I sure have had a hellish week. All of the crazy work that kept me from blogging, getting home in time to vacuum, and remembering my hat until I got outside in the cold culminated yesterday with me wearing this shirt with a ridiculous bow on it to distract from the data on my Keynote slides.
Clever, right? And check out Kevin in his dress shirt. Fancy times. ("Is that chart showing the price of a New York pizza slice over time..? Wait, look how fancy the New York staff is dressed. What's going on with that bow on Amber's shirt?" Etc.)
But, tonight, I am seeing some Lang at Film Forum with Kevin, then I am having Twin Times with Amy Bee (to be blogged and explained later, blexplained?) and then meeting Nick for a pub crawl and fancy dinner. To celebrate our seven years of friendship, I wore the shoes that spurred our first non-work conversation.
That went something like this:
A: Here is that budget variance report I mentioned earlier.
N: Thank you. Those are great shoes.
A: Thank you. They are this kind called Fluevogs.
N: Oh, I know. [shows shoes he is wearing, also Fluevogs]
A: Oh! You are now my best friend ever. Let's go to River House together!
Something like that.
Work full time for Mother Goose Inc. (and pretty darn well if my department's contribution to the bottom line is any evidence)?
Stay in touch with both my friends and pop culture (my BFF)?
Maintain compelling web content meant to maximize audience engagement on this blog, a go-to source for serious journalism on topics as broad reaching as Hat Hair, Kitties, and Television?
So, I was just in D.C. overnight for biznusses. And I stayed at the lovely Quincy hotel, mostly because it was cheap and also right around the corner from where the biznusses were conducted. (And because my old apartment at the Argonne has probably been rented.) There were several notable things about the Quincy which I will proceed to note hereforth.
1. The couch in my room was totally the larger L version of my home couch. Same fabric, same feet shape, same velcro attachments for the pillows.
Same, same, same-- except less cat fur. And no sheet covering it to protect it from cats or little decorator pillows or Ginger.
2. There was a very strange music thing happening, both in that they chose to blast all of the songs from my "HS Memories" playlist in the lobby (see sidebar), but also because, very randomly, there was a Billy Squier album cover on the wall on my floor near the elevator.
True, they never played any Billy Squier in the lobby, but there he was, gazing at me while I waited for the elevator. This prompted Kevin to say, "This must be a hotel for young people." And that made me laugh uproariously since that album came out before some of my younger friends were born.
3. There was a giant mirror against the wall. (Even bigger than yours, CRD.) It made me realize that I really need a full length mirror if I am going to avoid making outfit mistakes like that one time I wore the balloon top out in public. Or, maybe just forgetfully not make outfit choices at all.
Is there such a thing as fate? Are some matches are meant to be? E.g., My skirt + the couch pillows? Me + The Quincy? This must be a hotel for me.
Billy Squier doesn't want me to embed his video as my conclusion, but it's here. But, we also heard this song in the lobby, and it made me touch my heart in nostalgia and emotion. And a voice inside my head said, "Don't look back-- you can never look back."
It was on this day in history that baby Kevin entered the world. He was very small and probably wrinkly, like babies are, but I imagine he looked something like this.
Only maybe he didn't have glasses then. But that scarf is from his heritage and so it seems likely they swaddled him in that in the hospital.
Well, today we celebrate that day, long, long and almost six feet tall ago. Several rotations of the hands of this clock have passed, anyway.
And, now Kevin is my professional colleague in addition to being my morale booster, musical entertainment, life advice coacher, and truly wonderful friend. He is also a snappy dresser--this jacket is also heritage, so maybe this was what he wore to his Christening?
Kevin will present you with the truth (maybe that you are a hoarder) with humor and caring. Kevin understands that you're just a regular person and he respects you for it.
Thanks, Kevin, for being born, and for being one of the smartest, generous, funniest, most celebratory, best-haired, book-lovingest, tallest, most dedicated, strongest, and kitty-lovingest people I know. Had we not met sometime in between your birth and now, I would be much, much less and not at all who I am today.
So, Happy Birthday, Baby Kevin. And Big Kevin, too.
Remember how the pterodactyl would squawk (because the boss pulled its tail) and the Fred Flinstone would Yabba Dabba Do It home from work?
Working from the River may not have clear cut spacial distinctions (the table where I am working is also where I will eating my dinner) or pterodactyls, but there are clear social signifiers of the end of the work day.
