Hump Day Odyssey

So Wedesday night was my first time in Jersey City. Two (ok, one) people I kind of know from the Theo School at Drew were having a graduation party at their professor's apartment in The Jerz City. It was a cool place and the party turned out to be a lot of fun though Sarah (who rode with me) and I were afraid it might be lame or just plain weird since we didn't know the other people that well. But Brandon was there and the Theo students/professors were very cool.

Something that makes me proud of Alabama: One of the Theo school's coolest and best looking professors (so I hear second-hand having no experience with the Theo school) is from Alabama. Birmingham originally, still has family there and visits often. Mmmm, and one of the most ruggedly beautiful gay men I've ever seen. Funny, trendy dresser, very genuine and Columbia-educated. And to top of all that coolness, he's taking a sebatical next year to adopt a Guatamalan baby. Hoping that he never has cause to read this, I'll try to keep my admiration secret by not using his name and simply refering to him by his student-chosen monaker, Hot Toddy.

Say-rah and I were planning to go into the city to see Beat the Devil--Mishka Shubaly's band, or the band that he plays bass for--after the party but Sarah was having a great time flirting with this guy and drinking red wine and didn't want to leave. I was having a good time too though not drinking at all since I got a virus the Friday before and was not feeling up to par, so I didn't mind staying.

About 11:00, I discovered that the guy Sarah was flirting with was kind of spoken for, so I insisted that we leave right then. This was after Sarah was more than a little into the sauce, had spilled red wine on her shirt (though she did have another one to put over it) and, at one point--this is very funny--was actually spilling wine on the floor while trying to wipe up the initial wine she spilt. Very self-fulfilling prophesy kind of humor. So when we get out of earshot of the apartment, I tell Sarah the kinda-spoken-for man situation which she continues to ponder for a few hours.

And when I say a few hours, that's how long it took us to get to out destination in Manhattan. Pulling away from the party, I realized I had no idea how to get from Jersey City to the Holland Tunnel (for those of you not familiar with Jersey geography, Jersey City is right across the river from Manhattan), so it was very frustrating. After about 20 minutes of being lost, we made it through the Holland Tunnel.

Funny thing about being underground, you have no sense of direction when you come out. Or at least I don't. And though I've driven to the Lower East Side a few times, I'm still not familiar enough to get there without a navigator. And she was drunk.

We drove around for too long being turned in the wrong direction or caught in construction, but with Dale's help via cell phone and mapquest, we finally made it to Sin-e after midnight. The bands were breaking down, but Mishka was still there and we said hello. He told me how drunk he was (as usual) then said he "had something to show me by the EXIT sign" which happened to be down a hallway. Not knowing my No Making Out in Bars or Fraternity Houses Rule, this was his hopefully ironic and ridiculous was of asking me to make out with him. Ahhh, Mishka. It did not work and we soon after said goodbye with a promise to get together soon.

Though some of you may think that I'm just after Mishka to realize my dream of becoming a rockstar girlfriend, but I am actually interested in getting to know him (not specifically in the Biblical sense). I'm so intrigued by this guitar-wielding, fight-starting poet...

Sarah and I finished our beer and diet coke respectively and set out for home giggling all the way to the car about our adventure. And then, in the words of Robert Earl Keen, Sarah had "such a good time [that night], she had to take a nap."

I Wish Jesus Would Come and Bring Me French Fries

Work is really boring and I'm hungry. Cassandre, my cool and wonderful co-worker, says that the two of us are working Sundays "until Jesus comes back" because we've been on the Sunday schedule for a long time now. This, along with quietly making fun of students, has become our joke, so today, I want Jesus to come and bring me food.

Wouldn't that be nice: "Here are your cheese fries, Brooke. Just snack on those while I tidy up this Earth place and get rid of all the bad people. The good folks should be rounded up by the time you finish and we will ascend. Don't worry, you're in a suspended state of being right now in which you can enjoy the cheesy goodness with your physical senses while having none of your potential for motion sickness on the ride up."

Ahh, suspended states of being. And cheese fries brought to me by an exotic-looking man.

Rockstar Girlfriend

My hair is trying to kill me, well, just once. It is getting so long, I'm beginning to think of it as another entity. Don't get me wrong, I love my hair and don't want it to go anywhere (hear that Hair?), but it hasn't been long in like seven years, so this is different for me. I noticed the length of my hair a few months ago when I woke up one morning with a gentle choking feeling. However, I was lucky in three ways: 1) No one was actually choking me, 2) I did not appear to panic, 3)No one was there to watch me try desperately to keep from panicing. It was just my hair wrapped around my neck.

