Thursday, December 25, 2003

Happy Christmas!!

Yeah, I know I've been awol. I meant to write sooner, really, but I got an assignment and spent 24-7 working on it. Yeah it happens...also was in the process of moving the blog to this site etc., etc.,...what can you do.

I'm going to be writing more later, but wanted to squeeze some news in first.

Last Saturday was Ivan and Janis' joing birthday party, held at South's in Tribeca. It doesn't sound like an Irish pub, but it is and unfortunately the fries are horribly addicting. There was a point where we were fighting over them.

After dinner, we moved to the bar. I hopped up onto the bar. This way I could see everyone who I was talking to (Oh the joys of being short). Jason, the bartender, took advantage of this by tossing sugar and salt down the back of my jeans. Note to self--do not were extreme low-riders if you're going to sit on a bar. It got so bad, that I had to go to the loo, take the jeans off, turn them inside out and slam them against the wall repeatedly to get the grains off the jeans.

Look I know exfoliation is good for your skin, but this was a bit extreme.

Hung out there for a bit, then we packed up and wandered off to where else, but LIT.

Made it home by 5 am and crashed.

Finished up my Top Ten CDs for the year for Rolling Stone.com this past week, and will post the URL once I see it.

Now have to work on my Top Ten for The Village Voice.

I'd love to be able to write about the worst CD's for once...there were some stinkers this year.

Am having guests over today for Christmas dinner, which is why this post is short. Last night baked a three layer cake, made rice pudding and today making mashed potatoes, candied yams, rolls, green bean casserole and corn. Did you notice that main dish is missing? That's cause I'm not making it. I have eaten ham in the past, but never made it. Roxanne is bringing the ham and cooking it, thank god.

The house is clean and smells good.

Now, I've just got to back into the kitchen and not panic.

Monday, December 08, 2003

Don't Feel Like a Headline

It snowed incessantly over the weekend. Friends from Florida were calling to see if I was okay. They don't seem to realize that the snow is pulverized into mush and the city turns into a sloppy puddle very quickly. So you're more or less jumping over gobs of grey goo.

Overheard a funny exchange today on the subway. Two guys were discussing their jewelry purchases that they made for their girlfriends. They were in their late teens early twenties. One guy said the to the other," Nah, she won't take it to the jewlers, just show it to her Mom. Dude you're soo safe."

Ah, the holidays.

Tonight hit the Ambulance Ltd., listening party at Hi-Fi on Avenue A. Jason Consoli (a truly nice guy) does PR for TVT records and is the genial co-host of the M.N.S.C (Monday Night Social Club) for us wacky Industry nights, showed off the upcoming Ambulance CD.

I got to hear seven cuts from the forthcoming release. The CD is coming out Spring 2004. That's too damn long to wait. So run, don't walk and pick up their eponymously named EP. How is it? Too damn fucking short. makes you feel frustrated and wanting more.

Seriously Ambulance Ltd.,'s sound is like a warm wall of music cocooning you. The guitars are liquidly luscious, deeply melodic and the general vibe is a contented hum that pervades your being.

Us critic folk have to rely on past music to describe new music, because (1)most people can relate to music when it's described as being like someone/thing and (2)some critics use comparisons as a crutch.

Me? I try to create new words or get weird. In the past I've described CDs as fast muscle cars etc.,

Back to Ambulance, Ltd., To an unintiated listener, I'd tell them that Ambulance Ltd., sounds like Pink Floyd meets a Jam Band. They take Floyd's aural landscaping and infuse it with an almost jazz fusion sensability with a nod towards the Jam Band loose limbed "yeah baby this if fun!" experimentation.

Anyway--will make more of an effort to hit MNSC. I miss getting in wacky discussions over songs, I've been nostalgic over having debates on the new versus the old Judas Priest et al.



Thursday, December 04, 2003

Last night Ivan and I went to Tonic to see Kid Congo and Alice, Texas. Unfortunately, we mixed up the times and only saw Alice,Texas. I know that we've seen them before, just can't figure out where. They had a couple of pretty good songs, but most of their music is dirge-like. After the millionth funeral tune, we bailed and headed off to Luna. Never caught the band name, and that's fine...we ran over to the Johnson's drank beers, listened to the fabu jukebox and went back to Luna to check out their last band. That band was worth the wait.
Two Gallants are out of San Francisco; it's a guitarist and a drummer. They've got a very full rich sound, a kinda electro-acoustic feel to them and yeah, I'd see them again. The vocalist has a killer vibrato, and a wonderfully textured tenor voice.

Stef's book release party was tonight. Decided to go "film noir." Wore my 40's dress with a cocktail hat and a fur muff. Actually blew my hair straight for it, I was trying to do the Lauren Bacall Virginia Lake deal.

They served cranberry martinis. Dangerous. Yummy. Met some very interesting and cool people. Saw P., he's a friend of Stef's and does hair for all the NY fashion shows, music videos etc., He arrived late--straight from a video shoot. I asked him if he needed an assistant. I'd love to be able to sneak onto a shoot, and scoop some stuff for the mag. Hey to be able to hang out with all the clothes would be cool too.

Afterwards went out to dinner with Nica and her beau. Dan's a very nice guy. I think it's cool that he calls her by her last name, they've got a very playful way with each other. It can get very soppy when you see all the stuff oozing out of each other's eyes when they look at each other. They make me feel about 12.

Anyway...just found out that some boys that I know are reading this ole blog. Well, golly gee!

If I've offended anyone, I apologize. If I made you laugh, great!

But remember, I am a single person, and as such I'll smile, giggle, flirt and have a grand ole time. Until I'm in a relationship this is the way I'll be.

If you have a problem with it, tell me. If you want to get to know me better, I am not a mind reader, let me know. If you don't like being here let me know. If you're an idiot and behave boorishly, you'll be here. If you want to write a comment here, go ahead. If I had fun with you, It'll be here.

If and only if I have relationship with you (whoever you are) you won't be here.

Same with a lot of my work details--they won't be here.

Glad that we got that straightened out.




Tuesday, December 02, 2003

Just a quiet day in the neighborhood. Contacted editors, ran errands, the usual.

Did manage to get out of the wedding. I'm thrilled about that. The bride was getting out of control. The poor girl had very few friends and no social life, she's staffing her wedding party with friends and friends of friends etc., Her mother wants this huge insane todo, and bridey hasn't got enough spine to say nope.

Seven bridesmaids??!!! Yeesh. It's because the groom has seven friends and he wants all of them to be ushers....

She announced that she wants the ENTIRE wedding party to hang out once a month until the wedding. What's going to happen after the wedding? After parties?

It was just getting very out of hand and I don't even know the chick. So I bailed.

Monday, December 01, 2003

"I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink...."

Not really a Beatles fan, but that line keeps running through my head.

Spoke to my editor at the Men's Mag today about previous pitches, and am pushing to do a piece on remote controlled sex toys. I think it's funny, and if you're really into multi-tasking...

Have more or less gathered up CDs to review for my top ten list for another mag. Have to quickly re-listen to them and decide....

Was standing outside the Conde Nast building today when Michael Imperioli (of the Sopranos) walked by. He's shorter in real life. But carries himself with diginity. Wore all black; black topcoat, pants, and wrap around black sunglasses. Didn't look right or left. Kept his head up, and his eyes straight ahead.

Am off to check out a few bands with Ivan Tuesday night. Alice,Texas and a few others whose names I can't remember.

Wednesday night is Stef's book party. That ought to be a blast.

The cold has seeped into my bones, am off to lie down and read Plum Island
I'm Baaaaack!!!

Yes, I am really alive. One day I was fine and the next day…boom! I was struck down with that horrid flu that was hurtling around the city. It started with a headache, and by the end of the day I couldn’t swallow, breathe or walk.

I ended up spending a week in bed. I was so achy, and too tired to read or do anything. I just slept on and off. My voice came back midweek—and for three days I sounded like the love child of Darth Vader and the Exorcist.

The week after that I just killed trees by using way too many boxes of Kleenex.

Um, I think I’ve run out of excuses. No, seriously, being sick for over week, played havoc with my work life. I had a deadline or two that were screaming for me to hurry up.