Let me assure you, though, Tennessee vendor, that although these treats are about the tastiest thing I have ever eaten-- milk chocolate, pecans, caramel and marshmallow? genius-- they will not be a factor in my decision to recommend we do business with you. Or, really, not the only factor. But, you may as well keep 'em coming because you can never be sure.
My San Francisco professional colleague Alison was wearing this amazing novelty t yesterday and gave me permission to blog it.
Get it? It's a Lord of the Rings thing! I thought it was awesome.
Also, Alison suggested I might want to crop out all of the mess behind her, but I think it shows both a) how busy she is multitasking all aspects of consumer subscription marketing and low-dollar fundraising and b) how far from dead print is. So take that, Interweb.
While I have been waging an inner battle, armed with mucous and coughs, against my arch allergy nemesis American Elm, so, so very much has been happening in the world. Let me quickly try to recap.
2. And my hair color changed. (See above. It's darker. One might even call it espresso.)
3. Some incredibly smart and adorable marketing professionals over at everybody's favorite investigative news source, Mother Jones, launched a fundraising campaign featuring a Boat-o-meter to measure the campaign's success with the tagline "Sink the ship of fools."
Seriously genius--the kind of stuff we should be doing over at Mother Goose, Inc. (I pronounce it "boat-oh-meter," but Kevin says "boat-om-etter." Your choice.)
4. The above fundraising campaign, to which you should give generously in order to help pay for, among other things, their Circulation Director's cat food (especially if you are getting a free sub from me) prompted me to remark that I wouldn't really be considered the captain of the Boat-o-meter but more of the navigator. This caused a professional colleague to volunteer to be the ship's barkeep.
Completely amazing likeness, right? Mobile technology is the absolute best. I would say some boat stuff here, but really I confuse sailors with pirates all the time. Arrgh! That ship is yar!
5. This caused me to hum the theme to my favorite Boat Show ever.
Today's post is about allergies and diet and acupressure... which brings us back to the whole reason why I had all this saved up stuff to share with you, dear readers.
Damn you, American Elm. Damn you and your seed, but thank you for your beauty and grandeur.
Well, she's starring in a new video. I didn't want to like the video on account of how I am not all into babies and whatnot. I am not, for example, the audience for in utero jewelry. But, drat, this is just too amazingly cute.
Sake, you and I know you are the real star of the film. Now, all I have to do is convince Kevin that we need to make our own version. I nominate him to push. I'll play the Sake role. Our body types are more similar.
Last week, Hip Hop Wear, the clothing wholesaler downstairs from my office, was closed by the fuzz for "sale of trademark counterfiet merchandise." I imagine this means they were busted selling suits by Fobo, jackets by Rockawere, and Winged Victory of Samothrace sneakers.
This is not terribly sad for me; I was not emotionally invested in Hip Hop Wear, and I am sure another wholesaler will take the space soon enough. Maybe one of those wig sellers which could be super fun. (Who wants in on a wholesale wig order?)
Really, it just made me Remember. Back in the twentieth century, I came back from a trip to Alaska to find that both drug-front bodegas downstairs from my Avenue B home had been closed by the Man. Again, this wasn't sad. It was surprising and the harbinger of things to come in the East Village, including $22 entrées and The Boxcar Lounge.
Of course, I don't really miss the East Village hipsters in my current hood, although we have plenty of our own brand of fashion divas who collect in gurgling pools on the side walks.
But, I do miss sitting at the bar in the Lakeside Lounge next to Sam Rockwell while doing my laundry and realizing, not counting his giant hair, we are about the same height. Even though he clearly has significantly better dance moves.
And that of course, reminds me of how much I love Crispin Glover. Yes, he is creepy and seems to have crazy head ALL THE TIME. But that nose is so amazing. I wish I had written this love song for Crispin Glover's jaw bones.
On this day, 99 years ago, tragedy struck New York. And on this day, today, once again, we remember thanks to some anonymous but very familiar-looking, chalking.
It strikes me as very important and weighty to remember the events that took place and the lives lost.
Those lives remind of us a New York now gone. These names and their ages and addresses, give us a snapshot both into a particular labor heritage we share as New Yorkers, and into an ethnic history now rapidly being erased by Lower East Side bars and NYU undergraduate class rooms.
And it reminds us how lucky we readers of this blog are to have fire escapes and unlocked doors and posters reminding us of our NEW YORK BREASTFEEDING rights.
Thanks, anonymous chalkers, for not letting us forget where we came from, of what's important, and how to make nice capital G's.
I'll be working on a dance for the 100th anniversary next year. Stay tuned.
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