You're a Big Girl, Hold ItTuesday, March 30, 2004
Sad, Sad, Sad, Sad Girls
Today in the supermarket, the girl behind me at the express checkout line was buying kitty litter, cat food and Slim Fast shakes.
I think if your life is that pathetic, you should throw in a couple of extra items for good measure. How selfish to depress everyone around you.
Today in the supermarket, the girl behind me at the express checkout line was buying kitty litter, cat food and Slim Fast shakes.
I think if your life is that pathetic, you should throw in a couple of extra items for good measure. How selfish to depress everyone around you.
Today's Strange Food Craving Is ...
Coconut toasted marshmallows.
Coconut toasted marshmallows.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
P.S.
I was told today I'm too melodramatic. You know, I was also once told have that my voice has stage presence.
Huh.
Should of been an actress.
I was told today I'm too melodramatic. You know, I was also once told have that my voice has stage presence.
Huh.
Should of been an actress.
Last of the Sarasota Photos
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Deep Thoughts
I tried to complain about the fact that I was having a bad month.
"Well," male friend said, "nothing bad has actually happened to you. It's just that nothing good has happened."
I considered this. I made stabs at things that didn't work out. I had a couple of near-misses.
In theory, if you try at something and fail, you should be no worse off than if you had never tried at all. And if something bad almost happens, but doesn't, then your karma account should balance by month's end. But, then again, maybe there are other, more intangible, things that are -- for better or worse -- gained or lost. Hurt feelings, perhaps. Time wasted on worrying. Growth as a person.
I think I've done enough growing up for now. When I think of something completely immature to do, I will let everyone know.
I tried to complain about the fact that I was having a bad month.
"Well," male friend said, "nothing bad has actually happened to you. It's just that nothing good has happened."
I considered this. I made stabs at things that didn't work out. I had a couple of near-misses.
In theory, if you try at something and fail, you should be no worse off than if you had never tried at all. And if something bad almost happens, but doesn't, then your karma account should balance by month's end. But, then again, maybe there are other, more intangible, things that are -- for better or worse -- gained or lost. Hurt feelings, perhaps. Time wasted on worrying. Growth as a person.
I think I've done enough growing up for now. When I think of something completely immature to do, I will let everyone know.
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Filing
I have heard about girls ditching their friends for a guy, but apparently guys do it their friends too.
It's Saturday night and I am officially ditched.
Even the boyfriend didn't want to see yours truly. He's in one of his angry-young-man moods.
The my-life-sucks file has been opened.
I have heard about girls ditching their friends for a guy, but apparently guys do it their friends too.
It's Saturday night and I am officially ditched.
Even the boyfriend didn't want to see yours truly. He's in one of his angry-young-man moods.
The my-life-sucks file has been opened.
My Pretty Woman Moment
I took my camera to Philadelphia today. I went to Rittenhouse Square first, stopping at my favorite clothing store. Nothing I wanted. As I left, my camera set off the security alarm at the door. Two store employees went through my entire backpack -- in front of the door, in front of everyone. "It's probably the camera," I told them (my backpack was basically empty: wallet, cellphone, camera.) Then they went through the camera bag. Of course, they turned up nothing. So they tried to make it seem like they were helping me: "You shouldn't keep your camera hidden in your backpack. Keep it out so you won't get stopped at the next store." (Oh, good idea. And I should probably walk around with "tourist carrying expensive camera" written on my face.)
There was no next store. No pictures either. I wanted to walk down to Reading Terminal Market for ice-cream, but suddenly could not remember where it was. I went back to Jersey to rent a movie and curl up my couch.
I might not move till Monday.
I took my camera to Philadelphia today. I went to Rittenhouse Square first, stopping at my favorite clothing store. Nothing I wanted. As I left, my camera set off the security alarm at the door. Two store employees went through my entire backpack -- in front of the door, in front of everyone. "It's probably the camera," I told them (my backpack was basically empty: wallet, cellphone, camera.) Then they went through the camera bag. Of course, they turned up nothing. So they tried to make it seem like they were helping me: "You shouldn't keep your camera hidden in your backpack. Keep it out so you won't get stopped at the next store." (Oh, good idea. And I should probably walk around with "tourist carrying expensive camera" written on my face.)
