1999
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1998
december
november
october
september
++++++++++++
Stalking
Lone Star Thomas
Goodies
phone home
4/25/00
I was attempting to clean up my rat's nest of an apartment since my sister and a friend are coming to visit on thurs. and I stumbled upon my photos. I was pleased to find my Zima toast, birthday picture. 
Ah, such fond memories. Then I found the photo of the birthday cake made to look like a Depends box. It looked pretty good for about the first 10 minutes, then got all melty and sweaty since it was hovering around 100 degrees that night. I'm still not sure why, but the ex-crush, James Robb took the remants of the cake with him when we left. I told him to throw it in the trash, as there wasn't much left, and what was left was disgusting. He gave a piece to some drunk girl on the street, we parted ways and I didn't talk to him for months after that event so I never knew what became of my cake. After we started going out, I noticed that it was still in his refrigerator. At some point during the winter he put it on his fire escape in a dirty plastic bag. I never gave this much thought, but my friend Jessica thought this was disturbing. That when the elements finally take hold of this cake and it ceases to be, this will signal the end of my relationship with the cake-stealer. I say this is hog-wash, though it's exactly the superstitious sort of crap I'd say to someone else. I feel like I should try and rescue what's left of that cake, maybe bring it back inside. I mean the weather's going to start warming back up soon and it won't have a chance. Or maybe I should just ignore it. I say that if it survives til July 25, 2000, it is a very good sign.
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4/19/00
I got all excited when tonight on "Dateline" they mentioned some new turn of events with Mary Kay LeTourneau. They kept hyping it up like you wouldn't believe the twist in the story, and when they got back from commercials, it was just some lame 20 second blurb about how the kid is suing the Des Moines, WA school district for allowing him to be abused and wants 1 million dollars compensation to pay for the two kids he's raising. I doubt he's actually raising the children himself, though I would agree that babies aren't cheap and should be financially supported in a way that a 16 yr old probably can't accommodate, but that wasn't the hot news I was waiting for. I thought maybe she'd busted out of jail and they were on the lam, or somehow they'd been able to arrange conjugal visits in prison (despite their not being married), or at the very least, maybe she could have been sexually harassing him from behind bars. I'm so disappointed in the fickle youth of today. If you're a 6th grader and you tell a grown woman you love her and you have sex--no, make love--and have two kids with her, you'd better stick to your guns. None of this mamby pamby, I-was-a-victim bunkum three years later.
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4/17/00
I don't know what's going on, but I couldn't seem to find a Cadbury's Creme Egg in Manhattan all weekend. I know I complain about N.Y. a lot, but that's too much! I saw the newer chocolate and carmel versions, but no original. I've been feeling lazy, frazzled and unremarkable lately. I couldn't even say what I've been up to. I've been researching American salads like crazy at work. I'm practically an expert on Waldorf, Chef's Cobb and Caesar now. This weekend, I went to a party, got my hair cut, bought a pair of sandals (with these green jewels on them. They may be borderline cruise-wear/middle-aged, Florida-dweller, but I think they're cute) at Loehman's (god, isn't that where "The Nanny" shops?!), went to a party, ate good Mexican food, and got food poisoned off of some mediocre Italian (but it was worth it to get seated next to this couple on a first date. It was this blonde with a heavy French accent and a self-described "Wall St. Musician" who kept going on about how she probably doesn't meet too many guys like him [er, cool that is] and how he can't drink because of health problems [i.e. recovering alcoholic] and has to work out all the time so he doesn't get fat because he's Greek and you know, they like to eat. She was typically cute and polite and quiet and dressed for an evening out and he was a balding and loud as hell [I wasn't trying to overhear their conversation] and in some dumpy jeans and flannel. It was incredibly painful, albeit, highly entertaining to watch--perfect fodder for that "Blind Date" show. I liked to imagine that she was really this woman from Long Island with a phoney accent being paid to act French [and interested in his every word] because he'd arranged the evening through an escort service). This is the first I've been home since fri. morning and so far I haven't seen or heard any mice. I'm wondering if they're actually dead or if they're plotting an attack. This could be the calm before the storm. Another tax year has passed me by without my filing. If I'm correct, this is the 4th year I haven't done my taxes. I could be in very big trouble one day.
