #. i get lots of calls from houston and i know they will be wrong numbers, so i rarely answer my phone). it was my girlfriend/co-worker rebeca calling from a friend's phone. she said "i know it's late and i'm sorry but i have a proposition for you. if you can work happy hour bartending wednesday and friday i will find someone to cover your friday cocktail shift and i'll give you $200 on top of it."
i agreed and hung up the phone...that equals at least $400 for minimal pain.
i looked at the phone to see what was up with my ringer, and it had been turned off the whole time.
weird, huh?
i got other phone calls that night and it never rang.

2. in the past 4 weeks i have won 4 online contests. bob saget tickets, comedy club tickets, alamo drafthouse tickets and a 20% off coupon for some new store on the east side.

3. i went to the dentist and they took away the stains on my front teeth. i hadn't been in 7 years. i only have one cavity.

4. on tuesday i bought my first suit. and a pair of heels.

5. i'm having the black hearts on my arm taken off with lasers.

6. i have an interview with continental airlines at the end of this month.

7. i woke up this morning in bed curled up with renee and jenndaly. i walked out to the living room and saw dot all curled up in bed with another cute chick. awesome way to start the morning.

8. my gremlin is following me.

9. i leave austin in 13 days.

10. i can't stop touching my breasts.

11. last night i was fortunate enough to encounter 6 of the most lovely ladies in austin. in one place. it was beautiful.

blogger hasn't let me post in over a week...it only shows my title, not my text.

and i'm wondering if this one will be the same way. yesterday it tricked me and let me post one, but i deleted it because it was a test post...then it wouldn't let me post anymore.

david bowie. also a jew.

the past couple of days have been a whirlwind. i've been trying to move out of the most perfect little house. i imagined that when i moved out i would need a storage space only for a cedar chest, a footlocker, an elephant, and a pachinko machine. and then a couple of boxes of snowglobes. nothing more.
that is totally not how it is.
i had a dream about the rangerette, last night, by the way.
i have to go back to the house and finish on saturday. i should be there today but i'd missed two days of work already trying to get this shit done. kinda makes me wish i had the balls to just put all of my shit in a big pile, set in on fire and start over.

over the past nine years one of the things i've missed the most about the north east is steam heat. radiators. the coiled kind that you find in older buildings. sometimes they're painted silver. and they suggest sepia toned memories. yellow, smoke-stained light. condensation on the windows. slippers. mittens. hot chocolate. hardwood floors.
last night i was sitting in jenndaly's living room. in her older little texas house. i was looking at her little gas space heater. this particular kind are really common, especially in older houses. open flame. like a tiny gas fire place in the living room. then the bathroom ones that are built into the wall. and i realized how they have worked their way into my memory shelf. and i know in future winters i will be standing in front of my radiator in new york, thinking of texas.

on beauty

my bus reading material is currently zadie smith's On Beauty.
so as i was reading this morning i looked at my black t-shirt and it was covered in cat hair. no matter what i do i am always a walking hairball.
back in Passau i used to go to this billiard hall called "cafe alibi." there was this guy that worked there...alfonse...alois? i don't remember. but i was fascinated by him. he reminded me somehow of a dr. seuss character. if dr. seuss had created a gigolo.
anyway, one day andi and i were in the fussgaengerzone and i saw alfonsois walking along. i pointed him out and started to follow him for a bit. when i noticed that his shirt was covered in cat hair.

andi: "i think that's beautiful...i would never think to not wear a shirt just because it was covered in cat hair..."

you know what andicat, neither would i.

xo.

after thoughts

i realized the other day that my deoderant was making me smell like a homeless person. like i had repeatedly pissed into my armpits.

my boyfriend has two urethras.

he also has a tail.

