January 2005 Archives
I do believe that the second cast member here used to be my yoga instructor.
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And I? Was the bad friend who was completely wiped and also laden with gifts and who didn’t go out with all her best friends across the street for more drinks and girly hijinks. My drunk friends assured me they would get Heather home safe and sound and I left them all in the cold mean streets of Brooklyn. Actually, by the time we got to bed, Heather was only a half-hour behind us. I know this because a half-hour after we went to bed, I was woken by a woeful “Liz…Liiiz…Liz!” outside my window, where Heather was standing on the stoop over a pile of snow into which she had just dropped her keys.
We rescued her right away and put her properly to bed. I warned her to shut the door tight because sometimes our asshole cat, Max, likes to sneak in and knock all J’s important art and technology-related items to the floor. She assured me she would and got some water and went off to sleep.
So side story: when Willow came back from Ireland, she brought me and J the best gifties ever. These ceramic mugs from The Big Tomato.
Mine says , “Bird,” which she went to great lengths to explain is slang for “girlfriend.” J’s says, “Rocket Scientist,” and he loves this mug more than anything, except possibly his white ceramic bowl, for which he has forsaken all other bowls. We are very careful with these items. Because we have an asshole cat.
You know where this is going now, but I’ll put it here anyway. Max opened Heather’s door, surveyed the scene, and promptly walked over to her water, which was in the Rocket Scientist mug, and heaved it to the ground. This may have been revenge from the last time Heather was here and she accidentally locked Max in the hall all day. Poor Heather felt awful, but it is okay: I am certain we will hunt down Rocket Scientist 2.
Unfortunately, the stores that sell these mugs are in London. I'm excited to send the next person I know who is going to Europe on a mug mission. It will make them feel useful and also cool.
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I know some of you think you have cool friends, and perhaps they might have thrown you a surprise party at one point or maybe baked you some cookies or something, and I guess that makes them pretty alright people. But they, I’m afraid, would pale in comparison to the friends J and I have who threw us a surprise engagement party to end all engagement parties. At one point they had to tell us that they might be planning a lil’ sumpin’ sumpin’ in order to get us to hold the date, but did we envision a candle-lit space with piles of food, bottomless wine bottles, tons of close friends, a stack of prezzies, and a superhero store? People, we did not. We were the biggest underestimators that ever did get engaged.
Did I mention there was a blizzard? I had no idea J and I are so charming, but people battled epic weather conditions just to say congrats. I mean, also to drink all the wine and eat the Junior’s chocolate mousse cheesecake, peanut butter chocolate Rice Krispie treats, homemade spanikopita, but also for US. I highly recommend you look into getting some friends that do these things for you, although I’m afraid they’re limited commodities, and we may have scooped up some of the last ones.
Feeling like I should up the cute factor for the party, I got a very hot little DKNY number, which is now officially the most chic thing I own. I also thought I would get a haircut to polish off the hot factor. Sigh. This is a long, sad story. Let’s just say that somewhere along the way “long layers, blended long bangs” got translated into “Rachel hair” and I was not a happy camper. And by “not a happy camper” I mean I “paid for the haircut, tipped the hairdresser, and went home to straighten, recurl, and cry a bit.” I’m such a haircut wuss. It’s like an abusive relationship with me; I’m sure they meant well and they’ll never do it again.
Other people assured me it looks okay, which is another reason my friends are awesome: they know when and how to lie to a girl with Rachel hair.
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Here is the e-card my parents sent me, even though they are in New York and I will see them tonight:
I don’t think it matters how old I get or in what ways I chance, “cats” will always be the fallback theme for things I receive from my family. Like many middle school aged kids, I went through a fairly substantial cat obsession phase of my life where any thing and EVERYTHING cat threw me into fits of excited delight. It must be something to be a parent and witness your child through a phase like that. You must believe there will always be a part of them that will respond to cats (or whatever) in the same way they did when they were in that phase, while from the child’s perspective you start resenting that they can’t see past that younger version of yourself.
Although, I do kind of find the card funny. Is this how people become crazy cat people? They are deluged with cat paraphernalia until they crack under the pressure? What were your embarrassing obsessions?
There is nothing that quite makes me love my parents more than when they are visiting me here. I start feeling very tender towards them and want to shelter them from scary subway experiences or walks that are too long. I want show them I live in a cute, clean apartment and have smart friends. I worry about them heading back to their hotel late at night. I feel guilty they have to stay at a hotel.
