Sunday, March 30, 2008

I doubt more than four people will care about this post.

Oh, also: what is the deal with Bravo trying to copy my favorite guilty pleasure shows? First they rip off Top Model with that Make Me A Supermodel show, and now I keep seeing ads on the subway for Step It Up And Dance, which appears to be a poor man's version of the greatest show ever, So You Think You Can Dance. And as if that weren't enough, it is hosted by JESSIE SPANO, you guys. And Elizabeth Berkley is described on the site as a "celebrated actress and dancer" which... really? Being in Saved By The Bell and Showgirls warrants that description?

Whatever, Bravo. I love Project Runway as much as the next girl, but this is too far. TOO FAR.

Pounding pavement.

So I have discovered my new Saturday activity - running in Central Park (I know, I am clearly a true New Yorker to have discovered this secret gem. I should write a guide book!). I'd wanted to do it ever since I moved here, but the constant state of frigidness kind of ruled that out. However, yesterday it was a positively balmy 45 degrees and sunny, so my decision was clear. I started at the northwest corner of the park and took the road that weaves around the outer rim (Park Drive, I think it's called?). The entire path is a little over 6 miles, and I managed to make it a good 4.5 before walking the rest of the way (in my defense, I hadn't been running at all in about 3 months and it's surprisingly hilly in places, so I was feeling pretty good). It was a really nice route, so I'm excited to do it many more times.

Then last night, I got invited to a giant game of capture the flag on the streets of Harlem with a big group of people from my ward, and it was just as awesome as it sounds. The area of play was huge - about 15 blocks long and four avenues wide - so we would text our teammates with the locations of the flags (there were 3 per team) or text our captain and the refs (oh yes, we had refs) when we got one back to our base. Some sixteen-year-old kids from the neighborhood saw us splitting into teams and asked if they could join, which was awesome - Peter and Shaq were our teammates, and they completely rocked it. Sadly, our team fell just short of victory, with a final score of 4-5.

Anyway, it was really fun, but between running the park during the day and running around Harlem all night, I woke up this morning and my body felt like it weighed 9,000 pounds. I don't think I have ever been so sore in my LIFE. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best way to ease back into a regular exercise routine, but it sure seemed like a good idea at the time.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Mad props, part deux.

Some more things to which I wish to pay tribute (in no particular order):

1. My family. I feel like I've heard a lot of people (mostly coworkers) talk recently about what a drag it is to visit their families, and how they can't stand being home for more than two days at a time. To which I must say, I am sorry your family is not as cool as mine. When my family is together, we play Rock Band, we take sweet vacations to exotic locales, we mock each other, we eat delicious food, we have witty banter, we play alphabet games involving a clergyman's cat, we see good movies, and we hug quite a lot. In short, we are awesome. So good job, family.

2. The Girl Scouts of America. I started jonesing for Girl Scout cookies a couple of weeks ago, and was seriously at the point where I was looking up the nearest troop to see where I could order some Thin Mints. As fate would have it, one of the interns at work has a sister who is a Girl Scout. She brought the order form in to work and by the end of the day had over $300 worth of cookie orders. Heh. (To be clear: that was not just my order.) So this afternoon at work I sat reading script pages for an upcoming episode of one of my favorite shows (studios sometimes send them with the license requests so the approval parties can see how the songs are going to be used), drinking a Diet Coke and munching on Thin Mints, and pondered what a wonderfully pleasant day it was.

3. David Charles Ostler. This little hooligan turned 16 today.

Happy Birthday, dude.

4. And last but not least, my cousin Lisa, who is a new mom. Congratulations!

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Why books are bad.

So a few days ago I leave work and am waiting in the subway for my train home. I am excited because I've managed to make it to the station by 6:06, and the C train normally comes between 6:08 and 6:11 and then doesn't come again for like 10 minutes. The C and E trains run on the same track until they diverge at 50th street, and there is usually an E train that comes through just before my C. Sure enough, the E whizzes past as I'm coming onto the platform, so I pull my book (The Time Traveler's Wife, v. good so far) out of my purse and smile at my good fortune. Two minutes later I am absorbed in my book when the train comes, and I step on and away we go. By 34th street some seats have freed up, and I settle in to read comfortably for the duration of the trip, as is my wont.

About 20 minutes into the ride I realize there must be only a few stops left before my station, so I glance up from my book to see where we are. The doors have just closed on an unfamiliar looking station, and I realize with dawning horror that I am three stops into QUEENS. All of my satisfaction and enjoyment have dissolved into despair and I cannot believe I didn't notice that it was another E train that I had boarded, and not the C train that held the sweet, sweet promise of dinner and pajama pants. Anyway, I mentally grumble that I'll just have to get off at the next stop and double back. As if it could be so simple. At that moment, the train shudders to a stop and the lights flicker and the conductor announces in a tinny voice that we will be moving again shortly. I am foolish to believe him. Twenty minutes later, the large lady who was standing in front of me has wedged her way into the small space on the bench next to me and is laughing loudly at the conversation between the gentlemen on her other side and my rear is falling asleep and neck hurts and my book is seeming considerably less enjoyable and the conductor says that actually, there may be a bit more of a delay due to a passenger on the tracks at the next station. Also, there is a police investigation being conducted there, and he's not sure how long that will take. OUTSTANDING. I consider asking if the conductor would mind backing up to the previous station so I can get off, but ultimately I decide against it.

