I have this joke with my bff S. that comes up pretty regularly nowadays. It all started the morning of January 1, 2009. She’d had a party at her apartment and I’d stayed over to avoid having to fight for a cab home at 4 am. I was lying in bed rather hungover/groggy, and she was reading the New York Times—in particular, a story on people found guilty of the torture and sex trafficking of young girls.
Also wise? This comment, re 14. “Drop It Like It’s Hot,” Snoop Dogg. “There’s a number of things ‘it’ could refer to in this song: I refuse to believe any of them but poop.”
As you know, my struggles are many and endless. But I’m not sure you really understand the challenges I face, nor the important (even life-or-death) questions that I confront and doggedly resolve on a daily basis. Often my duties also lie in encouraging and mentoring younger editors in their quest for perfect language.
Here is a glimpse, via IM, at my very particular joy—and my pain. As Uncle Ben (not the one of rice fame) once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.”
Believe it or not, YUD is working for two weeks straight outside of the confines of her own home. This is unprecedented! Kinda like the old days, except with bigger muscles and less money to show for it.
Today I’m in dreary east midtown, where the rains beat the windows spanning the 15th floor freelancer pen quite mercilessly. Of all the days to stay home, this would be a good one, but here I am. Working girl’s work never done, etc. etc. And, as my cab driver explained to me today (hey, I was running late), when the economy is bad, you have to work when you can. And also, when it rains it can really ruin your hairdo.
Happy Saturday! The firestarter (who it turns out is in the so-called care of adult protective services) is currently locked out, and I slept a full 10 hours last night.
Thus, my mood is rather cheery. And in honor of that, here’s an oldie (but, I think you’ll agree, still a goodie)….
Lots of drama last night. Remember the bed-burner I wrote about just yesterday? Well, she’s at it again. (The above is a not very good picture of my building surrounded by firemen, you know, those dudes with the reflective stuff.)
To recap: I went to the gym yesterday around 7, stayed for yoga until 9, and then came home, showered, and started to make dinner. I smelled something funny when I came in the building, but it was faint, and they’d been working on one of the apartments upstairs, so I figured it was related.
Update on the situation of weirdness yesterday in the apartment building: When I came home from the gym last eve I saw a mattress propped up outside for garbage collectors with a huge burn-hole in it. Which explains why the lobby smelled kinda … singed.
Apartment living! You think you can trust your neighbors not to burn the place down, and then you find out the truth.
Today is a weird day in my building. At 6 in the morning I was woken up by two men screaming at each other. Well, first I was woken up because there was this repeating thudding noise that somewhere in my brain I was trying to decipher—was it a woodcutter chopping wood? Someone slamming a door? It totally incorporated into my dream, in which I was somewhere in SE Asia on a bumpy road, sharing a bus seat with three people and hoping my iPod was on board.
At any rate, the dream dissolved when the one man started yelling at the other guy telling him to stop making the banging noise, which the accused man seemed to have no idea about whatsoever.
I simply adore a Tuesday that feels like a Monday that follows a three-day weekend, largely because it means we only have 3 more days until the next blessed weekend. When did I grow to love the weekend so much? Like, always!
The only bad thing about it is that, even if you worked on Monday and Sunday (or at least did a bit of work on each day to keep apace) you seem to just have even more to do. I have a lot to do. And frankly, I should be doing it instead of talking to you people, but I do love you people, you know. Even if I don’t always show it. Whoever you are. And even if you don’t read me with any regularity or think I have anything good to say, I still love you. Love is good. Some even say it is “the answer.”
Legends of the Fall was on again last night. Now, I don’t know if you’ve seen this movie, but I’d venture to guess that if you’ve seen even one movie, you’ve probably seen this one, since it came out during perhaps the peak of Brad Pitt (pre-Angie) hysteria, in 1994, when I was but an elderly high-school senior and Brad had yet to get serious with Gwynnie.
It’s on pretty regularly on channels like TBS and TNT. And it stars other rather famous people, like Aiden Quinn and Anthony Hopkins and the ill-fated Julia Ormond, whom I once saw shopping for hats at Barney’s and who is now starring in Lifetime movies. Which just goes to show that while men grow up to date Angelina Jolie, women … well, anyway.
photo credit: joysaphine
