july 01

++++++++++++

phone home

7/30/01
I really should be in bed right now, but I'm spazzing out over the mouse running riot in my kitchen. I absolutely cannot deal with mice. It's tiny, just walking around all over my dishes and the sink and I'm frozen. I can't do anything. I noticed creepy squealing Sat. night that at first I thought was the mouse making noises. Well, it is the mouse, but the sound is it scratching on the metal in the sink like fingernails on a chalkboard. It's godawful really. The worst thing is that a couple hours ago I first noticed it, my heart started racing and I didn't know what to do. I decided to ignore it since I won't be able to buy poison or traps or whatever till tomorrow anyway (I was supposed to pick some up on the way home from work, but the bus was annoying me with its slowness. I couldn't wait any longer and took the subway instead, which doesn't go near the Rite Aid. It's the MTA's fault I couldn't get a jump start on this mouse-killing any sooner. Yeah, I know I was praising them last week for their new Q and W lines, but this has overshadowed my joy). I decided to deal with my garbage instead which is a whole other ordeal. Mon. is garbage night and last week I put out all sorts of crap like wood and metal that they didn't pick up. It's been sitting out front all week and I'm sure the neighbors want to kill me. I was going out to try and sneak it back into the trash heap when I saw this huge black blob out of the corner of my eye. I was like, "oh shit" it was the biggest cockroach I've seen in ages. What the hell is going on?! I'm too scared to go into my kitchen because of the mouse in the sink, but any sort of chemical I could spray on the beastly bug is in the cupboard under the sink. I totally lost my shit and was stuck in this one spot in the living room panic-striken. I'm totally being tortured by vermin and I don't know why. Everything was fine a few weeks ago and now they've all teamed up against me. I'll never be able to sleep tonight.

7/26/01
It’s a rare day when I have nothing to complain about. First off, let me say that the Manhattan Bridge service changes are the best thing that’s ever happened (subway-wise at least). What’s with all the hubbub? Everyone’s up in arms over confusing new lines and the like, but it’s all downright amazing, if you ask me. Finally, I’ve benefited from subway re-routings. My only complaint is that it’ll only last until 2004—why can’t they just never fix the Manhattan Bridge and make things easier on me? The scary thought is that I’ll be 32 by the time they put the subways back to normal, and I’ll be damned if I’m still living in Sunset Park…but you never know. Since they’re working on the bridge, the old orange lines that used it, now run on the yellow tracks underground. The orange lines weren’t all that useful to me since they ran up the west side of Manhattan (I never go over there) and didn’t stop anywhere I needed to get off, but now they run straight up Broadway and stop at Union Square, which I’m always at. Using Union Sq. in Manhattan (James’s apt.) to 36th ST in Brooklyn (my apt.) as an example, I can now travel between the two places in three stops on the newly created yellow W line! Now that’s an express train. Boy, is he going to get sick of seeing me. Using the usual N or R lines to traverse the exact route would take 16 stops and at least twice as much time. I’ve actually been getting to work early on the days I come from Manhattan when I’d usually be close to an hour late. This is the most efficient thing the MTA has ever done. Well, my birthday has come and gone, and it was nice enough, though I always expect something more amazing to happen (same thing with New Year’s Eves—there should be more oomph or fanfare). My mom sent me some money and a bunch of random things like mini Abba Zabbas (I loved those when I was a kid), a Powerpuff Girls keychain and Hello Kitty plastic plates. My sister sent me this really cute "Mandarin" juicer. It’s hard to explain without seeing it, I never really cared about juicers one way or the other, but I like this one. I got this great little Zojirushi rice cooker from James. You can’t tell from the photo, but there’s a setting for porridge. I don’t know why I find this so amusing, but the thought of setting the thing to make porridge while I sleep just cracks me up.

