False alarm.

You know what's embarrassing? Finishing up the decorating for your Stake YSA Halloween party around 10:30pm and accidentally setting off the fire alarm. And then you're frantically fanning the smoke detectors while someone else calls the bishop to ask what we should do and others suggest just running away. And when you finally get the alarm to stop for good, you freeze on your way to the elevator to go home--are those sirens? And you get down to the lobby and there are half a dozen firefighters coming through the front doors, and not only are there two fire trucks parked right outside, but there are two more blocking the intersection at 3rd avenue, and people are milling about across the street to watch the spectacle. And all you really have to say for yourself is, "Sorry, officer, it was an accident. Things just got a little out of hand with the fog machine."

Victory.

After two unsuccessful attempts at the standby line:

DATE/TIME: Dec. 8, 2008; 05:30 PM
# OF TICKETS: 2

Dear LAURA:
CONGRATULATIONS! In response to your ticket request to attend a live taping of Late Night with Conan O'Brien, we are pleased to confirm the above reservation.


This time, Jeff and I have opted to go with sleeping in warm beds in lieu of standing in the cold rain outside Rockefeller Center at 6:30am. Good decision.

This is just getting cruel.

WHY IS THIS MOVIE NOT COMING OUT UNTIL JULY?



P.S. You must watch until the very end.

Yes, I am a (nearly) 24-year-old professional adult woman, why do you ask?

Campaigning.

"No Drama Obama. We gotta have No Drama Obama. 'You're insane if you vote for McCain.' I made that one up. 'No Drama Obama.' Sounds good, right?"

From now on, I am taking all my political advice from random dudes on the bus. This guy sounded exactly like Louis Armstrong.

Autumn in New York.

On my run in Central Park on Saturday, I noticed that the leaves are finally starting to change color. It made for a nice palette to enjoy and to distract me as I ran. By the time I got to the reservoir (one of my favorite places in the park), the sun was starting to set. The light was shimmering brilliantly on the water with the red, orange, and golden trees lining the edge and the Manhattan skyline rising up behind.

You know, New York, there are times every once in a while when I think that maybe I'm falling out of love with you. Mostly it's at 1 in the morning when I am willing the train to come so I can get home, or when I realize that half of my income disappears into my rent check, or when I am just so tired of there being so many people everywhere all the time. But then you inevitably pull something like this that reminds me of how amazing you are, and I know that I didn't really mean it at all.

"He is a transformational figure, he is a new generation coming onto the world stage."

I'm not usually one to blog about politics, but I thought this was an interesting turn of events in this election. Colin Powell, a Republican and former Secretary of State under George W. Bush, as well as a long-time friend of John McCain, endorsed Obama this morning on Meet the Press. The video is worth a watch if you have a minute.

Curious.

So I've been on a random period piece kick, what with the books I'm reading and the movies I've been watching lately. It started with The Duchess and continued when I rented Tristan and Isolde for funsies (in case you were wondering, it is not good). As you can see, the actual time period matters little, as long as there are costumes and preferably some sort of connection to the British Isles. Anyway, my Netflix account is on to me, and has started making suggestions based on recent additions to my queue. Which brings us to today:


Hmmm.

Money laundering.

This morning on my way to work, I dropped my laundry off at the laundromat near my subway stop. I've been doing this for months, because it's only a few bucks more and it saves me a lot of time and I figure, my precious time is worth a few dollars. At work, I get a voicemail from the lady who runs the place (please imagine in a thick Dominican accent for full authenticity):

"Hi Laura [the 'au' pronounced like 'ow'], I am from the cleaners. We have your credit card here, okay? Bye."

