Fantastic!

2004-05-14T22:52:00.000-04:00

This winter in New York absolutely sucked. OK, maybe it was not THAT bad, but January was the absolute worst. It was terrible. Every day I planned my escape from this godforsaken place. Then the snows melted and it was like a new city. On days like the glorious one we had today, I think that someone would be crazy to leave New York. Riverside Park near our neighborhood has a perfect cathedral of trees. The other day I was walking my 14-pound attack dog just as a thunderstorm was brewing. The wind was swirling the flowers that fell from the trees, the pigeons were flying in formation, everyone was hurrying to get home, but Rudi and I just were. It was wonderful, the humid air was gone and the cold wind felt wonderful, and the air smelled like the thunder. The clouds were purple over the city but blue over Jersey, so I knew it would not last. Just like the summer.

2003-04-11T09:13:00.000-04:00

A necessary tale of woe

Here's another complaint for the web log. I really, really don't want to be negative, I just have to share this and it is part of my ongoing crusade for helpful service in the service industry. Plus I think it is a pretty good story. I have a really nice little digital video camera, and most of my friends know that I just love it and it may appear at any given event. I also make short films with a friend of mine every Easter, so imagine my dismay a few weeks ago when I noticed that the playback screen had black bars across it; the next time I looked at the camera, the playback was gone entirely. Oh no! I was counting on it to make our fifth and final (and possibly most epic ever) Oestertagei Erzahlungen (Easter Egg Tales) series. I knew I had to act fast. I don't want to get sued for libel so let's call my camera company "Schmanon." I called Schmanon Customer Service and got the number and address for the nearest service center, which is in New Jersey. I called Schmanon Service (not a toll free call) and was rerouted through a maze of phone mail until I got an actual person, who told me to send it in. Fine. I boxed it up, went to Mail Boxes Etc (Oh! Oh! I actually wrote about that trip to MBE in my web log, back on March 19!), sent it on its way. Fine. I got an estimate for the repairs, $170, fine, it is worth $700 or $800 so fine, fine, fine. I got the camera back via FedEx last week. The hand strap was all big, and it smelled like Obsession For Men, but it was back. I actually left it at work for a while because I didn't need it at home, whatever, fine.

Last night, for no reason at all, I decided to check it out, see if it worked. Augh! Nothing! Not fixed! Tape! Did! Not! Play!!! AUGH!!!! There was a letter with it when I got it back, which read "The necessary repairs have been completed." What? When someone writes and says that the camera is not playing tapes anymore, don't you think the repair people would, I don't know, TRY TO PLAY A TAPE IN IT before declaring it "fixed" and sending it back to me?!?!?!?!?!?!?! But nooooooo. NO!!!! And to top it off, there is some dirt or lint or dust or something in it now that wasn't there before. Augh!!! Augh!!! AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!! They are going to fix it for free and I want to be reimbursed for my shipping. I am really POed about this. It is just inexcusable.

Fortunately, my dad recently bought a camera for his and my mom's "The Kids Are Gone, Let's Go On A Trip" trips, so we can use that to make our masterpiece at Easter. Nothing can stop art! Not even the fools at Schmanon!

2003-04-09T09:08:00.000-04:00

Then Don't Ask Me!

Last night I had to take the subway home from work because the shuttle bus had an accident (!!) and no one knew when it would be running again. I ran into the wife of a friend of mine, and we went on the train together. After braving the elevators at the 168th St stop (I think that if I am ever going to get SARS or ebola or Marburg virus, it is going to be in those elevators), we went down to the platform to wait for the train. Within seconds, this little guy came toward us. My friend went to the other side of me because we were talking and wanted to send the message that we were talking. He kept coming, though, and said, "Excuse me, ladies, I was just wondering..." and of course, of course, of course we thought he wanted money. 99% of the time, when someone talks to you in the subway, they want money. Not the case this time. This guy got all offended that my friend had walked away from him. He said that he just wanted to "ask us a question," and I said, "Look, guy, we don't have any money." He got all huffy, as if he just had nooooooo idea why we would think that, in the 168th St subway, where people ask you for money 2 or 3 times on the steps from the street alone. Finally, he said, "I just need to ask a question about the train."

At this point, I was feeling a little bad because I jumped to conclusions, blah blah blah, so I knew that I owed this guy some thoughtful directions. He told me he wanted to get to Yankee Stadium. I said that he needed to take the 1 train downtown to 96th and then switch to the uptown 2 to get there. Check your maps, I am right. He started arguing with me! He said, "No, I gotta take the five or the 'tree' train." I said, "No, the 3 never leaves Manhattan, you need to get to the Bronx. The 1 goes to the west, you need the 2 to go to the East Bronx, the 3 stops in Harlem, you need the 2." He said, "No, the only trains that go there are the tree and the five." I was just annoyed at this point and said, "Look, guy, you have got to get to the 2. Go downtown to 96th and ask someone there and they will tell you the same thing." The train came then and we got on one car, he went to another car. I bet he was telling someone on there about the bitches who were rude and gave bad directions. I don't think so.

I did feel bad for him because it was the home opener last night and I guess he was hoping to see the game. But maybe I should not assume anything about this guy.

2003-04-08T12:37:00.000-04:00

Back to the Blog

Hi everyone, after a long long cell bio-induced absence, I am back on the web log. Last week and the week before, I just had those days where I got to work, started working, and kept working through the day, without stopping, until the moment I had to leave for the bus. Lunch is my prime web log time, and lunch was significantly shortened over the last few weeks. But now I am back!

Some of you may already know that I bruised my tailbone a few weeks ago, on March 22. How, you ask? I usually say "rollerblading in the park," but the fact is that the rollerblading had nothing to do with it. It was all because of the fall that happened during the rollerblading. A fine distinction, but an important one. Anyway I was thinking of selling my rollerblades, but I have decided that I will give them another chance. I used to be really good on them, but I think we just tackled a too-steep hill for the first outing of the spring. The reason I am bringing this up now is because today, weeks after the fact, my ass is still killing me. I can't sit for more than 15 or 20 minutes without getting uncomfortable. I am old before my time. I have real trouble sitting through seminars. I was planning to go to see a movie this weekend, but we will see if I can take it! I went to the student health thingie a few days after it happened and met my 50-year-old nurse alter ego. She was so funny: "I know you're embarrassed. How can you tell people you broke your ass?" Ha! Anyway she wanted to check to be sure it wasn't broken and so she put on gloves and said, "Should we look? I'm excited!" And I thought I was something special.

I also got a huge, unbelievably painful brush burn on my forearm. It was probably 3 inches wide and 7 inches long. The worst part was that there was all this dirt and gravel in it, and SWHG didn't want me to have an asphalt tattoo, so we bought a brush sort of like the ones for cleaning under fingernails, and she used it to brush all of the dirt and stuff out of there. Oh. My. It was the sort of pain that felt like love, but damn! That hurt. Anyway I took care of it with gauze pads, Neosporin, and moisturizer, and now it is all but gone. Nature, at work, on my arm.

I wish nature would hurry up and get to my ass pronto!

2003-03-24T10:31:00.000-05:00

Idiots Ahoy!

Yesterday CC and I caught a ride in SNG's sweet Eddie Bauer Ford Explorer to the Ikea in Elizabeth, NJ. They needed some things for their new apartment, and my experiments with the load-bearing capacity of Ikea drawer sets have reached their breaking point (i.e., the chest of drawers I bought from there in 2000 is now broken). It took us 20 or so minutes to get there, a nice drive through Tony Soprano's body dumping grounds. At one point, SNG said, "What is that smell?" CC and I said, simultaneously, "New Jersey. It's the garden state, you know." My mom, who's a super nice lady, has an unwavering hatred for NJ. I suspect that if Mr. Fantastic and I end up at Princeton some day, we will never see her again.

The idiots were out in force at the Elizabeth Ikea (only 3% sales tax!), swinging their children around, having loud private conversations in those demo rooms set up in the showroom, and measuring things backward. Nowhere, however, were there more idiots than at the Ikea Restaurant, that bastion of Scandanavian cuisine. We got there at 6:23 and were thrilled to find that we had arrived in time to eat before the 6:30 close time. SNG and I got in line behind one single solitary woman. What a pain in the ass she was. She asked for West Coast salads, was told that there were no more, and was totally thrown off her game. She ordered salmon but wanted it with vegetables. The serving lady used up all the broccoli on the two parents' meals, so there was none left for the children's meals. The customer wanted meatballs with broccoli for her kids. The serving lady told her there was no more. The customer looked puzzled. Out of broccoli? Is this restaurant closing soon or what? Anyway. The final idiot event was when the serving lady offered her mac and cheese instead. The customer let her pack on M&C and then asked for the vegetarian pitti pitta or whatever instead. Oh. My. Goodness. Finally she got her ass out of there and we got our stuff. Thank you!