4/10/00
Saturday was in the 70's, yesterday there was in icy blizzard, and then today it was warm enough to sit in a park and eat my lunch. These weather patterns can't be good. I realized that I have more than one mouse and they will not die. I even saw them eating the Dcon. They are really starting to make me angry. And then today I found out I bounced three checks and was charged $25 for each. I'm not the check bouncing type, this does not make me happy. I mean, I could've spent that $75 on something nice. Oh, I instantly cheered up a bit--Billy just died on "Ally McBeal." Now they're doing a bittersweet flashback montage. I also was excited to see an ad for these new Nestle PB Mallow Creme Eggs in the paper yesterday. Wow, peanut butter and marshmallow fluff in a chocolate egg. I swear, all the best candy is reserved for Easter.
4/8/00
It seems like much longer, but I guess it was yesterday morning on the subway to work that I noticed this woman looking up at a poster and writing things down. I was curious what she was so into so I looked and it was one of those "Poetry in Motion" things and if you don't know, it's the series of poems they put up on the subways and they're usually inspirational or lovey or about something stupid like loons (birds, not people) or I don't even know what. This was a love poem, of course. I thought it was amusing that she was so moved by it. Then I noticed the MTA public service ad right next to it. It has to be their best EVER. I can't remember the exact wording, but I'm pretty sure that in huge letters it reads, "SPRING IS CHAIN SNATCHING SEASON." There's this little flower illustration on the left and around the text is this giant gold chain. On the right is a man's hand grabbing the chain and smaller text, "tuck in your chains." It's really hilarious and it's a shame that they don't have any of these ads online. I've been looking everywhere to get an image of it. Now, if I'm correct, I think I mentioned something about a similar warning poster around the Christmas holiday about how that was the season for stealing chains. I just had no idea that chain snatching was such an epidemic. I mean, of all the things to be spending advertising money on. Today I had the rare treat of eating at Houlihans and listening to loud Led Zepplin in Penn Station. Do they have Houlihans everywhere? I'd never seen one til I moved here and I'd never eaten at one til my family visited and we were at the Empire State Building. It's no TGIFridays, but sometimes you have to make do. This afternoon I was walking home from the subway and I was feeling all bummed-out and tired and annoyed with everyone, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Benny walking towards me on the left. This is the guy I used to run into sporadically in the middle of the night on subways when I was feeling awful. And I can't explain it, he's this little sketchy, freaky guy, but I'd always consider it good luck when I ran into him. I haven't seen him and months and months and had totally forgotten about him and he's just some guy who rides the subway all night for no good reason so I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say hi or not (I'm a notorious ignorer. I never know the protocol for seeing people on the street that you vaguely know. Earlier today when I was transferring from the C to the L, I saw this archivist guy who was in my library science classes and I started fiddling with my bag and pretended like I didn't see him. It wasn't like we were friendly or anything, anyway. I only went to classes for three weeks before I dropped out). But he said, "Hey beautiful, remember me?" and I was all, "yeah, you're Bennie" and then he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek and I hate hugs and I don't even know him and he's like 5 ft. tall so it was all awkward and funny. We were both like, "see ya 'round" and the whole thing just cracked me up. I couldn't stop laughing the rest of the way home and I started cheering up. When you see Benny on the street you know everything will work out fine. I went and picked up some bagels at the corner shop and they knew my regular order (3 everything bagels) and I had $2 out and the total was $2.05 (with a seltzer water) and they said to forget about the five cents. It's dumb, but those little things are really nice. For as much as I complain about my neighborhood, I do like that people are friendly and always know what I want and that they're not nit-picky about exact change. It's hard to define the difference between creepy stranger attention and o.k. stranger attention. Like I don't get Benny at all and he always would say crap like calling me Pretty Eyes, but it seems benign. Then there are new guys working at the corner store and last sat. I stopped in for heavy cream because I was making a cake and for some reason I was really tired and spacey had no make up on and looked like hell and this was the