June 2005 Archives
But the toes, they must be prettified. They were begging and I’d been putting it off too long to look back now. So I told J sorry, and booked an appointment at lunch. And I wasn’t able to relax one single minute I was sitting in that chair. The expert on the Fox report said that the most prevalent source of the infections was the whirlpool bath on the massage chairs and that it’s better if the place just has a bowl of water. To which the Fox reporter was even like, “Pshwah! And good luck finding that!” Anyway, I don’t know if my money was wasted because even though my toes are now lovely, I’m all tensed up thinking about dirty disease crawling into my leg pores. Aaaaaand, happy Wednesday to you!
I don’t know how often I’ll be checking in while I’m in Denver, but if you’re wondering what I’m up to I will either be:
Flying
Attending a shower my mom’s friends are throwing for me (woo!)
Buying a wedding gift (for friends)
Buying wedding bands (for us)
Going to a wedding (of friends)
It’s an all-weekend wedding extravaganza! I’ll be flying home on the 4th, so maybe I’ll get to fulfill my childhood dream of being in an airplane while fireworks explode in the sky. I’m sure I believed the planes flew right through the giant displays and the passengers were treated to a personal light show right outside their windows, so I’m sure the reality will disappoint the inner-child. I’ll wave at you from the plane, though, if you see me flying above your fireworks.
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J said the name sounded familiar and that he thought she was someone famous. We brought the card home and forgot to look her up for a couple weeks. Finally, yesterday, I thought to Google her name. And lo:
We found a note to Catwoman. She is apparently multi-talented and her career neither started nor ended with Batman. Further research says she was blacklisted for 10 years because she was very outspoken about the Vietnam War. She’s performing in New York this summer, which is how someone came to send her flowers, and a card that never made it. I was hoping John Morse would be a B-list Batman Villain like Colonel Gumm or something, but so far nothing’s come up.
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An old man and twenty-something woman making out in a car parked by the cemetery.
Items that aren’t available in Sunset Park:
Frozen yogurt
Pitas
Frozen dumplings
Items readily available:
Puffy shrimp chips
Mango slices
Murky coconut punch sold out of gallon plastic containers
Herbs given to be by Abby:
Pineapple mint
Chocolate mint
Oregano
Catnip (she’s in cahoots with my dad, apparently)
Flavor of ice bought from Uncle Louie G’s:
Kiwi
Actual flavor of ice:
Green apple
Things bought:
Two very cute skirts from Park Slope boutiques
Two very cheap shirts from Forever 21
One hot dress that will be returned, as it didn’t so much fit when it got home
Flashing taillight for bike
Tan heels, to be replaced by white heels
Pizza
Vegetarian hot dogs
Oreos
Mike’s Hard Lemonade
Things not bought:
Green purse
Headlight for bike
Much desired jewelry
Groceries
Things you should look forward to:
Best found note EVER! Coming tomorrow…
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In case you are near Union Square today, Sephora is doing a huge party down there to celebrate the opening of the new store. The square is full up of tents and chairs for makeovers and free sample giveaways. I just might have to stroll by after work. On Tuesday I thought I saw a commercial being filmed there. There were camera crews, a huge Snapple sign, and lots of fireman hosing down the street. I learned the next day that what I’d actually witnessed was the tail end of a giant popsicle experiment gone awry. I would have given anything to have walked past as the “wave of slush” went by.
That is a Thing You Don’t See Every Day.
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Curly’s Vegetarian Lunch: A
Real Girl noticed a review for this place a few weeks ago and J and I finally got around to eating there. We were big fans of the Veg City Diner, which burned down awhile ago, so were really looking forward to someplace that would serve us our vegetarian sloppy joes and tacos (we’re THOSE kinds of vegetarians). This place is tiny, but cute; the front of the restaurant was opened up, so there was a pleasant breeze. I thought they had me at vegetarian BLT, but I was to be wooed further when the waitress told me they don’t have their liquor license yet and could she get me a free sangria? Yes, yes she could. We also split a piece of a vegan oreo cake that would have received top marks as a regular cake—it was completely out of this world.
