Friday, July 28, 2006
( 2:51 PM ) teahouse
It's a Cruel, Cruel Summer
Well, here's an update.
The last 10 days (Geez, has it only been TEN DAYS??) have been long, hot and oppressive. Physically and metaphorically speaking.
The parents have been cooking me breakfast every morning and dinner every night. That's nice to come home to.
But at the same time, the home cooking comes at a price - namely, constant attention, and listening to their suggestions for how to improve my life (exercise more, drink less, eat more vegetables, stand up straight, don't be so messy, work harder, save more money).
I'm at a stealth remote computer location now. I left work early and am getting ready to take a weekend trip with the parents (yes, 5 hours in a car together..don't get me started).
Also taking a breather and evaluating my life, and where things are going.
Namely, WHY I WAS BORN!!
I'll resurface when I can to give you more updates.
In the meantime, hugs and kisses, for it may be a while before I can sneak away again. #
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
( 9:08 PM ) teahouse
Romeo and Juliet
So my parents are coming to visit me for the summer.
They will be staying with me, in my apartment, for SIX WEEKS.
That means I must:
1. Delete the history on my Internet Explorer;
2. Delete all references to this blog;
3. Empty out my "naughty drawer"; and
4. Drink all of the beer in my refrigerator.
It also means, alas, that posting will be EXTREMELY spotty from now until the end of August.
I'm really bummed about this, but there isn't much I can do at this point. I'll try to make it over to the Boy's place to post from his computer when I can.
I love you all, and I'm going to miss you.
Gee, this feels like a clandestine relationship I'm having with the blogosphere, like Romeo and Juliet.
Dear blogosphere: I love you but we can't let my parents know! I'll send you secret messages when I can. Here - give me one more long kiss before I must leave for the airport.
Wait for me, my love. For the next month and a half, we can steal furtive kisses in the garden, and exchange meaningful glances in public places.
Someday we'll be able to share our love openly again. Don't forget me! I'll be back for you soon. Until then, I remain yours, always and forever,
Monday, July 17, 2006
( 10:49 PM ) teahouse
Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child
My housekeeper, R, came over tonight to whip my apartment into shape.
While she was waiting for my laundry to dry, she and I sat on the couch, ate Thai food and watched Super Nanny.
I think that show is so entertaining. Premise: yuppie parents can't control their kids. Apart from putting them in front of the tv or Playstation, and occasionally driving the kids around in a souped-up SUV, parents don't know what to do with them.
Super Nanny comes and helps them discipline their kids, while the yuppie parents stand helplessly aside.
The whole time, R kept snorting derisively at the show.
"Teach them arts and crafts? Time out? Naughty benches? Bah!!" she muttered.
R lives in Harlem in a 3-bedroom apartment that she keeps spotlessly clean.
R has six kids, ranging from age 14 to 25. Every Sunday, all of them gather at her house for one of her famous Sunday dinners. Even the grown ones all go back to eat her home cooking. They love and fear her.
She informed me, "My kids were never bad because they knew I'd kick their asses if they did. I gave a lot of spankings. Give me five minutes with these whining rich white kids! I'll give them something to cry about!" She made a threatening fist at the tv.
I couldn't help but bust out laughing. I laughed so hard I almost cried. #
Thursday, July 13, 2006
( 7:11 AM ) teahouse
Forces of Nature
I fell asleep early last night.
But sometime during the night, I don't know what time, I was jolted awake by a deafening sound. It was an enormous clap of thunder.
I looked out my window. I was almost blinded by a huge streak of lightening flashing across the sky.
Then I heard thousands of little sounds: rat-a-tat-tat-tap-tap-tap.
It sounded like hail pounding on my window. Could it be? It sounded like golf ball-sized hail. Tennis ball sized hail? I remembered vaguely last night's weather report saying something about a severe thunderstorm warning.
This went on for 20 minutes.
My eyes were wide open. I yelled, but couldn't hear my own voice over the storm.
My bedroom windows rattled hard, as if they were going to break.