There was no next store. No pictures either. I wanted to walk down to Reading Terminal Market for ice-cream, but suddenly could not remember where it was. I went back to Jersey to rent a movie and curl up my couch.
I might not move till Monday.
St. Armand's Circle
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Off With the Old
I am now 6 lbs. thinner than I was my senior year in college.
The secret:
No more Monday karaoke nights with three rounds of Labatt pitchers.
No more 1:15 a.m. trips to Mama T's for pizza.
No more white wine and Planter's nuts while watching Blind Date in the boyfriend's apartment.
God, I miss senior year.
I am now 6 lbs. thinner than I was my senior year in college.
The secret:
No more Monday karaoke nights with three rounds of Labatt pitchers.
No more 1:15 a.m. trips to Mama T's for pizza.
No more white wine and Planter's nuts while watching Blind Date in the boyfriend's apartment.
God, I miss senior year.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Speaking of Friendster
I received a Friendster request from a guy who once told me that I have "admirable" boobs.
And the boyfriend wouldn't beat him up. "Well, it's funny," the boyfriend said.
I received a Friendster request from a guy who once told me that I have "admirable" boobs.
And the boyfriend wouldn't beat him up. "Well, it's funny," the boyfriend said.
Apprenticizing
Today I turned to "The Donald" for advice after a job-related set-back.
"Sometimes your career rejections are more significant than your successes," Mr. Trump said. "Where would Clay Aiken or Average Joe: Adam Returns be today if not for their initial disappointments?"
The Donald also told me that success comes to those who -- instead of drowning their problems in Hoegaarden, burying their noses in their boyfriends' shoulders and stewing in self pity -- get back on the proverbial job-searching horse.
Note to self: Must stop taking career advice from imaginary friends posed as reality television hosts.
Today I turned to "The Donald" for advice after a job-related set-back.
"Sometimes your career rejections are more significant than your successes," Mr. Trump said. "Where would Clay Aiken or Average Joe: Adam Returns be today if not for their initial disappointments?"
The Donald also told me that success comes to those who -- instead of drowning their problems in Hoegaarden, burying their noses in their boyfriends' shoulders and stewing in self pity -- get back on the proverbial job-searching horse.
Note to self: Must stop taking career advice from imaginary friends posed as reality television hosts.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Sharing is Caring
Spent some quality time with a bottle of Hoegaarden before calling up the boyfriend and having hysterical sobfest. Feel so much better.
Have put away the sucks-to-be-me file for the night.
Spent some quality time with a bottle of Hoegaarden before calling up the boyfriend and having hysterical sobfest. Feel so much better.
Have put away the sucks-to-be-me file for the night.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Professional Doodles
I've been doodling all over my important papers at work. Drawing pictures and then scribbling away the evidence.
I could be completely happy making a living with crayons and a coloring book. In fact, I used to telemarket in college and do just that: color -- and hope that our university's ever-so-supportive alumni were safely out of their homes for the duration of my shift.
My boyfriend hung my drawings on his refrigerator with magnets.
Position wanted: Reporter experienced in doodling, stalking former crushes and writing journal entries in the margins of notebooks seeks position with opportunities for growth. Contact Hold-It.
I've been doodling all over my important papers at work. Drawing pictures and then scribbling away the evidence.
I could be completely happy making a living with crayons and a coloring book. In fact, I used to telemarket in college and do just that: color -- and hope that our university's ever-so-supportive alumni were safely out of their homes for the duration of my shift.
My boyfriend hung my drawings on his refrigerator with magnets.
Position wanted: Reporter experienced in doodling, stalking former crushes and writing journal entries in the margins of notebooks seeks position with opportunities for growth. Contact Hold-It.
Latent Feminism
As a testament to how girly I'm not, I can honestly say that my favorite "beauty" product is Colgate's shaving cream. It costs a dollar in CVS and smells like an old-fashioned barber shop. But it's pure, fluffy fun in the shower.
Reason to get up in the morning.
The website claims it's for men. Bah.
