Home Is Where the Cat Is

I Am A Terrible Mother

2012-01-03T16:53:00.000-05:00

Or, How I Broke My Cats' Tiny Brains

Happy New Year and 2012 to you all. I hope you had a wonderful time with family and friends and that all of your travels went smoothly.

First of all, a word to the wise about New Year's resolutions: If you don't want to break them, don't make them.

Now on to my story.

I had a difficult decision to make this Christmas. The past two years I have taken Cleo with me to Michigan to visit her grandparents, but this year was the first I also had the new addition to our family: Lilah. It costs the same amount to take a cat on a plane as it does to board them for 10 days (seriously - sticking her under the seat in front of me cost almost as much as my ticket. She should have gotten beverage service for the amount I paid). You are only allowed to take one animal per passenger, so I decided to bring Cleo with me since she had the flying experience and board Lilah (who is so neurotic just thinking about bringing her on a plane gave me heart palpitations).

The poor girls had no idea what was in store for them. The morning I had to leave I stuffed an unsuspecting Lilah in the cat carrier - her first trip in one since I brought her home from the shelter - and hauled her meowing ass over to a cats only boarding facility. She was less than thrilled, and when I left her there all small and pathetic in that cage I wanted to cry, even though the people were very nice and I had done crazy amounts of research online about this place beforehand.

I came back home and Cleo was a bit perplexed as to why Lilah didn't return with me. Now I had to shove her into the carrier to take her on a plane. Oh no, she was not having it. After all, the last cat to leave the apartment in that thing had never returned. Cleo's no dummy. But finally I prevailed and off we went to the airport and she remained paralyzed in abject fear for the rest of the trip (except for when she tried to make a run for it in the security line and the nice woman behind me had to help me stuff her back in her carrier).

The rest of the week passed fairly uneventfully.

I returned home to a peaceful apartment and deposited Cleo back in the safety of her own home. She seemed pretty happy. She walked around and sniffed everything and settled in. I gave myself a pat on the back. "I'm an awesome mom," I thought. "Cleo is fine and soon Lilah will be back and they will touch noses and curl up together and we will all go to bed."

Then I went to pick up Lilah.

First of all, the nice lady at the front desk told me how much they all adored her and gave me a note like a teacher would give a parent picking up their 4 year old from preschool. "Lilah was a delight to have. She was friendly and playful and we'd love to have her back any time."

Awww, my baby was such a good girl! I was so proud of her.

Then they brought her out to be stuffed into the cat carrier and I could see the sheer terror in her eyes. I went to take her from the woman and I could tell she had no idea who she was. She cried when we put her in the carrier. She cried all the way out of the building. She cried all the way home. Oh my god. She thought the boarding facility was her new home and I was kidnapping her and taking her away to a new and horrible place! I felt guilty all over again.

When I arrived back at the apartment I unzipped the top of the carrier and there was Lilah huddled into a little ball, refusing to look up. Finally I had to reach in and pick her up and put her in the floor. She saw Cleo. Cleo saw her. Cleo hissed.

W.T.F?

You weren't away from each other that long! It was 10 days! But both ended up darting under the bed in fear and Cleo continued to hiss at Lilah for the rest of the day, wondering who this strange cat was who was invading her turf, never mind that they had lived together for the past 6 months.

Oh god. I had destroyed the sanity of both of my cats. Lilah didn't remember me or her home, and Cleo didn't remember Lilah. I felt awful. Cleo pooped on the floor. She has never done that in her life. I was considering kitty Prozac.

It took a while but finally, thankfully, Lilah started tentatively sniffing around and it all seemed to come back to her. Yes, this is my litter box, and my food dish, and my bed, and my chair, and my windowsill, and my toys, and my floor, and my apartment. Yay! And then Cleo started slowly but surely to accept her back into the fold. Yay! Thank the lord. I was so sure I had done permanent damage, but it seems my psychotic kitties have bounced back.

Then last night I stood up to walk to the kitchen and I saw this:

You probably can't make it out, but that's Cleo sitting in her carrier. Of her own free will. She probably sat in there for about 15 minutes. After all of that drama?

What a dingbat.

Well, That's Just Embarrassing...

2011-12-20T15:24:00.001-05:00

As Carrie Bradshaw once said, "I use my oven for storage."

I do not, but I easily could.

I do not cook. Why would I? I live in New York City, land of Seamless Web and 24 hour diners galore. Who the heck has time or inclination to cook for 1 after a long day at work?

It's bad enough that I know my mother (who happens to be an excellent cook) is disappointed that I hardly ever even boil water, but now Con Edison is in on the secret and I'm more than a little embarrassed.

A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from them stating that I hadn't used my gas in over a month and they were concerned - they wanted to send out someone to inspect my meter reading. That's just one more thing I didn't want to deal with (along with my still-leaking ceiling and non-working kitchen light) so I called my ever-helpful landlord.

Me: "I got a letter from Con Ed - apparently they haven't been getting a gas reading from my apartment so they want to send someone over to look at the meter."

Ever-Helpful Landlord: "Do you use your stove?"

Me: "...No..."

Ever-Helpful Landlord: "Have you used your stove in the past month?"

Me: (thinks) "...No..."

Ever-Helpful Landlord: "That's why."

I then had to spend almost an hour on hold with Con Ed to tell them that I don't cook and that is why there is no gas charge on my bill.

Apparently it's not an uncommon thing in New York because the lady I spoke to told me she would override it in the system.

My mom got a good laugh out of this.

Unwilling Guinea Pig

2011-11-16T14:01:00.001-05:00

If any of you are squeamish about needles (as I am) leave now and return for my next update. The rest of you, consider this a warning.

If you have to get blood drawn (which I did a couple of days ago) and the nurse comes in a with an "apprentice" nurse who is clearly in training and asks the head nurse if she has a) found an acceptable vein and b) how to connect the needle to the vial, PLEASE do not feel guilty about speaking up and asking the real nurse to take charge.

I know these people have to learn, and they have to learn on real humans (don't they practice on each other??) but if you are too nice, the following will ensue:

Apprehension:

Initial unhappiness/discomfort upon contact:

Blinding pain and rage followed by screaming "Ow, ow, ow that really *&^#$(*Q#$ hurts!!!":

Until the head nurse takes over and the black, fainty spots in front of your eyes go away.

Yeah you may feel a little bad that the nurse-in-training has probably been traumatized, but YOU are the one who had a needle jabbed almost clear through your arm, so you get to call the shots. (Get it? Shots?)

She's lucky I didn't have Lilah eat her face.

Best Thing Of My Life

2011-11-10T13:34:00.003-05:00

You're welcome. That is all.

Edit: You really need to have seen this video to fully appreciate:

The Adventure Continues

2011-11-08T13:26:00.001-05:00

Woke up this morning to my bathroom ceiling leaking AGAIN in the exact same place it was last time - dripping through the area that had been repaired and repainted and what have you. I am so not in the mood to deal with this.