Bikes: A
My dad shipped my brother’s old bike that had been sitting in the shed for a few years. J got it all fixed up and we officially became a Couple With Bikes. Zipping around Brooklyn on a bike is just pure fun. My thighs are killing me as are my sitz bones, but I think those are good things. Like, I’ll get stronger or something.
Invitation mock up: B
We bought all the materials for our wedding invitations and set to work finalizing the wording and design layout. This took a. long. time. And there might have been some complications here and there. And maybe we don’t know what time the rehearsal dinner is or what day the Denver reception is: whatever. We sent the mock up to my parents for their opinion and I’m hoping everything will be smooth sailing from here.
Batman: A+
Not only did we see the best movie ever last night, but Kelly got us these passes from work that got us into the movie with a free small popcorn for $5.00. Five dollars! It was like the good ol’ days when a movie didn’t have to change your life to be worth the first born you have to give up for admission. Ironically, I would have paid full price for this movie and not cared one single bit. Re: previews—is anyone else worried, just a little, about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I want to believe it will be good, but, frankly, I’m concerned. It could be Johnny Depp’s weird lipsticked mouth.
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While flipping through the book looking for guidance on invitation wording, I landed on the gift section, where they’ve conveniently listed some appropriate gifts to give the wedding party. I started rattling them off to J, but had to stop when we were both laughing so hard I had tears running down my face and I kept choking out, “I’m going to throw up from laughing!” It’s not just that the gift suggestions are fairly gender/age stereotypical (though they are), or that some of them are glaringly out of date (again, awesomely so), but that a lot of them are just plain ludicrous. I’d like to think the editors had something tasteful and lovely in mind when they suggest “topiary” for a gift, but…wha? Topiary? Like a giant giraffe-shaped hedge? Make room in your apartment, Kelly!
Anyway, the lists really speak for themselves, so without further ado:
Gifts for Bridesmaids:
gloves
heart shaped lockets
charms
handkerchiefs
atomizers
pillows filled with potpourri—reminiscent of their bouquets
pewter cups
business card or contact lens cases
silver hair combs
crystal bud vases
voice-controlled alarm clocks [do these exist? The hell?]
topiaries
And for the Ushers:Belt buckles
bar jiggers
pen and pencil sets
leather pocket agendas with wedding dates marked [not the free ones you get from real estate agents]
comb and brush sets
book marks
suspenders [daper!]
For the Mothers:
enamel pillboxes
appointment books [their medication makes them so forgetful!]
Let’s Not Forget Fathers:
pewter or crystal beer mugs
paperweights
electronic beepers [as opposed to the hand-cranked ones]
mobile phones
For Bride From the Groom:
leather handbag or luggage [they don’t specify Coach]
breakfast tray
porcelain tea set
porcelain figurine
puppy [don’t forget rainbows and smiles!]
sports bag
bicycle
jogging suit
health-club membership [yeah, these last ones will go over well]
hair brush and comb [presumably not from Duane Reade]
skates
riding clothes [girls like horses]
travel iron
travel hair dryer [21st century, here I come!]
canoe [canoe??]
silver-plated key to new home [or a comb, whatever]
Gifts I could get J:
attaché case
camera
TV [you mean a porcelain figurine of a TV?]
CD player and favorite CDs [do you wrap up his collection in nice paper?]
VCR and video-store membership [we’re kicking the future into high gear, now!]
answering machine
calculator [like a TI81?]
shower massage
whirlpool bath
shower radio [this guy loooves his bath time!]
oversized bed pillows [yeah.]
passport holder
money belt
stadium blanket
CB radio
cooler [Not just a cooler, honey, look inside! A CB radio!]