2/24/01
I have like ten million unimportant things milling around that I've been meaning to talk about. 1. Let me see...well, tomorrow is my birthday and that has me sort of freaked out. Up until a year ago, I'd still refer to myself as mid-twenties. You can sort of do that at 27, but at 29 there's no going back. I may as well say I'm 30 at this point, as there's not much difference anymore. I've never been super panicky about getting old, but it is a concept that's becoming more real. I saw "Ghost World" Fri. and then I was just organizing my bookshelf and started thumbing through old "Eightball" comics that I hadn't looked at in years. I was so into them in the early 90s. The last issue I have is #13, and I can't remember why I never bought another. It's not that I didn't like it anymore, I guess you just get caught up with other things then one day you just forget altogether about something. No, I'm not panicky, but reading comics that feel like yesterday that in actuality are almost ten years old make a girl feel ancient. 2. R.I.P. Mike. I keep seeing this painted on cars around my neighborhood. I first noticed it on 4th of July and it got me wondering who Mike was. I couldn't think of any famous Mikes who've recently died. And I'll probably never know since it's not exactly polite to ask someone. 3. I was up till all hours trying to make my backyard semi-habitable. It looks 100 times better, but still looks like WWIII hit. I (well, James did much of the work) dragged everything from muddy rugs to giant pieces of sheet metal to action figures to hockey sticks through the house (the only way to get from the back of the apt. to the front is through my place) and threw them out for the garbage pick-up this morning. When I came home this evening, there were still large boards and metal grates out front. I guess they won't pick those up, and I'm sure the neighbors think it's an eyesore, but I'll be damned if I'll bring them back in. Every day I open my door and there's candy and ice cream wrappers in front of my door. It's annoying, and the last time the landlord stopped by he swept it all up, didn't say anything, but probably thought that was my responsibility or something. I'm not cleaning up after neighbor kids. Last night there were all these plastic toy soldiers strewn about my front cement area, and those I did throw in the trash. Kids get on my nerves and I just can't help it. They're always ringing my bell dying to get the balls in my backyard. I threw them over the fence the other day, and that's it. If a single ball bounces my way, it's my property. Yes, I'm the nasty neighborhood woman all the kids will learn to loathe. All I need is a cane and about ten cats. 4. I just got it into my head that I need to go to Singapore. It just seems like a great place to visit, snack-wise at least. It's a nation obsessed with food, not to mention hard-ass rules. I like rules, and I love Malaysian food so it's a perfect match. They'll fine you for not flushing public toilets, and give you the death penalty for possessing drugs (remember the whole Michael Fay caning deal for vandalizing cars). I can't say I agree with their anti-porn laws, but for a good bowl of laksa I can deal with it. I'd been planning a vacation for this summer (not that I have a single penny to spare--I keep hoping for some mysterious windfall or sudden miraculous high-paying job to appear out of thin air), but now that it's practically Aug., I may as well wait till Sept. when travel gets cheaper. The thing is, I don't know anyone who's all that keen on going to Asia so who knows. Europe is more probable for a 2001 excursion. But it's Singapore or bust in 2002. Hmm...that's not exactly ten million things, but it's all I have time for at the moment. There are pressing things to do around the house: clean the bathroom, scrub the stove, paint my nails, organize my bookshelves, vacuum, put up pictures, hang up clothes--crap like that. And that's just tonight. I have tomorrow off and that'll be spent doing laundry (I still can't get used to the horrid idea of carting my dirty clothes on a bus), going to the gym (it's been too hot to be too motivated, but I'm going to Peter Luger tomorow night, which'll be an unabashed meat fest so I'd better run around at least a little bit), buying things for my Thai bbq party Sat. (you wouldn't believe all the freakin' ingredients in a Singapore Sling--I don't even know how I'm going to carry all the bottles around), and going to the post office for stamps (I don't work or live close to a P.O. so it's this annoying ordeal where I get my checks all written to pay bills then never get a chance to mail them so I get huge late fees). I guess that doesn't sound like that much to do, but everything's in opposite directions and it's hot and I'm lazy so it could take a full day. Life is tough, I tell you.

7/17/01
I'm staring to turn into an old-timer, getting all attached to random pieces of NYC history. Last week I got really disturbed when I heard they were going to blow-up, or "implode" rather, these two old gas tank tower things in Greenpoint. I never even knew what they were exactly, but they've come to be a landmark with their red and white checkered tops. I'd taken to calling them the Chubby Checkers. You could see them from most of northern Brooklyn, and much of Queens, as they're right at the border between the two boroughs in a sort of industrial no-mans-land you pass through if driving from Williamsburg to Ridgewood. I just always felt good when I could see them from the BQE. I could have no idea where I was, but if they were in sight, even miles off in the distance, I could get my directional bearings. They'd been there since the '20s (well, one of them) so it seemed a shame to just knock them down (at least I didn't cry). Many would call them an eyesore, I'd guess. But they were cool in their own way. I'd wanted to get up early Sun. to witness their 7am implosion, but just couldn't manage it. I heard there were supposed to be all-night rooftop parties in the vicinity, but this may have just been a hopeful rumor because when pressed for details no one could come up with any concrete revelry sites. The suspicious aspect is that they were being destroyed by Keyspan. Keyspan is the local gas co., at least I thought so until Manhattanites like James claimed to have never heard of them. He thought I was making this company up when I moved and there was this ordeal with being here during the day to get my gas turned on. I guess in Brooklyn you have Keyspan for gas and Con Edison for electricity while in Manhattan Con Ed does both. I do think they're a legit organization, but it makes you wonder. What if they're not even really providing any service, but charging you regardless? And when I found out Keyspan was the evil behind the Chubby Checker destruction, it raised my curiosity even more. They just can't be up to any good.