So, here I am at the tail end of the T-day weekend, trying to summarize the rest of the month….where do I start?

Okay, my “dating moratorium” lasted most of the month—no, being sick had nothing to do with it. I think.

Last Tuesday, I met a very tall guy R., for drinks. Went to Lunasia, nice place, exposed brick walls, lots of places to sit. Chatted, drank and he asked me out for Sunday. He seemed like a nice guy, tall but nice. And never heard from him again. That’s okay, I’ve been so busy, I needed the rest.

Wednesday night at 10:40 get call from M. Who I’ve met very briefly, and the ensuing convo proved to me, that sometimes brief is much better. Within two minutes into the convo, I now know he’s been to Harvard and Columbia and is starting another business. He wanted to discuss econ theory with me. All I can say is “NEXT.”

Thursday, Roxanne threw an amazing T-Day bash. She did the brine thing to the bird the night before…massive dishes of every traditional holiday food everywhere. There wasn’t enough room on the table for all of the food. We all tried to do it justice, and then crawled into the living room to pass out and breathe. About an hour or two later, we game fully crawled back into the dining room, loaded up our plates, crawled back into the living room, put our plates down, then passed out. I crawled home in turkey stupor.

Friday night I was off to the Tribeca Grand. There in the Sanctum, Peter Hook of New Order was spinning discs. Grabbed Roxanne and Ivan for company, and went out to check out the scene and do some celeb spotting. If I saw a couple, I’d write it up and give to the mag. Somewhere in the crowd was either Fischer or Spooner…not sure. Peter Hook had pre-mixed his stuff, gave it to the DJ and went to the bar (outside the Sanctum) for a drink or two, then came back. The strangest part of the evening was dancing to a New Order tune, while Hook was hanging by the turntables.

The three of us were turning our little heads like radar, trying to catch a glimpse of someone I could jot down on my notepad. Nada. At one point, this really cute guy walked in. Yellow baseball cap, brown leather jacket, curly brown hair, kicks…he had this glow about him. He walked up to Hook, shook hands, they chatted for awhile, and he walked about the room a bit. I was tugging Ivan’s arm, “Dude, who is that?” Ivan looked at him. “Don’t think he’s anyone…I’m not sure.”

The crowd was as lame as a limp fish; we blew that pop stand and hit LIT.
LIT is a bacchanalia personified. The booze is cheap and flows from a generous hand, the patrons are relaxed, and the music rocks. It’s got two floors. The basement has nooks, crannies, and a back room filled with cushy black sofas. No one seems to know about the back room, so it’s easy to (and usually the only place) where you can cop a squat. Best of all, you can smoke in the basement.

So we went from someone’s over-decorated rumpus room, to a redneck’s basement. Hey, at least people know how to dance at LIT and the music is much better. After pushing, shoving and crawling our way through the crowd, we made it and threw ourselves onto a couch. Beers and lighters magically appeared. Suddenly I spot yellow baseball cap. I point at him, “Hey! You were over at the Tribeca Grand.” He walks over, sits down and introduces himself. T is from France, has been here two months and is dj’ing and starting his own label. He invites me to check him out Saturday night when he’s spinning at >b>VOID. I tell him that I’m checking out Hybrid at Avalon, but will try to get there. He kept bouncing back and forth between his friends and us. Yup, very flattering. Esp. since we were discussing everything from Napoleon to where you can hear techno in the city.

Two guys flop over to us. I really do mean flop, they were drunk out of their skulls. Two boys from East Hampton. Jay’s tall, cute and blond. Colin, short and as nasty tempered as a garden gnome. They sit down, say hi and ask me to go home with them. I tell them, nah, too many elbows. They point at Roxanne and ask me if she’d go, “See the guy she’s holding hands with?” They nod. “That’s her boyfriend.” They get up and try to snare someone else.

Rolled into bed about 3 AM. The next day, I get an email from T, reminding me about the gig, call him up and he puts me on the guest list.


Kate and I meet up to see Hybrid at Avalon. Many zillions of years ago, Avalon was Limelight. I remember that place from my misspent youth. It’s weird to be dancing in a converted Gothic church. The old club retained a lot of that atmosphere; it was funky, dark, with candelabras and had a cool vibe. Now, it’s all’s high gloss and high tech. Pretty soulless. Band’s supposed to go on at 10 PM. But, no! The crowd isn’t big enough, they keep pushing it back. Kate and I are dancing, making fun of people, checking out the boys, but we’re bored. The place feels like a bad high school dance. Only exciting thing was watching two guys try to out freestyle each other.

Back on the train to SOHO and off to see T do his thing. VOID should be re-named cooler. It was so damn cold I never took off my jacket. Saw T, chatted, he DJ’d and looked for me after. Must mention that it’s very cute to see a boy hunting for ya. Found me, introduced him to Kate. Kate’s off to Paris Wednesday, she’s going to spend two weeks hanging out at her Dad’s apt, while he’s in Miami. T mentioned a few places she should check out, I suggested that he email them to me and I’ll forward them to her.

The place was stacked with his friends. He went to make the rounds, and asked me if he could buy me a drink. I said, yes, and as soon as he left, Kate and I looked at each other and giggled. Um, it didn’t go so great after that. Yes, he bought a drink, but for someone else, then he was making the rounds. Meanwhile, I’m getting that stupid high school feeling all over again. Y’know the one, where you feel like you’re suede flat in a room full of stilettos?

Kate’s telling me we ought to go; the worst thing is to hang there waiting. And yeah, I do agree with her. Hear me out, okay? Yes, he’s asked a ton of friends to come and yes, he should spend time with them, but if you’re gonna offer to buy someone a drink and maybe want to do a bit of sport kissing, c’mon on back soon. Not twenty or so minutes later. I didn’t really care about the drink, but was looking forward to other things. So, we gather up our stuff and I walk over to T, to tell him that we’re meeting friends at LIT, and there’s my drink. Shit. He looks a bit crestfallen (whee!) and we talk about going out later on that week (double whee) and his looking at me with huge brown eyes and I’m smiling back…yeah baby!

Once more into the breech! Once more Kate and I hurl ourselves into the frigid air and walk to LIT.

After pretending we were in a rugby scrum, we make it into the back room. Couches and space. As soon as I tell Kate about Colin and Jay, they show up. “Hey guys!” They have no recollection of the previous night. Colin kept apologizing over an over again. Jay was still trying to get laid, their friend Amy walks over and we’re having this funny and wild convo about men. Two very hot boys join us on the couch and jump into the convo. Pretty soon, we’re all laughing and flirting. Then T pops his head in the doorway. Wow. He said that he and his friends were off to a different club. Okay, I now totally flattered. He didn’t see me and popped out of the room. If he had come in, it would have been awkward, as I met S. and we were playing with feather boas and chatting. But, one of his friends saw me flirting and the usual with S…..so hmmm? Will he tell?

S and his friend A grew up in France. Yup, more Frenchmen and just like T, they’ve got dual citizenship. Okay, we (Kate, D, me and S) hung out till 5 am.

I’ve spent the day sleeping. I’ve been a busy, busy girl.

I’ve got a date with Ross this week and am wondering if S and T will call. Would love to hang with T, and S is an amazing kisser.

Stef’s book party is this week.

Yup, this is gonna be a goooood week.

Monday, November 03, 2003

All Quiet On The Home Front

Nothing incredibly horrible has happened this week. Hallelujah!

I got a call from the bride and have been promoted from Chuppah holder to bridesmaid. I asked her if that came with a raise and a corner office. This wedding is getting really strange. I mean, the wedding's not till May, anything can happen before then. AND bridezilla now wants monthly "get togethers" with the bridal party. Why? Please tell me why. I'm wondering what's going to happen to her once the wedding is over. There's no way that I'll be going to monthly after parties. Uh huh.

Drummer boy surfaced. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I so don't care. Men. Yeesh. I think that word sums everything up nicely.

No, it's not that I don't like them, I do. They're wonderful. I just don't have limitless patience for their antics.