An hour and a half later, I arrive home after stopping at the grocery store for the ice cream that I feel is so richly deserved, and vow never to read ever again.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Mad props.

I think it's good to show appreciation every now and then for the things that bring a little extra joy to our lives. So here are some that I feel deserve a little recognition of late (in no particular order):

1. Daylight Savings Time, for making it so that it's still light outside when I leave work now (thus I am willing to overlook the fact that it left me feeling sleep-deprived all day).

2. My hair, for cooperating and looking especially good today.

3. The O.C. reruns on SoapNet, for supplying excellent topics for discussion with my boss by the copier and/or in the ladies' room.

4. The C-Town [Town] grocery, for having Dreyer's half-gallons on sale for $2.99.

5. New York in general, for being a fantastic place to live, despite (or because of?) the fact that our governor has been linked to a prostitution ring, our drinking water is laced with drugs, and my neighborhood is among those most affected by a "citywide syphilis surge."

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Random thoughts.

I still check the housing message board for the NYC singles wards from time to time. I don't know why... probably for the same reason I was looking at apartments on Craigslist for a year before I moved out here: I just like to see what's out there, for funsies. Anyway, the other day there was a post from a girl seeking an opening. Her maximum rent range was, I kid you not, "$300-$500." I laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed. And then I laughed some more. Perhaps I should offer to rent her my closet.

Last night I made my mom's lasagna recipe for what I think was the first time ever (I mean, I've helped her make it a thousand times, but I never bothered to cook it for just myself in college - I hadn't yet discovered the glory of leftovers). It turned out great, and I have decided that my mom's lasagna is like the Holy Grail of comfort foods - it's simple but delicious, and it reminds me of home more than probably any other meal (probably because we always request it when we come home to visit). I ate a large helping whilst watching America's Next Top Model (shut up) and it made for an excellent night.

I'm going to my first book club meeting tonight (yeah that's right, how grown up am I?). The book this month was The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It was written by the former editor of French Elle after a stroke left him with "locked-in syndrome," which basically means that he couldn't do anything but blink his left eye, and sometimes move his head back and forth. Sounds awful, I know, but it was really good and I recommend it. It's a quick read, too - it only took me about three hours (i.e. a few days' worth of commutes) to finish, and I'm a fairly slow reader, so there you go. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to discuss it in an extremely intelligent manner with some of my peers.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Shooting stars came out of my head when he danced with me.

Ross: Someone brought a basket of mini-muffins to work one time, and everyone went crazy over those little guys! It was the best day.
Chandler: Your work makes me sad.

The above quote from Friends pretty much sums up my Friday. Someone brought in mini-muffins, and it seriously was the best day. Does my work make you sad? But seriously folks, as I popped the little chocolate chip pastry into my mouth, I just had a feeling it would be a great day. And it was. I had a ton of work to do, which I always really like, because it makes the day go by faster and is far more interesting, not to mention the fact that I feel useful and productive. And really, I had my fill of "waste-all-day-on-Facebook" jobs when I was a temp. James Blunt came around 6 and played a few songs for us in our lobby. He did a good job, although he looked really nervous. Also, he is wee. After that, I met up with my roommate Megan at the concert, which was awesome! Sara Bareilles was absolutely amazing live. She sounded even better than she does on the CD (for those who know her music, she sang "Gravity" last and I got chills, it was so gorgeous). Anyway, from the concert we headed over to Times Square to meet our other roommate for a late showing of The Other Boleyn Girl (good not great), and I eventually crawled into bed around 2:30am.

Saturday was uneventful aside from the usual grocery shopping and laundry-doing. And then Megan and I watched one of the greatest movies of all time. It all started a couple of weeks ago when Megan said something (I can't even remember what... great story, right?) that prompted this conversation:

L: Oh man, that reminds me of this movie we used to watch when I was younger, The Slipper and the Rose...
M: You've seen that movie?
L: YOU'VE seen that movie?

Heh. Megan ended up buying it on DVD, and we had a fabulous time watching it on Saturday night. I couldn't believe how vividly I remembered it - the songs, the dance numbers, the chest-hair-bearing ruffly shirts - but it was as glorious as it was during my childhood, if not moreso. But really, how can a 1970s-era musical starring Richard Chamberlain that includes a song called "Protocoligorically Correct" go wrong? I submit to you that it cannot.


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