i just remembered something about the blog entry dated january 15, 2007: when my host mother returned from the all night pharmacy she handed me some pills and a bunch of little foil packets shaped like bullets.
i turned one of them over in my fingers, studying the packaging. i wasn't really paying attention to frau dobmeier so :
hm: "blahblahblahblahblah.....im Arsch."
lb: "wie bitte?"
hm: "du musst es im Arsch nehmen."
lb: "nein!"
at that point i didn't care if i was going to die in deutchland or not. there was no way in hell i was sticking anything in my ass. when i made it out alive it made me wonder if the doctor had prescibed me suppositories just to be funny.

my job really sucks right now.

also, even though i've decided to stop collecting snowglobes, i will make an exception if that snowglobe from the Great Buddha ever comes along.

i can't wait to get out of here.

together again.

after a 5 day long travel nightmare i have finally been re-united with the man i'm in love with.
he's been hanging out at the house, porky piggin' it.

it's incredible.

arch nemesis. the saga.

so, according to fleetwood this is what happened during my absence at kung fu last night.
fleeter and renee were talking about how i was moving to ny.

stink eye: who's moving to ny?
fleeter: lisa.
s.e.: who's lisa?
fj: you know. the girl i'm always in class with.
s.e.: no.
fj: yeah you do. she has long black hair.
s.e.: i don't know her.
fj: yeah you do. she's half vietnamese.
s.e.: oh. that girl.

what the hell? i don't know why it gets to me. but i wanna beat the living crap out of her.

broken telephone

fleetwood and i have been talking for a couple of years about how we need to make tin can telephones so that we can talk to each other at work.
so, today i finally made them. she gave me soup cans, i brought in string and a nail. but when we tried to use them they didn't work because we were so close to each other that i could actually just here her talking without the can up to my ear.
we were all sad because we wanted to whisper to each other.
then i looked at my telephone on my desk. picked up. dialed her desk number. she answered.

fj: "this is fleetwood."
lb: "can you hear me?"
fj: "i can hear you"
lb: "can you hear me because you can hear me or can you hear me through the phone?"
fj: "i can hear you through the phone."

why had we never thought of that before?

storm trooper

so let's talk about the man i'm in love with. mr. bongiorno.
my lovely michael was scheduled to leave nyc at 8:50 wednesday night arriving just after midnight. yesterday morning he decided to suprise me by coming in early. he called jet blue and found that there was still space on an earlier flight, so he arrived at the airport before 11am. shortly thereafter mayhem ensued.
the 730am flight to austin still hadn't left. so he waited in line and got a seat on that one. jfk closed. then the flight was supposed to leave at 4pm. then 5. then 1030. then 1130. then jfk closed again. my storm trooper of a boyfriend stayed at that airport trying to find a way to austin until 6am this morning (my time). he got home just after 7am (8am eastern time). unable to get a flight to austin, houston or dallas within the next 24 hours. he has a flight booked for sunday night. he'll stay until saturday.
he was at jfk for almost 24 hours. if that's not love, i don't know what is.

in the key of life

this morning, as i was clearing my bookshelf of giveaway stuff, i came across a cute journal that someone had brought me from japan years ago. it was hard-bound. the spine read "a day in the life of the fuzzy bears".
i remembered writing in it at one point and i opened it to see if it was worth salvaging. i read the first few pages, and kind of laughed. but then the entries got longer starting in may of 2003. as i read it i seriously thought to myself "i can't believe i that this was my life. i can't believe that i was in a place where i would actually think like this." at times throughout the day i would think about it and become a little sad for where i was then. and i'm so glad i'm not there anymore.

powdered sugar?

as a group of women (and one man) gathered around the snack table, the beer cooler, the punch bowl, the expecting mother, one guest looked up at another and saw it, plain as day. the felony line streaking across her nose.

at a baby shower.

who does that?

yeah, you know, son of sam.

i dropped an ice cube into a cup of hot tea this morning. as i watched it crack there was a moment where i wondered if the little cube felt any pain.

throughout the 90s and into the beginning part of this century my uncle andy had a christian radio talk show on nyc's WMCA 570. it aired from 2pm-4pm monday through friday.