We moved through the store efficiently and, I must say, considerately. More than I can say for some. One set of parents had their kid between them, each holding one of her arms, and they were jumping her around the store even in areas of fairly high congestion. We got our furniture pretty easily, probably because we had paid somewhat careful attention to small details like the name of the item, the price, the color. I say this because this skill was notably lacking in some of our fellow shoppers. CC was on line to order a coat rack, and she was behind an idiot couple who didn't know the name, color, or price of their item. They could not locate it in a catalog. Wonderful!

By this point, we were ready to get the hell out of there. CC put the whole thing on her AmEx card (bless her!) and we swung into action. SNG went to get the car, CC went to wait for the items that came directly from the warehouse, and my job was to stake out a good spot for loading the car. I helped two people put their stuff in the car, and the lady said, "Don't break my lamp, girlie! Ha, ha, ha!" then gave me a look that could have killed me had I looked directly at it. I said something about getting their spot and they looked more offended than you could imagine that I was not just helping to be nice. Whatever. Move on. I stood in a spot waiting for SNG and saw her right behind our final NJ Idiot of the evening, the driver of the Kia Sportage. Wow. He cut off SNG (and two or three other cars) in his efforts to run me over in order to get a loading spot. What a fool. SNG backed into the spot right next to Kia Sportage and we set to work filling the Explorer with the wood-effect stuff as quickly as humanly possible. This guy came and started helping us load, but we stopped him because he was clearly not a shopper and we didn't want to tip him for something we were happy to do ourselves. We got everything in the car and I went in to tell CC where we were. Just at that second, our furniture came out and we practically sprinted to the parking lot to get the hell out of there, finally. At long last, we got back onto the highway. After a trip through the highway equivalent of a rat maze, we were headed toward the city. We were trying to go quickly, but something was slowing our progress. The car in front of us was locked in at 51 mph, well below the acceptable speed of 58-62 mph. Who could it be?

Of course, it was Kia Sportage Idiot! I did my shotgun seat duties by flipping him off as we sped past him toward Manhattan.

We got to SNG and CC's street, double parked, and started taking stuff out of the car. Out of nowhere, this guy comes up to us AS WE ARE CARRYING SHIT and asks us for 80 cents to help him get to some treatment facility in Queens. We said no. He said that he would take all the stuff out of the car for 80 cents. We said no. He started lecturing us about how it was only 80 cents, only 80 cents, only 80 cents. As he shuffled away, he said that he absolutely had to be there by 9pm. I should have just left well enough alone, but damn it, I am a fan of logic and sound arguments. A quick look at my watch showed that the time was already 9:08. I laughed out loud when I saw that, and I said, "Sorry, it's already way past 9." He said, "I know! That's why I got to get there quick!" No small feat, since Queens is at least an hour by subway from our neighborhood, depending on where you are going. After he saw that he was getting no love from us, he shuffled off with some choice mutterings about 80 cents, only 80 cents, only 80 cents.

The best part of the whole thing was that I had a good excuse to miss the Oscars because I was not in the mood for pompous movie stars talking about the W--. Shut up and take the award.

2003-03-20T19:44:00.000-05:00

Weird coincidence or incredibly bad taste?...plus some unexpected niceness

I really don't want to write about the current events, but it is sort of pervasive, and so I will keep it non-political.

I'm watching TV right now and there is very little on besides the news coverage of the war-to-be. CBS is showing the NCAA playoffs, as scheduled, but ABC, NBC, and Fox are all showing some news-like programming. Fox has actual news, ABC has commentary on the war, and NBC has some Dateline-esque magazine show with some sort of human interest. Even MTV is showing war stuff; I just checked there and Tom Daschle had made time to call the Times Square studio. Ugh. Do they really think that we want to see war stuff 24 hours a day until this thing is over, especially when there is nothing new going on? There will be plenty of time for the media to whip us all into a paranoid frenzy. Anyway. I say, thank goodness for HBO.

So I am watching HBO now. I am wondering if they are precognizant or just unlucky. They are now showing Hot Shots! Part Deux, which most people have only seen on HBO if at all. Anyway, for those who have not seen it, it is a spoof about a rescue mission to the Middle East to rescue hostages from the hands of a "terrorist dictator," and it starts with an assassination attempt on that person. I am serious! I think they set their programming weeks ahead of time and so this is just a really weird coincidence. Good thing I have 6 HBOs to choose from.

When I got home tonight, there was a message on my machine and I thought it might be SWHG calling me back, but it just said, ".....uh, yes, this is a message for.....uh, yeah, this is Jeff at 800-555-5555, and, uh, uh, it is really important that, uh, you call me back. I will be in the office until 9pm and, uh...yeah. It's important that you call me today. Thanks." Jeff? Eh? I called the number and some guy answered and said, "Good evening, may I have your account number, please?" I said that I had no idea whom I was calling, that this mysterious "Jeff" didn't say why he had called, or from where. The guy laughed and told me that it was a courtesy call about some activity on my credit card. Ha, ha, ha. After we cleared that up, he asked, "So how's everyone doing out there in New York?" I thought that was really nice that he asked. I told him that we have been at the orange level since 9/11 and so the "upgrade" was nothing new to us. I also told him that I am not buying duct tape or plastic sheeting, and he laughed and asked why I would want to have that stuff.

My thoughts exactly!

2003-03-19T19:47:00.000-05:00

The Great Communicator

Today I went to Mail Boxes Etc to send my camcorder to New Jersey for service. It still records really well, but it can't play back any video. I boxed it up myself and took it to the MBE near the hospital over my lunch time. I was not concerned with speed so much as with insuring the camera, because it is worth about $800. I went there with a friend and so there is verification for this story. I went to the counter and said to the guy, "I want to send this with $800 of insurance and I don't really care when it gets there." He said that he could send it next day for $35. I said that really, I was not concerned with speed. He said 2 day was $23. I said that really, I was not concerned with speed. We settled on Monday delivery for $16. OK. Wonderful. I said that I wanted to insure it for $800. He said (I swear I am not making this up), "Well, you get $100 of insurance automatically," and just looked at me. I said, "Well, I want to insure it for $800." He said, "OK, well, it's $1.50 for another $100 of insurance," and just looked at me. I said, "Well, I want to insure it for $800. Can you just add it up with the 3-day delivery and $800 of insurance?" He typed something into the computer and then looked at me and said (I swear I am not making this up), "OK, that's fine, now mehglabberschlippergebahbahbahbahbah?" I thought for a second and said, "I'm sorry, can you please repeat that?" He said, "Mehglabberschlippergebahbahbahbahbah?" I looked at my friend desperately. No help there. I was left with no options but to say, "I'm very sorry, I don't understand what you are asking me. Can you please repeat it again?" He sighed wearily, heavily, and said, "MEHGLABBERSCHLIPPERGEBAHBAHBAHBAHBAH?!?" I was so confused. This is one of those situations where someone is making you be an asshole through no fault of your own. As I was trying to figure out what he wanted to know, he looked down at the form I had filled out and said (again, not making this up), "Oh, it's a video camera." WTF?!?! I just started counting the seconds until I could get out of there.

I can understand most accents, but my goodness, there are limits. Give me something to work with, people!

2003-03-18T14:56:00.000-05:00

End of an Era

It's official: Arts and Crafts will now be at CC and SNG's house. Shed a tear for the end of the my-house-for-A&C time. Just putting this here for people who read my earlier entry but may have been confused by a conflict with an e-mail.

DNA. Crap.

2003-03-18T09:00:00.000-05:00

Nothing special to say

Nothing big to say for the last few days. The big move went really well. I got to drive a car, which is always great (and I had my license this time!). The new apartment that SNG and CC share is really really awesome. They have a lot of space and I think it has a good layout. The walls really are crazy. I am calling it the 67-Walled Apartment. Seriously! Everything is out of square. Crazy! Anyway Wednesday was the move and Thursday after work I went over there to help them put stuff together, etc. Friday there was happy hour at the department, so I went to that and afterward had dinner with the two of them. Saturday and Sunday I laid on my couch and thought about how I should be outside in the nice weather, but oh well!

A new week of work. I am sort of stalled right now, waiting for DNA and protein. Funny how such teeny things take control of your life. :)

Tonight, Arts and Crafts. I think this may be the last time we meet at my apartment. A sigh of nostalgia.

2003-03-12T09:21:00.000-05:00

American beef, French style; Ch-ch-ch-changes; and The Big Move

Last night we went to Les Halles and it was unbelievably good! I was expecting it to be way expensive just because it was a French restaurant that I had heard of, but 3 of us ate appetizers, dinner, 2 desserts, and a bottle of wine for $110. Not too bad, and it was delicious. Definitely recommended. The only down side is that it is sort of a pain to get there from here (28 and Park), so I think we will just go there for special occasions. The funniest thing was that their motto is "American beef, French style" and so on the menus, there is a picture of 2 cows kissing, and their little red tongues are touching. Ha!