Had an interesting chat with a fellow freelancer tonight. Went to one of those media thingys. We snuck outside for a cig break and apropos to nothing, she asked me if I had a "significant other." I burst out laughing and said, "Honey, I haven't gotten laid since July and it wasn't that fabulous." Ever notice how some people turn very red very fast? She was like litmus paper.

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant. I mean how do you concentrate on work?"

"Look I date like a wild thing and if I could find someone with whom I'd like to get naked with, I would. But seriously, we all have different priorities. Some people's priorities are their relationships, and that's okay. Some people's priorities are their careers, and that's okay too. It's all about what's most important to you."

Oh yeah, I heard squeaky noises in the ceiling in my bathroom today. Not cute cartoony squeaky noises, real SQUEAKY NOISES.

So, I've got a two bed, no view and squeakers. I wonder if I can get the squeakers to chip in on rent or at least bring a nice housewarming gift.



Thank god it's over

Could it be that my biorythyms were low? Or that the stars really had it in for me? Suffice to say this was the week that needs a do over.

As I promised when I started this thing, I wouldn't/couldn't write about work, I'm sticking to that resolution. But work played into my having an INCREDIBLY stressful week, topped off by losing my keys.

My keys may be in the garbage or tucked somewhere in a lost or found bin, but they are not with me. Of course, my front door key is a medeco key, which means that the only way to get one is to go the manager's office and get it. Oh joy!

The nice bits of the week. Had dinner with Rose Wednesday night. We ate at our favorite restuarant, Cafe Topsy, 575 Hudson Street. They serve amazing British food. No, I am not on drugs, in the right hands any cuisine can be more than edible, and Topsy's has terrific ambience, yummy drinks and hot waiters (okay most of them are gay, but eye candy is eye candy). Plus Tony the owner is a doll and there's something nice about going to a place where everyone knows your name and you can kid around with them. It's sort of like being home, except better decorated and your living room is filled with strangers. I mean, I can go there, help myself to a cup of coffee, flirt with the boys, get dating advice and order a half portion of dessert.

Met up with Ivan after dinner, we had plans to troll the music venues in the LES, but since I had been on a shopping binge, (when I get very stressed I shop) we had drinks at Welcome to the Johnson's and caught a band at Luna.

The shopping bag was so heavy that I was listing to one side and I was so stressed out that I had three drinks (two martinis and one vodka gimlet) and I was still sober. I have zero tolerance for alcohol, and the fact that I could down three drinks and not feel it.....

Listened to a band called Speedway at Luna Lounge. The members look like escapees from a jam band and play excellent alternative rock. The sound system was on the fritz, combine that with hollow bodied guitar and ouch. They're definitely a band to see again. Music is fresh and the lead singer plays bass-doing all sorts of fancy finger work while singing--not easy.

Thursday night Albert and I finally caught up with another and saw Kill Bill Vol.1. I was bored. The fight scenes were beautifully choreographed, I think there was a plot, but don't quote me on that and the subtitles did not match what the actors were saying.

There were so many mini-hommages to various tv shows and kung fu movies that it smelled derivative. Yes, I know that the cheesy lighting was on purpose, but cheez louise...enough all ready.

Tonight was my first night as a judge for the First Annual Soapbox Comedy Festival it's being held throughout the city until the 13th. The comic I really enjoyed didn't make the cut. Sniff. I'm rooting for her anyway, the woman was very polished and funny.

Came across a silly fun song "Gay Boyfriend" by the British duo Hazzards. The video is silly and a great time waster. I wouldn't suggest watching it at work, you'll laugh out loud too much and get into trouble. Check out the website http://www.ukesofhazzard.com/ If you can also check out Adam Freeland's "We want your soul" song and or video. Full of biting wit about crass consumerism. There's a great line in the song, something about it being okay for America to go to sleep as our leaders are making our decisions for us.

Oh yeah, my date with drummer boy--got stood up. Could anything else have gone wrong? At least we weren't invaded by aliens!

This coming week had better improve, or I'm sending it back.

Ta!

Monday, October 27, 2003

One more time for the Eurythmics!

Have you ever noticed that it rains when
(a) You're wearing suede
(b) You're getting your hair done
or
(c) You've got a really important meeting?

Well today I had two out of three and dodged raindrops all the while.

Had an interview in the morning. The editor seems very cool. She's from the same area that I am, so we have that common language thing going on and the interview digressed from a regular one to swapping shopping tips. The job seems like it could be fun (it's not full-time) and it could hone my research skills etc.,I'd be in an office two days a week--with people! But the money is pretty bad. Yeah, I know we've all heard the mantra "the economy sucks, just take the money and run." Well, there's making money and there's making money and this just isn't it. I never thought I'd turn down a job because the money was poor, but there ya go. You can sometimes find yourself doing the darndest things.

Then I met up with Nica. I was off to get my roots hidden and Nica came along to see me transformed back into a "fierce redhead bitch" as Lucky, my hair guy calls me. After he applied the goop, I went to hang with Nica in the lounge. Between my hair piled up on top of my head (looking like the Bride of Frankenstein) and the black cape over my shoulders, I was ready for Halloween. If it wasn't raining, I could have walked around scaring small children on the street.

Nica and I were chatting away and the topic turns to men(of course). The minute we switch to that, every ear, male and female clicks on to our convo. It was like watching horse ears twitch.

Nica is in a quandry--she's got a bf who has been, shall we say, a dick in the past. Well, now he's trying (oh c'mon, they all do at some point) and she wants to be monogamous, but just met a very cute, funny, intelligent and successful writer. What to do? Go out on a date with the boy? or politely say no? I told her until she's married to go for it. Why be stuck in a so-so relationship when you could be tasting all sorts of yummy fruits? I'd rather do that than have to constantly second guess my boy. Who needs that type of exercise?

I suggested that she should have a spare or two laying around. They can always come in handy.

I told her about my dating moratorium, and she started laughing. Especially, after I told her I just met a very cute boy. Yeah, I'll probably go out on a date with him. He's into music and I just hope he doesn't react the same way the other musician I dated did. We were talking about bands and the boy got pissed off that I knew more bands than he did. First of all, it's what I do for a living, second of all if he's that competitive...

Speaking of boys, haven't heard from J. All I can say is yippee! I'm so bad. No, I'm not. If I really liked a boy and he liked me, I'd probably be in a completely different mindset.

I think that no matter how old you get, romance is always and I mean alwayslike high school. Every time I start talking about boys to Cris, she starts saying things like, "Oh my god! Will we see him in study hall??"

I think in the case of ilex boy, I'd have to revert to second grade and throw something at him. I have such bad aim, it's not a good idea.

Walking around in the rain woke up all my old sports injuries. They came screaming alive, and reminded me how banged up I really am. I have yet to take any advil. I'm just sitting here gritting my teeth. I have decided to join a gym next week. Winter is bad for me, my appetite revs up--I must have been a big hibernator in the past and I just bought a ton of super low jeans and want to wear them. The gym that I'm joining is now offering fencing. I haven't fenced since High School and I loved it. There's something satisfying about doing a circular riposte. The problem is I've wrecked my rotator cuff and am worried that I'll never be able to pick up an epee again.

Sara gave me some simple exercises that are supposed to build up the muscles around the cuff. I'll try them. I just hope I don't do any more damage. At this point in my life, I don't think there's enough crazy glue in the universe to keep me togther.

Found an all Paul Rauhofer all the time Internet radio station. alldanzradio.com Am in heaven.

am off to medicate my self and eat.




Sunday, October 26, 2003

The Lust List

Lately I've been lusting after all sorts of electronic devices. I have no idea why I suddenly want these things-- I know it's not the adverts on TV--Some switch in my mind has been flipped and I suddenly need, no crave objects that will most likely collect dust.
What I have a intense desire for are:
1)CD Walkman that plays cdr etc.,
2)DVD player
3)Picture phone
4)digi cam
5)scanner

I don't really need these things. Heck, I've got a vcr and tons of movies that I'm not watching now.

Maybe I'll get these goodies for my birthday or for Yule.

Then I'll have to figure out how to work them

Friday, October 24, 2003

Another Friday Night....

After kicking myself around the block a few times, I finally sat down and started re-writing my first three chapters of my first book. My, there's a lot of mys in there, isn't there!