one sunny, summer afternoon i went to visit aunt kay. i arrived around 2 and uncle andy's show was on. she listened to her husband every day. i sat at the kitchen counter as she made us lunch. as we listened to uncle andy and had our own little conversation my eyes started to wander to the stack of mail sitting to my right. a plain, white envelope rested on top with the address type-written. the return address field read:

David Berkowitz
c/o Sullivan Correctional Facility....

it was addressed to my uncle andy.

lb: aunt kay?
ak: yeah?
lb: this envelope says that it's from david berkowitz...
ak: mm-hmm. you know. son of sam.
lb: yeah. i know who he is. why is uncle andy getting mail from him.
ak: oh, your uncle andy's had him on his show a couple of times. he's born again, you know.
lb: oh, no, i didn't know that.
ak: it's a really nice letter. do you want to read it?
lb: kinda.
ak: you know, your uncle andy got a lot of shit for having him on the show. but i don't know what people are so upset about. it's not like he's going anywhere.
lb: yeah. i guess not.

life decisions.

i've officially decided to stop collecting snow globes.
it's the end of an era.

habitat for humanity

about a month ago a baby snail took up residence in my shower. i don't know how snails mate. the little slugger travels all up and down the shower walls, and sometimes across the ceiling. it leaves snail shit on the tile. i've watched him grow from a tiny little shell to a good sized little guy. he pops his head out and can move pretty quickly these days. i don't know what he eats.

when i went into the bathroom today i didn't see him. i got a little emotional for a minute, but luckily i found him on the back of my jar of face scrub.

slugs in bavaria are huge.

the long weekend

my birthday is january 16. when i was in elementary school we would be dismissed from school early the wednesday during the week of martin luther king jr.'s birthday, january 15. his birthday was declared a national holiday when i was in first grade. this was the year that changed the observation of his birthday from early dismissal on wednesday to day off from school on monday. i had really wanted my birthday to be on that early dismissal, but now, aware of the possibility that i could have a full day off, i patiently waited for my birthday to land on a monday.

eleven years passed before that day actually came. i was a senior in high school. and i wasn't living in the united states. the u.s. holiday was not observed in southern germany. i was 29 before i actually was able to enjoy my birthday off from my state job.

although i was in germany the year my birthday fell on mlk day i did not have to go to school. i had slept for approximately 48 hours straight before waking the morning of january 16, 1995. i woke up, throat swollen, unable to walk. i crawled into the bathroom where my host mother was getting ready for work. it was about 7:15am.

host mother: "why aren't you ready for school?"
lb: "i'm really sick."
hm: at 7:45 you can go to the doctor.
lb: i don't think i can make it there on my own.
hm: when someone gets home they will go with you.

nobody went to the doctor's office with me. i went back to sleep. when my host sister, kerstin, got home from school she opened my bedroom door. i only remember hearing her scream.
the doctor made a house call.

it's about 9pm. the doctor is there. she has looked me over. shoved a swab down my throat.

dr: "du hast scharlach"
lb: was ist scharlach?
dr: es ist ein kinderkrankheit. (it's a children's disease)
lb: but i'm 18 today.

the frau doctor left me alone and my family went to an all night pharmacy to get my medication. i reached for a german/english dictionary and looked up "scharlach" ... the definition read "scarlett fever".

now, the only thing i ever knew about scarlett fever was that helen keller had gone blind and deaf from it. i thought that it no longer existed. i suddenly was afraid of dying in deutchland. luckily my fever was raging and i passed out again.

thank goodness those days are far behind me. my birthday lands on a tuesday this year, and i will not be at work.
i'm in my own country. i'm in nyc with the man i'm in love with. he just served me breakfast. i have a long weekend. i have paid vacation. we have movie plans today. it's martin luther king day. we have dinner reservations tomorrow. i don't have scarlett fever. i have a cat sitter and plans to go to the turkish baths tomorrow.

happy birthday to me.