In addition the bulbs in the fixture over my kitchen sink burned out so I replaced them to no avail. Since I had to call my super this morning anyway I decided to try to kill two birds with one stone. The following conversation ensued:

Me: "The fixture above my kitchen sink isn't working. I replaced the light bulbs but it still won't turn on. I think it may be a wiring problem."

Super: "What bulbs did you use?"

Me: "60 watt - the same kind that were in there previously."

Super: "Maybe it will work if you use energy saver bulbs."

Me: "....I....what? No, I don't think it matters what KIND of bulbs you use as long as the wattage is correct." I doubt energy saver bulbs even existed when this building was built. And also, I'm not an electrician but...what?

Super: "Ok I'll talk to the landlord."
You have no idea how to fix a wiring problem, do you. I am never going to have lights in my kitchen again, am I.

To be continued...

How "My So-Called Life" Ruined My Dating Future

2011-11-04T17:20:00.004-04:00

Admittedly, I was on the young side when "My So-Called Life" first aired, but even though I wasn't a teenager like Angela Chase, I knew a brooding hunk when I saw one. The first time Jared Leto as Jordan Catalano appeared on my TV screen, I knew I would be a bad boy lover for life. I mean, hi:

Minus the flannel (and part of me does miss 90s flannel - hey, it was comfy!) ever since I set eyes on this moody, broody, angsty, pretty boy I have been destined to be attracted to men with long dark hair, light eyes (check out those baby blues!) and a devil-may-care attitude. Oh, and a complete inability to commit.

He DOES lean great, doesn't he?

Could those eyes be any bluer??

This one wins. This is how I will always picture Jordan Catalano and what every man I have ever dated has had to live up to. Which probably has a great deal to do with why I'm single now. I love them bad boys. I do! I can't help it. Especially the charismatic ones who whisper naughty things in your ear one minute and then ignore you the next. The ones who have a tortured past who you know you, and no one else, can fix (and you can never really help them, try as you might). The ones who will never settle down and be happy in a relationship even though you try and try and hope and pray that YOU are the one who will change their mind.

I know the universal question is, why are women always attracted to bad boys? But I think the universal question is, how can you not be? I mean, sweet Jesus, what do we want more than what we can't have? Yes there are some smart women out there (I give you a shout out) who settle down with a nice guy for a happy life. I don't know why I can't do that (I've tried) but it seems I am incapable of being happy without drama (sad but true). It's like an illness I've tried to overcome, and I keep thinking it will happen when the right guy comes along; that perfect man who is a mix of angst and devotion, only to me. A brooding family man. A man who is sex obsessed but only I, and no other woman, will do.

Men can no more control if they are a bad boy than women can control if they are a "stumbler." A "stumbler," coined by my best friend, is not a ditz. A stumbler is a woman who is perfectly intelligent and capable of taking care of herself, but she has such a wide-eyed, innocent approach to the world and everything she does and everyone she meets, that she melts the hearts of men around her and they want nothing more than to catch her if she should fall. Men follow the stumbler around like puppies who are desperate for attention. This includes those bad boys too - stumblers are the only ones who can melt their hearts.

I am not a stumbler. I couldn't be if I tried - because it's not something that can be learned. It's like a natural state of being which I do not possess.

Men look at me and they think "sex" or "bitch." Which, fine, we all have our type casting (and ingenue I ain't) but until I can retrain my brain to be happy with a nice guy, I am doomed to wander the planet searching for my Jordan Catalano.

There is one thing that makes me feel better though:

I draw the line at mohawks.

Shout-out to Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares for inspiring this post. There is no shame in loving Keanu.

Halloween FAIL

2011-11-01T15:39:00.001-04:00

Well you guys, after much deliberation, weighing of pros and cons, and poll-taking, I decided not to be a Big Buck Hunter Girl OR Jem for Halloween. No, instead I decided to be Marvin the Martian (only brunette):

Complete with toy gun. I was so excited. Sexy? Check. Nerdy? Check. Enhances the ladies? Double check.

Then I was struck down by the plague. Okay, it was actually bronchitis, but it may as well have been the plague. I was bed-ridden for four days, and there was no way I was going to traipse around town in a mini skirt in the snow (yes snow!) on Saturday night. Alas, Marvin the Martian was not to be and will have to wait to make an appearance until next Halloween. Mega bummer.

Last night I stayed in and watched Hocus Pocus and went to bed at 8:30. LAME. I'm sure there were trick or treaters who stayed up later than I did.

Did everyone else enjoy their All Hallows Eve?

Blog FAIL

2011-10-24T16:38:00.000-04:00

I am so embarrassed you guys. I'm seriously hanging my head in shame.

I was on such a role with the steady blogging. I was so proud of myself. Maybe that pride was my downfall. Maybe I was overconfident and it led to my doom. Because there I was, blogging every week like a champ, and then...FAIL.

I promise you I was not sucked into a vortex or a black hole.

I promise you I was not intentionally ignoring my fellow bloggers.

I can give the excuse that I was promoted at work and now am the lead publicist on one of the biggest accounts in our office. It's true - I was floored by the news, and I'm excited, and nervous, and working my butt off, and exhausted out of my ever-loving mind.

But that is NOT a viable excuse. There are people out there who can survive on 4 hours of sleep a night and do a million more things than I do. I admire those people. I am not one of them.

I promise to try to get my rear back in gear. I miss the blogosphere and all of you.

~Liz~

8008135

2011-09-18T14:34:00.003-04:00

Pretend you are 12 years old and the title of this blog entry is on a calculator. Now have yourself a pre-teen chuckle.

As a New Yorker I very, very rarely am caught off guard by what I see on the streets of the city. Homeless person laying face down in the middle of the sidewalk? Shrug. Man peeing on the side of a building in broad daylight? Whatever. But the other day I was in front of my office building and I admit my jaw dropped.

There was a bunch of commotion and hollering from the men in the construction site across the street. I was very confused until I turned around and saw three topless women walking towards me. And by topless I mean top. less. Boobies out in the air for all to see. Just strolling down the street in jeans and nada. One of them had a camera around her neck.

Come to find out that women are legally allowed to go topless in Manhattan. Color me shocked. All this time I've been walking around with a shirt on, and for what??? I could have been putting it out there for all to see. All that time wasted.

PS, you know I love to include pictures with my blogs. I was tempted to find a picture of a woman flashing her girls, but I figured I should keep this blog work-friendly.

NEW TOPIC!

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, and it is right around the corner. Six weeks away? That's barely enough time to put a good costume together! Right now I'm torn between:

A Big Buck Hunter Girl:

And Jem:

So different yet both could be so amazing! I'm not sure which would be the easier costume to put together. I'm honestly shocked I haven't been Jem before.