Since then, I have to be careful not to lie uncomfortably on my hair and to keep ponytail holders and clips nearby at all times 'cause this much hair, folks, can get out of control and/or real hot at any moment. I even have to do this weird super-high ponytail thing when I run that involves a ponytail-bun hybrid so my hair doesn't annoy the crap out of me and swish over the back of my ears when I run. I was a cheerleader, but I'm not that prissy.

Ok, enough about how hard it is to have long, blonde, rockstar girlfriend hair.

A shower tragedy: So I was taking a shower the other day (no, a pizza delivery guy did not show up) and using my favorite Flying Fox shower gel from LUSH that I just bought last weekend. Seriously, this is the best stuff; when I smelled it for the first time at LUSH in Chicago, I knew it was the bath product I had been looking for all my life. I believe in destiny because of Flying Fox. Back to the shower. I was placing the 20 oz. bottle (not only does LUSH know I need this stuff, but they provide it for me in huge amounts) back on my wire rack that hangs on the showerhead when my fingers malfunctioned. I watch the bottle drop in slow motion but could not bear to look and had my eyes closed when I heard it hit the tile floor and splinter. The plastic bottle--plastic, folks--broke like glass as the jasmine and honey scented liquid puddled on the tile. I salvaged about 1/3 of the stuff 'cause the top of the bottle was still intact, so now, the precious remainder of it is stored upside down in the shower. Plus side: The bathroom has smelled like it ever since.

That afternoon, I dropped by second item as I was carrying my water glass back into the kitchen. Same drill. I closed my eyes and held still until all the breaking was finished. Then I got the broom. Something was definately wrong that day, but luckily the problem has not manifested itself again. *knock on wood* Sarah told me that water retention can swell women's fingers and make them more clumsy; I am thankful for this information because it explains 1/4 of my life.

The Weather: The weather here has been fairly warm but kinda rainy. This is fine except for the fact that I can't do my paranoid topless roof tanning when it's raining or when it's too cold. Why isn't it hot here yet? My granny would say that it's a sign of The End of the World, and I would start to hope that The World would make it long enough for me to go to college.

Great News: I got move-in date! Ooohhh, the new apartment is going to be so clean...and it starts on June 9th. I cannot express how happy I am to be moving, but I'm sure you'll be able to infer my feelings upon hearing about all the new stuff I'm gonna buy. Oh, buying stuff, how I love you.

Savannah Cats!

No it's not a version of one of the most popular Broadway musicals ever. It's the name (or general term for) of my newest dream pet. The exclaimation point is simply to show excitement 'cause these animals are so cew-elle. (Pronunciation of the last word brought to us by Elias, one of the precious twins that I babysit. He used it last week when I brought my guitar to his house. He would worshipfully strum the strings as it lay in the case and whisper "that is so cew-elle").

Yes, back to the savannah cats. Apparently, they are hybrids of the African serval and the domestic cat that look super impressive and very wild-animal while requiring no special habitat, diet or treatment. They are 20 pound housecats that look like something off a Mutual of Omaha show. Totally safari-cuddly fun.

I spent a good amount of time at work yesterday (cause there was nothing to do, not because I'm a slacker) researching these magnificent creatures and finding out where I could get one. There are breeders all over, but the things are kinda expensive at $3,000-$4,000 for an F-1 or first generation serval-cat hybrid. The prices decrease as the F's increase because less of the cat is actually a "wild" animal. (Kate, do you need one of these as your second kitty?)

Fun Fact: Servals are also kept as pets and will stand up against you to paw around for food in your pockets. That is one of the cutest things I've ever heard.

So now I spend my spare time daydreaming about taking a dog-sized cat for walks on a leash. And I bet none of you would laugh at me the way you did when you saw Sherman on a leash. Oh, Sherman that ran away to join a band of renegade kitties...how I miss you.

"This is Netflix, My Boyfriend"

Lots of friends and family from home ask me the question that seems to encompass the success of my whole life, "Dating anybody?" Though I treat it casually and almost always say "Nah" because of my need for privacy since my mom read my journal in seventh grade then gave me a talk on how making out with boys was wrong and because of my family's tendency to assume I'm on the road to marriage with some guy simply because I've mentioned his name (a rarity since I don't talk about boys too much). It's a vicious cycle of being kinda sneaky, keeping my sanity,and giving anyone I might be dating a little peace in knowing that they won't be tracked down by my father and forced to confess their intentions (that actually wouldn't happen, but boys seem to have this misconception of my dad). My mother always tiptoes around the subject with me, tries hard not to ask too many questions as to offend me, and is very thankful when I share even the smallest amount of information with her. But I've starting seeing someone who's wonderful, and I'm proud to tell my mother about him.