As a testament to how girly I'm not, I can honestly say that my favorite "beauty" product is Colgate's shaving cream. It costs a dollar in CVS and smells like an old-fashioned barber shop. But it's pure, fluffy fun in the shower.
Reason to get up in the morning.
The website claims it's for men. Bah.
Gossip
A new, not unpleasant discovery: I am a band girl. I was kissed by one of the singers in Next Big Thing.
How it happened: I was 18, an intern, and he was 30, my superior. He kissed me at an end of summer party. We were all watching a home video of him doing a David Bowie cover. The whole time we were watching, he was rubbing my legs. He and I were sitting on the floor, and I was wearing these black pants I thought made me look skinny. I had taken off my sandals. He just kept rubbing.
He never mentioned the band was big. Maybe I can sell my story to Star someday.
A new, not unpleasant discovery: I am a band girl. I was kissed by one of the singers in Next Big Thing.
How it happened: I was 18, an intern, and he was 30, my superior. He kissed me at an end of summer party. We were all watching a home video of him doing a David Bowie cover. The whole time we were watching, he was rubbing my legs. He and I were sitting on the floor, and I was wearing these black pants I thought made me look skinny. I had taken off my sandals. He just kept rubbing.
He never mentioned the band was big. Maybe I can sell my story to Star someday.
Hypocrisy
Fighting over the nutritional value of frozen chicken pot pie. While eating Tostitos.
Fighting over the nutritional value of frozen chicken pot pie. While eating Tostitos.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
From the I Don't Approve File
Tota Topete is teaching Mexican girls how to be proper wives.
"Now all women want to go out to work, but working an eight-hour day when one is a wife or a mother is just not possible," Topete tells them. "It means neglecting one's husband. He could start looking elsewhere for affection and that could mean divorce."
Her course teaches young women how to sew, entertain guests, and pick out clothes to suit their skin tones. All in hopes of landing the big prize: the husband.
"Sex is a big problem today. The stress of living and working in a big city can inhibit libido," she noted. "I tell [my students] they must do it -- and with passion, even if that means taking a siesta before their husband comes home."
Ahem: When will men line up to learn how to satisfy women? The last time the boyfriend sent flowers was nearly 18 months ago. I swear he learned how to flirt from watching Crank Yankers. Um, the relationship most resembling our own? He says Marge and Homer Simpson in the episode where they get drunk together, and then he tries to frame her for DWI.
I don't approve.
Tota Topete is teaching Mexican girls how to be proper wives.
"Now all women want to go out to work, but working an eight-hour day when one is a wife or a mother is just not possible," Topete tells them. "It means neglecting one's husband. He could start looking elsewhere for affection and that could mean divorce."
Her course teaches young women how to sew, entertain guests, and pick out clothes to suit their skin tones. All in hopes of landing the big prize: the husband.
"Sex is a big problem today. The stress of living and working in a big city can inhibit libido," she noted. "I tell [my students] they must do it -- and with passion, even if that means taking a siesta before their husband comes home."
Ahem: When will men line up to learn how to satisfy women? The last time the boyfriend sent flowers was nearly 18 months ago. I swear he learned how to flirt from watching Crank Yankers. Um, the relationship most resembling our own? He says Marge and Homer Simpson in the episode where they get drunk together, and then he tries to frame her for DWI.
I don't approve.
I Do?
The boyfriend has proposed cohabitation. Living together. It was initially my suggestion -- split the rent, the cable, the cleaning expenses?! -- hell, why not? But now that he's agreed, worry has set in. I picture myself barefoot in the kitchen performing such wifely duties as cooking (he better learn to like tofu), doing laundry, and Ajax-ing his "misses" around the toilet. And buying all the food, since the boyfriend thinks frozen chicken pot pie constitutes a balanced meal.
I think if I'm going to be subjected to such treatment, I should at least get a pretty diamond in return. And a honeymoon.
Of course, living with the boyfriend would require employment in New York. Small, unresolved detail.
The boyfriend has proposed cohabitation. Living together. It was initially my suggestion -- split the rent, the cable, the cleaning expenses?! -- hell, why not? But now that he's agreed, worry has set in. I picture myself barefoot in the kitchen performing such wifely duties as cooking (he better learn to like tofu), doing laundry, and Ajax-ing his "misses" around the toilet. And buying all the food, since the boyfriend thinks frozen chicken pot pie constitutes a balanced meal.