I think I am getting to the Age Where People Start Settling Down. Every one of my girlfriends from college has "found her lobster," as Phoebe from Friends and 10/21 would say. Girl I Dragged Ten Feet is married, as you may recall, and our Unofficial Fifth Roommate is getting married this May. I am moving in with Mr. Fantastic, as we all know, but the big news is that Cookies and 10/21, who are both staunch defenders of independent women everywhere, are talking about the possibility of perhaps thinking about the option of someday debating moving in with their boyfriends, maybe, if they don't get new roommates before then and people need a place to stay because you know, you can't live in a box on the street. Whew! This may not seem like a big deal to the casual observer, but believe me that this is like the Tunguska Blast for these people. For real! It is cataclysmic! And we are all thrilled about it, including Cookies and 10/21, which is crazy! I guess we are just at That Age. Ugh. I hate saying that. I am never saying it again.

Today is the day that Super Nice Girl and the Canadian Chef move in together. No more weird roommates for them! We are all helping out today with the box-carrying and furniture-moving. Their most notorious piece of furniture is this queen-size Ikea futon that they got from Les Halles friend when she moved to the UK. Woobly lines to indicate a memory: She left it in her apt and said they could have it if they moved it...so we did! We took it apart and stacked the long pieces and mattress on one of those useless skateboard-like moving dollies, and we put the sides and the slats in one of those crazy NYC old lady shopping carts, and the three of us moved the futon 2 blocks to SNG's apartment. Picture it: SNG and CC, pushing the futon along on the dolly, their butts straight up in the air, and me pushing the cart, getting whacked in the head by the slats every time we hit a bump in the sidewalk. It turns out that NYC streets are really bumpy, hilly, and full of potholes. The most treacherous part was crossing Broadway, because the wheels kept going down into holes and the futon would slide off the front. Augh! Two nice guys helped us across a side street and then asked us if they could sleep in our apartments, because they were from South Africa and just in town for a few days, blah blah blah. We thanked them for their help, but there's no way I am letting strange guys sleep on my floor. Anyway. This futon will be moved again today, but this time we have the benefit of SNG's SUV to help us move it the one block. Apparently SNG said to the CC that she "liked the futon, but is it worth moving it?" CC just gave her a look. That futon has a story! You can't just let it stay!

Futon!

2003-03-11T09:20:00.000-05:00

Professors just like to take me out to eat Greek food

Last night the professors for whom I was dog/housesitting took me to dinner at a Greek restaurant in NJ. This marks the second time professors have taken me out to eat souvlaki. In November, my old boss and his wife took me to a Greek place in the neighborhood. There must just be something about me that makes professors want to see me eat feta cheese. If anyone knows what it is, please tell me. The dinner was good, but the extra fun part was talking to my professors. They are both so funny. I got to hear lots of good stories and also to find out some stuff about my new boss, who's a friend of theirs. Definitely a good time.

Tonight I am going to eat with the Canadian Chef and another friend of ours at Les Halles in midtown. This is the restaurant with Anthony Bourdain, the chef who wrote the book Kitchen Confidential, which all of us read last summer. We decided to go eat there once everyone had read it, but the dinner never materialized. Now our friend is back in town (she's a professor in the UK now and was in the US for the Drosophila meeting in Chicago), and we are finally going to go. I am excited. Plus, we are following Bourdain's rules and going to dinner on Tuesday (he says that it's the best day to have fish, because the fish comes to the restaurant on Tues and Fri). Bourdain says never to get the fish special, and especially never to get the fish special on the weekends. He says that you should actually avoid specials altogether, because they are usually made with leftovers from the day or two before; the chef comes in, sees some old fish in the fridge that is about to go bad, and poof! Poached salmon special. No thank you, I am ordering off the menu. It is a great book, by the way, because it informs without creating any hysteria, unlike Fast Food Nation, which I refuse to read because everyone who has says that it puts them off non-organic food for a month. No thank you!

And while I am on the subject, who came up with the term "organic" for food that is supposedly raised more naturally? "Organic" means "carbon-based," a term for which everything we eat definitely qualifies. This is another example of someone trying to sound smart. Whatever. Just eat it!

2003-03-10T13:07:00.000-05:00

The Lawbreakers

This weekend I went to the Palisades hiking trail with the Canadian Chef, Showstopping Winter Hat Girl, and Super Nice Girl. We also brought along the dog of one of our professors. We started at Fort Lee and planned to walk until we got bored, then turn around. The trail was very beautiful and all that, but I didn't have a lot of fun because there was still a lot of snow here and there, plus lots and lots of slush, mud, and puddles. After 2.5 milesor so, I decided that I had had enough, and SNG agreed with me. We decided that we would walk back to the car along the paved road, and CC and SWHG would continue on the trail with Tiri the puppy for another 4 or 5 miles. We planned to pick them up higher up the trail. SNG and I got back to her car, and she asked me if I wanted to drive. Of course I did! So I drove us to the pickup point and called CC and SWHG on the cell. They were not to the spot yet, and of course we had taken the trail map because we needed the accompanying road map to find where we were going to pick them up. We waited about half an hour, I called Mr. Fantastic, and then we called them again. Still not there. SNG and I went in search of caffeine and we were rewarded with a Dunkin' Donuts, which has good coffee (apparently; I am not a coffee person), plus we got some donuts.

A few years ago, Mr. Fantastic and I did an in-depth economic analysis of Dunkin' Donuts and decided that buying any fewer than 12 is not a sound economic decision ($0.69 for one, $3.99 for 6, but only $4.99 for 12), so SNG and I picked out 12 good ones. The guy was wrapping them up when the manager came out and said, "Give them half dozen more free!" Whatever! No reason...and they did have a price posted for 18 donuts. I think it is just because we were young girls. Whatever works. We took our 18 donuts and were on our way. It was now getting pretty dark and really quite a bit colder. We called SWHG and CC and they still were not at the pickup spot. We were starting to get concerned. When we got back to the pickup point, the park cops were there and drove up to us. The cop told us that it was too late to be on the trail, and we said that we knew that, we were just waiting for some friends. The cop told us that they were "skating." I said, oh yes, I am sure they will be right along, thank you. Anyway, suffice it to say that they were NOT right along. We waited and waited. We kept calling them and we thought that they were actually a few miles north of us, but we drove up there and could not find them. We went back to the original meeting place. Still no SWHG and CC. They were on the phone with us, and we knew they were on the paved road, but we were getting worried and so we got the cops to go look for them. The cop told SNG and me how dangerous it is to be on the trail. We agreed because obviously, we were not down there! Of course the cop found them within 10 minutes. No problem, except that SNG and I had been worried about them all day. Anyway. It was not really anyone's fault, because the map was really terrible. It was almost useless. There were a few key landmarks that were not on the map, and that was a little confusing for everyone. Plus the map did a terrible job of showing where the trails were above the cliffs and where they were below. Terrible!

We were finally leaving the pickup spot (which was also the park cop HQ) when the original cop pulled us over. I remembered that he said they were "skating," meaning that they were on the verge of unsafeness, and he said that he meant they were skating on the edge of getting a citation for being in the park after dusk. He was talking to me through our car windows, and SWHG kept leaning forward to argue with the cop, because she thought that they were perfectly safe (and I bet will leave a Shout Out here to that effect). She kept saying that it was not that cold, she was used to hiking in the dark, that they were never lost because they knew where they were (I disagree, because they were definitely lost to us), and so on and so on. I was just hoping he would not make us all get out of the car and write us tickets for being in the park after dark. God smiled upon us, because finally the cop let us go and we went back to our professors' house (I was house/dogsitting there this weekend, hence the lack of web log entries) to sit in the hot tub.

What I realized later was that we were all breaking the law that day. I didn't have my license with me (didn't realize that until we got home), SNG's car is not registered in NY and I was an uninsured driver, and SWHG and CC were in a state park after dusk, all of which are against the law. Good thing the cop didn't feel like writing out any tickets. We would have all been so screwed, and I think I definitely would have been the worst off since I was driving without a license on me. What a stupid day. I think it was not our most shining moment. Yow! Way to go, future PhDs.

So the moral is that there will be no more hiking for me, at least not until the summer when things are dry and the days are longer. I didn't think that scrambling down the mountain over icy rocks was fun, I didn't care for the puddles of water between my toes, and I certainly did not like walking through the swamp that had formed near the Edgewater boat basin. That being said, I have nothing against walking per se. I walked to work today from New Jersey because the traffic was so bad and I knew the bus would take forever. 2 or 3 miles, that is respectable, right? I took a bus over the GW Bridge because it was so windy, but otherwise walked the whole way. See? SNG and I decided on Saturday that the best way to see America is from the car. That's how it was made! See the USA in your car!

And don't forget the donuts.

2003-03-07T09:45:00.000-05:00

Let it snow, or whatever it is going to do

Snow! Wow! This March had damn well better go out like a lamb. We have had enough lions. :) Anyway today on the bus, there was quite a bit of traffic with all of the slush, and this guy across the aisle from me kept muttering, "I hate traffic!" and "Augh!" and my personal favorite, "Come on, let's go!" Bus rage. It's the new thing, apparently. I had a new book to read and no particular schedule in mind for today so I really didn't care. I just think that when there is snow and crappy weather, of course everyone would like it to be 72 and sunny and for the bus to be on its way, but there is nothing you can do about it. That's why I just sat back and enjoyed the warm bus and my copy of Pride and Prejudice. I personally like snow, but I do not like slogging through the grey crap we get after the cars go through it...but what can you do about it? Complaining about the weather, whether it is snowing, raining, or too hot, is just not worth it in my opinion. As SWHG says, you shouldn't let external circumstances beyond your control ruin your life. Just hop over the slush and move on with your life. I like hanging out with her, she is always so positive about everything, it's a nice sort of quality to have. I aspire to be that positive myself.