Anyway, it was either write or leave the apartment and do laundry. The laundry has become a massively huge thing, looking at it, I'm convinced it could be used as an anti-terrorist weapon. So, for the sake of national security (and the fact that it's cold outside) I've decided to leave it be. Who knows? It could become New York's first line of defense.

Obstensively, I'm writing. Well, right now I'm writing this...so...I know, as a writer I am a fabulous procrastinator.

I'm not that bad. I've just finished the edits on the first three chapters, can I get an amen please. And started writing the fourth when I wandered on over here.

Sometimes it just easier to do the stream of consciousness type writing here than trying to be creative. Except when on deadline. When I'm on deadline I'm focused. I think it's the adrenaline rush you get when you're beating the clock and everything is flowing. It is zen. You're making the ephemeral concrete. It's so damn sweet.

Have only told one friend that I'm putting a moratorium on dating. Her response, was "about damn time." Hmph. then again, Sara isn't really into dating. Then again, I view it as a sport.

Can I have fun? Can I have a good time and want to see this person again? Lately my dates have been so-so. Yeah, I have fun, but do I want to see them again? No.

If, and I say if, someone who really makes the ole tum go aflutter asks me out then I'll say yes.

Of course Ilex boy is oblivious. Ilex boy...am not going there.

There are times when I really like the idea of finding someone and having a relationship (and steady sex) and there are times when I'm not into it. Commitmentphobic? Moi?

Am also enjoying the thrills and chills of dsl. I should have converted to that earlier. Am listening to this fabu 80's radio station accuradio.com Accuradio has tons of channels and the one I'm listening to is playing The Pet Shop Boys "Let's Make Lots of Money." I love the older PSB stuff.

Oh well, back to the book.



Thursday, October 23, 2003

No, I haven't been abducted by aliens

I was just asked to be in a wedding party. A friend of a friend needs an extra body or two for her wedding, and I was volunteered. So, I spent last weekend with the rest of the bridal crew hunting down elusive bridesmaid dresses and looking at favors etc., for a wedding in May. The more I learn about planning a wedding, the more I like the idea of eloping to Vegas and getting married by an Elvis impersonator.

Speaking of weddings etc., I have decided to take a break from dating. Collective gasp please. Yup, I'm taking a breather. There just comes to a point where if I am going to shave my legs, there had better be a good reason for it.

Other than that, life has been pretty quiet. I'm liking the drama free days. Well, most of my life is pretty drama free. Just the usual staring at the computer and alternating by staring at the phone and wondering if my editors have been abducted by aliens.

Recently reviewed Jamison Parker's debut release Notes & Photographs It's an EP, which sucks. I mean only five songs to listen to, ugh I want more. Luckily their full length CD will be out sometime in 2004. The band is reminiscent of The Smithereens, Marshall Crenshaw, The Pixies and they've got lots of energy and quirky, clever wordplay.

Off to check out many bands tomorrow night with Ivan. Hopefully the weather will be warmer. When it gets really cold, all I want to do is hide in the apt. until Spring.

I don't know what it is about hanging with Ivan, but there are moments when I suddenly turn into a 17 year old boy. I'm doing things like saying, "dude" and making displays of heavy metal bands in Virgin. It's fun and goofy and I'm not bitching about it. Actually, I kinda miss the days when the most important thing was to be able to outname bands. To be a walking enclycopdeia of arcane and weird rock shit.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Here comes the rain again

Sitting here in front of the computer, I'm listening to the rain hitting my ac. It doesn't sound as cozy or romantic as rain hitting a tin roof in the tropics, but it will have to do.

Cris and I went to the Museum of Natural History today. Walked around the fish exhibit, and I ended up being a tour guide. Years and years ago, possibly during the Jurassic period, I was so enamoured with marine biology, that I almost went to school for it. Apparently, I've remembered all sorts of facts and frighteningly enough, the latin names for some of the fish. So, Cris and I made fun of various species and I spouted off facts. Once a geek, always a geek.

We watched the IMAX movie, Kingdom of the Tiger. It's a gorgeous film about the birth of tiger and animal conservation in India. The countryside is breathtaking. After seeing the film, I completely understand why there's a guy who kept a tiger in his apt. here in the city. How he kept the animal quiet and litter trained, are some of the many unaswered questions. I mean, how much kitty litter do you buy for a tiger anyway?

We checked out the Hall of Gems and Minerals after the movie. What I find strange is that I've been going to the museum on and off since I was 2, and this was the first time I've ever gone to the gem part. I seem to always hit the same sections; dinosaurs, planet earth, indigenous peoples, dinosaurs again, and of course the planetarium.

Went back to my house and watched one and a half novellas. I don't speak any Spanish, and made Cris translate. Now I'm hooked on them. I have no idea what they're saying, but I can't wait to see tomorrow night's installments. At one point, Cris got bored translating, so we created our own dialogue. Then we found Better Off Dead on cable, and of course you have to watch that. I've seen bits and pieces of that flick over the years, but never the entire thing. Will have to buy my own copy. When you look at the actors as an adult, you realize that they don't look like teens at all, but when you're a preteen watching those things, you hope and pray that by the time you turn 16, you look like that. What's really scary is that Friday Cris and I are walking around 5th avenue and we're seeing horrible 80's fashions in all the stores. Yikes. I for one, will not have big hair. Nope.

Had an interesting weekend. Went out to dinner with J. Saturday night. He had made reservations at Tabla in Gramercy Park. Nice place, nice atmosphere and he shows up wearing jeans. Oh god, I know I sound shallow (I most definitely am not), but c'mon it's a second date, put a little effort into it. The sweater he was wearing was wrinkled and he looked like he was ready to hit a dive bar or two.

While I had an okay time,(he had a great one), I'm not interested in seeing him again. There's zip chemistry. I am also not fond of the fact that he couldn't get it through his head that I am really and incredibly thrilled for Stef's success with the book and column and other career related things that she's doing. He kept saying repeatedly, "But she's a writer too." How does this make any difference in our friendship? We're friends first and foremost, and you want your friends to do well. It's a joyous thing to see them succeed. I'm now in the unenviable position of telling a boy that I'm not interested. It's such a squemish feeling, no matter how you phrase it, it never comes off well.

Sunday was, in Ivan's words a "bad Seinfeld episode." Sunday was supposed to be the great buying the computer router day. We decide to meet at the Office Depot on 5th Avenue. Neither of us knew there was a parade going on at the same time. Neither of us knew that the 5th Avenue Office Depot is closed on Sundays. We ended up on the one on Broadway and 41st, and realized that the sale on routers was at Compusa on 5th and 38th. We ended up playing in the men's department of H&M.

Went back to my apt. to get the DSL working and it refused. So, we went out to dinner instead.

Am going to be attempting to buy a router tomorrow. By myself. All alone. Just me. Nervous? You betcha!



Thursday, October 09, 2003

Rolling Along

Had the interview yesterday at the mag. Not only did I have a good hair day (yippee), but I kicked ass!

Funny thing, I had gotten there too early and the mag is located in a business park. Nothing but high rises, one after another. No place to get coffee and sit for awhile. So I walked up and down the street. Did I mention that there was construction everywhere, and I'm hopping over broken sidewalks and lots of dust and dirt. In heels. In black fabric (faille) heels? Yes they got dirty. I scrubbed the dirt off them before I went to the interview. At least I was busy while I was wasting time.

Got on a subway this morning, and this woman decided to preach to us poor half-awake people. Not only did she have to punctuate every other word with "Amen," and "Hallelujah," she kept talking about being covered with the blood of Christ. Eeww. Okay, not the best thing to hear on an empty stomach. She kept calling the Holy Ghost the Holy Goat. I started to laugh, thinking about a goat rompng around in a barnyard wearing a halo.

Of course, I had to say something to her as I left the train.

I'm so not "PC". I think the only that "PC" is a load of crap. To be "PC" is to have a narrow world view. To be really "PC" is to accept yourself and others without labels. The "PC'ers" love labels. They're as bad as the conservatives. I love to tweak them both equally

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

venting ahead, be afraid, very afraid

This is the second time I've written this, technology is not my friend tonight.