I think if I'm going to be subjected to such treatment, I should at least get a pretty diamond in return. And a honeymoon.
Of course, living with the boyfriend would require employment in New York. Small, unresolved detail.
Final Say
"Who cares if you're maternal? You're fuckin' cool. And that's all that matters. (Says me.)"
Guy friends. There's something about them that you just can't replicate with girls. Female friends might listen to you moan and over-analyze for hours. Male friends just buy you a beer.
"Who cares if you're maternal? You're fuckin' cool. And that's all that matters. (Says me.)"
Guy friends. There's something about them that you just can't replicate with girls. Female friends might listen to you moan and over-analyze for hours. Male friends just buy you a beer.
Monday, March 22, 2004
Views from Room 730, Sarasota Hyatt
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Passive Aggressive Feminism
My boyfriend thinks I don't mother him enough. In his world, this is a bad thing. I always knew I wasn't maternal. Not in the traditional sense. Responsible, yes. Nurturing, no. When he's sick, I also have to put up with a steady barrage of insults. Mother figure, punching board. If this is what marriage is like -- well, count me out.
My role models. The men in my family let their young, bouncy coworkers drive their new Cadillacs. The women put fresh flowers on the table and serve their husbands chicken, smiling every so often for an invisible paparazzi. The men have the longevity genes. They make their women miserable. The women want to take family vacations and the men never wanted to go anywhere. Then they die young, the women.
Dizzy again. I had to leave aerobics halfway through. I'm not sure what's wrong with me. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm cut out to take care of myself, let alone anyone else.
My boyfriend thinks I don't mother him enough. In his world, this is a bad thing. I always knew I wasn't maternal. Not in the traditional sense. Responsible, yes. Nurturing, no. When he's sick, I also have to put up with a steady barrage of insults. Mother figure, punching board. If this is what marriage is like -- well, count me out.
My role models. The men in my family let their young, bouncy coworkers drive their new Cadillacs. The women put fresh flowers on the table and serve their husbands chicken, smiling every so often for an invisible paparazzi. The men have the longevity genes. They make their women miserable. The women want to take family vacations and the men never wanted to go anywhere. Then they die young, the women.
Dizzy again. I had to leave aerobics halfway through. I'm not sure what's wrong with me. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm cut out to take care of myself, let alone anyone else.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
The Live Journal Entry
Every so often, Friendster becomes a minor obsession. Problem is, I can't remember the names of half the people I'd want to stalk ... er, catch up with. I mostly don't look up old flames. I mostly try to determine who is in a shameful predicament and who is far too perfect. I know, I'm turning into the boyfriend, the miserable human being.
I am feeling rather unsteady this evening. I might need a me-day from work tomorrow, except I cannot bear to mope around the apartment any longer. Even though the weekend wasn't a total waste -- I did take off work to go to New York on Friday.
And spent the next two days recuperating from this very draining New York trip. I shouldn't say very draining. Very draining would be if I went to another city to have a wildly satisfying fling and then came home to stew in my own guilt. Instead, I experienced nothing of the sort. Took care of some job-related business, and had dinner with the boyfriend. Caught aforementioned germs, and OD-ed on Cold-eeze. Too much zinc causing dizziness?
Time for dishes and sleep.
Every so often, Friendster becomes a minor obsession. Problem is, I can't remember the names of half the people I'd want to stalk ... er, catch up with. I mostly don't look up old flames. I mostly try to determine who is in a shameful predicament and who is far too perfect. I know, I'm turning into the boyfriend, the miserable human being.
I am feeling rather unsteady this evening. I might need a me-day from work tomorrow, except I cannot bear to mope around the apartment any longer. Even though the weekend wasn't a total waste -- I did take off work to go to New York on Friday.
And spent the next two days recuperating from this very draining New York trip. I shouldn't say very draining. Very draining would be if I went to another city to have a wildly satisfying fling and then came home to stew in my own guilt. Instead, I experienced nothing of the sort. Took care of some job-related business, and had dinner with the boyfriend. Caught aforementioned germs, and OD-ed on Cold-eeze. Too much zinc causing dizziness?
