Hello, buttercups! How was everyone’s week? I’m feeling moderately scattered but really, really looking forward to putting February behind us. March is already promising to ROAR in like a lion with a snowstorm this weekend but, like I’ve said many a time before, complaining about the weather is bo-ring soooo I’ll just do that silently and start working on a little voodoo dance to bring on the sunshine and warm weather.
I’ll video-tape it, I promise!
What else is new? Oscars are on Sunday!! I just realized that I saw literally two new movies in 2013, Her, which is actually awesome and a critically acclaimed gem and should win some awards and I feel very proud of myself for having seen it because generally speaking, I only like crap movies, and also The Hunger Games: Catching Fire which was, of course, a masterpiece and is being ROBBED by the academy! Robbed, I say.
My goal for 2014 is to see more smart person movies. So far I have one theater film under my belt and it is Disney’s Frozen so…off to a GREAT start, Liz.
It’s 9:30 AM and I can’t stop eating stale candy hearts.
I’m rambling. Let’s put a silencio on this nonsense and take a look at what was keeping it awkward this week:
This Subway Pole:
What I meant to grab a hold of to steady myself mid-commute.
What I actually grabbed: the handle of an umbrella a fellow commuter had tucked into the side pocket of his backpack.
He was NOT amused.
Photo obviously stolen from the internet, I was far too frazzled in the moment to snap an original masterpiece.
In my sister’s living room in South Philly.
Magnadoodle lives in the CUTEST row home in the Iladeph with a pal of hers and I stayed there on Friday night en-route to Etown for some family stuff. She was getting ready to set the couch for me to sleep on, but I was too chicken to sleep in the living room all by myself, so I made her let me sleep in her bed upstairs.
The couch was downstairs! All alone! RIGHT by the door and a giant picture window and just one room away from the kitchen which has another door which means there were at least three easy ways for murders to climb in and get me.
NO SIR I would not sleep there.
When I first moved to New York, people would ask me if I was scared to live in a such a big and dangerous city and the answer is always no way. Cities don’t scare me. I feel like there are so many people, the odds of me getting singled out by a serial killer is probably way less. I know that Law and Order should prove this theory incorrect BUT conversely, I’ve seen every single episode of Criminal Minds AND read In Cold Blood so I’m pretty confident in my assertion that the most psycho of killers love open space. The country? HORRIFYING. The bigger the house and the more space surrounding, I think the more opportunities for murderers to sneak up unnoticed and take me back to their Saw dungeon. Maggie’s house isn’t even remotely in the middle of nowhere, it’s a freaking row home, literally surrounded on all sides by other homes, most of them filled with older Italian grannies who love nothing more than spying out their front windows and would most certainly catch the predator before he entered the home and murdered me, but there was still no way JOSE I was sleeping on that couch.
I am a real treat to have around guys. A real treat!
Draft One of my extremely long Wedding To Do List. I wrote this out on the train from Pennsylvania last weekend with the help of my sister and then went home and typed it up.
(Allow me to quickly brag here that I am really, really good at making lists. Checking them off is more of a gamble but OH I can craft a finely detailed list like nobody’s business. I take weird pride in this skill so just wanted to toot my own horn a little bit. Keep that ego up, ya know?!)
Sometimes when I’m making lists or writing notes or just going about my day-to-day life, I’ll do little jokes with myself that make me laugh and are probably stupid but I crack myself up. This particular list was broken down into categories, the first of which was attire. Item one on the list was Liz’s Attire, so I wrote what I still need:
Shoes, Accessories and lingerie.
Lingerie I wrote just to be fancy, as my friend and I are currently working on patenting (DON’T STEAL IT!!!) a line of bedazzled bridal spanx so that future brides can feel festive and fancy while still keeping it tight.
Next on the list was Brian’s attire, so I wrote: Shoes, Suit, Shirt, Tie …and then just to make myself laugh, I added “sexy male underwear.”
And then sent the list to my mom.
Luckily we have a good relationship and she knows I’m a super weirdo and not easily embarrassed – the very first thing she mentioned when we next spoke on the phone was the Sexy Male Underwear. Now it’s all I can think about when I think about wedding planning and I just crack up.
Poor Brian. This is mostly just embarrassing for him. He has such a long life ahead of him, marrying me!
Or rather, how I came to acquire them.
As you know, my job sometimes requires me to wine and dine various members of the media which, for the most part is pretty fun. You get to expense lunch or wine (or both!) and meet new people and then campaigns are more successful because they can put a face to the name when we pitch them, and also we’ve just bribed them with food and/or alcohol.
But for the other part, it’s just painfully, horribly uncomfortable. It’s like going on a first date, except in addition to just appearing like a normal human yourself, you ALSO have to be professional and represent your company in a positive light.
The other week we had a party for one of our authors (after which I fell on the ice, if you’ll recall) and I met a friend of hers there who is the editor for a very cool magazine called Mental Floss. We hit it off and set up a lunch date for this week to talk books and magazines and what have you. We were meeting at this cute cafe called Westville in Chelsea and I was running late. I burst into the restaurant a few minutes after 12:30 and realized: I completely forgot what this woman looked like.
I knew she was a white person. POSSIBLY a brunette. Other than that, she could have been anyone.
I gave my name to the hostess and started awkwardly looking around the restaurant. There was one gal sitting at a two-top in the corner, her face slightly blocked by another guest’s head. I started to walk towards her to get a better look when the hostess stopped me.
“Oh, that woman is dining alone.”
Ok, I thought, not my girl.
I sat at the bar for a few moments, scanning the room. I spotted another solo woman seated further down the bar playing with her phone. I bored holes into the side of her face with my eyes, trying to get her to look up and somehow she’d realize it was me! Or she’d be like “WTF, freak, and I’d know she wasn’t my gal.”
She did not look up so I tentatively walked in her direction, when the bartender gave his head a silent shake and mouthed “she’s not who you’re meeting.”
First the hostess…then the bartender. This whole staff was WAY TOO aware that I had absolutely no clue was was going on in my life.
I returned to my perch at the end of the bar and tried to pull up my work email, which was being persnickety, so I google imaged my lunch date. I had just confirmed via the googs that she was, indeed, a brunette white lady, when I heard a voice say my name.
In front of me both on the internet AND in the flesh was my lunch date…the very first woman I spotted, who the hostess had assured me was not who I was there to see. She’d been sitting in the corner the whole time, I guess waiting for me to notice her, as I wandered around the establishment like a very sad and lonely headless chicken.
In the end, she was super-duper nice and I think seems like the kind of gal who knows her way around a slightly awkward social situation (I hope she would take that as a compliment!!) but I learned a valuable lesson that day: always, always ALWAYS internet stalk everyone before you meet them in person. It may seem creepy but take it from me: it’s necessary.
Annnnd that was my week. How was yours? Any fun plans for the weekend? I’m hoping to hit up Target, catch up with a pal in the neighborhood on Sunday and also have two birthday parties (POPULAR!!!), including one tomorrow night, a 30th, in Jersey City that starts at 9 PM. WHAT! Turning 30 means you finally have an excuse to start stuff at like 3 in the afternoon. 9 PM? Crazy. I’ll be napping ALL afternoon Saturday, if anyone is looking for me. I long for the day when my friends finally catch up with my elderly sleep schedule.
Have a lovely weekend, sweet pals. DON’T watch Criminal Minds or Law and Order or anything really, except maybe Disney’s Frozen because that movie is a gem and no one gets murdered! Spoiler alert.