The lab meeting went really well yesterday. I guess everyone was impressed that I had gotten work done in my first 3 months, but now I have to switch gears from cell bio and try to become a better biochemist. March is Protein Month! Don't let anyone tell you different.

Last night Survivor Battle of the Sexes got delayed by the presidential news conference. I watched the conference, of course, and then got to see my show. Grrrr. The girls on that show are making fools of themselves. These dirty, skanky, stupid 20somethings are actually on tape saying how the older women in the tribe are jealous of them because they are "cute." Honey, a clue: 2 weeks or more in the Amazon rain forest, and no one is cute anymore. You are just dirty and smelly. Count on it. Of course, the guys are not a lot better. It is like a fraternity over there, with the guys choosing which members of the women's tribe they think are hot. Gag. What we are learning in this totally uncontrolled, unscientific experiment is that when left without members of the opposite sex, both men and women show their worst sides. Mars and Venus must be some weird, annoying places.

2003-03-06T09:07:00.000-05:00

Lab meeting!

Today i am giving my first lab meeting. I think it will go pretty well, because I have something to say. Anytime you have something to say at lab meeting, it should be pretty good. I am looking forward to getting it over with, but that is about it. My computer's hard drive is almost full and so the PC is unreliable...thank goodness for Canadian Chef and her new ThinkPad. Thank you!! Anyway last night we went out for dinner at Tomo and I had the bento box. I am getting to like sushi, after railing against it for years. I still don't think I will seek it out, and I will never eat that 50% off sushi you see advertised in windows and on takeout menus, but I can now be persuaded to go eat it when others suggest it. A big step. One bad piece, though, and I am done!

I gave my copy of The Hours to the Canadian Chef and said that if she liked it, I would eat my shoe. Well, she still has not started it. She told me she would try extra hard to like it. I told her that there is no other way to like it, unless you try really hard. I feel guilty because she loaned me A Walk in the Woods which was excellent, and I gave her that crap. I guess I will make it up to her some other way. Hmmm. What a pal she is.

2003-03-04T09:21:00.000-05:00

Assholes

Sunday night around 11pm, I was in the living room watching TV and thinking about sleeping on the couch out of sheer laziness, but it sounded like my upstairs neighbors were moving furniture or something, so I went to my bedroom to sleep there. Around 11:02 I started hearing sounds up there, sort of like they were moving furniture in high heels. Also, they were running a lot of water, which I can hear because their bathroom is above mine and mine is right by my ear. I tried to sleep. I put on my radio. No good. High heels, clop clop clop clop, running water, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh squeak, furniture, scrape scrape scrape. At 11:20 I could take no more. I got out of bed and threw on the nearest clothes, and then I stormed upstairs, fully expecting to find a party or something with all of the high heel sounds. I could hear the sounds from outside the door, but no music or anything, so now I am thinking that some girl is trying on outfits and modeling for herself. Hey, we have all done it. I knocked on the door. No answer, but the clopping stopped momentarily. I rang the bell. Nothing. I rang again. Nothing, but I heard the clop clop clop again. I said loudly, "I hear you in there. It's just me, your neighbor from downstairs," and rang the bell for the third time. Finally, to my complete and utter shock, a tiny Chinese man opened the door and asked what I wanted. After I realized that he was the one clopping around, and saw those cheap plastic shoes on his feet, the kind they sell at the Duane Reade, I shook off my surprise and told him my bedroom was right below him, and that I could hear everything he was doing up there. I asked if they were moving furniture or something, and he just said, "No." Hmmm. Apology, maybe? A promise of future silence? It was 11:25 by now. Pretty late, on a Sunday, for clop clop clopping, so I didn't think I was out of line. I asked, "Then what are you doing?" He said, with an absolutely straight face and completely nonchalantly, "We are washing the floor." Washing the floor? At 11:30? On a Sunday night? In high heel sounding shoes? Whaaaaa...? I sort of lost my confrontational attitude from the shock of this unusually timed activity and told him something like, "Maybe you could do that a little earlier in the day, because I really can't sleep with the shoe sounds and the scraping." He closed the door and I went back to my apartment. The noise went on for about 3 minutes and then nothing. Am I wrong? That was weird, right?

Yesterday I was with SWHG and no lie, we got stopped 3 or 4 times in as many hours for people to comment on her elf hat. It is really something else. Last night she cooked delicious lentil stuff for me and the Canadian Chef (who was on cooking hiatus since she's moving next week and needs to concentrate on that, ha ha ha), and that is about all I am up to lately. No floor cleaning after 11pm. That was so weird!

2003-03-03T09:03:00.000-05:00

Meh to Bad

The reason there were no entries at the end of last week is because I had scheduled time to use the microscope to look at some of my slides before my lab meeting. The reason there were no entries this weekend is because I was exhausted by recruitment weekend. Some of the 25 prospective students were nice, most were just meh, and some drove me absolutely crazy. Other people agreed so I know I am not just being bitchy. The less said about this, the better, except to note that on the 6 train on Saturday, I saw a woman wearing an interesting outfit. She had a purse that was made of shredded multicolored bits of fabric, leather boots, and a leather miniskirt. The thing that was really appalling was the fact that she was wearing a leather jacket from Hard Rock Cafe. I have seen that crap at those places, and I know they are more than $200 and probably closer to $300. The worst thing about it was that it was not even from a good one, like New York or London, but from Aspen. Aspen? Whatever. Tacky, tacky, tacky. I always wonder who buys that stuff and now I know.

Today I am looking forward to lunch with SWHG. Should be fun.

2003-02-26T09:21:00.000-05:00

SNG, CC to Merge into Largest Friend Conglomerate in Manhattan

Yesterday the Canadian Chef and Super Nice Girl got an apartment together. Technically it is not theirs until today, but close enough. I am excited for both of them since they each have nightmare roommates (SNG's doesn't acknowledge her presence and flees to her room as soon as SNG walks in the front door, and CC's roommate is just an all-around weirdo neurotic bitch) depsite being themselves the two nicest people ever. It is just going to be great that they are moving in together. I hope that they will volunteer to take over hosting our Arts and Crafts Club in their crooked apartment after Mr. Fantastic returns, because I love him and would not want to inflict 5 or 6 girls on him every week. They told us last night at A&C Club that the apartment has lots of crookedness, such as triangular closets, lopsided radiators, and a trapezoidal shower stall. On the other hand, it has built-in bookshelves, a separate kitchen with a window, and a little nook big enough for a dining table. The other apartments they saw were a clone of CC's current one and a gigantic one with two living rooms, but the latter is actually a share for 3 so they didn't want to chance another weirdo. Plus, who could say no to a crooked apartment?

Big news item #2 regards Iceland Part II, who shall henceforth be known as Showstopping Winter Hat Girl. Seriously. She has two hats that are just beyond description. One is a knitted cap that sticks about 6 inches off the top of her head and looks like the ones the elves wear in her Icelandic Yuletide Lad Calendar, and the one she wore last night was one of those fur hats, probably 16 inches across. It is mammoth, huge. People are always stopping her to comment on the hats, I mean strangers on the street. Another name change is in store for my music-teaching friend, who will now be known throughout the world (and web log) simply as Chip, for no reason whatsoever. She should just be glad i am not calling her Chip Crotts. Can you believe some parent named their kid Chip? Ugh.

Yesterday my experiments got totally out of control, so today I am going to tame them. Down, boys!

2003-02-25T09:16:00.000-05:00

The Hours of My Life I Can Never Get Back Again

This book has officially worn out its welcome. Today I got to page 46, which is more than 20% of the book. I have gone as far as I can go. I see what he is doing, and I did learn something: I must avoid all of Virginia Woolf's writing, because the style that is so prohibitive in this book is cribbed right from hers. This is one of those books that I know would be "good for me" if I did slog through it, but I decided last year after attempting A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius that I am not slogging through any books I don't want to read. Life is too short. So this one is going the way of AHWOSG, IMHO. I wanted to share a few sentences from the book, before I give it to the Canadian Chef. First, from page 29 (and continuing on to page 30):

It seems, suddenly, that she is not in her bed but in a park; a park impossibly verdant, green beyond green -- a Platonic vision of a park, at once homely and the seat of mystery, implying as parks do that while the old woman in the shawl dozes on the slatted bench something alive and ancient, something neither kind nor unkind, exulting only in continuance, knits together the green world of farms and meadows, forests and parks.