Time for dishes and sleep.
Insult to Injury
Hold-It could not escape the banality of Philadelphia, even while reading a New York newspaper. Not only has the city steadily been losing population, but now it has lost The Real World. Although Philadelphia was originally chosen to play host to the series next season, it appears that the city's union representatives have effectively kicked MTV out of Old City. Nevermind that the show would have spurred the renovation of a rundown building, created new jobs in the area, and added a touch of cool to a city that could certainly use it.
Must. Leave. This. Place.
Hold-It could not escape the banality of Philadelphia, even while reading a New York newspaper. Not only has the city steadily been losing population, but now it has lost The Real World. Although Philadelphia was originally chosen to play host to the series next season, it appears that the city's union representatives have effectively kicked MTV out of Old City. Nevermind that the show would have spurred the renovation of a rundown building, created new jobs in the area, and added a touch of cool to a city that could certainly use it.
Must. Leave. This. Place.
Old Duds
Today would be the perfect shopping today if I hadn't resolved to spend less money. And if I hadn't just spent over $7 in Starbucks -- wasteful.
Today would be the perfect shopping today if I hadn't resolved to spend less money. And if I hadn't just spent over $7 in Starbucks -- wasteful.
Did I Ever Leave High School?
Thanks to Friendster, I got to sneak a peak at a recently-uploaded photo of an old crush (actually, I should say former crush to avoid any ambiguity ... unlike most of my past crushes, this one is actually my own age).
He is even hotter all grown-up. The cosmic order (oops, backspace, I just typed "cosmetic order" ... er, that too) is still in alignment. Who needs a job and that little thing called an income? New York, I'm coming!
Yeah, I'm going to get hell from the boyfriend for this one. But at least I didn't come back from my high school reunion and say, "You know, I really regret not dating Miss Thinner Than You."
We have open daydreams.
Thanks to Friendster, I got to sneak a peak at a recently-uploaded photo of an old crush (actually, I should say former crush to avoid any ambiguity ... unlike most of my past crushes, this one is actually my own age).
He is even hotter all grown-up. The cosmic order (oops, backspace, I just typed "cosmetic order" ... er, that too) is still in alignment. Who needs a job and that little thing called an income? New York, I'm coming!
Yeah, I'm going to get hell from the boyfriend for this one. But at least I didn't come back from my high school reunion and say, "You know, I really regret not dating Miss Thinner Than You."
We have open daydreams.
Stomach It
Anticipatory self-pity. That's what this is.
Teetering between elation at the possibility of getting something I really want and fear of disappointment.
Self doubt.
At least I haven't inherited the binge-eating gene. In fact, I lose all appetite whenever my emotions get the better of me. Except sometimes I'll force myself to eat, though, and end up choosing strange, pregnant-woman-worthy foods, like the over-spiced pizza bagel I ate for breakfast. I decided I love cilantro. Even with coffee.
Anticipatory self-pity. That's what this is.
Teetering between elation at the possibility of getting something I really want and fear of disappointment.
Self doubt.
At least I haven't inherited the binge-eating gene. In fact, I lose all appetite whenever my emotions get the better of me. Except sometimes I'll force myself to eat, though, and end up choosing strange, pregnant-woman-worthy foods, like the over-spiced pizza bagel I ate for breakfast. I decided I love cilantro. Even with coffee.
South Jersey rut
I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and go outdoors. I spent all of yesterday moping around the apartment (minus the two stops I made in search of New York newspapers). Although in my defense, I was feeling somewhat ill.
So today I will leave my apartment, even if it's just to track down yet another New York newspaper. The reading of which will likely cause more self-pity.
At least I have a plan.
I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and go outdoors. I spent all of yesterday moping around the apartment (minus the two stops I made in search of New York newspapers). Although in my defense, I was feeling somewhat ill.
So today I will leave my apartment, even if it's just to track down yet another New York newspaper. The reading of which will likely cause more self-pity.
At least I have a plan.
