Hey, kids. Still probably going to be a slow week (work again and still sick). A couple of thoughts, however:
Gotta get back to work. More soon, I hope.
September 2005 Archives
Most likely won't be blogging much the rest of the week. I'm coming down with a cold, and work has heated up to a fever pitch (why do those things always happen at the same time?).
Be back soon, I hope.
The song I can't get out of my head today...
Nothin', that's what.
Today, I'm dreaming of being Miss (holy shit!) Peggy Lee (so do I, Peggy. Oh! Do I ever.)
In my continuing quest to find my own style in 2005, I've been looking for stores with unique clothing by DIY designers. Everytime I get a new Bust, I prowl through the ads in the back for new links to discover. Unfortunately, some of the handmade clothing is ultimately too precious for my tastes. While cutesy accessories are fine in small doses, bunny rabbit-appliqued skirts seem slightly ridiculous on a 30+ woman.
That's why I'm glad to have recently found Out of Line, which showcases clothes that are unique, sexy, and cute at the same time. I particularly like the Somewhat Dress and the Bow Top (above).
Just a little fashion tidbit. Carry on.
Why is it that all my former heroes go nuts and start writing songs about their cats? I consider myself a cat person, but I'm realizing lately that I am probably solidly in the middle of the kitty-lovin' spectrum.
On the train this afternoon, a woman boarded my car clutching a letter in one hand, a torn envelope in the other. The letter was handwritten on paper from a yellow lined legal pad and was signed, "Love, Dave." She smiled as she read it, stopping every once in a while to look up, I'm guessing to delay the gratification of finishing it. At least, that's what I would have been doing if it had been my letter.
Yesterday I was sitting in my office talking on the phone with my boss, when I saw a crash in the living room followed by a rising cloud of dust. Trying to restrain my "SHIT!!!!!!!" I told her I thought my ceiling had just fallen through and politely excused myself from the call. When I went into the living room, this is what I saw:
Now, our building has been under construction for several months, as a new owner bought the building and is renovating to create $3,300 studios in what is quite literally a tenement building (silk purse/sow's ear). As I mentioned before, we're starting to think about thinking about finding a place for October or November, so we've been putting up with the constant banging, circular sawing in the wee hours of the morning, and intermittent Spanish yelling, knowing that we would soon enough be leaving. But this? Thankfully neither I nor Smarmy was lazing on the couch at the time.
The property manager did make the construction guys clean up the pieces and shake out the rug, but everything is still covered in a fine layer of allergen-rich plaster dust. I called in a claim into Liberty Mutual on our renter's insurance, so depending on the deductible we may be able to get it cleaned up.
By the way: 311 is a joke.
I usually try to avoid writing about this on here (just so embarrassing), but, um, as of today I've lost 100 pounds.
Take the "Where should Jen and H.J. live" survey! It's free! It's fun! It's completely non-binding!
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Few things in the world are as great as sitting around and having a drink with old friends who really know you -- the ones who know all your crazy family stories, your childhood pet names, even your preferred modes of bullshitting (so you gotta get creative!). I've been fortunate to have had that experience several times over the past month, but so seldom with people who actually live in the city. Is it just impossible to make real friends here? I love New York, but "we'll call you/let's get a drink sometime/we should definitely do something soon" is wearing me out.
After brief hesitation, successfully walked past "Free Kittens! Upstairs!" sign.