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We had the first real dilemma when the bridesmaid dresses arrived this week and were a bit tight. And by “a bit tight” I mean “not zipping up.” I’m hoping the tailor will be able to help (although the tea-length, flowy hem doesn’t give up any extra fabric) because our next recourse is buy a new dress and try our best to sell the small one. No refunds or exchanges. I don’t know why that didn’t seem like a bigger deal to me back when we ORDERED the dresses.
We have to get our invitations in order so we can send them out soon. These didn’t seem like a big deal until we actually started working on them. Who has room in an envelope for all this information? Directions, hotel info, RSVP cards, second Denver reception information, blah blah blah. Have you tried writing directions to the Prospect Park Picnic House for out-of-towners? Difficult. Plus I had this great idea for the front of our invites that I’ve been thinking about for months, but when I tried it out last night it kinda looked like poop. So, there’s that, too.
I’m heading to Denver on the 30th for a shower my mom and some close family friends are throwing for me. My friend is also getting married that weekend, so it will be a jam-packed wedding-themed extravaganza. I was just on their registry list and so little has been bought off it, which makes me panicky about what I should buy them. Too many choices and pressure! Do they need pans or glasses more? Sheets or towels? Oxo tools or wine accessories?
I just learned that my ooooldest friend, who I’ve known since preschool, is unexpectedly coming from Oregon for my shower and I am PSYCHED! There is such a good feeling about seeing loved ones who live far away.
One good thing: we booked our honeymoon to Napa Valley! If you have suggestions about places to go, things to see, or yummy things to eat, let me know.
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Team America theme, which morphed into
Wayne’s World theme
Gays in Space them, as sung by Maya Rudolph on SNL
“La donna e mobile,” as played by my cell phone
“Oh Industry,” as sung by Bette Midler in Beaches
I know. I KNOW. Pure torture. Plus, it’s hard to get away with muttering, “America…fuck yeah! America…gonna save the motherfuckin’ day, yeah!” under your breath as you shop for groceries.
On the plus side, my hair is major fashion. The new guy did a great job and there is no mom hair or Rachel hair in sight. Right before he got to blow drying, we had a brief discussion about whether I wanted to leave it wavy or get a blow out. Even though it was really humid and rain was imminent, I decided to have him blow it out anyway, because there is nothing better than the feeling of salon blown out hair swishing around your head. Immediately following the conversation, there was a paralyzing moment where I thought, “Did I just say ‘blow job’ instead of ‘blow out?’” I watched the hair guy for any sign that I might have just requested a blow job, but there was none. In fact, I’m almost 100% positive I didn’t say anything crass, but did that stop me from obsessing over it the whole weekend? No, it did not. In fact add “Blow out, blow job, blow out, blow job” to that list up there. My brain’s a regular party.
I did what all you said to do and watched “Hell’s Kitchen” last night. Now I don’t know if I just have less patience for summer reality TV or if I’m out of the loop from missing the first one, but: eh. J and I discussed the possible reasons we felt eh and came up with:
Unlike “American Idol” type shows, where you personally can judge the talent, on HK, you can’t actually taste the food and participate in the active judging, which is part of what’s fun about those shows. Although, I will admit that I liked when the lady threw up and when Chef Chef! declared the steak with peaches “Fucking disgusting.”
Along the same lines, although Chef Chef! is mean like Simon Cowell, I usually end up agreeing with Simon, which validates my opinion and makes me like him as a no-nonsense judge. Again, I’m not sure Chef Chef!’s meanness is something I relate to. Although, obviously that guy Jeff has some Issues.
Finally, I was really stressed out during the Supermarket Sweep portion. What does that part have to do with being good chefs? The whole time I felt like shouting, “Go for the hams!” Okay, I totally shouted that.
I’m not convinced, but I’m not altogether discouraged to give it another shot.
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Afterwards I thought: the man with the pipe was CRAZY, but he’s lucky the guy in the car wasn’t crazier, because I do believe there are people who would run a man down for demolishing his car.