That is all one sentence, people. One. One sentence, 77 words. I am a college graduate. I have been known to read some tough books, but this sort of shit does not fly with me. End the sentence! Move on! Now, my favorite, from page 31:

She washes her face and does not look, certainly not this morning, not when the work is waiting for her and she is anxious to join it in the way she might join a party that had already started downstairs, a party full of wit and beauty certainly but full, too, of something finer than wit or beauty; something mysterious and golden; a spark of profound celebration, of life itself, as silks rustle across polished floors and secrets are whispered under the music.

84 words! Sweet merciful crap! The only reason I got this far is because I am replaying the movie in my head as I read, and those actresses were really something else. Good thing they didn't use the Narrator Inner Monologue in this movie, or it would have been 7 hours long. During the Julianne Moore character chapters of the book, he excerpts portions of Virginia Woolf's book Mrs. Dalloway, and this one from page 41 made me laugh out loud. Probably not Michael Cunningham's intention, but anyway:

"...For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it around one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall!) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason; they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar, the carriages, motorcars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June." How, Laura wonders, could someone who was able to write a sentence like that...come to kill herself?"

I just have no idea.

2003-02-24T14:15:00.000-05:00

A brief thought

There is something wrong with superstitious doctors. Today I realized that the hospital building I work in has no floor 13 and, for reasons unbeknownst to everyone, no floor 6. The point is that there must be some legitimate reason for missing floor 6, but what about 13? Is that just coincidence? Did the engineers really have to skip 13? The Canadian Chef used to live in Hong Kong and she told me that any number with a 4 is unlucky, so the buildings go 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15 and so on. Maybe I am the superstitious one here for even noticing. That would be bad, since my "15th" floor is actually the 13th. Oooooooh....

I am just thinking how funny it is that some numbers will just never seem random. Like my grandfather used to say that 123 would never be a winning lotto number, but 581 is. Hmmm.

2003-02-24T09:54:00.000-05:00

New Year's Resolution, Day 55: Thoughts from a Tiny, Upward-Moving Room

This year I made only one New Year's resolution: To stamp out rudeness wherever I find it. Yes, this is my goal. I know it is a lofty one, but I am equal to the task and I think it is good for everyone involved, i.e. everyone on the planet. This is the resolution prompted by recent successful letter writings to the President of Burger King regarding the appalling state of the 110 St store that just may have contributed to that establishment's being closed over the Christmas holidays. This is also the resolution where I don't let people get away with rudeness. For example, when one of the Horribly Rude Cashiers at the corner store (see my entry from 2/22/03) gave me lip about how "putting the money in her hand shows respect," I told her that "looking at me while you add up my stuff, and not talking to your little friend over there while you ring me up, and maybe even putting your hand out in a timely manner for the money, all show ME, the CUSTOMER, respect." Grrr! But I digress.

Since I started working on the 15th floor of the hospital, I have become increasingly dependent on elevators, and I have more opportunity than usual to observe human behavior in these confined spaces. The elevators up here are always very crowded and tend to stop on every floor, especially toward the middle of the day when everyone is going out to eat. All of this elevator riding has been wonderful for my eardrums (pop!), and it has also given rise to a new pet peeve: People who get on the elevator, walk right up to the buttons to push the one for their floor, and then...stand right there, bodies 2 inches from the buttons, so everyone who gets on after them has to worm his/her arm between the offender and the buttons. I have seen Button-Huggers (my term for these people) actually give subsequent passengers dirty looks, presumably for invading their personal space. You might be thinking that the Button-Huggers are there so they can push the "close door" button as soon as people get off the car, thus getting everyone to their destinations faster, but no. No. I have worked up here for two months now and I have already noticed that the elevators are on a timer. They are smart elevators. Pushing the "close door" button will do you no good. This took me maybe a week to figure out, since I am a "close door" button pusher myself. So if you are a Button Hugger, please do everyone a favor. Push your damn button and get to the back of the car, especially if there is only one panel of buttons. It is just nice to be respectful of people's personal space, and that's hard enough in an elevator without having to give someone a belly rub just to push 15.

Today, though, I am not here to preach, but rather to recognize excellence in the field of politeness and consideration. This morning I had the privilege of observing an individual who is an example to us all. I got on the elevator first, pushed 15, and (you got it!) went to the very back of the elevator. 6 or 7 other people got on after me, including The Considerate Ophthalmologist, the recipient of the Day 55 Award for Politeness. Many people get on the elevator with large, bulky bags, and don't realize that their huge parcels might be poking an innocent cell biologist in the kidney. This guy was a class act. He had a backpack, which he (gasp!) removed as he got on the elevator, putting it out of the way below his knees. Another problem we typically have up here is that people don't plan their elevator rides well, and others don't realize that not everyone works on a floor above theirs. For example, someone is planning to get off on 4, so they push the button and go to the back, as we decided earlier is the nice thing to do. Then people get on for 15, 16, 21, whatever, and so this 4th floor person is at the mercy of the 16th floor person to get out of the way and let him off at 4. I have seen people miss floors from this because 16th floor guy is so absorbed that he doesn't hear the very polite "Excuse me, I need to get off" from the poor sap in the back. But I digress. What made Considerate Ophthalmologist so very considerate is that at each stop, he looked behind him, beside him, and so on, to see if he could move out of the way to make someone's walk to work more direct. See? He was getting off on 17, but he still remembered those people who work on 10. He had a conversation with another woman on the elevator, and he managed to do so in a quiet, polite tone of voice, thus not disturbing everyone else. It can be done! You may have guessed that Loud Rude Elevator Conversations are a problem here. Once I was on the elevator with, no lie, 4 pairs of people each having a conversation. They got on at different floors, so each time a new pair got on the elevator, everyone had to talk louder, you see, so their friends could hear what they were saying. Augh! Augh! Augh! Shut up! Keep it down! I don't need to know about your kid's head lice...in fact, ew! Get off the car!

But they can't all be Considerate Ophthalmologist. I salute you, sir.

2003-02-23T23:02:00.000-05:00

Girls And Cars I Know And Have Known

I have mentioned my college friend Cookies and Cream, and I mentioned that we lived in a house together with two other girls, but I have said very little about the other two girls. Their time has come.

First, there's 10/21. She is so called because every day, twice a day (10:21am and 10:21pm), if you are around her, she will say in her chipper little voice, "10:21, my birthday!" She's so lucky. My birthday time is 2:11, so once a day you are usually asleep, and the other time you are usually too busy to chirp about a time. 10/21 was my randomly assigned freshman year college roommate, and we always said that we were more than a little lucky in the way that we won the housing lottery. Lots of people get stuck with total weirdos (and maybe 10/21 would say that she did!), but we were friends all through college. Actually, we were in room 102 of our freshman dorm, and Cookies and Cream was randomly assigned across the hall in room 104, so it is funny how fate plays with you.

Now 10/21 lives in the SF Bay area and teaches high school math, so there she does a whole lot of things i will probably never do. Right now she is the object of my envy because she spent a week in Vegas, Baby! An aside: I think that the city of Las Vegas recently passed legislation to change the city's official name to "Vegas, Baby!" So here in Manhattan we got 19.5" of snow, and 10/21 is living it up with Mr. 10/21 in Vegas, Baby! Not that I am jealous. No no no no no. Because I just love snow. I do, actually, but not much can compete with Vegas, Baby! 10/21 is the kind of girl who makes the best of everything and is just a general good influence. We lived together in the same dorm room for two years, down the hall from each other third year, and in the house our senior year. Then she moved out to San Fran and I stayed in our college town to work at a pharmaceutical company, while Cookies moved back to Philly and Girl I Dragged Ten Feet (GIDTF, more on her later) moved back to DC. So now we have one representative in each of four major U.S. cities. I like to think mine is the best. Diff'rent strokes! Wooooo! Anyway we keep in touch on e-mail and try to get physically together once a year. It is hard.

Girl I Dragged Ten Feet graduated (and entered!) college a year behind the other three of us. She got randomly placed on our floor for her second, our third year at college. We befriended her within a few days. It is funny because she lived with a girl (total disaster of a roommate) whose first name was similar to hers, so the first night we hung out with her, Cookies and I sneaked back to her room to look at the names on the door to match up her first name with her last name, the latter of which we had artfully extracted from her earlier in the evening. Tricky! And to think that at one point GIDTF thought we were "too cool" to hang out with her. Which, by the way, we sooooo are! Poor GIDTF. She seems to bear the brunt of my trickery/carelessness. Once I had convinced her for 3 months that the bacteria research lab I worked in was paying volunteers $50 for a "specimen" from their nether regions, since E. coli is rampant in the colon. I really thought she knew I was joking! Apparently not. The way she got her name (some of you are wondering) is that once I was late for a class I was teaching, and she was late to turning in a paper, so she asked me for a ride to campus. I said yes. When we got to her building, she hopped out and closed the door, and I sped off to the chemistry complex. I noticed there that her peacoat was stuck in the door. I assumed she had it on her lap, felt bad about it, and ran to my class. She showed up toward the end, looking pissed. I assumed she was mad that she had to walk all the way across campus without a coat. Actually, the coat indeed was stuck in the car door, but she was wearing it at the time. Ooops! So as I pulled away, she fell to the ground and was dragged behind my '89 Grand Am for 10 feet or so. Hence the name. She was mostly worried about the coat because it belonged to a guy she was dating. No harm done! She got the coat fixed, he asked her to marry him, and I was in the bridal party! All's well that ends well, Shakespeare and I say.