7/13/01
Ooh, Friday the 13th. It sucks, I just haven’t had any time to write here. It’s one thing to have nothing to say, but to be full of wonderfully engaging thoughts and ideas (uh, yeah) and not be able to do anything with them is a bad thing. I guess I’ve been busy and not home much. Plus, I’m sluggish as heck. I went to the dr. tues. and they put me on blood pressure medication like a heart-diseased senior citizen. It’s really fucked up if you ask me. I also had like my 50th urinary tract infection that same day, which isn’t one of my favorite ailments. I’ve had a million of them, but I don’t recall ever getting an antibiotic where you can’t eat dairy 6 hours before taking it, or 2 hours after. That’s nuts. I love my cheese. I had quesadilla ingredients in the house (the only ingredients in the house, really), but if I eat dinner at 8pm, I can’t take my antibiotic till 2am, which isn’t so great on a weeknight (though I was up that late last night due to downing a can of Red Bull. Red Bull’s probably great for the blood pressure, right?). But the stupid blood pressure stuff makes me so tired, it’d be nearly impossible to stay up that late. I can barely get out of bed, and my arms and legs are like lead. I couldn’t even keep up with the treadmill yesterday at the gym, and I had it set practically low as possible. Being weak and foggy-headed is not cool. Ah, whatever. What really annoys me is the absolute lack of unsweetened bottled iced tea. I don’t like sugar in my hot beverages (or cold for that matter, I’ve never really picked up a soda drinking habit). I just want plain strong tea. If I’m correct, Liptons, or one of the big names used to make a plain iced tea, but I haven’t seen it in years, and even then, it was hard to find. What's the big deal with Snapple anyway? I don't want fruity sweetness in my tea. Even those newfangled flavors like chai and green tea are sold bottled and chilled now, with sugar of course. This is a serious summer problem, and I'm too lazy to go brewing my own iced tea.

7/6/01
I finally decided to tackle my backyard. It's so completely out of control that I can't even put it into words. Since I moved in in May, the weeds have literally grown as tall as I am (5'7), if not taller. I guess the phrase growing like a weed makes sense after all. I'm really not a nature-lover in any sense of the word--I've managed to make it 28 years without ever having owned a plant. But I'm getting better. It used to be the roots and stems that bothered me. In grade school my mom had this potted African violet on the dining table, and I couldn't even look at it when I was eating or I'd start to feel retching in my stomach. It was all thick and hairy, and just plain gross. Gee, now that I think about it, it seems very sexual in nature, this aversion to roots and stems. That's kind of disturbing. But anyway, the giant roots in my backyard didn't offend me all that much. However, fat, grub-like worms are a bit much. After an hour of serious weeding, I finally hit a patch that seemed to be teeming with all sorts of creepy crawly creatures and I had to stop. Eew, speaking of icky creatures, I discovered the most foul thing tues. I had the day off, and forced myself to do laundry. I went to pick up my laundry bag, and started going about my business when I noticed this grey lump where the bag was. At first I thought it was a big lint ball, then I feared it might be a mouse. After getting about 6" from it, I still couldn't tell exactly what it was. I still don't know for sure really. It didn't look like fur, it was all puffy and dull just like lint, but there seemed to be a head and tail on it and the whole thing was flat. I almost barfed, seriously. I got all jumpy and couldn't deal with being in my bedroom the rest of the day. I know it's stupid and girly, but when James came over that night, I made him deal with it. He couldn't tell what it was either. It was certainly mouse-like, but the tail almost looked like string. It had a mouse head with pointy teeth, but as I said, it was all flat, and he said that when he turned it over, the underside had holes in it and the body had been hollowed out. I absolutely refused to look at it so I can't say this from first-hand viewing. I swear, it's the creepiest thing. It almost seemed like a cat toy, but that makes no sense because how would it get in my apt? Perhaps it was attacked and died under my bag. Another theory is that I smashed it with my bag, but I don't think so because after doing laundry, I'd put the clothes away and it would've been light and empty. Obviously this thing got into my apt. in the last two weeks or so (I try to do laundry twice a month). It's so fucked up because a couple weeks ago, I almost shit myself in bed I was so scared by noises in the wall behind my head. I've had mice in the past, and you could hear them in the walls, but this was out of control loud and borderline violent scratching. I thought maybe the neighbor on the other side was being a freak or maybe they had a wild and restless dog. I don't see how a mouse could make that much noise. At the same time this ruckus was going on (about 3am on a weeknight), the neighbors upstairs were banging around all crazy and I could hear running from one end of their apt. to the other. It was really demented. They're usually pretty quiet after 10pm. I don't know what's going on, but it's making me nervous. What if there's some X-Files creature living in the walls that sucks the insides out of mice and who knows what else. Then I started thinking that someone actually placed that mouse thing under my bag Blair Witch style, which was a scary thought too. It's one thing to see live mice in your house, unpleasant, but not unheard of. However, this dead, flat, hollowed out business is a bit much.