I’m getting my hair cut today at a new place, which was badly needed after the last “Rachel hair” debacle at my regular place. I have always had a hard time communicating the kind of hair cut I want, and I can never seem to find exact pictures of what I’m looking for, so it’s kinda a crapshoot whether what I say gets interpreted as “hip and sexy” or “Ann Taylor mom.” The last time my hair was done justice was when I got this random guy at my normal place who insisted that I wanted hair that was “fashion” and made quick work of it. And my hair? Was totally fashion. I tried to track him down again, but the receptionist told me with a hint of irritation that he’d left and was working with celebrities now, and that’s when she booked me for the Rachel cut. So this time, I think I’ll cut the crap description and go right for, “Gimme hip, sexy, fashion hair.”
Friday Wedding Artifact:
I haven't gotten married yet. Actually, I have 380 days to go! But, I know I will feel this way. Maybe my daughter will want to get married by then or hopefully, one of my friends. This is all I do at work for the most part. It will be like the day after Xmas for me.These people kill me. I think I’ll have Wedding Artifact withdrawal. --------
Okay, I'll be straight. I am only putting up the guise of a television post so I can tell you what I really want to tell you, which is: omigod! Keenyah was standing right outside my office building just now. There's a modeling agency upstairs, so I'll assume that's where she was . I did a double take and considered saying something, but really, what is there to say? Hey! Not looking so tubby anymore! Remember when you had Cosby hair and were really annoying? That made for some excellent television! Remember when you denied Naima her heritage because of the appearance of her skin? Well played, WELL played. Can I buy you a $1 bagel or four from the roll cart?
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So the Book Expo may have singularly been the best work-related thing I’ve ever done. Not that it was only enjoyable on the work level; it was completely satisfying to the fanatical reader in me, too. Even though I’ve been in the publishing industry for four years or so, this was my first foray into a big book fair. And let me just say: wow. The Javits Center was loaded top to bottom with booths, which were loaded up with books and galleys and gizmos and authors and famous people and giveaways. It was like being at a real fair, but without the rides and where everything is free, and there’s central air conditioning.
But as far as the thrill factor goes, I’d say it was right up there with roller coasters. And the lines are shorter. Though not by much. Every hour, for three days, there were tons of author signings all over the convention center. Sometimes it was some random new author the publishing houses are trying to pump up, sometimes it was big authors like Nick Hornby or Michael Cunningham, sometimes stars like John Lithgow (who, by the way, we randomly ran into by the Mini Cooper a publishing house was giving away). And people would dutifully line up for miles. The lines got to be pretty out of control at times, and not just at the signings.
I went to find a bathroom the first morning, only to be greeted by a snaking queue of disgruntled looking women. Trying to make light of the situation, I leaned towards the woman in front of me and asked, “What book signing is this?”
You know those times when you think you are being all light-hearted and funny and then you realize half-way through some dumb remark that the person you’re talking to is a Serious Person who Doesn’t Feel Like Joking? Yeah, well. The woman just looked at me blankly and left me stuttering, “Ha ha. Just joking…long lines and all…”
In fact, for a convention where the Pilsbury Doughboy (cookbooks?) and the Idiot from the Idiot’s Guide books were wandering around, there were a lot of Serious People. Before I go into these other stories, you have to have a clear image of this convention center in your head: aisles and aisles of publishing houses trying to lure people into their area to talk about their books. When appropriate, this is often achieved with little tchatchkas and/or food. There are so many freebees that your mind starts to immediately assign hierarchy. Bulky paperweights and postcards: pass. Canvas bags and packets of gummy dinosaurs: grab. Every once in a while, some booth would have something wildly impractical or weird, like a bowl of loose ribbon candy all jelled together.
Onward. A friend I was with stopped to talk to the Yale University Press booth, and I noticed that their luring bowl was filled with: loose Fig Newtons. I found this really funny for some reason; like Fig Newtons were the perfect choice for this academic publisher. A little healthy fruit and cake for the fine passerbyers. I laughed a little and said, “That’s such a funny thing to give away!” thinking they were in on the whole thing. But alas, I got another blank look and had to quickly cover my statement with babblings about academia appropriate cookies.