That car is amazing. This is the same car that was stolen in Pittsburgh and used for a drug deal. The same car that I used at college for when I was volunteering at the hospital. The same car whose hubcaps were stolen from a parking lot (of course I did not notice this theft for months; my friends saw it and thought I was making a statement). The same car whose keys I locked inside twice within one week. The same car I gave back to my dad in '99 so I could buy a new one, and the same one my brother took as his "beater" car recently. Now the car lacks many things you might think are necessary, such as the panel on the inside of the front door and a handle on the passenger side, and a radio. This is the car my brother drove when his Camaro was in the shop and it was too snowy/rainy for the motorcycle. The same car his girlfriend drove for 2 months earlier this year when her car got stolen. My dad bought it in '91 or so, and I have no idea how much he paid for it, but it has certainly outlived all expectations.

When we first started dating in 1997, Mr. Fantastic was driving an '88 Honda Civic, one that was similiarly immortal. The car was at one point cut in half due to a rear-ending, and it still ran. It was driven into a too-deep puddle and actually floated to the other side. It's the same car we used to drive around in on our excursions. He has owned other Civics, and the car I bought to replace the supposedly-dying Grand Am in '99 was a Civic, but I still get a little choked up when I see a late '80s-model Civic because that little car was so cute and because I always was glad to see it around campus. We talk about buying other kinds of cars, but I think that it will be hard not to own a Civic of some type, in some capacity. At one point, he had one and I had one, and my then-neighbor Mountain Biking Girl and her then-boyfriend each had one. It was like a Honda convention at my apartment complex. If you are shopping for a car, I highly recommend the Civic. My brother manages a car service shop, and he says they almost never have problems. Actually, GIDTF and Mr. GIDTF own an Accord. Close. Very close. I miss cars. No one in Manhattan wants to talk about cars. Super Nice Girl actually owns one and keeps it in the city or at a friend's house outside the city, so apparently it can be done. It is so funny, since most suburban types love to talk about cars. It brings us together as a society. I sort of miss it. The MTA just does not substitute well for my own Civic, where I can carry around as much stuff as I want and sing with the CD player as loudly as I want. Someday, it will again be mine! Yes!

2003-02-23T22:10:00.000-05:00

Toilet trouble leads to building discoveries!

My toilet has a problem. It is one of those loud jet-engine toilets, the kind without the tank, the kind you see in public bathrooms. It lends an air of authenticity to the whole apartment and all that, but it has become troublesome in the last few months. There have been literally 3 or 4 times that it just flushes on its own, continually, out of solidarity for other flushes in the building, I guess. NYC Toilets Unite! Now, I am a woman of the 21st century. I am not totally inept when it comes to fixing things, but my plumbing knowledge is limited to toilets with tanks. This one in the apartment requires a big wrench to open, and the insides are nothing like any toilet i have ever seen. So every time we get this sympathy flushing, I have to call the maintenance guys and they come, look at it, and realize it needs a new flange or bushing or something. This has happened several times in the last few months. It is usually no big deal.

Last night the sympathy flushing started around midnight, and I actually had to turn off the cold water so I could sleep without having the water running 5 feet from my ear. I called this afternoon and the fix-it guy came to look at the toilet. He fiddled around in there for half an hour or so, and then he came out looking sheepish. He said that he would have to order a new valve for it, that it would not be in before Monday or Tuesday, and that he had somehow broken the flushie thing so that it no longer functioned at all, except as a very unromantic reflecting pool. I suspected that I would be in need of a toilet sometime between then and Tuesday, and he told me that he would get me the key to the penthouse apartment and I could use the toilet in there.

Don't get excited. It turns out this apartment is only a "penthouse" in that it is on the top floor of our building. He got the bathroom key and took me upstairs to show where it was. I have always been under the impression that the penthouse takes up the whole 10th floor of the building, and I thought I knew who lived up there. Apparently, I was wrong. This apartment is unbelievable in the worst sense of the word. It is tiny, big enough for one twin bed and maybe one kitchen chair. The kitchen is along one wall, and the shower stall is in a tiny closet behind the front door. There is one storage closet big enough for my spring wardrobe. The best part about it is the river view, but the worst part is that the toilet is not actually in the apartment. It is in a separate closet across the hall from the penthouse, and there is enough room in there for one person to sit uncomfortably on the toilet. Hmmm. No wonder it is vacant.

The reason the penthouse is so small is because it does not actually take up the entire 10th floor. The fix-it guy (who felt really bad about messing up my toilet, so he was pretty much willing to do whatever I wanted) also showed me the roof. Our roof is awesome! It is huge! There is a big water tank on the roof for the building, but otherwise the roof is unencumbered by anything. There is an awesome view of the river and the 5 churches in the neighborhood. Fix-It Guy told me that they would let people out there for sunbathing, but the 9th floor tenants complain about the foot noise when people wear high-heeled shoes. Lame excuse! It would be perfect for parties if they made the penthouse open to all of us and had it on the honor system. I would be really good about it, I know, and I am sure everyone else could be persuaded to be good as well, but it sounds like it will never happen. Oh well. My next apartment will have a balcony or terrace and a river view. We'll see.

So that was the big drama today. Fair warning for anyone who plans to come over in the next day or so. It is sort of an adventure. Now it is time for macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets. Mmmm, little kid dinner. So satisfying and not necessarily nutritious.

2003-02-22T23:52:00.000-05:00

Am I invisible? Seriously. Today it was rainy and crappy and so I decided to treat myself to some nice, greasy Chinese food from the place around the corner, and some Ben and Jerry's Phish Food frozen yogurt. Sounds good. So I called the Chinese place to order my shrimp fried rice and egg roll, put on my shoes, found my raincoat, and went out.

First I went to the corner grocery store to get Phish Food fro-yo and Diet Pepsi. I meant to get a liter bottle, but it was $1.49 and a 2L bottle was $1.59. Eh? So I got the big one and my Phish Food and went to the checkout. A bit of background: This is a teeny grocery store by most standards, but for NY it is average to a little larger, large enough to have 5 or 6 cashiers. These cashiers are really something. They are constantly talking to each other, even while they are ringing up your stuff. There is one lady who's nice to me, always says hi and asks about my dog Rudi and Mr. Fantastic, but the vast majority of them are horribly rude. They will lean around you to yell in Spanish at Yuni, the cashier on the end, something insipid. I am guessing that the conversations must be insipid, because they literally talk to each other for the entire 8-hour shift. I consider myself a good conversationalist but I don't think I could keep up interesting topics every day, 8 hours a day, the whole time. So I am doing a little presuming here. But the point is that they will not even look at you to take money from you or to (God forbid!) thank you for coming by, as you have every day for the last 3 years. Anyway! Enough of the soapbox. The amazing thing is that despite the conversations, it is usually pretty fast checking out. They are good multitaskers if nothing else. Today, though, I went into an empty lane, put my Diet Pepsi and Phish Food down on that zippy belt thing, and got out my money to pay. The girl behind the register just did not even acknowledge me. She wasn't talking to anyone, either, just sitting there staring at a point directly behind me. Then, get this, she comes to life so she can tell the girl at the register next to us to wake up because there are lots of customers. Then, back to her nails for a second or two, and finally she rings up my stuff. What the hell?! Whatever. It was rainy and I didn't feel like being controversial because it is just so much exertion. I left the store and walked the 1/2 block to the Chinese food place to get my dinner.

I walked into the restaurant, totally soaking wet, carrying my bag of Diet Pepsi and Phish Food. The setup is really sort of inconvenient because as you walk in, you are directly in the path of the waitstaff bringing hot food from the kitchen to the dining area. So I am standing there dripping, waiting to pick up my order. No one else was waiting for pickup, so no excuse there. As I said, I was feeling particularly nonconfrontational, so I didn't say anything like, "Sorry to interrupt your personal conversation you're having at work, but could I get my order? Maybe? You think?" No, I just stood there dripping on their floor and timing them. Two minutes! That is a long time! The way I finally got my shrimp fried rice and egg roll was that a totally separate person came out from the kitchen and asked if she could help me. At this point the rude ladies looked up, stunned that I had been standing there waiting, with these looks on their faces like, "Oh! How did that happen?" I guess it is understandable since I blend in, except oh! I totally DON'T blend in at most places! So I chalked it up to transient transparency, or something like that. Weird!

The only other big thing today was that on the walk home, I realized that my "raincoat" leaks water at some places. I guess they call it a "raincoat" because it lets the rain in, so you can get really close to nature. Good thing I didn't go hiking at Palisades today with only it to protect me.