Spent the day being viciously attacked by a pair of shoes that promised me that if I bought them, they'd be my bestest friend ever. They lied. Also had the twirling skirt day. That one was my fault, I've got a brown suede hip hugger skirt that I tried to wear as a normal skirt. We played tug of war--it won.

Came home to find a nasty threatening email from an ebay buyer. He misread the auction, wants his money back--he looked over the items before he handed over the cash. He also brought me up on charges in ebay court. This is great, just like High School Honor Court.

Ivan sent me a photo of shoes that he bought.

I have a job interview at a mag Wednesday, I better have a good hair day.

Can I hide under the bed until Spring?



Monday, October 06, 2003

Tempus Fugit

I can’t believe it’s Sunday. The week swooped by so fast, and I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the past two days switching out my Summer/Spring wardrobe to my winter one. The past few nights have dropped down to the 40’s so of course, I pack up most my transitional stuff—the weather appeared as if it was going to whoosh in to winter and bypass Fall. All of my shoes etc. are now packed away. I sit down in the living room, click on NY1, and the weather report pops up. I’m being told that the rest of the week is going to be in the 60’s to 70’s. I refuse to struggle with that stuff again.

I had a very quiet two days. This is a good thing, as my weekend was actually Thursday and Friday. And boy, what a weekend that was. Ouch!

The week started off mellow. Had a date with J. Tuesday night and laughed my ass off. It’s nice to hang with a boy who gets your obscure references and flings back a few of his own. Met up with him at Croxley’s. It’s a bar in the East Village that has a very unprepossessing front. Walk in and it looks like a very dark Irish pub. There’s another room, that’s barn-like and oh yes! They have an uncovered smoking lounge in the waaay back. Nice, very large patio with ashtrays. It was if Bloomburg wasn’t the mayor.

We sat out back, smoked, drank and chatted. On the way to the subway, J leaned over and kissed me. While he’s kissing me, a homeless guy walks up to him, pats him on the back and yells out, “Go for it my brother!” Naturally we break apart, and start laughing. This happened a few times with different homeless people. Okay, I don’t walk up to them and heckle, so why are they doing it to me.

I like J. He’s a bright, funny guy. He’s just a tad too tall. His 6’3” to my 5” 2 ½” is um, a bit uncomfortable and he made a couple of short jokes, rested his arm on top of my head etc., Also a bit of a sloppy kisser. So, if we go out again (and I do merit him a second date) gotta do the teaching to kiss thing. Ugh. I’m all for enthusiastic kissing, just not the type where I have the urge to wipe my face off with a few towels.

Thursday day I get an email from my friend Michael about a party at Lot 61. Michael Creagh is a fashion photographer and if I do say so myself an amazing one. He’s got an original and fresh eye and ought to be shooting for JANE or Vogue or some other high end mag. He had just shot a cover and a ten page editorial for 944 magazine and they were throwing a party for him. Open bar and reserved tables for the crew (friends).

As I was opening the door to get in (why do so many restaurants and bars have those insanely heavy front doors??) I thrust the iron front door into my left foot. I’m not seeing stars; I’m seeing planets, constellations, the whole works. I forgot how friendly pain is, and how it just wants your entire body to join in the fun. I have no idea how I managed not to scream out loud (probably embarrassment), and hobbled into the place.

I see Michael and he introduced to me a few of his friends who were all ready there. It turns out that a few of them worked at the same mag where I met Michael. This incredibly wacked out bunny decided she wanted to create a men’s mag, and talked people into working for her. I saw an ad and applied for the Entertainment Editor position—that’s how I met Michael, he interviewed me.

I went to one editorial meeting, realized the woman was a complete and utter loon and left the “project.” I realized that not only did she not have a budget; she didn’t have a completed business plan. She had one person who said he was going to give her money for a start-up, but I don’t think either of them realized that it takes $20 million to get a mag moving if you want to do it right. So, she had a lot of ideas, wanted articles written, photos shot, reviews for things done, but no definite deadline—because she didn’t have a dime. You don’t need content for a press kit to show advertisers and publicists. You couldn’t tell her anything and she never did the homework. I don’t have time or inclination for mental masturbation, so I split. Unfortunately, there were people who bought her stuff hook, line and sinker. They spent a lot of their free time and money of their own to do photo shoots etc., with no actual mag in sight, and were waiting for payment. Never, ever work for free.

I ran into some of them at Michael’s party. We gossiped madly about F________ and what a twisted person she was and laughed about everything. Heather has been approached about designing her own line of clothes. She’d be moving from stylist to fashion designer, that’s a pretty good move. I talked a lot with Yuni her boyfriend. He’s an art director and hilarious.

I hope she didn’t get jealous. I wasn’t flirting—just chatting away. For some reason, I’ve always gotten along with guys. It wasn’t until 2 or 3 years ago that I started to acquire a lot of female friends. Most of my life (with the exception of a brief spate of time in college) I’ve had boy friends.

I guess that’s how my brain is wired. When I was little and watched a James Bond movie, I wanted to be him. I love being a girl, am hetero, but really am into “boy” things. Maybe to me, boy stuff signals adventure and fun?

There was a time when I was little that I wanted to be a race car driver, an astronaut, a marine biologist (almost went to college for that one), a roadie, a sound engineer; all these things are “boy” things. It’s sad that we’re in a new millennium, and the stereotypes are still going strong. You can’t just be what you want to be, you have to assimilate yourself within gender lines. No wonder I’ve always felt like an outsider, I never have. Then again, I’ve studied Kung Fu, a bit of fencing, and have screwed up my knees in hockey, so I am obviously going my own way. I also danced for nine years; me and society—a peculiar dichotomy.

My mother made sure that my brother knew how to cook and that I would be able to fix blown fuses, shovel the walk and put stuff together without reading the directions. When I was in college, I’d periodically call up with a new and bizarre career move, and her reply was usually, “that’s nice.”

I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen a lot as a child, due to the fact that I accidentally blew up a toaster oven, burned Formica (I had no idea that you couldn’t put a hot pot on it), and other ahem, incidents. I have since learned how to cook and am lusting for a mandolin.

Getting back to Thursday night, Yuni and I hung out, chatted about relationships, life etc., I found out how he and Heather met. It’s a cute story. He had been married for a year, was in the process of getting a divorce and had gotten a call from one of his married friends. The friend was bemoaning the fact that they never hung out, got drunk and did the crazy things they did when they were single. So, the boys met up and proceeded to get completely toasted.

They went to another bar, Yuni bought a drink for his friend, who took one look at it and put his head down in defeat. Heather walked in, and Yuni offered it to her. They’ve been together ever since ( 2 1/2 years).

There was an open bar, a lots of lovely, lethal vodka drinks (bartender one more madras please!). It seemed that every time I turned around, another one had followed me from the bar or the waitress. Met a hysterically funny tiny Asian boy. I say tiny, ‘cause he’s the same height as moi. We were dancing in the aisles between the banquettes, making very catty remarks and “fake” flirting. Think of a petite version of Jack and Karen from Will and Grace . The music was fantastic and the dance floor horribly lame.

For some reason, unknown to me, and yes, I still can’t figure out why, I decided at one point that it would be easier for me to crawl on top of the banquettes to get my purse, as opposed to asking someone to give it to me. The crawling forwards was easy. It was the crawling backwards that confused me.

The overhead projectors were showing Michael’s cover, editorial and other photographs of his stuff. It was quite heady. I kept tugging at him and saying. “Look! Look!”

I have no idea how I made it home. I’m not sure how I was able to walk to the subway. I know there was no way in Hell that I was walking a straight line. When I got home, I leaned against the doorway of my bedroom and noticed that the walls were spinning. They were moving in time to the music in my head. This was not a good thing.

When I got up in the morning, I finally had the courage to look at my foot. My left toenail is buckled and broken. There was blood seeping out from under the nail. No pedicures for me for awhile. I hobbled and wobbled like a weeble most of the day.

Friday night was the Machine Gun Fellatio concert at the Pussy Cat Lounge in Tribeca. Went with Ivan and Roxanne.