There are some who may have given up on dressing up for Halloween by their late twenties, but why? I say. Why? I will continue dressing up for Halloween until...ever.

So I need YOUR help! What should yours truly be for Halloween this year?? And what are YOU going to be??

Just remember, to quote Mean Girls, "Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

"I'm a mouse. Duh."

Where Did You Go?

2011-09-12T23:45:00.000-04:00

When I leave my apartment, I always wonder where my cats think I'm going. Do they think I'm going into another room that they're not allowed into? Do they know I'm going outside and to another location? How much can their teeny tiny brains process?

Cleo has no interest what-so-ever in leaving the her home. Every time she has left in the past something terrible and traumatizing has happened. She's been to the vet multiple times. She's moved twice. She's been on four airplanes. NOTHING good happens when she leaves her safety bubble. And she has no interest in meeting strangers from the outside.

Unless, of course, it's someone who she has met once or twice before and brings with them the promise of food.

Lilah however has probably only been outside once in her memory - the day I brought her home from the shelter when she was six months old. She had probably been outside before that - every cat you adopt comes with a tragic back story (left taped inside a cardboard box on the side of the road; tossed in a river; thrown from a car window - not exaggerating here).

Anyway, every time I open the front door she makes a beeline. She doesn't try to run outside, but she does hover nearby and try to see out and I'm afraid that one of these days she is going to try to make a break for it. I always have to shoo her back when I come and go. Does she make the connection that what she sees outside the window can be accessed through that magic portal? I'm not sure.

I'm sure Cleo has sat her down and tried to explain to her multiple times that there is nothing good out there, but she wants to learn for herself.

Her first trip to the vet is going to be a very rude awakening.

Do You Ever Get The Feeling...

2011-09-09T01:07:00.002-04:00

That you're being watched?

You know that episode of "Sex and the City" where Miranda keeps overfeeding her cat in case she dies in her apartment by herself and the cat eats her face?

Sometimes I feel like I should do that.

I think Cleo is pretty trustworthy, and I hope that she would be bummed if she found me out cold on the (I was going to say living room floor but I don't have one, nor do I have a bedroom or kitchen floor so I'll just keep it general) floor of my apartment. She's can be pretty snuggly/cuddly and seems to appreciate me at least as a necessary tool of survival.

This one however?:

Oh sure, she may look sweet and innocent. But when these eyes are on me?:

I feel like this:

With ALL the trimmings.

I'm not sure if she's waiting for me to kick the bucket or is actually planning my demise, but I'm fairly certain she sees me as nothing more than a source of food. And, well, if I'm not able to fill up her dish with Meow Mix then my face will do just as nicely. Seriously, I have never met such a beggy/greedy/demanding cat in my life. It's a good thing she's so freaking adorable.

If you find yourself in my position I suggest you refer to this helpful guide by The Oatmeal:

Makes sense, doesn't it? A scary amount of sense if you ask me...

So You Want To Visit New York

2011-09-03T02:18:00.002-04:00

Planning a trip to New York City? Never been here? Allow me to assist you by sharing these simple guidelines to help improve your stay (and the lives of everyone who works here).

A Simple Rule Book For The New York City Tourist*:

1) DON'T keep your umbrella open while walking under scaffolding. I realize New York City has scaffolding every other block, but if you do thumb exercises and stretching I'm fairly confident that you will be able to open and shut your umbrella with sufficient speed and ease.

2) DON'T walk three people across on a sidewalk. Two is pushing it, but as long as there is room to get around you, you'll be fine. But three people walking side by side? Unacceptable.

3) DON'T walk the same pace that you do at home. If you're unsure how fast you should walk in New York City, it's good practice to take the speed you typically walk and double it. At least.

4) DON'T pause in the middle of the sidewalk to take a photo/video of your girlfriend standing in the middle of Times Square/look at a map. If you need to stop, make sure you are well out of the way of passersby. If you aren't, you are either going to get run over, cursed at, or have a random Joe Schmo in your photo as he walks in front of your camera.

5) DON'T ride up and down the subway escalator next to each other, or stand on the left side. The right side of the escalator is for standing, the left is for walking. Again, expect to be run over or cursed at if you don't follow this simple rule.

6) DON'T pay any attention to the man covered in a pile of plastic bags and newspaper sleeping in the subway car. He is much more afraid of you than you are of him.

7) DON'T take a ride from a car service unless you're in a tornado or it's hailing out. Those people rip you the hell off. Stick with cabs. I'm trying to help you here.

8) DON'T be afraid to asks for directions. New Yorkers aren't that scary, I promise. Unless it's before 9 am and said New Yorker hasn't had their coffee. Then all bets are off.

*Likely applies to other large cities in the US and around the world.

This Makes Me Feel So Much Better About Myself...

2011-09-01T16:12:00.004-04:00

My best friend (cockroach warrior extraordinaire) sent me this link, and I suddenly find myself feeling braver than a football player. Granted, a couple of the roaches I deal with flutter but not fly (and this sounds truly terrifying on an epic level) but I'm happy that I am not alone in my sheer terror.

Jelani Jenkins Fought A Roach In His Bathroom And Tweeted About It

My favorite part is that even his backup ran away.
Here is the Twitter play-by-play of this confidence-building incident from the Florida Gators player:

ima keep it one hunnit, a big ginormous roach jus chased me outta my own bathroom..this means war

i may have lost the battle, but the war has jus begun

i think anybody would be a little caught off guard by a gigantic roach with wings flying into the bathroom while they are in it

cudda sworn i heard it growl at me too

this is gonna need to be a two man mission.. ima need @JoshEvans24 to help me outflank it and take this sucker out

maybe if i crack the door open and throw a flashbang in there thatll give me the advantage i need to take it out

lol no seriously tho this is an issue..the roach had triceps

planning my attack

okay this is gettin rediculous..im goin in for the kill, could def use some prayers and encouragement

i think whats gettin me is the fact that its a triple threat bug.. fast, agile, and can fly..thats NOT NORMAL

lol @JoshEvans24 bailed on me

worst part is its prolly so hydrated ryt now..left my gatorade in there when i bolted out..smh

okay i didnt think ahead for a situation like this so no i do not have RAID

smh..cant even find it

prolly a trap oor ambush

theres nothin i can do..it has ghost pro i cant find it

#EPICFAIL ... thats an hour of my life that ill never get back

it heard me comin and ran away... #coward #gatorbait

that was a smart roach tho..i dont even think he wanted to hurt me i think he jus wanted me to think about him whenever i go to the bathroom

#likemotherlikeson lol momma jus hit me up and told me i better get rid of that roach before she gets to florida this w/e for the game

(I still think I might have to change the name of this blog to "Home Is Where the Cockroach Is.")

Something Fun For My Fellow Cat Lovers

2011-08-31T00:55:00.002-04:00

The Cat Scan!