I’ve gone from love to guilt in a few short sentences…that’s family for ya.
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We forgot the camera for the Daily Show event, but I managed to coerce a complete stranger, who turned out to be a very nice person named Angela, to send me a pic to share with y'all. She caught an especially cute expression, if I don't say so myself. --------
Mom: We rented Anchorman a few weeks ago - I am still traumatized - I think there is something wrong with me - I know I have a sense of humor, but for the life of me I cannot see how this movie was even made - it has now replaced a movie called Virus, but not that horrible one about the drugs in England that you, me, and Randi went to - thank god I can't remember the name anymore - at the top of the list of the worst movies I have ever seen.
Liz: oh no! (pssst....trainspotting)
Mom: That's it - oh my god –
I turned out to have an interesting mix of my parents’ film sensibilities, somehow managing to appreciate "Anchorman" and "Amalie". My dad shies away from anything too artsy or weird and my mom has an almost non-existent tolerance for lowbrow humor or action movies. Dragging my dad to see anything outside his comfort zone is probably the singularly most unpleasant task there is, so usually it is my mom who takes the high road on movie outings and rentals. It’s sort of a fair trade-off, though, because then my mom has license to totally rant about how horrible the movie is to anyone who will listen, and I think she enjoys that. For instance, my dad and brother brought took her out on mother’s day last year to see…wait for it…Van Helsing. You can bet we heard about that over Christmas.
I also inherited this stubborn streak that makes me think if I talk up a good movie in just the right way, I can convince them to see something I think is really worthwhile. The last attempt went something like:
Me: You guys should see "Triplets of Belleville." It’s really good.
Mom: What’s it about?
Me: Well it’s about this boy and his grandma, oh and it’s animated--
Mom: Oh no, I don’t tend to like animated things…
Me: But it’s actually really artsy. I mean, it’s animated, but there’s not much talking in it, and when there is it’s in French…
Parents:…
Me: [to J] Oookay. I think I’ve managed to turn them both off in one sentence.
It’s really pretty frustrating because it makes me think that maybe these movies that I love so much aren’t really universally good after all and are (gasp) subjectively good. What’s worse is that I recognized my own brand of cajoling coming right from my dad as he tried, for the entire time we were home, to get us—me, J, any of my friends that dropped by—to watch “Baby's Day Out." We demurred, but he then purchased the movie:
Dad: [holding movie] You should really watch this movie. It's very funny.
Us: Ummmm...
Dad: I mean, seriously. It's not the best film ever made or anything, but it's good for some laughs.
Us: Well, we're um, just...doing...stuff..
Dad: It's hilarious. It's like "Home Alone".
And it was then, with the "It's hilarious. It's like 'Home Alone'" statement--meant to lure us in, no less--that I had to rethink this whole subjectivity thing.
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Yeah, so here's the big autograph from three years ago, as promised below in the comments. As far as unimpressive things go, we're doing pret-ty good. Wish me luck being Jon Stewart's bff tonight.
FRIDAY UPDATE: Show went really well. Jon Stewart showed up in a leather jacket and hurled it at his seat when he came onto stage. Seemed a bit rough around the edges, frankly. But was hilarious. Steven Colbert and Samantha Bee also side-splitting. I was too tired by the end of the show to show Jon my totally cute and pinchy Kenneth Cole shoes I wore ALL DAY for him and to give him the Be Fri half of my necklace, so will have to save it all for next time.
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Do you want to know the most overlooked good deed you can do for someone on a rainy day? Next time you see someone holding an umbrella with one hand and struggling to open a corner mailbox and shove a package in with the other, offer up your help. Because if you’re in New York, that person will be me and I will love you forever.
Conversation while watching “Unwrapped”:
Me: Do you think Mark Summers is married?
J: No.
Me: Do you think he is sad?
J: Yes I do.
…
J: Oh look, he’s wearing a wedding band. I guess he is married.
Me: Do you still think he’s sad?
J: No.