The Pussycat Lounge has a strip club on the first floor and a space for bands on the second floor. We found the balcony, and watched the band from up there. Talk about a vantage point—we saw everything.

Machine Gun Fellatio http://www.machinegunfellatio.com/ is a cross between an out of control cabaret act and rock n’ roll. The female lead singer’s name is KK Juggy. She’s the demented love child of Marlene Dietrich and Jeannette MacDonald. KK wears a wig (?) that looks like it ran away from a 40’s movie with wardrobe to match. She does cartwheels in heels and strips.

The male lead singer is Pinky Beecroft, there’s something about him that recalls Bryan Ferry. I think it’s the dark hair and natty crushed velvet suit.

Pinky is the keyboardist who strips down to nuttin’. Well, at one point he did attach a poo bear to his penis. At one point he’s dancing on top of the speakers,

There are 7 members of this Australian band, if you know anything about Ozzies, they're just a crazed group of people. I’m not going to give a descrip of each member, just go to the website. Their music is a cross between Gilbert and Sullivan on acid and funky rock n’roll. Watching them is addictive. If they were here for another night, I’d catch them. I don't say that very often about a band They’re exuberance is infectious as is their music, play wildly with taboos and if you call getting beer spit on you by KK, audience involvement. They’re loud, dirty, silly and should be on Broadway and playing on the radio. Friday night was the only time I’ve ever seen an MC demand that the band do an encore,the audience concur,so they did two. They should have done more. You’ve never heard country until you hear them do “Butter My Ass.”

During the show (when I thought it was safe) Roxanne and I ran out for a cig, we come back, KK is only wearing pasties and they’re playing the Muppet theme song. I look over the balcony at the mayhem below and think I spot my editor. I think it is, but am not sure; I’ve only met him once. It looks like him, but…I’m hoping I can spot his tattoo on his wrist, but of course that’s the wrist that’s covered up by his jacket.

After the show is over, Rox and I go out for a smoke and bump into Kip. We all go back up and hit the bar, there’s my editor. I introduce Kirk to Kip, Rox and Ivan. Kip looks at Kirk and says,” You know we’re both cc’ed on the sample sales alerts PJ sends out.” They look at me and start laughing. Shouldn’t shopaholics stick together? I tell Kirk that when I spot cool designer clothes for my boy friends, I email them the URL and if I knew his size that I’d do the same for him. He just shakes his head.

It’s funny how shopping brings everyone together.

I can’t remember how, but we all trooped down to the strip club. It’s Kirk, me, Kirk’s friend, Kip, Roxanne and Ivan.

The last time I was in a strip club, it was in Hallandale, Florida in ‘97. I was dragged there by Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers) during an interview, and the place got raided. The d├ęcor of that place was sad. Lucite, beige walls and brown shag carpeting thrown together in a cavernous space. It had that 70’s bad design feel. I had to sit there and watch Chad have lap dances. The DJ played killer music, but kept talking over it. What’s the point of playing music if you’ve got to screech all over it??

The strip club at the Pussy Cat is a very long and narrow room. The dancers attempt to dance on a narrow walkway. No poles, no flashy lights, but good music and no one stomping on the lyrics.

At one point, I’m standing between Kirk and Kip and we’re rating the dancers. Some of them were lame; they either didn’t know the difference between erotic movements or thought that the obvious was sexier. Some of them were so somnolent; I wondered if you touched them, would they fall over? A few of them stood with their faces to the mirrored wall, and didn’t do very much. What’s the point in that??? A few of them looked like they were performing very bad yoga.

But, a couple of them wore some very cute outfits that I could see wearing to a club, and some great shoes. I now understand how dancers/strippers can wear these insanely high heels. They don’t stand in them. They’re crouching, lying on their sides, doing leg lifts, anything but standing on those suckers.

The end of the evening, Kip and I out of the bar, perched on a tub of water bottles,at the deli next door, bullshitting away. Talking about stuff that you talk about when you're slightly silly with drink.

I started to take the subway home, but couldn’t take how slow it was moving, hopped out on 14th street and took a cab all the way home.

Crawled into bed around 3:30 or so.

Of course the phone rings in the morning. Why not? It’s only Saturday and I’ve been out most of the night. It’s my friend Cris; she’s giving me the latest update on Libby’s wedding plans. Libby’s wedding is a year from now, and she has almost all the details tied up. I think she might make an excellent general.

Okay, I’m up. I’ve made coffee and I have work to do. Oh no! I’ve run out of cigs. Crap! So, I decide to get cigs, the next thing I know I’m at my favorite thrift store on W 96th Street. The place has top notch designer goods at sickeningly reasonable prices. I ended up buying two pairs of shoes, five pairs of pants (one pair of theory, and one valentino in that pile) and a skirt for $15.00 Like I really need them.

The funny thing about that shopping expedition is that I thought I’d need a couple of pieces to make outfits out of what I bought. Stuff like blazers, skirts and sweaters to go with them. As I’m taking clothes out of the various suitcases, I start finding items and start crossing them off my shopping list. I think I could shop my closets and find something I’ve forgotten I own everyday of the week.

I haven’t done laundry in a month—mostly due to the fact I hate laundry, but I also have soooo much clothing I don’t need to do it.

Finished the big switcheroo and went to the market. I’m standing at a corner, waiting for the light to change, and a guy says to me, “For sale?” “Excuse me,” I say and look at him. “Is that (points to my granny cart) for sale?” “Are you an idiot? Do you think I’d be walking down the street trying to sell anything? Did I say anything to you?” “Oh sorry.” Hello, I’m right across the street from the market. Did he think I was taking my cart for a walk? Wouldn’t I be yelling “for sale” or something??

Good news, Stef just got her first review of her book and it’s a rave! Words like “addicting” “couldn’t put down” and “can of astrological whoop ass” were all over the place. YES! YES! YES!

Saturday, September 27, 2003

Whew!

What a week this was! I thought that I'd definitely be posting to the blog more this week...oh yeah!

What's that saying, things happen while you're making plans? Damn right!!

Finally got to interview Miss K______________. There was so many last minute cancellations, misunderstandings etc., that I was beginning to feel like one of those characters in an Animal Planet show...I mean I felt like I was stalking Miss K______ through the veldt with a dart gun. Anyway, interview went off without a hitch! Whee, and I now have 8, yup count 'em 8 pages of transcripts on which to build my piece. Not bad, if I say so for myself.

Transcribing is the hardest part of the gig. You sit there, hitting rewind every 30 seconds (or less) trying to type as fast as the person is speaking, never works out that way. It's time consuming and boring. I'd much rather hold my recorder to the computer, hit play, walk away and come back to something that typed itself.

Was going to interview a band, but that fell through, maybe next month? Ah, the vagaries of rock n'roll.

I have to say as a writer, I'm a fabulous procrastinator. Today, went online and was planning to do some research, and started fooling around with my windows media player. I'm always looking for cool Internet radio stations. I once found one that played nothing but Irish drinking songs, I loved it. Went back and they had flown off into the ether.

My musical tastes are pretty diverse, I'll listen to and enjoy everything from renaissance choral works to Robert Fripp. I usually fall back on electronica--everything from trance to Industrial, and I love working out to aggro music (note to self--find my way back to the gym)...yeah I can go off on a tangent, anyway, my point, and yes there is one here, is that I found a really cool Internet radio station gaydar radio. It's a UK Internet radio station, www.gaydarradio.com and I've been listening to it all day. Lots of brilliant dance music etc., and when you're trapped in front of the computer, at least you can pretend you're dancing.

Dancing...ah, bringing me to a fav topic BOYS Now it's also been a weird week in boytown. One minute, I've got a bunch of boys clamoring to go out with me, and the next...oops! They've popped off into the wayside. For sanity's sake, I'll only use nicknames.

Ahem, Chef calls me twice this week, just to chat, I'm on the other end of the phone thinking "are you gonna ask me out or what??!!" Nope. But I get a voicemail 8:30 PM, Friday night wanting to know if I'd meet Cheffie for a drink. NOT.

