Good Gravy, Man!

Holy smokes- I've been up to my eyeballs in work. But it's good- just no time for anything else (which will probably concern me in a couple of weeks).

Was walking to Port Authority last night, waiting at the light, right? Well, this mounted cop, pulling another horse behind him is coming up on the right of this cab. The cabbie starts to turn right as the first horse is almost infront of the cab. Mind you, this guy has his windows open, so one would assume he heard the clip-clop of the hooves. And they're not giraffes, for fuck sake, you don't just see legs out the windshield. So he starts to go, and the cop has to reign the horse back, startling everyone/animal involved and screams, "What are you, BRAINDEAD?! PAY ATTENTION!!" All us pedestrians got a good chuckle as we think the same thing of cabs on a regular basis. I thought for sure the cop would have dismounted had there not been another horse in tow....

So I get into PA, and theres a woman walking along with a cane (to catch a bus home, I assume) in four inch heeled boots. All I have to say about that is: Jersey Girls: Best in the World!

Enjoy your "We'll embrace you with one arm while stabbing you in the back with the other" holiday. To make it even more shallow, I'm just thankful there's a four day weekend involved.

Funny That...

Last night I dreamt about taking off in a plane and was eerily calm about it. Strange, cause in real life, I have to be whacked out on a few stiff cocktails with a fist full of Dramamine.

As the date gets closer (Dec 31st), I grow more and more excited to move in with my man, even though this will be the fifth time since 2001 that I've changed residences.

In keeping up with this season's fashion, the women in my office have been sporting pins on their lapels, sweaters, etc. So I decided to root through my grandmother's jewelry to see what I had (I've forgotten since it's been packed away in a box for two years cause, well, see above paragraph). Not only did I discover some lovely broaches- I unearthed some menage a trois poloroids that I apparently hid so well, I couldn't find them for the life of me (And were to be destroyed before moving in with the last boyfriend).

Whew!

So I took them to work, blacked them out with a Sharpie, cut them into little tiny pieces, put them all into a pile and mixed thoroughly, placed handfulls in seven different envelopes and disposed of each (respectively) in the trash cans of New York City.

A bit excessive? Perhaps. Hopefully I wasn't followed and put on some sort of terrorist list (and if you freeze the film on frame 246...). But mostly, my man can't see those pictures. It's bad enough there's a video of me out there...somewhere....

Bye-Bye, Lardass

So, for the past few mornings, I've been walking down 42nd Street to get to work for one reason or another and a few days ago, I noticed the DEA Museum right at the beginning of Times Square. In the lobby is the front half of a smashed car with several bongs strewn about the place. First of all, nobody takes a bong along for a joy-ride. You roll a joint or pack a bowl. I mean, seriously. Secondly, where are the bottles of booze? Rarely is there that severe of an accident without alcohol involved.

But the bit that really galls me: Wreckage of the WTC from September 11th with a banner ontop that reads, "Drug Trafficking, Terrorists and You."

Somebody pah-lese explain to me what the fuck scoring a sack has to do with a pack of batty scourges on a suicide mission?! HMMM? Because I can't wrap my head around it....

Then Drop On The Deck and Float Like a Fish!

I can't wait to take my niece to see the SpongeBob movie. Although, I may have to thow back a few first in order to deal with the other kids in the theatre.

And I simply must see The Incredibles. And I can't wait for A Life Aquatic.

Ah, me.

On another note, most of the XXXMas shopping is done. Since Mercury will be in retrograde from Nov 30th to Dec 20th, it may jack up the holiday shopping....

Speakin of which, my man took me to Peddler's Village this weekend. All Mom and Pop stores right in a row. Found lots of fun stuff. And did lots more fun stuff in the back of his car in the dark, dark parking lot after everyone split.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

*On Monday, my boss is giving away a Turducken for Thanksgiving (delivered to your door via FreshDirect with all the trimmings) to an employee. He's basically putting all our names in a hat and picking one lucky, lucky bastard.

*My landlord is being a real twat about this move. Trying to say I have to pay for ad and credit check fees. Um, yeah....no. Little does she know, I have a bevy of lawyers at my fingertips. They helped me find the statutes stating exactly what I'm responsible for (ie- the rest of the rent if no one moves in before my lease expires). AND in New Jersey, the state law requires the landlord to refund the deposit regardless if I move out before the lease is up. I highly doubt they will (since there's a clause in our lease that I forfeit the deposit- but the lawyers assured me the state law takes precedence) within 30 days, in which case I may sue for double the amount, heh-heh.

*And not so lucky was one of my pregnant co-workers (her belly's so huge, it doesn't even look real anymore) on the lovely W train back to Brooklyn. Obviously with child and left standing, some women next to her addressed a man in the closest seat, "Why don't you get up for her?" His response:

I didn't get her pregnant.

Well then, Checkers can keep you company in Hell

So, I purposely didn't initiate the "lets move in together" talk since A) my boyfriend owns a condo and B) he has cats. What was I supposed to say, "Uh, ya wanna move into my too-small-for-the-price apartment and get rid of your pets?" No. I let him decide when it was time and ask me.

The other night, in a drunken moment, I hastily brought up the subject of his remaining cat. I basicly asked for him to hurry it up so I can move my stuff in at my own pace. Okay- maybe I could have done it with a little more tact. Naturally, he questioned the sincerity of my concern for his feelings (re: giving up his pal). And he started in with, "Everyone I talk to says 'I would never give up my pets!'" To which I indignantly declared, "I didn't know I was getting into a relationship with you and everybody."

Yeah, I know- bad move. But hey- my only defense is that line came out after four 22oz beers, a bottle of champagne and three rum and cokes. Not that it's really an excuse...but anyway...

Blah, blah, blah- long story short, we made up with sloppy, drunken sex. Tasty.

But here's my problem with the situation, and I've heard this more than once. I really, really, really can't stand people who would so brazenly declare to anyone who'll listen that an animal companionship could supersede a human one. (Especially ones filling my man's head with that poison). If you really don't like people that much- fine. Keep it to yourself like all the other misanthropes and die a lonely death that no one notices until your "buddies" have devoured half your corpse.

Thank You. Come again!

So, I was in Starbucks this morning (don't hold it against me, I'm addicted to Chai lattes), in the queue. And I look over to my left- and guess who's on line next to me?!

Ga head, guess.....

HANK AZARIA!

And he happened to be looking in my direction (not that I thought he was checking me out like Tim Roth or anything) when that moment of, "OH MI GAWD, THAT'S HANK AZARIA," came to my face. All I could do was smile and demurely say, "Hi Hank." He smiled back, waved and gave me a, "Hello," in that pseudo-Frinkian voice of his.

This is the part I'm proud of because my brain usually freezes in these situations- I said, "I love your Guatemalaness" in that crazy accent. He laughed and thanked me. That amped me all day- returning the favor to someone who has brought the funny for years.

Blue Tulip Nation!

I tell ya, man- a four day weekend does wonders....

At the Halloween Parade, some guy covered himself in stickers that said, "Re-Defeat Bush." Oh well.

Also, a darling friend pointed out that some of the greats didn't make it to Thirty-three: John Belushi, Jesus. Very important age, indeed.

Speaking of my birthday, may I brag for just a moment? My only bought me a little trinket for my neck- dropped two hunnies on it. This is the first time a man has ever given me jewelry that wasn't a genuine diamelle.