Pelicans
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Random Bird
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Germy
I saw the boyfriend for 45 minutes on Friday and he infected me. 45 minutes was all he needed to give me the cold I'd managed to avoid all winter.
The boy is just bad karma.
I saw the boyfriend for 45 minutes on Friday and he infected me. 45 minutes was all he needed to give me the cold I'd managed to avoid all winter.
The boy is just bad karma.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Happy First Day of Spring
I knew Matt would be disappointed if I didn't bring back any flower photos from Sarasota.
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I knew Matt would be disappointed if I didn't bring back any flower photos from Sarasota.
I wish had remembered my camera.
Runners this morning. Maybe 50 to 100 of them, running down the street. They ran past the park, past my apartment, past Starbucks. They wore numbers. Teenagers ran in pajama pants and headphones. Women ran in hats and wind pants, gossiping about their summer homes at the shore. One man ran with his dog. Another man ran with a baby carriage, his wife and older children alongside him. A little old lady walked at a trot, barely outpacing the police escort bringing up the rear. An older gentleman walked alongside the rolling car. I laughed. The last of the group.
Small clusters of people in jeans and red sweatshirts watched from the sidewalk, cheering them on.
9 a.m. in South Jersey.
Runners this morning. Maybe 50 to 100 of them, running down the street. They ran past the park, past my apartment, past Starbucks. They wore numbers. Teenagers ran in pajama pants and headphones. Women ran in hats and wind pants, gossiping about their summer homes at the shore. One man ran with his dog. Another man ran with a baby carriage, his wife and older children alongside him. A little old lady walked at a trot, barely outpacing the police escort bringing up the rear. An older gentleman walked alongside the rolling car. I laughed. The last of the group.
Small clusters of people in jeans and red sweatshirts watched from the sidewalk, cheering them on.
9 a.m. in South Jersey.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Lido Beach
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Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Private Marina at the Hyatt Sarasota
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Sunday, March 14, 2004
Rental Car Pick-Up, Sarasota airport
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33,000 Feet Above the Florida Keys
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We're Terrible
We suck at commitment.
We suck at commitment.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport
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T-shirt Troubles
Hold-It: I bought the wrong tee-shirt in Florida
Sister#2: ?
Hold-It: I wanted one that said "sarasota"
Hold-It: and instead bought one that says "longboat key"
Sister#2: yes... i see how u could mistake the 2...
Hold-It: it must have been the same picture
Hold-It: and one shirt said one thing and ...
Hold-It: I can't believe I bought the wrong t-shirt
Hold-It: this is killing me
Sister#2: take a pic of it
Sister#2: put it on ure site
Sister#2: see if any1 has the one u want and'll trade
Sister#2: dont fail to mention it was my brilliant idea
Sister#2: thats gonna get u a new t-shirt
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Hold-It: I bought the wrong tee-shirt in Florida
Sister#2: ?
Hold-It: I wanted one that said "sarasota"
Hold-It: and instead bought one that says "longboat key"
Sister#2: yes... i see how u could mistake the 2...
Hold-It: it must have been the same picture
Hold-It: and one shirt said one thing and ...
Hold-It: I can't believe I bought the wrong t-shirt
Hold-It: this is killing me
Sister#2: take a pic of it
Sister#2: put it on ure site
Sister#2: see if any1 has the one u want and'll trade
Sister#2: dont fail to mention it was my brilliant idea
Sister#2: thats gonna get u a new t-shirt
The X-rated entry
So last night I walked into a wall and gave myself a fat lip. This was after a dream in which I was a character on Daria having animalistic sex with Jane's brother, not Trent, but a blond Muscle and Fitness cover model type. A TV camerawoman from MTV came, videotaped us for a bit, and left. Just as the guy was yelling, "I'm co--," the door flung open and there were my mother and sisters standing there giggling.
I woke up beside myself. Thoroughly frightened. I ran into a wall and gave myself a fat lip.
So last night I walked into a wall and gave myself a fat lip. This was after a dream in which I was a character on Daria having animalistic sex with Jane's brother, not Trent, but a blond Muscle and Fitness cover model type. A TV camerawoman from MTV came, videotaped us for a bit, and left. Just as the guy was yelling, "I'm co--," the door flung open and there were my mother and sisters standing there giggling.