7/2/01
I took off Thurs. and Fri. to take a Thai cooking workshop at Peter Kump's Cooking School. For some reason, I was nervous like on the first day of school, which doesn't make sense since it's just a recreational class. I expected the room to be filled with middle-aged women without jobs looking to fill their days with interesting hobbies, and for the most part I was right. There were nine women, most who were over 45 and referred to each other as "girls" and lived in CT--they had all sorts of plans while in "The City." There was one man, Lloyd, a retired military guy who liked to cook, and liked visiting his kids in The City (he lives in Princeton, NJ), but can't deal with all the "fruits and nuts" roaming NYC. Anyway, the first day we were watching the teacher making all the dishes we'd be preparing later, and were passing around a jar of palm sugar so everyone could see what it looked like. I turned around to hand it to the person behind me and got quite a shock. Sitting there was this guy Sam that I used to have this weird fixation/crush on back in the early 90s. I don't even know him, I never really did. We'd never exchanged words. In college I used to work at the Northwest Film Center and this guy would come in frequently with his girlfriend and sign in using a Silver Screen card. If you paid $200/year, you'd get in free to all the movies plus other blah blah, and I remember looking up his name in the member list and it had Dr. in front of it. I couldn't figure out how he could be a doctor, and speculated that maybe it meant Ph.D.., which was still confusing. He was a chunk older than me (probably late 20s), but not that old. I created this scenario that he must be some young intellectual genius film-lover, and at the time this seemed romantic. I was also wowed by his Silver Screen membership, $200 doesn't sound so outrageous now, but at the time I thought that was a lot of money, especially in Portland, and all the others who signed in were middle-aged, stuffy folks. I don't even know why I thought he was cute. He was tiny, definitely shorter than me, like 5'5 or so, prematurely balding, with a big hooky nose and droopy sad eyes. Sometimes he wore simple wire-framed glasses. His girlfriend was sort of plain but pretty-ish, had brown hair that was sometimes short sometimes chin length, and wore things like long skirts and clogs. They both worked at Powell's, but then, everyone in Portland worked there. Really, I was fixated on the two of them. Like what did they do together? How did they meet? Were they in love? They seemed to be pretty content with each other. On some level I envied them. I'm not sure when the whole crush thing died down, but I do recall seeing them at a screening of Jean Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast" at a different theater and he was all straddling her in her seat and they were making out, and I was just like, eew. PDAs have never ranked high in my book. Anyway, there he was sitting a foot from me, and my heart started racing all crazy (ack, the blood pressure again) and my palms got sweaty and I couldn't concentrate. Thoughts filled my head like what if I start getting a crush while I'm in a relationship I like. In the past two years, I haven't crushed out on anyone, which is strange. I keep waiting for one to hit and mess everything up in my semi-stable world. I figured I'd just have to talk to him. I did, and it allayed my fears. All my romantic notions were just that, notions. He told me that the Silver Screen membership was really his fathers, and free movies were the only entertainment they could afford at the time. There was a check box for title: Mr. Ms. Dr. etc. and he picked Dr. on a whim. He doesn't have some amazing NY lifestyle I could envy. He's been attending film school off and on for years in Philadelphia, lives way up on 125th St., and sells rare books over the internet for money. A true NW slacker. He's still with the same woman, as was clear when she came to meet him fri. after class (obviously she doesn't have a real job either, since it was 3pm). They're one of those odd couples where they must share and take part in each others lives and pursuits. He was showing her around, proud of the sate and pad thai he'd helped create. So weird, those types. The kinds who meet each other at work, call during the day. Comfortable and inseparable. I always like those ones. Not that I ever date them, but I'm drawn to the seeming ease and probable complacency. I walked into a conversation he was having with another student, and I thought he was saying something about a babysitter. Hmm, that would add a peculiar dimension to things. They weren't wearing wedding rings. They're just together forever, with no need for such conventional trappings. 11 years is a long time, it was in 1990 that I recall first seeing them--who's to say how long they were together before then. He didn't seem so much older than me now, probably in the 32-36 range. He didn't seem that interesting either. He was just some easy-going, mildly funny guy who was going to be bald some day. Nothing special. I wasn't impressed, and my old crush didn't resurface. It was certainly an interesting surprise encounter. You need these little shake-ups every now and then.