I am puzzled. Why would she have my card? I never take it out of my wallet unless I'm using it, and the laundromat only takes cash. And anyway, I don't pay until I pick up my clothes, so I wouldn't have even opened my purse when I was there. But I get out my wallet and sure enough, my debit card is gone. How could this have happened? And then I remember: yesterday, when I was home sick, I had put my debit card in my jeans pocket when I made a quick run to the store for some tissues, orange juice, and ice cream (what? it felt good on my sore throat). And those jeans are now at the laundromat. I also remember there is a $20 bill in the pocket as well. Crap. So I call back:

"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Laura, you just called about my debit card?"
"Yes, yes, Laura, we have your card. I keep it here for you."
"Thank you! There was also a $20 bill in the pocket, did you find that?"
"Hmmmm, no. No 20 dollars. I will check, but I am busy right now." *click*

So I figure, awesome. There's 20 bucks I'll never see again. That's what I get for being careless. A few minutes later, I'm calculating how many more containers of ice cream I could have bought with that money (the answer is eight - Breyer's is on sale this week) when I get another call:

"Hello? This is Laura."
"Hi Laura, I find your 20 dollars in the wash. I have it here."
"Oh great, thank you!"
"Yes, yes, I washed your 20 dollars for you!"

Heh. She seemed extremely amused, and then asked, "You just have too much money?" Exactly. I can't keep track of all the money overflowing from my pockets, my wallet's too small for my fifties, and my diamond shoes are too tight.

Chihuahua!

You guys, it is #1 at the box office. I weep for humanity.

In related news, I saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist this weekend, and I really liked it. Cute and hilarious, a sort of Juno-ish feel (and oh, hey, it has Michael Cera too!) but with more natural, fresh writing. Then we wandered around the East Village and ended up at 16 Handles, which... I want to pay them rent and I want to live there forever. Self-serve fro yo (16 different flavors) with tons of toppings; you cram whatever you want into your bowl, and then they weigh it and charge you accordingly. I got cookies and cream, chocolate, and cheesecake fro yo with... well, I can't remember all the toppings I got, but I'm pretty sure there were Cocoa Krispies involved, among other things. Heaven.

Saturday night, Rachel and I tried (successfully!) for the In The Heights ticket lottery, and found ourselves in the front row. I was seated next to a young man with such beautiful blue eyes and shaggy dark hair that it made the Australian accent almost superfluous. His name was Edward (of course) and he was smiling and flirting so much that I was convinced marriage was imminent. By the end of intermission, we even had inside jokes about the groundbreaking french horn-based rock band we were going to start. And then as the curtain closed at the end of the show, he leaned over and said, "It was lovely to meet you," and walked away without a backward glance. Tragic. I will therefore assume that he was either gay or a vampire. One of the two. But the show was good! And as I actually live in The Heights I expected to see a pale red-headed character walking by and getting called "Snowflake" at any moment. Maybe they need extras?

World Class.

Thank you for calling Ticketmaster. All of our agents are currently busy helping other customers. Your call will be handled by the next available agent.

[several minutes of irritating lite-rock guitar hold music]

“Thank you for calling Ticketmaster, how may I help you?”

“I bought a ticket two months ago for the Ben Folds concert at Terminal 5 tonight, and along with the ticket purchase there was an iTunes pre-order for his new album. I was supposed to get an email yesterday telling me how to download the album, but I never got it.”

“Okay, let me find out what’s going on with that. Please hold.”

[several minutes of irritating lite-rock guitar hold music]

“Okay, ma’am. It looks like when you bought the ticket, you were taken to a page where there should have been a banner that you could click to download your tracks. Did you not see that?”

“No, those were the two bonus tracks I got when I pre-ordered the album. The actual album came out yesterday, and the confirmation email said I would receive instructions to download the album, which I’ve already paid for. I did not receive anything.”

“Okay, let me transfer you to Customer Service.”

“I thought this was Customer Service.”

[hold music]

“Thank you for calling Ticketmaster, how may I provide you with World Class Service today?”

[repeat entire explanation of problem]

“Let me look into that for you. One moment please.”

[endless eternities of lite-rock guitar hold music]

“Okay, what you need to do is email Customer Service, and they can send you the information you need.”

“Isn’t THIS Customer Service? Are you saying you can’t help me at all?”

“I can email them for you right now, if you want to hold for a few minutes.”

“[Sigh.] Never mind. Thank you so much for your ‘help’.”



Upon reflection, I don’t think she could sense my sarcastic air quotes over the phone.