I woke up beside myself. Thoroughly frightened. I ran into a wall and gave myself a fat lip.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Share the Moment
I have tons of pictures to upload. But I've been through four states today and I just want to eat my take-out sushi and collapse in front of the TV,
I have tons of pictures to upload. But I've been through four states today and I just want to eat my take-out sushi and collapse in front of the TV,
Welcome Back
I returned to my apartment after four days in Florida and there was a crowd of people, a police officer, and a camera crew surrounding my building.
As I lumbered toward them pulling my suitcase and my carry-on collection, one man motioned me to move off the sidewalk. The police officer called me "ma'am" as he pulled me aside.
"You have to be quiet," he said. "There's a deer stuck down there and she can't get out. Noise upsets her and she starts jumping."
I didn't ask where "down there" was. I just tiptoed to the front door as quietly as you can lugging a family-sized suitcase on wheels.
Welcome back to South Jersey, Hold-It.
(Which reminds me: When I was a little girl and my family would land in JFK, I'd always say in a loud voice, "It's good to be home," or something similar, so that people would know that we were not tourists and be jealous.)
I returned to my apartment after four days in Florida and there was a crowd of people, a police officer, and a camera crew surrounding my building.
As I lumbered toward them pulling my suitcase and my carry-on collection, one man motioned me to move off the sidewalk. The police officer called me "ma'am" as he pulled me aside.
"You have to be quiet," he said. "There's a deer stuck down there and she can't get out. Noise upsets her and she starts jumping."
I didn't ask where "down there" was. I just tiptoed to the front door as quietly as you can lugging a family-sized suitcase on wheels.
Welcome back to South Jersey, Hold-It.
(Which reminds me: When I was a little girl and my family would land in JFK, I'd always say in a loud voice, "It's good to be home," or something similar, so that people would know that we were not tourists and be jealous.)
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Away
Hold-It is away right now. But when she returns, it will be well worth the wait.
Hold-It is away right now. But when she returns, it will be well worth the wait.
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
Collingswood, NJ
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The Boyfriend is Cheap
Perhaps this list will convince him to pop the question?
The boyfriend and Hold-It often argue about who is the dumber gold-digger. A mutual friend suggested that if Hold-It were an investor, she would be trading on pink sheets.
Perhaps this list will convince him to pop the question?
The boyfriend and Hold-It often argue about who is the dumber gold-digger. A mutual friend suggested that if Hold-It were an investor, she would be trading on pink sheets.
Monday, March 01, 2004
After the Super Left ...
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My ceiling
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My ceiling
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The scene of the accident (after the water had been mopped)
My ceiling
My ceiling
The scene of the accident (after the water had been mopped)
Because You Had to Know This
The girl upstairs? Her toilet overflowed. Hence the copper rain in my apartment.
Why is it that whenever I call my super he says, "You have terrible luck, don't you?" I swear he always says that when I have a problem.
The girl upstairs? Her toilet overflowed. Hence the copper rain in my apartment.
Why is it that whenever I call my super he says, "You have terrible luck, don't you?" I swear he always says that when I have a problem.
The Joys of Renting
There are bigger problems than cold showers. It is raining in my apartment. I came home from work to find a crack in the ceiling above my kitchen table and water raining down. Copper colored water. All over everything. My first thought: what is that strange banging noise coming from the kitchen? My second thought: God, it smells. My third thought: it's going to be a nightmare to clean this mess. My fourth thought: if the super doesn't hurray, the whole light fixture is going to come crashing down with the ceiling. Then I'll finally get to meet the girl who lives upstairs.
Is just me or do I have a bad case of the big girls?
There are bigger problems than cold showers. It is raining in my apartment. I came home from work to find a crack in the ceiling above my kitchen table and water raining down. Copper colored water. All over everything. My first thought: what is that strange banging noise coming from the kitchen? My second thought: God, it smells. My third thought: it's going to be a nightmare to clean this mess. My fourth thought: if the super doesn't hurray, the whole light fixture is going to come crashing down with the ceiling. Then I'll finally get to meet the girl who lives upstairs.
Is just me or do I have a bad case of the big girls?