"Mom, meet Netflix. He and I have been seeing each other for a few months now, and he's wonderful."

It's true. I'm dating a DVD's-in-the-mail movie service. Luckily, I'm not the only woman who relies on technology for companionship (no, not that kind of electronic device).

Miranda, of Sex and the City, recently confessed in a rerun on TBS that she too had dated outside her species for a while. Her boyfriend's name was Tivo, and she just went on and on about how she was having fun with the girls--Carrie, Charlotte and Samantha--while her understanding man was home taping her favorite shows for her. AND he even recorded things that she might like to see based on previous preferences she had told him. He does sound wonderful, and when she admits that she's dating an electronic recording device, I wanted to stand with her and proclaim my total satisfaction with my own man.

Netflix even let's me see other men who I'm attracted to. Right now, Ewan McGregor and Eddie Izzard are on the way to my apartment. And I can keep them for as long as I want and Netflix never gets angry. He's there with my when I cry over sappy movies, when I laugh and the funniness of people and when I hate a movie enough to stop watching it midway through. He always agrees with me and supports my decisions. And all I have to do is pay for it. Wait...is my boyfriend a prostitute?

My Second Spring (then I get nostalgic)

I'm really enjoying the change of seasons in New Jersey. It's something that didn't happen in Alabama; we'd have cool weather, two weeks of temperate weather, then about six months of can't-breathe-cause-it's-so-hot weather. So this is only my second spring ever, and the feeling of hope and promise that comes with the world getting green again is really something--how I know what all the literary fuss (poems and whatnot) has been about. I was just living in a climate zone that inhibited my understanding of these weather changes and of various other social and cultural issues that are too numerous to mention.

BRUCE....just bought tickets to see Bruce Springsteen in his homestate of New Jersey and I'm totally excited about it. Actually my day has been pretty good. I babysat the twins this morning until about 2:00. I was given a child-crafted small clay pot (made by Hannah who, incidentally, is a palindrome) and had a lovely picnic with Sophia and Elias that included pb&strawberry jelly sandwiches, mac and cheese, apples and Amelia Bedelia books. Then I returned to my apartment for some topless roof tanning where I was extremely paranoid of being found out until I passed out for about thirty minutes. The older I get, the better I am at naps. But I guess in the grand scheme of things, that works.

These days, I'm just looking forward to moving and shopping for new stuff. Oh, you people know how I love the latter activity. I'll be buying a kitchen table and chairs and maybe a new bed. And maybe a chest of drawers. I'm so ready to have a clean house that I like to live in which has not been the case for at least the past two years. Probably three. I liked living by myself in that little apartment in Troy. Very good memories there.

Tonight I'll probably watch a movie and reminisce about our Troy Cinco de Mayo party two years ago. Yeah, two years ago. We were right, our lives have changed totally since then.

I Got It From Kate

So I suppose I've caught the blog blahs from Kate. Not too much has been going on lately though except me working at Kaplan and trying to get motivated again about my thesis. Right now I have zero desire to finish the thing--now I get why some people never finish their degrees.

Tonight is the last night of my SAT class that's been going on since February. That's far too long to deal with spoiled high school kids after they've been in school all day. I also started tutoring an ESL student yesterday; she's very nice and smart and much better at English than I would be at Korean.

Ok, so I did do one cool thing...go see a taping of The Daily Show last Tuesday.

Jon Stewart was totally funny and gracious. Came out and answered some questions before the show. During the breaks he just played air drums with his pen, talked to the crew and bobbed his head to the kinda loud, very rockin' music--ya know, keeping himself pumped. Tom Selleck, the guest, was funny and attractive. It was strange to see the person who was probably my first sex symbol (Magnum PI) in person.

But the best part was toward the end right before the check-in w/Stephen Colbert. JS and SC are satellite linked during the break and are just talking and making fun of each other and of what they're doing. I will try to recreate some of it:

Both of them wondered how much it would freak their writers out if the writers knew that they didn't read the cards until they were on air. SC threw his cards over the counter in a gesture to prove that he didn't need them.
JS "How do you want to do this Stephen [in the absence of the pre-written cards/dialogue]
SC "Hot and hard, baby. Hot and hard"

JS "Tell the audience where you'll be on Saturday"
SC "The White House"

JS "Who will you be sitting with on Saturday?"
SC "The President of the United States."

JS "And who will you be making fun of on Saturday?"
SC "The President of the United States."

It was fabulous.