2003-02-22T12:25:00.000-05:00

Today it is revealed that I am not as sharp as I would like to be. I meant to tape Survivor on Thursday, but I left my TV on Fox, not CBS, so I accidentally got The Michael Jackson Interview: the footage you were never meant to see or some similar unwieldy title. I actually missed The Michael Jackson Interview: the footage you WERE meant to see, but enough people are talking about it that I knew that something controversial was said. Anyway I have it on right now. Hmmm. Lots of cheesy piano music in the background. It is getting to be embarrassing that I am a TV fan. There is lots of crap on TV but I am proud to say that I will never watch Are You Hot?. I actually do a lot less watching of TV lately since work is good and I don't mind staying late every day.

There were tentative plans today to go hiking in Palisades Park with Iceland Part II (who needs a new name since she hates being a sequel) and the Canadian Chef, but the cold misty rain outside has changed our minds. Grrr. So instead here I am on my couch, watching Michael Jackson. Not quite as fulfilling. Although it does seem as if this British journalist guy did more than a little revisionist history here. I am sure that he is a little nutty and maybe inappropriate things are happening, but I have no faith in the media to report truthful news to me. News shows are all about entertaining the masses, just like everything else on TV, especially any prime time news show. I'm not sure how to get the real story, but I do know where not to go.

I am actually really glad for the rain because it is an excuse to stay in and not to feel guilty about not doing all the city things that are out there. Helllloooooo, green couch. Michael Jackson has just started talking about genetics, of all things, and so I am going to turn this off and shoot myself in the head for watching this far.

2003-02-21T09:54:00.000-05:00

Well, we saw The Hours last night at 9:30 and I am still not sure what I thought about the whole thing. Of course the acting was excellent, stupendous, all that. Goodness. But I am still not sure what I thought. I did not have that "What a great film!" reaction that I had after About Schmidt or The Royal Tenenbaums or The English Patient. I will, however, concede that it was some of the best acting I have seen in a long time. I guess my problem is that I was not sympathetic to any of the characters except for John C. Reilly's character (he gets screwed over again, this and Chicago, he is redefining himself as a Hey! It's That Guy!) and for the little boy. Also, what was with all the kissing? I don't want to ruin the movie for anyone who has not seen it, but there was a lot of confusing kissing in there. Veeeerrrry confusing. If someone understands, please write me asap and clue me in. I hesitated to write about it at all for fear of looking ignorant, but Super Nice Girl, my friend Tiny A (another biologist, works in the lab with IP2 and Queens Girl), and Super Tech #3 from my lab were all a bit taken aback by it. The point is that I acknowledge the excellent acting and even the great editing in the film, especially at the beginning, but I just didn't think the story was that compelling. It turned out that Super Nice Girl and Iceland Part II came with us last night, and IP2 told me it took her most of the movie to realize that it was Nicole Kidman because of the nose. They really did do spectacularly with that nose. But I just didn't get a "best picture" vibe from it.

The high dramatic point of the movie for me (at least, the one I will write about without spoiling the film for everyone) was when two guys a few rows in front of us got into a shouting match. Apparently the guy in the more rear row had been talking through the movie, and the guy in the more front row turned around and yelled in full voice for him to shut up, that he didn't go to the movie to hear this guy talk. I honestly would not have been surprised if there had been punches thrown. Of course, after the movie was over and the lights were coming up, these guys had a standoff because they were both embarrassed, I think, and so neither wanted to be the first to get up and to leave. Jerks.

The movie was further interrupted by explosion sounds from the next theatre over. You would think that Loews would know not to put a quiet, talky movie like The Hours next door to Gangs of New York or something equally loud. Oh well. I half expected the theatre guy to be outside, handing out free passes. But alas, no. I didn't complain because I only spent $4 to see the movie in the first place. And I guess when all is said and done, I did like the movie $4 worth.

So this morning I went to the bookshelf and dug my copy out. I am giving it one more chance. One! That's it! And if I don't like it, then someone is getting a free copy of The Hours, no questions asked.

2003-02-20T14:01:00.000-05:00

Tonight I am going with the Canadian Chef to see The Hours. You may recall a reference to this film (actually, to the book) in an earlier posting. Here is my story with this book. Back when I made actual money and had my own car and stuff, I used to go to the Borders bookstore off Route 95 in Delaware every week or so to get a new book. I usually would just grab one that i knew nothing about. It worked out really well, for the most part, because I ended up with a lot of books that i would not have known to read. For example, this his how I found out about Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, which I am proud to say I read long before it became trendy and way, way before it became a movie. I also discovered the hilarious The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, which is about a smart-ass girl in her 20s who lives in Manhattan. Hmmm. Anyway, long story short, the Random Book Club was kind to me, in general.

I know that The Hours won the Pulitzer Prize for literature. I know that it is supposedly wonderful. Here's the thing, though; I bought this book on the RBC about 4 or 5 years ago and there it sits, on my shelf, one of the three or so unread books in my collection. I have tried, tried, tried to read it. I have gotten to about page 20 or 30 and then it is just over. I actually have tried more than 10 times to get through it and nothing. I have used other books that I know I will like as incentive to read this one, but no dice. Anyway, you might be asking why I have consented to see the movie.

First of all, the three actresses in the film are all great, so I should go just to give them the mad props they deserve. Also, we got these $4 movie passes this summer, so it is not like I am spending two days' lunch money on this film. The main reason is because this way, I get the whole thing over with in 2 or so hours, so maybe armed with the knowledge of what is generally going on in the book, I will be able to plow through it.

But no promises.

2003-02-19T20:37:00.000-05:00

OK, I made some Iceland II-approved changes to the web log today. First of all you will notice that I am now recommending sites that I actually recommend, not just the ones that came with the web log. Secondly, there is now a Shout Out feature so you can leave me a note. I also added a counter so we will know once and for all how popular I am.

Last night: Arts and Crafts at my house. You are probably thinking that we don't really do any arts or crafts, but the fact is that we DO. Music Teacher Girl was there, and later the Canadian Chef and Iceland Part II came by. American Idol was on, but to be honest with you, I am having trouble getting into it this year. Hmmm. Maybe when they get to the final 10. So we actually did make stuff last night. Music Girl painted a treasure chest for her mom's birthday, the Chef painted some random pieces of wood in funktastic colors (we bought Wood By The Pound this summer. What a product!), and I worked on a solar system box for no one in particular. It is weird, actually. I was a huge astronomy nerd for years, I mean I started reading about stars and things when I was 3 years old, but coming to Manhattan has seriously interfered with any and all astronomical observations. Last night Music Girl wanted to know all about the planets. I have not thought about them in forever. We had a debate about whether Mars really does have polar ice caps. She thought they were a myth, but they are not. They are for real. Ask Galileo! Anyway. The point is that it was weird because I only talk about astronomy with Ravenjeff, my neighbor from South Central (PA, that is). No one else has brought it up in about 3 years, when some guy was trying to impress me at an outdoor party, unsuccessfully. But I digress. Music Girl and I talked about planets for a long time and I really didn't give it any more thought until today at work the guy across from me asks, apropos of nothing, if I know what the biggest star in the universe is. Weird! I guess I am at the Nexus of Astronomical Debate these days. It is also interesting to find out how many people wanted to be astrophysicists until they encountered the math. Someone has to do it! But not me. I write out m1v1=m2v2 every time when I am making a solution. Yes! Algebraics Anonymous, anyone?

Of course it is going to be relatively fabulous outside tomorrow, 45 degrees with "abundant sun," according to the tools at the Weather Channel, but by Friday night the freezing rain is supposed to move in. Mom and Dad are supposed to come on Saturday afternoon with Christmas gifts that didn't fit on Amtrak, and also for belated birthday dinner out. I ask you, will this birthday just never end?! It is getting silly! Anyway the point is if they don't come, it is perfect weather for being trapped in the lab. Which is probably what is going to happen, since Dad declared war on winter weather starting in 1968 or so.

Last summer the Canadian Chef came to my parents' house for a visit and we were out on the porch with my parents and brother. My dad was talking about one of the trees in the backyard and how he wanted to prune it so it fits around the new shed he built a few years ago. He was saying that he thinks it is a little leggy on top, so he is going to cut it short on top. Then he said that he would like the branches in the back to grow longer so they give a nice backdrop to the shed. The Chef, my brother, and I all looked at each other. I said, "Dad, you are going to cut that tree into a mullet." So we are all on the floor laughing at the idea of my dad having the Mullet Maple in the backyard. Of course he had no idea what we were talking about. It was classic.

OK, Iceland Part II wants to go see West Wing so I must go. She is a harsh mistress.

2003-02-18T11:32:00.000-05:00

What I Did for my Birthday Last Week: an update that my mom will read. Last Tuesday was my 27th birthday and somehow we managed to make it last for 8 full days. That's Hanukkah-length, people! It was actually really a great time.