third carton I'd had to run out and get because I was dumb and didn't buy enough the first time and I expected it to be 99 cents like the other store, but when I got up to the counter it was $1.89 and it threw me for a loop so I was only half listening to the guy at the counter, then I realized he was saying, "you look more beautiful than I've ever seen you" and I was so weirded out and annoyed. Why do people (guys) say that kind of shit?! It wasn't true--I didn't look beautiful. And even if I was looking better than usual, why is it someone you don't know's place to tell you that? I don't know if it's some cultural thing or if I'm just a magnet for it or what. Earlier today when I was waiting for the C train, this guy (who also appeard to be middle eastern) kept looking at me and I was trying not to make eye contact and he said something that I couldn't make out so I ignored him. Then he came over next to where I was sitting and was trying to get my attention so I was dumb and looked and I think he said, "can I talk to you?" Whatever it was, I said, "no." Then he says, "I like you." What the fuck is that?! You can't just go around harassing people in that manner. I really worry about people some days. No one will ever let you just mind your business. Jeez, and even earlier in the afternoon when I was at Houlihans, James went to go to the bathroom and came back all freaked out with his pants not fully buttoned. He said he was peeing when he felt this hand on his shoulder. It was this middle aged guy in a plaid shirt who said, "it's sure hot out today" and kept looking at his dick. Of course, I thought this was funny. I mean, guys should get sexually harassed more often. This whole day has been off-kilter.
4/4/00
I was talking about my new work neighborhood (Hell's Kitchen) a couple weeks ago and was marvelling on how it's one of the few sketchy areas left in Manhattan and how there's this feeling in the air that someone might "get you," whatever that means. I didn't intend this in a bad way, just that there are a lot of twitchy people, and cool little stores and restaurants without names and like one table, and signs for 25 cent "Buddy Booths," and that you can get those Mexican pink and yellow bread/donut things at the coffee carts and I'd never seen those anywhere in Manhattan before. (Never mind that one of the latest police excessive use of force shootings was at Club Wakamba, which is on the same block as my office.) Well, friday one of my coworkers was walking two blocks down to the test kitchen and she felt something hit her ass. She described it as feeling like one of those joy buzzers. At first she thought it might've been a bee sting, then everyone got paranoid that it could've been a needle stick, which is extremely creepy, so she went to the emergency room and it turned out that it was a BB gun. After filing a police report, she went back to the corner and found BBs all over the ground. Now that's freaky to me. I know it's not like a real gun and real bullets, but someone shooting BBs out of windows at pedestrian's asses isn't the nicest thing. I was not wrong about that someone-might-get-you vibe.
4/3/00
I can't believe I let April 1 slip past me without trying to pull some lame prank. I've just been too busy and tired lately to think that hard. I was lucky enough to catch the end of "The Other Sister" on cable sat. night. I was pretty impressed from the bit I saw, but I had to take off for a triple birthday party. If I'm correct they'll replay it wed. which will make me happy. When I was in England this fall there was this chain store that I got crazy about, H&M. It was this inexpensive clothing store in a ran-down 60's strip mall in Swindon. They had all these cute cheap clothes that'll be dated in 6 months--and in my size, to boot. Well, I'd been hearing how they were opening one in Manhattan April 1 and it's been hyped up like crazy and they have Chloe Sevigny and Benicio Del Toro in their ads all over the place. Like a retarded other sister, I decided to check it out on sun. There was this unbelievable mob scene out front with velvet ropes and security guards. I mean, you had to wait in a freakin' line just to get into the store and they'd only let a certain amount of people in at a time like they thought this was some exclusive club. Nuts. And to get my goat even more, they did exactly what I expected they would--carry a smaller range of sizes. People were going wild, grabbing up piles of pink fake leather pants and tube tops with sequined lions on them, pushing into each other, making my life hell. I brave all this nonsense, hoofing it up to 51st and 5th just to be faced with three floors of clothing I can't even wear (o.k., I'm not being fair, they did have their lame ass BIB [big is beautiful--barf] section full of giant beige and cornflower blue linen smocks and pants with elastic waistbands). H&M is now on my shit list (along with half of n.y.).