Last night I went to a launch party for this book. What publishing lacks in fat paychecks, it always makes up for in splashy parties, expensed lunches, and free drinks. It’s difficult not to have a good time when you’re being fed mini quesadillas and white wine, I’ll tell you that much. Tomorrow night we’re heading to this Daily Show extravaganza. They haven’t actually told us what they’re going to be doing, except existing on the stage for us. It’s interesting how vague an event listing is allowed to be for non-musician/author types. You buy tickets for a show or a reading, you pretty much know what you’re getting. Buy a ticket for the appearance of a public figure, it’s all up in the air. In my head, I’m envisioning they will all just do a live Daily Show for us right then and there which would be KILLER. Dance for me, Jon, you are my monkey.
I’m always interested when things come full circle, so I will take you through this particular circle as much for my own entertainment as for yours:
January 2002: Kelly has job working for publicist of big author. Big author is appearing on Daily Show, and Kelly accompanies him. Kelly loves me and thus procures Jon Stewart’s autograph for me. Reads: “I hope she got you something better than this for your birthday! Jon Stewart”
October 2003: Liz gets job working for agent who is, coincidentally, big author’s agent.
Last night: Big author hosts launch party.
Tomorrow night: Daily Show event.
Week from tomorrow night: birthday.
Hmm. I see now that perhaps big author and I should have discussed the Daily Show, or perhaps Kelly should come with me tomorrow or something to even the whole thing out. Or I should get autograph for Kelly. It seemed better in my head. I’ll think about this.
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Earlier in the week, I had to grab Max from his escape into the hallway. While carrying him up the stairs, I tripped a bit, causing Max to dig his giant sharp back claws into my tender little hand. I bandaged it up for a day or so and when I removed them, it turned out that if I made a little talking mouth guy with that hand, the injuries looked just like gouged out eyes. Let me tell you: ENDLESS Thursday night fun ensued with the adventures of Gouged Out Eyes Man, who, if you asked him, scooped out his eyes with a spoon, and upon later consideration, may have had a bit of an Oedipal problem.
I am sure that many people have weddings that happen like “Father of the Bride” wherein they hire a consultant and merely have to look at a picture of a cake before ordering it. Or like “Sex and the City” where they try on three dresses and fall in love with one of them and then just BUY it. Unfortunately, I’m of the more manic deal-hunting variety and because I’m acutely aware of the deals to be had on the internet and in small shops, I am driving myself crazy trying to go about everything in a way that is smart and fiscally wise. I guess part of me enjoys the hunt, but part of me gets very tired and just wants a nice dirty vodka martini and an overpriced consultant to find pretty overpriced things for me. Ah, who am I kidding? All I have to see are ring pillows for $60 and veils for $100 to send me over the top. Don’t people know how to MAKE pillows? Do you NEED a pillow? It’s all craziness, I tell you.
Everyone is going so crazy over “Sideways”. Have you seen it? I know everyone’s talking Academy Awards, but all I can think of when I see the previews is: Fraiser, the Movie.
I have to give a brief shout-out here to Krista, who wins the New Year’s resolution unofficial game. During dinner on New Year’s eve, we made jokey resolutions for each other. Mine to her was the she had to go on a date with a musician. On the way home from our rooftop celebration, who should she run into but her friend, the DRUMMER. She calls me up, not an hour later, to tell me one of his friends asked her out. While this friend isn’t a musician by profession, I’m sure he’s a harmonica hobbyist or something, because that coincidence is just too big not to come entirely true. I’m also making a resolution for myself to win the lottery, on the off chance my powers apply to myself as well.
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Things about which I wish I could pontificate:
"The Life Aquatic". Am I the only one who sorely missed Owen's writing contribution from this script? Also [plot spoiler alluding to fate of a certain character removed]?? What the hell, man?
"A Very Long Engagement". J, my friend Stephen, and I were sucked into a Project Runway marathon and were only able to rip ourselves away when a preview for this movie, in which a mechanical wooden hand slowly opens, came on. This caused both guys to look up the movie as quickly as possible and make a beeline for the theater. Though the hand is only in about 5 seconds of the movie, guys manage to love movie anyway.
Rings and dresses and parties, oh my. Caterers. Wedding plans. Blah. But like, blah with a smile.
New Year's Eve miracles. Two of them! Involving resolutions coming true within hours and so forth.
In Touch magazine's spread of reality TV stars reinacting 2004's celebrity moments. Like Raj as Brad Pitt as Achilles. I know. The mind BOGGLES.
Also, I am sick. Did I mention that? Busy and sick. [Insert open letter to Afrin and its generic counterparts praising them as the best and most effective medicine that ever existed for clogged nasal passages. Allusions to Drain-o and the like.]
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