Then of course, there was the Schmooney incident. My friend and I stopped to admire these weird little stuffed animals that were sort of cute. Unfortunately, we then opened the book that went with the stuffed animal. It may be all the free sugar we were hyped up on, but for some reason, we completely lost it when we flipped through the book. And that’s when the representative came up and tried to pitch us the book. I had tears streaming down my face, and this guy, without cracking a smile, continues with his pitch about how “Even if you’re made up of 5 different animals, you can be a hero, too.” We finally escaped and had to completely avoid passing the Schmooney booth for the rest of the day.
Once the clock hits 4:00 on the convention floor, it is P-A-R-T-Y time! Everyone hides their plastic whistles and brings out wine and cheese platters, mango daiquiris, shaken margaritas, and full bars. I passed one booth that simply had limes, salt, cups, and a bottle of Cuervo. I had just finished attending a panel on the “future” of graphic novels, which turned out to be Frank Miller being late and then smug for 45 minutes, and we went on the prowl for drinks. While standing on line for a margarita (that may or may not have been Tampico and tequila), we found ourselves next to a giant mound of cake that had been half dug into. “Is that a mountain?” I asked the guy manning the cake. He rolled his eyes at me and answered, “It’s a volcano.” “Oh, cool. Did it erupt?” He looked away and simply said, “Yep.” My friend and I tried to engage him a little more, but people, he was DONE talking about the volcano cake. He never once offered any reasoning behind the cake or offered us any of it.
And you have to feel a little sad about the man sitting behind the volcano cake who has lost the love. Maybe we should have brought him a margarita.
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E-mail I received over the weekend:
CAKE MAN RAVEN CREATES WOMEN'S ENTERTAINMENT NETWORK'S 12-FOOT TALL WEDDING CAKE FOR LAUNCH OF NEXT SEASON OF BRIDEZILLAS IN TIMES SQUAREMy question is, if these are brides-to-be, what wedding dresses are they using? Are they all going out and buying cheap thrift store uglies and diving in with those?BRIDEZILLAS WILL DASH INTO CAKE MAN RAVEN'S 12-FOOT CAKE FOR A CHANCE TO WIN $50,000!
Twenty brides-to-be in their wedding dresses will dive into New York's largest wedding cake and battle for $50,000 toward the perfect wedding. WE: Women's Entertainment is celebrating the second season premiere of their hit reality show Bridezillas . Find out what happens when the pressure of planning a wedding makes perfectly normal engaged women lose their grip on sanity! The new season remieres Sunday, June 12 at 10:00pm ET. See Cake Man Raven on Tuesday, June 7th in Times Square (Broadway at 44th Street) as he unveils his record breaking wedding cake extravaganza!
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Thanks for your emails and phone calls! I realized that my busy-ness is no excuse for leaving you hanging...
Max is home! We put posters up everywhere and then found him on our block. A neighbor had spotted him on his way to work and again at the end of the day in the same place, holed up under a flat of wood leaning against someone's brownstone. Which is exactly where he was when we looked, and at a place we must have passed a million times. He was really dirty and freaked out, but seemed glad to be home. Pinky was pretty pissed, like she thought she'd gotten rid of him and then we had to go and BRING HIM BACK. And Sally was right: it took approximately 24 hours before he was back to being his bad self and not letting me sleep at night.
Super busy catching up from BEA; better update coming soon!
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I came home after dinner and drinks with the girls to find J completely distraught. Max was gone. Not only was he gone, but it seems he got spooked by the neighbor cat, tore across the length of the apartment and went through the front window. And by “went through” I mean crashed through a pane of glass, avoided the bars lining the window, and pummeled out into the courtyard, where he escaped down the street. As you can imagine, this was a very strange story to grapple with. I kept trying to come up with other explanations. Had someone broken the glass earlier and Max just leapt through it? Could he have bounced back and, injured, holed up somewhere in the back room? But all the glass was showered outward and we did a thorough search of the entire apartment.
