Cleaning Out the Inbox: old

"Ladies,

Its almost one in the morning, and I cannot sleep, which both sucks and blows, since I am exhausted and quasi-sick (where "quasi" is pronounced with the long "a" sound like those crazy Brits would say it) and NEED to be in bed, since I have to get my ass up early and go back to work tomorrow. Cut my face off.

I just got back from 5 magnificent days in NYC, visiting my BFF and subsequently her fiancé since she lives with him. It was marvelous and fantastic. I'd never been to NYC (or as I call it know, "London-lite"), which is shocking, appalling, no one can believe it, blahblahblah. But I learned several things there, which I think I should share with you in my current sleepless blunderings, so here goes:

1-Life is the Subway. It's always changing or not running local stops, and no matter what the map says you should do, it really is a crap shoot and a strange man might rub up on you. You think you have it all figured out, and then you find yourself on the A-train to Harlem. But if you ask, people will help you, and then you can tell people you Took the A Train, just like Duke Ellington.

2-Immigrants are fucking brave. Why do I know this? Because I barely survived a 15 minute ferry ride to Ellis Island. Picture if you will, a VA girl, in a t-shirt and jeans, since it was 80 degrees in DC, and you would think it wouldn't be windy and cold as hell in NY. But it is windy as hell, and you're freezing, and you are seasick from a 15 minute ferry ride to Liberty/Ellis Island. So, I am moaning and praying to not puke atop the sun deck of the Miss New Jersey. I am made fun of by those in my entourage, and rightly so. But I take it a step farther by musing aloud about how "this is what it must have been like for our ancestors who came over here on steamships-even the view is the same!". I am duly thrown overboard by my friends into the river, and it is lucky that I am wearing my foam Statue of Liberty crown, since it keeps me afloat and I do not drown/die. This last part is of course total bollocks, as I was not thrown overboard, but I DID purchase a foam statue of liberty crown, and I DID proudly wear my mass-produced diadem for the rest of the day. And it is interesting that NO ONE else bought a foam crown. And there were lots of kids there, and stupid people from states-that-begin-with-I that you would think would wear such trollop. But no. Just me. And her. And her fiance cause she made him, but that lasted like 2 minutes.

I licked the Statue too, for Cari. I told her that, but now you all know too.
I also quotes Ghostbusters II, upon viewing it for the first time ("I wonder if she is naked under that toga"- CLASSIC).

3-People are both shameless and stupid when it comes to money. Shameless because they sell tickets to a show where you cannot see the freaking stage. And stupid because we buy them anyway. (I saw 95% of Spamalot on Broadway. The 5% I did not see was anything cut off by the upper balcony blocking my view. However, if you wish to think of it in a more positive light, I saw 100% of the show that took place in the front bit of the stage).

Um, yea, I can't draw parallels anymore…

I continue in my quest to grow out my hair as fast as possible, after cutting it rather short and being asked if I were a lesbian when I went to my friend's party back in July and literally was the only non-lesbian there (besides Ekoko and this one French guy). I know its silly and makes no sense and I was probably asked if I were not a lesbian since I literally was surrounded by them, but I am silly and often make no sense and have decided I must have long hair again. So I am still on my prenatal vitamins to make my hair GROW. I ran out of them right before NY and all my nails broke and I got quasi-sick. Coincidence? I think not...

Anyway, I hope you all are doing well, and more importantly, are ASLEEP, since it is way too late for anyone of slightly sound mind to be awake."


October 2006

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Economy Watch (Or, an Exercise in Parentheses)

Musings of a First Year Teacher

Waiting for Other People: A tragicomedy in two acts