Okay, first and foremost NEVER EVER EVER ASK A WOMAN OUT AT THE LAST MINUTE! GOT THAT Okay? It's not going to happen. Esp. if you don't know her very well. By Friday, most people have plans, and if they don't it's 'cause they want it that way. If a chick jumps at going out with a guy last minute, she's desperate. That you want to stay away from, far far away. If a boy asks a girl out last minute (a) either his plans fell through or (b) he's desperate. Neither is a good thing to hook up with, 'kay?

There is nothing on this earth worse than the smell of of Eau De Desperation. It's not pretty. Doesn't smell good and makes the average person want to run screaming into the night. To be on the safe side, I think it's best if a woman wears low heels on a first date. That way, if the boy is wacky, you can always run (very quickly) into the first cab, go home, be safe, then chortle to your friends on the phone about the horror.

Anyway, TV boy madly persued me madly via phone and email, never pinned me down for a date then whoosh! Gone. I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do? He's going on and on about doing stuff, I'm agreeing, and then doesn't pony up with a genuine date. Please.

Software boy claimed that he wanted to take me to the park and drink champagne at dusk. Not bad. Never happened.

Math boy got tossed into the dustbin. Well, if you're going to call me at 1 am, not give your name, then try to have phone sex with me and all we've done is stoop kissed, c'mon. Yeesh. How can you have phone sex without having sex with someone first. I mean, you have no idea what they look like naked. And you have no idea if you're good together. Maybe he thought it would be cheaper than a 1-900 line?

Hmm, I think there were a few other boys, but I've forgotten them. Guess they didn't make an impression.

There's always ilex boy. Sigh. Ilex boy. Nothing going on there. However, I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in high school. I'm so not going there. He has fabulous ilex (ilexi??) sigh. STOP that.

Wine boy finally got the hint that I was not going out on a second date with him. The first date, he takes me to a nifty French bistro on Park Ave, near the Gramercy Park area. Orders a lot of splits (he's doing most of the drinking) and then wants me to give him $25.00 for the bill. THEN, he pays for it with his Visa. Oh yeah, I want that. Yeah, I want that right now.

Dating is a war of attrition. It really is. You date a number of boys and whittle them down to a smaller group, until and eventually you want to be with one. I believe that's how the theory works.

Me? I go out on a lot of first dates. It's very rare that I'll go on a second date with the same boy. When you get experiences like Wine Boy or Cardboard Boy, you really don't want to see them again.

Cardboard Boy--never changed the inflection of his voice or the expression of his face. I think that's enough to describe that date.

Funny, the boys that make me nuts (not in a good way) are the ones that want me. The boys that make me nuts (in a good way) either (a) I've tossed into the dustbin, due to way too much emotional baggage or (b) not interested in me.

C'est La Vie, C'est La Guerre.

What do I want? It's really simple. I want a boy I can laugh with, talk with, someone who has a brain and can talk about a variety of subjects. A boy who can jump from low humor to oh, say the Opera. A boy who isn't afraid to be silly. A boy who can dance and kiss. A boy who not only gives me that visceral tug, but, whoa nelly a pull too!

I know, I know.

Look, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I can dance,I can kiss, I'm well read, don't eat crackers in bed, thin, okay, I've been told I'm a hottie (that makes me sound like camping equipment. C'mon guys it's raining, but we can fire up the hottie and have a bonfire and smores in no time!) And I'm picky as hell.

If I'm gonna get naked with a boy, he's got to get my brain wet besides my panties.

I am tired of being told that I'm intimidating. Good lord, I'm 5 2 1/2, 112 pounds. If it's really windy, I get slammed into buildings. I am not (physically) intimidating. I won't play dumb. I won't kiss ass to get some either. T'aint worth it.

Well we'll see what happens this week. There may be hope for Chef and who knows what the professor will do? Always liked a prof who had tattoos!



Whew!

What a week this was! I thought that I'd definitely be posting to the blog more this week...oh yeah!

What's that saying, things happen while you're making plans? Damn right!!

Finally got to interview Miss K______________. There was so many last minute cancellations, misunderstandings etc., that I was beginning to feel like one of those characters in an Animal Planet show...I mean I felt like I was stalking Miss K______ through the veldt with a dart gun. Anyway, interview went off without a hitch! Whee, and I now have 8, yup count 'em 8 pages of transcripts on which to build my piece. Not bad, if I say so for myself.

Transcribing is the hardest part of the gig. You sit there, hitting rewind every 30 seconds (or less) trying to type as fast as the person is speaking, never works out that way. It's time consuming and boring. I'd much rather hold my recorder to the computer, hit play, walk away and come back to something that typed itself.

Was going to interview a band, but that fell through, maybe next month? Ah, the vagaries of rock n'roll.

I have to say as a writer, I'm a fabulous procrastinator. Today, went online and was planning to do some research, and started fooling around with my windows media player. I'm always looking for cool Internet radio stations. I once found one that played nothing but Irish drinking songs, I loved it. Went back and they had flown off into the ether.

My musical tastes are pretty diverse, I'll listen to and enjoy everything from renaissance choral works to Robert Fripp. I usually fall back on electronica--everything from trance to Industrial, and I love working out to aggro music (note to self--find my way back to the gym)...yeah I can go off on a tangent, anyway, my point, and yes there is one here, is that I found a really cool Internet radio station gaydar radio. It's a UK Internet radio station, www.gaydarradio.com and I've been listening to it all day. Lots of brilliant dance music etc., and when you're trapped in front of the computer, at least you can pretend you're dancing.

Dancing...ah, bringing me to a fav topic BOYS Now it's also been a weird week in boytown. One minute, I've got a bunch of boys clamoring to go out with me, and the next...oops! They've popped off into the wayside. For sanity's sake, I'll only use nicknames.

Ahem, Chef calls me twice this week, just to chat, I'm on the other end of the phone thinking "are you gonna ask me out or what??!!" Nope. But I get a voicemail 8:30 PM, Friday night wanting to know if I'd meet Cheffie for a drink. NOT.

Okay, first and foremost NEVER EVER EVER ASK A WOMAN OUT AT THE LAST MINUTE! GOT THAT Okay? It's not going to happen. Esp. if you don't know her very well. By Friday, most people have plans, and if they don't it's 'cause they want it that way. If a chick jumps at going out with a guy last minute, she's desperate. That you want to stay away from, far far away. If a boy asks a girl out last minute (a) either his plans fell through or (b) he's desperate. Neither is a good thing to hook up with, 'kay?

There is nothing on this earth worse than the smell of of Eau De Desperation. It's not pretty. Doesn't smell good and makes the average person want to run screaming into the night. To be on the safe side, I think it's best if a woman wears low heels on a first date. That way, if the boy is wacky, you can always run (very quickly) into the first cab, go home, be safe, then chortle to your friends on the phone about the horror.

Anyway, TV boy madly persued me madly via phone and email, never pinned me down for a date then whoosh! Gone. I'm sorry, what was I supposed to do? He's going on and on about doing stuff, I'm agreeing, and then doesn't pony up with a genuine date. Please.

Software boy claimed that he wanted to take me to the park and drink champagne at dusk. Not bad. Never happened.

Math boy got tossed into the dustbin. Well, if you're going to call me at 1 am, not give your name, then try to have phone sex with me and all we've done is stoop kissed, c'mon. Yeesh. How can you have phone sex without having sex with someone first. I mean, you have no idea what they look like naked. And you have no idea if you're good together. Maybe he thought it would be cheaper than a 1-900 line?

Hmm, I think there were a few other boys, but I've forgotten them. Guess they didn't make an impression.

There's always ilex boy. Sigh. Ilex boy. Nothing going on there. However, I'm beginning to feel like I'm back in high school. I'm so not going there. He has fabulous ilex (ilexi??) sigh. STOP that.

Wine boy finally got the hint that I was not going out on a second date with him. The first date, he takes me to a nifty French bistro on Park Ave, near the Gramercy Park area. Orders a lot of splits (he's doing most of the drinking) and then wants me to give him $25.00 for the bill. THEN, he pays for it with his Visa. Oh yeah, I want that. Yeah, I want that right now.

Dating is a war of attrition. It really is. You date a number of boys and whittle them down to a smaller group, until and eventually you want to be with one. I believe that's how the theory works.