Enjoy!

An Addiction, A "Hurricane" and A Call To Arms

2011-08-29T18:08:00.003-04:00

My best friend has, for quite some time, been trying to get me to watch "Friday Night Lights." Now, I'm not much of a sports girl, and I just can't get into football (she's more hard core about it than a lot of guys I know), but she assured me that I would like it. Mainly because of this:

And that really REALLY tempted me, because Taylor Kitsch is an extreme hottie in the moody/brooding/angsty/long-haired/totally my type kind of way. And I seriously loved him as Gambit, dork that I am. But still I resisted -- I have so many shows I like already and there just aren't enough hours in the day!

Finally, now that the final season has aired, I gave in. And I have to say, I am TOTALLY addicted. I don't know what it is about this show! Why do I love it so much?

Is it because of the gritty realism?

The dramatic, compelling storylines?

The deeply layered, fascinating characters?

I'm really not sure what it is about this show that has me hooked -- it's a real mystery! And I highly recommend it.

Moving on to less sexy news:

I've heard about some pretty terrible things that happened to people on the east coast over the weekend, including at least one person who had their entire house demolished -- luckily no one was inside! But from where I was in New York City the storm was...disappointing. I know I shouldn't complain about weather being BETTER than it was supposed to be, but I love a good storm with wind and rain and thunder and lighting. I have to say, I've seen better. And a storm that was supposed to last from Saturday into Monday ended Sunday morning which...really weather channel? Of course they had shut down all mass transportation so that pretty much just screwed everyone in the city regardless. I don't think it's even all back up yet.

I share The Oatmeal's perspective on this one:

The truly bad thing about the weather was that it brought out the cockroaches in larger numbers. Yesterday I found two -- yes TWO in my apartment! The first one was dead but Lilah was trying to bat it around so I went into mommy-mode and got her away from it and swept it up with a dustpan and broom. All on my own! This is a really big deal people. Perhaps I'm emerging as a stronger woman here -- one who is ready and willing to wage the war on cockroaches.

This girl has the right idea:

The second cockroach, however, was very much alive and scampery and hiding under my purse. I was not amused. Lilah was immediately in hot pursuit, and I couldn't get a good angle with my giant can of Raid. So, I begrudgingly let her carry the damn thing underneath my bed. I did not see her again for a solid 20 minutes, and I'm not going to be looking for remains any time soon.

At Least I'm Not This Guy

2011-08-26T13:08:00.000-04:00

But I sure as hell feel like it.

Don't Speak

2011-08-26T04:05:00.003-04:00

I'm not one for publicly dishing personal information as the norm, but I need to get this off my chest and I need a blog entry so...two birds with one stone I guess.

The Boyfriend ended things tonight. I cannot form a coherent sentence to explain how it went down, but when I turned on the TV this music video was on and fits the situation perfectly, so I'll let Gwen Stefani do it for me:

Thanks, Gwen. You and Alanis are always there when I need you. Just like my cats. I appreciate that kind of dependability.

Edit: Speaking of being there for me - Vidya, Eileen, Vickie: you ladies rock. Thank you for everything. This is exactly why a woman should never choose a relationship over her friends.

Muppet Redemption

2011-08-24T15:08:00.003-04:00

If anyone else had the unfortunate experience of being subjected to "Muppets From Space"...I'm sorry.

In my opinion that movie was a disgrace to Muppet history. Which is such a shame because I love all things Muppets and every other movie to come before.

My favorites? "Muppet Treasure Island" and "The Muppet Christmas Special" (NOT the Muppet Christmas Carol, although I like that one too. The Christmas Special aired on TV and was about the Muppets, the Sesame Street gang, and the Fraggle's gathering at Fozzie's mom's house for the holidays. I still watch this on my old, partially recorded-over VHS every year because on the released video/DVD version they had to cut many of the songs that they didn't have the rights to use and it's just not the same).

But now, for the first time in a long time, I'm feeling optimistic again. Cautiously optimistic, but optimistic none-the-less. Why? Because of this:

First of all, I love Jason Segel and I think he's hilarious so I'm trusting this material in his hands. Second of all, it seems they're going back to their big, group musical number roots which...LOVE. Third of all, I believe Rolf will be in the movie. He wasn't in "Muppets From Space" and he is one of my faves. Fourth of all, looks like the movie will be set in NYC. ROCK ON! Fifth of all, Amy Adams is co-starring and I think she's the cat's meow...and I don't say that about just anyone!

As icing on the cake, this video by Ok Go was just released:

GENIUS!

Anyone else uber excited about the Muppets making a comeback?

Is this really news to anyone out there? Have you been living under a Fraggle Rock?

Barking Cat?

2011-08-22T15:03:00.002-04:00

Another funny cat video I have to share. Real or fake? You be the judge!:

Platform-Building Campaign!

2011-08-22T13:29:00.005-04:00

I'm signing up for the first time. If you would like to join me, you can do so here:

Rach Writes

Hopefully I will be able to post enough to keep up with this!

THIS IS NOT ME

2011-08-21T22:32:00.002-04:00

I see how you could think so, but even I'm not this crazy.
I don't think this video is legit, but it could be and it's so funny I don't care.
Make sure to watch the whole thing because it only gets funnier:

Holey Cheese!

2011-08-17T23:04:00.001-04:00

Has anyone else noticed that the more holes cheese has in it the better it tastes? Like the extra space for oxygen is like little flavor bubbles? It probably has something to do with how the cheese is made or how long it sits to become cheesy or what not, but all I can tell you is that lacey swiss is delicious.

That's the entirety of this post. Just needed to share my love.

But if anyone knows the answer to this mystery please let me know!

Truly, Truly, Truly Outrageous!

2011-08-16T19:49:00.003-04:00

Maybe I'm late to the party and this is old news, but if you're an 80s kid like me who used to fantasize that you were a rock star with pink hair, you will be psyched to know that JEM is back!

Its on The Hub which is on channel 22 with Time Warner in New York and airs at 1 am, 7:30 am, 2 pm and 7 pm.

If JEM wasn't your thing (in which case...why not? I do not understand) The Hub also has My Little Pony, Fraggle Rock, G.I. Joe, Transformers, Strawberry Shortcake, Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego...jeez my press agent side is coming out and I feel like I'm promoting this station. Well, I guess I am. Because this lineup is seriously genius.

In other TV news, my other 2 favorite 80s shows are also back, but on a different station which I don't get. She-Ra and He-Man are on Qubo - thankfully the boyfriend gets that station so when I'm at his place I wait for him to fall asleep and then I sneak into his living room to watch.

People, this resurgence of 80s cartoons is completely amazeballs and something I've been waiting years for. I have a couple of tapes of JEM and She-Ra, but there's something about these episodes re-airing that gives me the warm-fuzzies.