Looking outside, I saw a white pigeon struggle to fly off the balcony, but slip on the railing and slam against my windowsill. It shook itself off and flew off again, teetering precariously before disappearing from sight.
I finally fell asleep. I had dreams that I was in a tree, and a hurricane was coming, and the water was rising, and my hair was wet.
When I woke up, I was hanging off the side of my bed, and grabbing hold of the frame, like it was an island in a vast ocean. #
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
( 7:07 AM ) teahouse
To the asshole small-town cop who gave me a totally bogus ticket for "partially obstructed license plate" while I was commuting to work - I hate you, and I hate your state.
I know you targeted me because my license showed I'm from New York City, and you think this rich big-city girl should pay for a couple of bricks in the new parking garage you're building in your blighted, piece-of-shit town.
And I know you felt a rush of power over me, you little worm, with your scraggly barely-there attempt at a mustache. Have you been trying to grow that since you graduated from the police academy, bad boy?
You probably got rejected by an Asian girl in high school, didn't you? So that's why you felt the need to terrorize me when I couldn't find my car registration 10 seconds after you pulled me over, because my hands were shaking so badly from not having a clue as to why a cop would be randomly pulling me over in the middle of the day.
I hope you fall face-down into a patch of poison ivy. #
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
( 12:00 AM ) teahouse
Close, But No Cigar
Over the weekend, one of my coworkers became a grandmother for the first time.
Today she was running around the office, handing out these foil-wrapped chocolate cigars that said, "It's a Girl!" on them. I'd never seen anyone so excited.
Some of the other people in the office were so confused, they actually said, "Oh, no thanks, I don't smoke" before realizing that they were pieces of chocolate!
It was the cutest thing ever. Oh, and the cigars were yummy. #
Friday, July 07, 2006
( 7:15 AM ) teahouse
I have ambitious plans this weekend.
I'm going to teach the Boy how to drive stick shift.
When I was a teenager, I learned how to drive in a Nissan Sentra with manual transmission and no power steering.
In my mind, if you can't drive stick, you can't drive. None of those pansy-ass automatics. The world is divided up into two kinds of people - those of us who can drive stick, and the rest, for whom I have no use.
To me, driving stick is a sublime experience. You are one with your car. You always know how fast you're going. You're always in tune with it.
Remember that scene in Jurassic Park where the T-rex is chasing the car full of people through the jungle? If that driver hadn't known manual transmission, they would have been dinosaur hors d'oeuvres before the scene even got started.
My new car will have manual transmission. So I told the Boy that if he wants to drive it, he has to learn.
It will be an interesting weekend. Sister: If you're reading this, I promise we'll be gentle with your clutch.
Wish us luck. #
Thursday, July 06, 2006
( 7:04 AM ) teahouse
I had a relaxing long weekend. But it's nice to be back.
So after getting back to town, the Boy and I went on a double date with his 2 friends A and B, a married couple he's known since high school.
The three of them have the comfortable togetherness that's unique to people who have experienced time together as frustrated teenagers cutting up in the back of algebra class.
A and B suggested this nice seafood restaurant in Chelsea that's famous for its enormous lobsters. In fact, empty claw shells hang from the ceiling of the restaurant's dining area. Some of them are large beyond belief.
When we went, the waiter told us that there were lobsters from 2 to 9 pounds available.
9 pounds, can you imagine? That's like, a baby!
A and B split a 4 pound lobster between the two of them.
And they went to town on that poor creature.
Long after the Boy and I had finished our entrees, we were still watching in fascination as they used their spoons to scoop out all of the insides of the lobster shell, and sucked each of the little leggy things under the lobster's tail.
At one point, A said to B, "Honey, do you want my gills?" B responded, "Oh, sweetie, that's so nice!" and they made googly eyes at each other.
I guess nothing says "I love you" more than offering your lobster gills to your honey.
It was like a scene in a war movie. Food was strictly rationed..who knew when the next meal would come? Nothing was wasted....
There was NOTHING left on their plates when they were done. They pulverized the entire poor creature.
I think the Boy and I both looked a little ill. We skipped dessert. #