Our landlords were really sweet and came out with their flashlights and helped us hint up and down the neighborhood. J and I made some crude signs and I shook a little Tupperware full of cat food to try and lure him back. It was such a shock that I was having a hard time processing all of it, but every once in a while a wave of reality would hit me and I’d think of Max in a heap by someone’s tire or huddling behind a dumpster, and it would make me well up. We plastered our block with the posters and lots of the neighbors came out to tell us they’d keep an eye out, or that they thought they saw a black cat head this way or hole up that way.
Of course I feel very guilty in the way you do when something bad happens to someone you’ve been thinking ill thoughts about. He doesn’t have a collar, though I meant to get the kitties some when we moved to a ground floor apartment. We left the window uncovered in case he wandered back home. At about 5:00 a.m. the blinds rattled and I had a fleeting thought that Max had made his way inside somehow but, of course, it was only Pinky, who slept next to me all night.
And as if all of this wasn’t as shitty as it could get, J’s bag was stolen from work yesterday evening. It was out of view in his office and he stepped out for 15 minutes to have a meeting across the hall. It was gone when he came back. Luckily he had his wallet and keys on him, but he lost his cell phone, his gym clothes, his sketch book, and his iPod. The iPod’s the real sucker punch because it was a graduation gift from me and Krista and our families and it hurts doubly to lose something with sentimental value.
I’m hoping our cosmic lesson in loss is over for now.
Also: we're putting up posters in Spanish, too. Does anyone know the correct translation/tenses for "lost cat" and "please call if found"? My 7th grade Spanish teacher would be very disappointed in me. All I can remember is "gato."
But: off we went to Great Barrington, MA for the long weekend and my friends’ deep, dark, basement of blessed sleep. This was seriously the darkest basement I’ve ever encountered. After we’d arrived in the afternoon, we’d had a full day of visiting, and eating, and going to see “Kung Fu Hustle” (rockin!), so by the time we were ready for bed, we were really ready for bed. My friend escorted us to the basement and made a joke about turning on the side lamp before flipping the switch across the room to the overhead light so we could find our way around. Or at least we thought it was a joke.
I was so tired, that I fell asleep approximately 3 seconds after we nestled in and turned off the side lamp. Several hours later, I woke up having to go to the bathroom and realized I couldn’t see a single thing in the room. Not one thing. So I did what you do when you’re groggy and in a strange place and can’t see and are being ordered around by your bladder: I inched, with my arms extended zombie-like in front of me, very slowly in the direction in which I thought I remembered the bathroom to be. Somewhere in the middle of the room, I had the thought that I was seriously fucked. My bearings were dubious, and I either had to find the wall with the light switch or I was doomed to wander the basement until dawn. (See how kind I am? It didn’t even occur to me to wake J). Luckily, I (eventually) found the wall after a small detour into a forsaken corner. Making it back to bed was easy because I was primed with the light from the bathroom before making the straight shot back to bed.
A while later, I was awakened again by J stumbling up to go to the bathroom. He is even groggier than I am in the middle of the night, so I knew this was going nowhere fast. He made it out a couple steps before I could warn him.
Liz: J! It’s really dark. You’re going to just have to walk in a straight line and aim for the back wall.
J: [stumbles in opposite direction]
Liz: No, you’re headed the wrong way.
J: [whimpers] I’m lost!
Liz: Hold on!
J: [drops to the floor] I’m going to lie down.
Liz: Stay there, I’m coming for you!
Equipped with my newfound knowledge of traversing the dark, I gallantly shuffled towards J, who was applying his Boy Scout survival skills, which call for one to stay where one is when one is lost, say, in the woods. I tripped over his ankle, and I helped him up to edge our way to the bathroom. I then made my way back to the bed and when J was done, I guided him back with my voice.
Then next morning I told my friend they should equip guests with flashlights down there and he asked me why I didn’t just use the side lamp.
Oh. Lamp.
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