Anyone have a favorite 80s show they are geeked about re-airing or wish would come back?

I'm totally about to pull out my stretchy pants and neon green scrunchie.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2011-08-15T17:40:00.003-04:00

Anyone who knows me at all is aware that I'm not exactly Ms. Great Outdoors. So imagine my shock (not to mention the shock of others, including the boyfriend) when I stepped outside of my comfort zone during our recent vacation to the mountains of Maryland. (Yes, Maryland has mountains).

During the past week I did this:

Note: This isn't me (I would clearly never wear those sandals) but this is what I did. Except for the part where her hand is on the cable because they specifically told us NOT to do that.

And I did this:

Note: Also not me. But I looked just as silly in that vest and helmet. I also managed not to fall out and I was very proud of myself.

And...I had a really great time doing both! Especially the zip-lining. I had always wanted to try that. I don't have a fear of heights (unless I'm falling from them) and I love that sensation of flying through the air. I went rock-climbing when I was 17 and I actually liked that as well. I mean real, outdoors, digging into crevices with your nails rock-climbing. It was awesome but I don't think I'd ever do it again. It was seriously painful, but such a rush when I got to the top.

It seems like in all of these adventure sports you have to look like a tool with the harness, or helmet, or life vest, or whatever it takes to keep you safe. I'm willing to over look that in these cases.

What made these experiences even better was the fact that after I was done I could go home to a nice house with indoor plumbing, take a hot shower, and then go out to a restaurant for dinner, knowing all the while that there was a soft bed waiting for me to sleep in.

Just because I like these adventurous activities does NOT mean I have changed my mind about camping in the slightest. Don't be fooled.

Aftermath

2011-08-02T14:23:00.003-04:00

Here are the promised pictures of my bathroom post-ceiling collapse. Thankfully, the plumber finally showed up yesterday, fixed the leak, cleaned up the fallen plaster and rubble, and put plastic over the hole until it is dry enough to repair.

This is my ceiling.

This is also my ceiling. But as you can see, in this picture the ceiling seems to have gotten confused and is on the floor which is the opposite of where it should be.

This is the rubble that landed in my sink. There was also a nice collection that landed in the bathtub next to the sink.

I guess I can be thankful for 2 things:

1) This happened while I was at home rather than next week when I'm going to be gone for 10 days.
2) This happened in the bathroom and over the sink so most of the water went down the drain and I didn't have to put a bucket under it.

Never a dull moment.

(PS Did I mention that love my apartment? Because I really do.)

Is This An Emergency?

2011-08-01T01:19:00.001-04:00

So approximately 10 minutes after my last post, my bathroom ceiling did in fact cave in. I was sitting in my living room/bedroom/kitchen when I heard a big crash/fwoosh sound. From the mere inches I was able to crack the door open I could see a 2 or 3 foot hole above my sink and plaster and dirt covering everything. I did not see any cockroaches but I couldn't open the door all the way to do a thorough check.

I called my super who was there earlier tonight to look at the leak and said he'd get a plumber there in the am. I said, "my bathroom ceiling just caved in." He replied, "is this an emergency?"

Well, I guess it depends on one's definition of an emergency. I wasn't IN the bathroom when the ceiling collapsed so I wasn't buried under the rubble or knocked unconscious while I was on the toilet, but there is also still water running from the ceiling into my apartment, the ceiling is now on the floor which is the opposite of where it should be, and I can't open my bathroom door all the way which is kind of a problem for a person who has to pee about 27 times a day.

So now I'm at the boyfriend's apartment after all, chilling on his couch and watching old episodes of "She-Ra" (so I guess there is an upside to all of this). Thankfully he was still up when I called even though he has to wake up at 5 am tomorrow. At least this is a better excuse than the time I woke him up in the middle of the night to escape a cockroach?

I'm going to try to post some before and after pictures tomorrow. Well, you saw the before picture -- it's in my last post. Now just imagine a huge gaping hole where that sagging plaster used to be.

Unequivocal Differences, Part 2

2011-08-01T00:23:00.001-04:00

For those of you who were convinced that I have a summer cottage in Newport, I have a sad confession to make: I do not. I'm sorry, I should have told you to sit down first before breaking that jaw-dropping news. However, this weekend I did go visit the "cottages" I would have owned had I been born a socialite in the late 1800s. Yes, these were called "cottages":

This is Marble House, one of the Vanderbilt summer homes. Unfortunately they don't allow photos of the interior. but just picture in your mind a lot of gold and fanciness with plenty of room for servants.

This is the back of The Breakers, the largest mansion - I'm sorry, "summer cottage" - in Newport, also built by the Vanderbilts.

A few of my girlfriends and I went up to CT for the weekend and on Saturday went to RI to do the "touring New Yorker" thing and fantasize about what our lives would have been like if we had been born into a different age and social class.

And now, the best for last:

This is what the ceiling in my bathroom looked like tonight when I got home from my weekend getaway. The larger bulge was dripping disgusting water which at this point has turned into a steady stream. The smaller bulge has now begun dripping as well.

The super came over but said that he couldn't do anything without a plumber, and he can't get a plumber here until the morning. I'm pretty convinced that by the am my ceiling will have collapsed, spilling a torrent of dirty water and cockroaches into my apartment.

I would stay the night at the boyfriend's to be safe, but he has to get up at 5:45 tomorrow for a photo shoot and also, if you have read my previous entry, you will see that his apartment is no longer as safe as it once was.

Maybe next year I'll be able to afford a quaint, 50 room summer cottage of my own.

A girl can dream.

When No Where Is Safe

2011-07-27T01:22:00.002-04:00

I was looking for a photo of a woman standing on a chair screaming to go with this entry, but when I looked it up a photo of a 2 inch cockroach (next to a ruler so that's how I know) popped up and I immediately closed the window. So this entry will have to be illustration free -- I hope you don't mind.

I realize that this blog is becoming more about cockroaches than about cats which is just sad and something that needs to be remedied very soon.

Anyway, tonight the boyfriend told me that he found a cockroach on the floor of his bedroom. He lives in a gorgeous, brand new apartment in a doorman building. Now where am I supposed to run to in the middle of the night in the event of a cockroach attack??

They're organizing, I tell you. Pretty soon we'll all be standing on the top of a mall with rifles, trying to kill off as many as possible in the street below before we are completely overrun.

Women and children first.

Infestation!

2011-07-14T22:17:00.003-04:00

Does 2 of something equal an infestation? Well if it's 2 cockroaches it should.

Yesterday I was going to plug my hair straightener into my power strip, when I saw the carcass of a cockroach sitting right there next to it all, "Yo!"

I didn't scream! I swear! (Proud?) But I did make a face kind of like this:

Thankfully the boyfriend was here and leapt into action. By that I mean he casually leaned over, picked the damn thing up with his fingers (sorry Vidya, I think you were just shown-up) and tossed it in the trash.