On Friday the 7th, I went to dinner at Mama Mexico on 100 St (btw, a guaranteed good time) with 5 friends, all girls (me, the Canadian Chef, Iceland Part II, the Music Teacher, Queens Girl, and Super Nice Girl). We had to wait 20 minutes for menus (much to the chagrin of easily-POed Queens Girl), but otherwise the whole evening was awesome. They have excellent food and great margaritas, but the thing that makes this place special is its constant state of party-dom. As is required of all NYC restaurants (at least the ones in our price range) it has far too many tables for the space. This place breaks all rules of personal space by having crap hanging from the ceiling and about 250 waiters and waitresses milling around, but the absolute coup is that they actually have a strolling mariachi band. Seriously. A strolling mariachi band. There is no space for a strolling mariachi band in there, but they don't let that stop them. Anyway. We had a great girl dinner, and then we went back to Iceland Part II's apartment and hung out. I actually ended up staying over on her pull-out bed because we were talking so late about work, people, skinny girls, all that good stuff. I ended up walking home the next morning at 9am because I had to get to work, and of course I saw someone I knew and gave them the wrong idea. Oh well, who cares. I went to work all day though, and that night Iceland II and I watched Moulin Rouge, she for the first time. That's one of my favorite movies so she didn't have to do too much arm twisting to get me to come watch with her. Ha!

Tuesday, the actual Birth Day, was also a day that I had choir practice (oh crap, I just realized I forgot my music for today's rehearsal. Crap), and I was blessed with a new episode of American Idol on that day, plus the Canadian Chef was making satay chicken for a few of us at my house. So I had a full day of work where I found some exciting data for a paper, choir practice, then home to see AI2 with pals. The Chef was true to form. Delicious peanutty chicken, and lots of leftovers. She also made me a cheesecake birthday cake which she'd cut into the shape of the AI2 stage from last year, the stage called the Octagon of Judgment by my favorite website, TWoP. I thought all of my friends were tired of hearing me talk about TWoP, but apparently it is ok with them. A great time.

Friday, which also happens to be Valentine's Day in some parts of the world, I went out to dinner with 7 other girls at Ruby Foo's Uptown on 77 and B'way. Everyone from Mama Mexico was there, plus Super Nice Girl's The Hours-Loving Friend (whom I hope I didn't offend) and the Canadian Chef's sister. We all dressed up and everyone looked great, so it was going to be good, I just knew. This place was awesome and we had an excellent, excellent time. Iceland Part II got one step closer to being American-tastic by following my lead and balancing a spoon on her nose. Nice! Afterward we all went to my house for more hanging out and Iceland Part II ended up staying until 3:30 or so, talking about work, people, skinny girls (hey, now we're even!). Of course we had a great time and of course I had to go to work the next day. Blah. Cookies and Cream came the next day to visit from Phila so that actually counts as Birthday stuff, I suppose, plus it pushes the length of the birthday to 11 days. Swell!

2003-02-18T11:03:00.000-05:00

This weekend my friend Cookies-n-Cream came up from Philly to visit. I haven't seen her since Christmas, when the four girls who lived together in the green house at 96 Kershaw St in Newark, DE, from '97 to '98 have their obligatory annual visit. You know what goes on at those things, girls get together and giggle, have pillow fights, what have you. No, actually, there is no giggling. Anyway this weekend it was just me and CnC in New York. It was a great time, despite the 20 inches of snow that got dumped on us yesterday. Sunday we had Dim Sum with the Canadian Chef and her sister on Catherine and Bowery and then we walked around Chinatown. We bought fake bags (well, the bags are real but the labels are fake, you know), and just as Cookies had finished bargaining for three "Gucci" bags, the little Chinese ladies pulled down the gates to the store, blocking us inside. I have been in that situation before, and it never ceases to amaze me how calm everyone is when they get locked in a fake bag store. Most people don't even interrupt their browsing to look up. Anyway the long and the short is that the Canadian Chef's sister was in the middle of a big haggle when another tiny Chinese woman came in and yelled at us, "Get out!!" They opened the door enough for us to run out and slammed it behind us. Then we went on our way. It was like nothing special had happened. I think this is one of those things you don't know about unless you live in New York, like the Grape of '01.

Side story: The Grape of '01. I was on the 1 train with Iceland going to Canal St and we were on a car with maybe 6 or so other people on it. We got on at 116 St and a baby and his parents got on at the next stop. Somewhere between 103 and 96 St, this baby dropped a grape on the floor of the car. Every time the train stopped, the grape would roll from the back of the car toward us, and then when the train moved again, it would roll back toward the baby. It was wonderful because everyone on the train was watching the grape, but pretending not to watch the grape, for 3 or 4 stops, because everyone knows that New Yorkers are too cool to admit they are watching a grape roll around on the 1 train. Around 72 St, the grape made a particularly long trek, almost reaching the other end of the car. When it got close to the end, everyone on the train sort of went, "WhoooooOOOA! Oh..." as it rolled back. Now that everyone knew they were not alone, the grape-watching became a team sport. Everyone got into it except for one girl who was in the seat by the door. Disaster struck when (no, she didn't step on it, what makes you think that would happen?) the grape rolled to her, hit her shoe, and stopped. She just sat there like a slug. Sit. Sit. Sit. And I am not lying when I could feel the hatred emanating from everyone else in the car, urging her to bump the grape back on its way. She never did. This is one of those things that just happens here in the city. But back to the Cookies visit.

Monday we woke up and it was snowing, snowing, snowing. Snow. We went out after noon to do some errands, but the payroll office was closed, again, and the library was also closed, so I was hopeful that i could get my stuff from the drug store. We came around the corner on 113 and saw the gates down. Of course, I had called earlier to see if they were open, and they were, so i was pretty POed to see the gates down. I shouted a rather severe expletive and then Cookies noticed that the gate was not down in front of the door to get in. I went and tried the door, and of course it opened, so I did what anyone would do: I pretended I hadn't shouted anything on the sidewalk. Of course the girl behind the counter busted me. Oh well. That afternoon, we made chocolate chip cookies and took a nap. At 8pm it was off to the Music Teacher's house to watch Joe Millionaire (shut up) on her TiVo. She made us some fab baked ziti and we watched the show. Thank goodness he didn't pick that awful foot fetish girl. And when Zora said she would give him another chance, the way his face lit up was really cute. Hmph. Damn. Cookies left this morning at 5:30am and now here i am at work with very little to do because I don't have cells.

I have saved the funniest bit for last. On Saturday night, Cookies and I spent probably 3 hours on Google, just Googling people we know. This was spawned by my recent Googling of a guy we knew from college (a guy who sort of stalked me for a while, broke into my dorm and all that, ew ew ew), and finding out that he is now an amateur bodybuilder. This is a guy who was always telling me that he had a great body, worked at the gym, blah blah blah bullshit, when he actually looked almost exactly like Belushi. But I digress. The point is that he is living in Maryland or Tennessee or some nondescript state doing some sort of social work and competing in bench press contests. So we ended up Googling basically everyone we ever knew in college. We got a lot of fun information. Two of our friends from freshman year who sort of fell off the earth when my friends and I left the dorm to live in a house apparently are married now and living in New Hampshire. The absolute best part was when we Googled for our Indian friend from college, an awesome guy who was just a great friend, and we found his page at his grad school. It was funny because we'd also gotten other guys with his name, but the photos were not of him. So there was a huge photo on his page that was taking a while to load, but we waited for it to be sure it was our guy...Bam! A photo of Tom Cruise. Yes, that was our guy. So we looked up his home phone number (love that Internet!) and called him. We talked for over an hour which was wonderful. What a great time. Plus he had lots of news about people we knew, like couples that had broken up and are married to other people, and one guy who was wanted by the law in California for a few months because his old car was used in a crime on the east coast, and people who'd finished their PhD degrees by now. What a riot. An awesome visit.

2003-02-14T16:08:00.000-05:00

Fantastic! Iceland part II's got a Blog and since she's the best, I hope to become more like her with one of my own. Plus, I never get tired of talking about Iceland...so this way maybe I will have something to add to the conversation. On with the show!

The thing with this web site is that I have really good intentions, but who knows how the execution will be? I had a website in college but after I graduated, I stopped using it every day, and once I got to grad school, changes were just nonexistent. So now there it is, a relic of my youth stuck forever on Geocities because I can't remember my password. Oh well. I had forgotten all about that website until I got an e-mail a few weeks ago from a guy I'd worked with in my undergrad research lab...evidently he'd heard a story about a guy killing his girlfriend after posting his plans to do so on the internet, so he'd decided to Google himself to see if anyone was plotting to kill him. All he got was my old, defunct, bright orange website with a tiny blurb about him. Crazy! I really should try to get that thing removed. When I Google myself, it is the 5th hit.

I'm sort of ususual, I suspect, because Googling for my name gives you links to the actual me on the first page. The first hit actually annoys me very much, because it is a misspelling of someone else's name such that it becomes mine...therefore, she is stealing my #1 Hit On Google slot, and she doesn't even have my name. What a rip-off. I would be tempted to write a firmly worded letter, if that were my style. Hits 2 through 5 really are me, though. Interesting. Hit 9 gives you a woman who's a medical claims examiner for the JAG Corps in Illinois. Not me. Apparently someone with my name is also the president of the Junior Auxiliary for American Legion Post 62 in Chillicothe, Ohio. Most of the Googles for me, though, are either those geneology websites or are actually me, at least for the first few pages. Reading the various Googles for my name would almost give you the idea that I am a big dork. Which is not necessarily untrue.