Me? I go out on a lot of first dates. It's very rare that I'll go on a second date with the same boy. When you get experiences like Wine Boy or Cardboard Boy, you really don't want to see them again.

Cardboard Boy--never changed the inflection of his voice or the expression of his face. I think that's enough to describe that date.

Funny, the boys that make me nuts (not in a good way) are the ones that want me. The boys that make me nuts (in a good way) either (a) I've tossed into the dustbin, due to way too much emotional baggage or (b) not interested in me.

C'est La Vie, C'est La Guerre.

What do I want? It's really simple. I want a boy I can laugh with, talk with, someone who has a brain and can talk about a variety of subjects. A boy who can jump from low humor to oh, say the Opera. A boy who isn't afraid to be silly. A boy who can dance and kiss. A boy who not only gives me that visceral tug, but, whoa nelly a pull too!

I know, I know.

Look, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I can dance,I can kiss, I'm well read, don't eat crackers in bed, thin, okay, I've been told I'm a hottie (that makes me sound like camping equipment. C'mon guys it's raining, but we can fire up the hottie and have a bonfire and smores in no time!) And I'm picky as hell.

If I'm gonna get naked with a boy, he's got to get my brain wet besides my panties.

I am tired of being told that I'm intimidating. Good lord, I'm 5 2 1/2, 112 pounds. If it's really windy, I get slammed into buildings. I am not (physically) intimidating. I won't play dumb. I won't kiss ass to get some either. T'aint worth it.

Well we'll see what happens this week. There may be hope for Chef and who knows what the professor will do? Always liked a prof who had tattoos!



Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Juxtapositions et al


I was lying in bed reading the biography of Sam Spiegel by Natasha Fraser-Cavasoni -- I've been switching back and forth from that one to the new biography of Ben Franklin and I realized that both men were very similar, in that they constantly re-invented themselves.

So my mind started wandering and I realized that we all do that. As adults, most of us aren't what we were as children. Maybe there are some traits that stay the same, but at almost any given period in time, we've (hopefully) changed or grown into a different direction.

Some of my friends have grown very far from their roots. Perhaps like a boomerang, they'll return to them. Think of all the hippies in the 70's. Most of them came from middle class households, and now they're back there. Usually with a vengeance--they've become more of a consumer than their parents, more concerned with material things than their forebears. It's funny, in a sad ironic way.

Me--I've definitely changed from who I was when I was small. There are times when I've thought that if I ever met my child-self, my teenage-self, or my college-self, I'd loathe me.

As a child I was frighteningly shy. It was painful to open my mouth and speak in public. One day, I was in fifth grade and as I looked at the blackboard, I realized that I couldn't see it. Instead of raising my hand or saying anything to my teacher, I would sneak up to the board and try to read it very quickly.

When I was a middle schooler I was a horrendous snob. It was a combination of environment and family. Oh yes, don't you hear echoes of that darn "nurture vs. nature" arguement? Yeah, that one always makes me laugh. It's as bad as what came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm now convinced that the entire debate is a bad joke to be played upon unsuspecting people. Sorta like an intellectual prank.

Getting back to middle schoolism -- in a very idiotic way I looked down my tiny nose at so many people and things. It's not until you're an adult that you realize that snobbery is (essentially)insecurity wrapped around in a velvet lined cloak. Why else would one person look askance at another person based on appearance, antecedence or fashion, if not to bolster one's ego?

Laughingly I realized what a little music snot I was when I saw "High Fidelity." I was a member of my college radio station, and like many people who are obsessed with music at that age, if you didn't know seminal and/or obscure bands, labels, sub-sub-sub-genres, you just weren't hipster enough to hang.

I'm watching the movie and I see Jack Black's character interacting with customers and oh! I just wanted to crawl under my seat and hide for, let's say
20 or 30 years. I mean, it's funny now, but damn, I must have been insufferable. What's worse is that there was an entire group of us doing the same thing. What egos we must have punctured, we were so pretentious. Now I can laugh but I think I'd bitchslap college-me.

However, I now understand why adults would give me a funny condescending look when I or my cronies would talk about MUSIC, ART, or anything that seemed to pop out of our mouths in capital letters...because they just knew that when grew up (and hopefully most of us did)that reality would smack us in the face and we'd finally learn that we know nothing at all.

That's the true beauty of life. Everyday is a blank page. Every single day you have a chance to learn something new about yourself, the world and life.

I really like that.



Monday, September 22, 2003

Ethics and other silly things...

I'm pretty excited about my blog adventure. This is a fun place for me to write about loose ideas that rattle through my thoughts, cover topics without having to worry about tone, POV, or anything other than just satisfying myself.

However, there are topics etc., where politesse needs to be exercised. And, there's no earthly reason why I should bare my soul online anyway. That whole deal has been done to death, and needlessly hurt people.

After much thought, I realized that I could write about my writing life, albeit in an 18th Century novel style. In other words, I can mention that I'm in the process of interviewing Ms. Z________, or am waiting to hear from the manager of the phenomenal group the L________'s etc., and so forth without getting anyone's knickers in a twist. Obviously, I'm not going to utilize the first initial of their name, but I can blow off steam in a pretty harmless way.

I think with friends, I'll use their name; I mean that's what I call them. If they prefer to remain anonymous -- then I'll edit use either an alias or initial.

In regards to dating, boys and all that...well, I've been nicknaming boys since I was in college, so I'll continue to do that. If I get involved with a boy, there won't be any gory details posted here. What are friends for, if not to call them up and say, "What the hell did that mean??"

Some of my posts will be a place for the internal to find an external home. Some of them will be about my dating or work adventures; most of them will be about me.

I think this'll work out well.
Really Random Thoughts or loose change

...What is so great about wearing high heeled sneakers or workboots? The twain should never meet. It looks circus-like, not in the good Fellini way, just sad.

...Why is it so satisfying when you slide an omlette off the pan and onto a plate?

...Why can't all the psychos who walk around muttering to themselves be paired up? When there's two of them together it looks like they're having a conversation

...Is it just me, or does anyone else look at the weird things they see on the street and think, "performance art"?

...Could someone tell me where all the lost socks go? I'm still waiting for a mate to a pair I've lost two years ago to show up. I have this feeling that once I throw it out, the other one will appear.

...Why can't they have short runway models?? I'm 5 2 1/2 and if I attempted to wear the stuff they showed this past week all you'd see is a tiny head poking out of miles of fabric. NOT FAIR. I'd look like a yorkie trapped in a robe.

...Why can't neccessities be fun instead of boring?

...Why can't I get paid for procrastinating? I do a pretty good job of it.

...Why do I watch my weight? Can't it watch me?

...Why do men always ask women how many pairs of shoes they own? It's not like they're going to borrow them anyway.

...Why do I have to sit still to write my book? Why can't I just rest my head on a ream of paper and let the words fall gently out of my brain. No copy editing needed!

...What is it about the smell of peaches that is so enticing? They smell like summer, earth and delicious parties all wrapped up into one succulent bite.

...Why can't I blink my eyes like Jeanie and all the pots and pans are suddenly clean?

...What do some people insist on using multi-syllabic words (yes, Rose I know the word is polysyllabic, but the other one sounds more fun, okay) to describe things when it's easier to be simplistic? Are they afraid of being thought dumb? I thought brevity was the soul of wit. Do they really know what they're saying or do they just like the sound of their voice?



Sunday, September 21, 2003

The Paper Question

I've been trying to organize my work self the past couple of days and realized an immutable equation that frightens me. Writer = paper, paper = writer. I mean, if you write you've got papers everywhere. On tables, on the floor, in every room. Most of the stuff is research or press releases or some idle thought that may turn into a pitch...the papers keep growing. And growing. It's almost as if you need a file cabinet for the file cabinet.

It doesn't help that I throw things out, the piles keep growing. Sometimes, I have a nagging feeling that I need a paper copy, then remember I've got an excel workbook.

Okay now that frightens me. I've actually spent time and created a workbook that has all sorts of prof. stuff that I use. My question is, will I remember to use it or continue to hunt for an envelope that I scribbled a note on.

ARGH!