My hero!

My concern is that the cockroach looked smaller than the previous one (this should be a good thing!) and I think it's because one or both of my cats (probably Lilah) ate the chewy nougat center, leaving only the crunchy shell behind.

(I can only imagine that this is what she saw.)

I Can Has Cheezburger?

2011-06-25T23:25:00.000-04:00

Lilah vs. cheeseburger:

It defeated her eventually but she put up a good fight.

Z Is For...

2011-06-24T16:58:00.001-04:00

"Zabar's Cat"

Well, it took a long time. Much too much time, but I made it.

Here is entry Z.

I have a Jewish cat. I mean, I guess because I'm Jewish and that runs through the mother, both my cats are Jewish. But Lilah likes cream cheese to an unnatural degree. Plain cream cheese, lox spread cream cheese, scallion cream cheese, she eats it all.

I can't really blame her. Cream cheese is pretty yummy after all.

This is a very short entry but at least I can say that I've finally met my goal.

I've been working my butt off the past couple of weeks but things are finally calming down a bit, so hopefully I'll be able to get back into blogging at least semi-regularly.

Y Is For...

2011-06-03T21:05:00.006-04:00

"Yes, I'm A P*ssy. I'll Admit It"

There are some things that New Yorkers just know they are going to have to deal with that they can't possibly avoid: Over-crowded 6 trains; that assh*le who stands right in front of you to flag down a cab when it's completely obvious that's what you've been trying to do for the last fifteen minutes; garbage lining the streets that has probably been there since the early sixties; at least one bum per every three city blocks.

But one thing I have never, ever been able to accept is cockroaches. At my first apartment in Queens I'd say we had at least one a month. I wouldn't say that I ever got used to it, but I did perfect the method of standing five feet away from the offending pest and spraying Raid on it for two minutes straight until it died slowly and painfully in a pool of liquid poison. I put it up with this for three and half years. Then I moved to Manhattan.

My first year in Manhattan I lived in a pretty nice building and there were no run ins with bugs. I think that lured me into a false sense of security.

Now I live in a brownstone on the second floor. It always crossed my mind that a cockroach might make its way into my abode one day, but I shrugged it off.

Until last night when I walked into my bathroom to hear the fluttering of wings (those mother-effers should not be able to even TRY to fly!) and saw a cockroach scaling my shower curtain.

I would say this is about how big it was:

That's still pretty big, right? But here is what I saw:

(Note: enlarge to full size for complete effect)

I'm pretty sure I would have rather had found a serial killer in my bathroom wielding two machetes and wearing women's underwear.

I did not scream, but I DID say "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD" about 50 times as I backed out of the room, slammed the door, and shoved a towel under the crack.

(Fact: cockroaches can get through any space, no matter how small. I knew the towel would be futile but it made me feel better).

Then I called the boyfriend who was asleep (it was 1:30 am at this time) and had a 7:30 call time for a photo shoot the next morning, and begged him to let me come over. He was kind enough to leave his front door cracked open for me. And didn't even strangle me in my sleep for being totally neurotic and waking him up in the middle of the night!

He tried to explain to me over and over again that it was just a bug and did not bite. This was completely lost on me. Hello it's a cockroach! They are EVIL!

Today my best friend was kind enough to come over after work. We looked everywhere and couldn't find it. Then I sprayed Raid in every corner of the apartment. Then we went to dinner.

When I returned after dinner there was the dead cockroach in the middle of my floor on it's back with it's wiry legs sticking up in the air all "WHAT UP YO??"

I immediately called my friend who was kind enough to come back and get rid of the cockroach for me -- by picking it up with a damn paper towel. She is bad. Ass.

So I guess the crisis is averted for now but I'm still pretty shaken and I know this could happen again. Plus I really want to take a shower right now but I'm terrified of a cockroach climbing out of my drain while I'm in there. That's why I'm writing this blog post. Procrastination.

But at least for the time being I'm back to my regular dose of neurotic. I think the boyfriend is thankful for that.

EDIT: I had originally planned to put a picture of a real cockroach of approximate size on here. But I am so effing terrified of them I couldn't even look at pictures without wanting to run screaming into the night. So I figured my less than stellar drawings would suffice.

X Is For...

2011-06-01T23:12:00.005-04:00

"Xenotransplantation"

That is the longest word I could find that starts with the letter X. But that makes for a pretty boring post. (If you want to throw a longer word at me -- as long as it's not a medical term or an ingredient in shampoo -- I'm game).

So to avoid the boring I'm going to make a creative decision and change this blog topic to:

"eXplain Why These Things Exist"

I'm really confused about why a few things are out there in the world. If I'm about to offend you I apologize, but maybe then you can help open my eyes.

Confusing thing that exists number 1:

Why are all motorcyclists unattractive old men who usually have beards? Have you ever seen a flock of handsome, well groomed, form-fitting-leather-pants wearing 25 year olds breeze through town on their Harleys? No. Every time I see a motorcyclist I get kind of excited ("Maybe THIS one will be hot!") only to see him from the front a moment later and realize that he looks like this:

I have yet to see a hot biker, and that really bums me out. If anyone knows where to find one please let me know.

Confusing thing that exists number 2:

Honeydew melon. Especially honeydew melon on fruit plates one buys for a party. My sister brought this up to me the other day while tossing out a platter at a bbq after every piece of fruit had been eaten with the exception of the untouched honeydew melon. And she has a good point. Yeah, honeydew melon is ok I guess. It always looks nice and juicy:

But why are you going to pick that if you could have cantaloupe, or strawberries, or hell, even pineapple? (I happen to always go for the pineapple by the way). The only fruit I find less appealing that appears on a regular basis is kiwi. And that one is green as well! A correlation perhaps? If someone out there is a honeydew melon lover first and foremost please raise your hand. I would be very interested to meet you.

Confusing thing that exists number 3:

This is the one I'm afraid will offend the most people but I have to get it out of my system. Every time I receive an email at work with someone whose address ends in this:

I just cannot -- cannot! -- take them seriously on a professional level. Look, I used to have a Yahoo account. In fact, I used to have a Hotmail account and I'm not sure which is worse at this point. Maybe it's even AOL that takes the cake. But whatever it is, I beg of you please catch up with the times. By all means, keep your outdated account to catch all your penis-enlarger junk mail. We all need an email address for that. But when you're requesting something from one professional to another, you're just not going to be taken seriously. Or if you write in all caps or in a swirly pink font, but that's a post for a different time. If you don't have a business account, at least register with Gmail. I may not roll my eyes when I respond to you that way. Sorry Yahoo users -- but I gotta be honest with myself and everyone out there.

And those are the 3 most confusing things that exist in my opinion.

Only 2 posts left until I'm done with the drawn-out A-Z-no-dammit-I'm-not-giving-up challenge!

EDIT: More confusing than yahoo, hotmail and aol addresses are people that do not use email. I do not understand you, people. And no, I do not wish to take your call.

W Is For...

2011-05-19T14:13:00.005-04:00

"Whelmed"

First of all, this dude pretty much encapsulates how I feel right now:

Title of this post comes from one of the best movie quotes ever:

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and I know you can be underwelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?"

"I think you can in Europe."

"10 Things I Hate About You" (a moment of silence please for one of Heath Ledger's sexiest roles) introduced this amazing term which just so perfectly captures how I've been feeling lately.

First of all, being in NYC is whelming in and of itself. Work? Bills? Time for friends and boyfriend? Money? Sleep? Errands? Grocery Shopping? Laundry? Who has time for it all?

Last Monday I had back to back events in the evening. Tuesday I had a press performance. Thursday I had an opening night at which two of my photographers got into a fight and then I had a very large man yell at me for attempting to break up said fight.

It made my head hurt.

Sometimes I just think I should leave the city but I imagine I would get bored pretty quickly and then what the heck would I do with my life?

I told you guys I wasn't giving up on the A-Z challenge! It's just taking me closer to 2 months than 1 is all...

V Is For...

2011-05-04T17:23:00.005-04:00

"Vacation"

I need one!

I'm determined to finish the A-Z challenge, you guys. I know I've been slacking, and that it's no longer April, but I really want to see this through to the end. I'm not very good with finishing up things I write (see: every novel I've ever started in my life) but I'm really going to try.

I repeat. I need a vacation.

The weather has certainly been warming up here, and there's something to be said for New York in the spring -- all the buds coming out on the trees and the bars and restaurants overflowing into street seating and onto balconies. Its a good time.

It's also award season in the theater world which kind of makes me want to die. Once upon a time I was really excited about award season. That time has passed.

Plus the warm weather means nothing if it's going to be like this:

And this is pretty accurate to my experience because this isn't far from where I work. Rain sucks. Rain in the heat sucks more. Rain in the heat in New York sucks the most. Especially when people don't shut their damn umbrellas under the scaffolding. There are umbrella etiquette rules, people. Learn them.

I don't want to be here, in the warm rain (although today is rather chilly) in the midst of all these buildings. I want to be here:

But that is not happening. At least not any time soon.

The boyfriend and I are going to CT for the weekend -- leaving Friday and coming back Sunday -- so at least I get to escape the city for a few days.

But sadly there are no palm trees in CT...

U Is For...

2011-04-27T15:25:00.000-04:00

"Unequivocal Differences"

There are a lot of differences between Kate Middleton and myself. This may come as a shock to you, and these alleged differences may not be apparent at first but, I assure you, there are.

Here is one example. This is a picture of the ever-chic Kate Middleton:

I bow down to her chicness. It must be exhausting. Are some people just born naturally chic or is it a result of chicness being ingrained in them from birth?

And here is how I feel I look in comparison:

(Author's note: may not be 100% accurate depiction.)

Here is another difference between Kate Middleton and myself. She is engaged to a Prince of England.

Yesterday my toilet broke and I had to flush it by reaching into the back and pulling directly on the chain.

Now, this may not be a black and white, cut and dry comparison, but it is clear to me. This woman is marrying a prince. I had to reach into my toilet to flush it. This is how different our lives are.

I begrudge her nothing, I can only be in awe of her perfection, much as I am with the late Audrey Hepburn. Women like this are just so amazing you cannot be jealous of them. It is though they are on a completely different plane of existence.

But I still think my boyfriend is cuter.

Oh, and my toilet was fixed this morning.

T Is For...

2011-04-26T00:43:00.000-04:00

"Today Is The First Day Of The Rest Of Your Life"

Sorry guys, that's all I got. Live it, love it.

I'm a day behind and a dollar short (whatever that means, you know what I'm getting at). Plus it's only Monday and my week is already redonkulously stressful.

Wishing you all a good night.

S Is For...

2011-04-23T20:39:00.010-04:00

"Say What??"

Yikes, I'm behind again!

First of all I would like to say a big thanks to San who gave me a shout out on her blog. Thank you from one "cat lady" to another!

Now, on to the most horrifying cab-riding experience I've ever had which left me saying:

I've had a variety of different cab riding experiences since the nigh on 5 years I've been in NYC. I've had nice cab drivers, cranky cab drivers, drivers that were snarky about their tip, drivers that wouldn't stop talking, drivers that drove so slowly I wanted to get out and walk, and drivers that
drove so fast and recklessly that I literally called my mother to tell her I loved her in case I didn't survive.

But this one really, really took the cake.

There I was, in a cab on my way back to my office yesterday afternoon, minding my own business. My driver was a middle aged man who seemed nice enough. Suggested a faster route, asked a couple of polite questions, the usual, so I didn't think much of it.

Then, a few blocks shy of my office, out of five minutes of silence he says to me:

"How long does it take a woman before she can tell she's pregnant?"

My response?:

"Uhhhhh...."

And:

Really did not want to answer this question. This is a question I don't even feel comfortable discussing with the boyfriend, let alone a complete stranger. But it was weird sitting there in complete silence so the conversation went a little something like this:

Yours Truly: "Um...usually at least a month?"

Cab Driver Who Asks Inappropriate Questions: "I thought a pregnancy test could tell you quicker than that."

YT: "Well.....the test itself usually only takes 2 minutes to complete."

CDWAIQ: "You mean you can have intercourse and 2 minutes later the woman can find out if she's pregnant?"

YT: (Thinking: Please get me out of this cab/He totally had a one night stand last night, didn't he?) "No, no...you have to wait a few weeks before taking the test. A woman doesn't usually take it until she's...erm...missed a period."

CDWAIQ: "Ohhhh. It's good for a man to know these things."

YT: (Feeling very, very uncomfortable and wishing there weren't so many damn red lights in Manhattan) "Yeah..."

CDWAIQ: "My wife just got her tubes tied. And then started menopause."

YT: (Thinking: Way too much information! And who is he worried is pregnant??) "Oh...um. I see."

CDWAIQ: "She tried to talk me into it, but there was no way I was going to do that!"

YT: (Deciding she's getting out of the cab 2 blocks early) "Uh huh." (Thankful that the cab has stopped at another red light) "You know what? You can just let me out here." (Pays as quickly as possible and gets the hell out of the cab)

CDWAIQ: "Have a nice day!"

YT: Walks very, very quickly thinking:

Seriously. Weirdest and most uncomfortable cab ride I've ever experienced. I'm still shuddering just thinking about it. This city has no shortage of bizarre people.

R Is For...

2011-04-21T02:16:00.003-04:00

"Roll Of Toilet Paper = Cat Toy"

Delilah has discovered the joy of unwinding toilet paper rolls. A phase that Cleo never went through. Fantastic.

Also, don't go on an escalator when you're stoned. My advice of the day. You're welcome.

Q Is For...

2011-04-20T18:28:00.006-04:00

"Quick! You Have To Be"

First, an updated picture of Delilah:

That is my baby. I call her Lilah or Lilah-bug.

Now I back up to the topic of the post.

I began cutting Cleo's claws when she was about 3 months old. She was very pissy faced about the situation, but I wrapped her up in a leopard print blanket and pull out one paw at a time, and was as speedy as could be with tiny cat claw clippers. Now she's a little over 2 years old and while a mani pedi isn't her favorite thing in the world, she accepts it as something that just happens, no big deal, she's rewarded with a treat and goes on with her life.

Lilah was 7 months old when I adopted her. And I'm sure she has never had her claws cut before. I'm sure of this because her previous owner was a psychopath who allowed her sibling to die. (Me getting angry about how some people can treat domesticated animals is another post all together). Anyway, I decided that she had to learn to have her claws trimmed sooner or later and sooner was better so she could get used to it. (Note: I'm 100% against declawing cats).

So about a week ago I wrapped her up in a blanket, pulled out the claw clippers, and went to work. She was pretty unamused, but things started out well enough. Then, by the time I had reached the first of her back paws, she decided she wasn't having any of this. She began to struggle, but she's pretty tiny so I managed to hang on.

Then she began to shriek. This was not an angry hiss or that weird mooing/growling sound that I'm used to cats making. This was a full out high pitched screech of unbridled wrath. She had had enough. I tried to get that last paw, I really did, but it wasn't happening.

Cleo, meanwhile, was obviously very, very concerned. I'm pretty sure she thought I was torturing Lilah. She put her front paws up on the chair I was sitting on to see what was going on and why Lilah was making those horrible noises. After I let Lilah go and she ran under the bed to hide, Cleo sat next to the bed and meowed pitifully.

Amazing. Cleo went to hating her new little sister to being overprotective. I was worried it would undo all the hard work I had done with her, but she still accepted her mani pedi with her usual grace.

I tried a second time to cut Lilah's claws to much the same result. I really, really want to keep trying and to get her used to it, but I'm worried she's too old. I won't give up that easily, though. I'm her mother and I know what's best.

As an end note, I believe I posted this video on my blog a while back, but it's an absolutely hilarious cartoon from Hyperbole and a Half.

Cat Safety Propaganda

P Is For...

2011-04-19T16:27:00.004-04:00

"Panic Induced Psychological Meltdown"

I wasn't going to post about this at first since I've been thinking about it too much as is, but I feel like I need to save people from experiencing my brand of crazy.

As I'm sure you all know, everyone says do not DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT I repeate DO NOT google your symptoms and try to self-diagnose yourself via the interwebs.

Why? Because you will end up on your computer from 9 pm to 6 am obsessing over every random piece of information, semi-related website, Yahoo answer and message board you can find. You will scare yourself to death. You will wonder what your doctor has not told you and why she would be keeping information from you. You will only get two hours of anxiety-ridden sleep. You will be convinced you are a dead girl walking. You will make plans to move back in with your parents, begin writing your own eulogy and decide who your cats should go to in your will.

You will also drive your boyfriend absolutely coo-coo bananas and he will say something along the following lines, ad naseum: "Stop worrying. Just think positive. You're jumping to conclusions. Calm down." and "You're going to make me tear my hair out."

Vague diagnosis + hypchondriac + severe clinical anxiety + recent death in the family = worst possible combination

I'm pretty sure there should be a box you check when you fill out a new patient form at a doctor's office. Hypochondriac? Yes or no. That way they will know when they have crazies on their hands that need to be handled with kidgloves. Otherwise they will end up receiving tearful calls the minute their practice opens to which their immediate response will be "uhhhhhhhhh........"

I'm not going to tell you all what I was so obsessively googling. Just don't do it. Just. Don't.

Do as I say and not as I do.

For now I'm just going to say all is well until proven otherwise. Yeah. I'm going with that.

O Is For...

2011-04-19T15:26:00.001-04:00

"Opulence. I Has It"

The boyfriend loves this commercial. I guess I just don't "get" it. I do love the tiny giraffe though. It's just no "Old Spice Guy."

What do you think?

N Is For...

2011-04-18T16:52:00.003-04:00

"Nightmare Of Epic Proportions"

I feel like I'm hijacking one of Eileen's future posts from over at Speak Coffee To Me, but I was so horrified when I heard this, I had to share.

Last night at about 3 am I sent Eileen an email telling her that I had just written 5,000 words in my novel (yes, I am very proud of this fact). This morning I woke up to receive an email back from her saying that her harddrive had crashed and she had lost the past month of her work.

My heart dropped into my stomach at the thought. Now, I am not the most technologically savvy person. You might say I'm Carrie Bradshaw-esque with the lack of backing up my work and wondering if people can see me when they're online. I immediately thought of everything I've written - ever - being sucked away into oblivion and I started having heart palpitations.

I guess Eileen dropped her computer and the last time she had backed up was a month ago. Nothing is salvable beyond that point. Thankfully there were some stories and pieces of work that she had emailed to other people, one she had printed out, and one she had submitted to an online group. But there were two pieces in particular that she was working on furiously and now VOOSH - gone. As well as some important edits on another story she had in the works.

I need to get an external harddrive and back up my stuff ASAP. Not to mention my computer is already on the fritz and having an internal meltdown. When I have it in my lap it feels like I'm holding a volcano. That definitely cannot be a good sign. Has anyone else every had something this awful and detrimental happen to them? How did you cope?

M Is For...

2011-04-17T16:19:00.005-04:00

"Men: How To Get Their Attention"

This video from The Onion is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Thank you to the boyfriend for sending it to me. (I hope I've already succeeded in getting his attention but I know he wishes I had an oven under my bed to bake him cookies).

Warning: This video is for adults only and is not work safe. Enjoy!

L Is For...

2011-04-16T01:42:00.003-04:00

"Let Me Google That For You"

I'm almost caught up you guys! Hopefully by Monday I'll be back on top of the A-Z Challenge.

If you haven't heard of Let Me Google That For You, you need to check it out. Like, right now. The boyfriend introduced me to this and I immediately had to show everyone at work. We get so many completely inane questions that people would be able to find the answer to just as quickly if they would just Google the damn thing. I've been tempted to use this genius invention with clients and members of the press, but damn it I guess I have to keep up the facade of professionalism.

But I will show you how it works so that you can use it at your discretion.

Let's say your friend -- we'll call him Frederico -- is visiting from Arkansas (I'm totally making this up so bear with me). Before he arrives in the big apple he tells you that he wants to go to the Empire Stage building and asks you the address so he can find it. As though you are a New York City directory who has everything memorized. (A special shout out to my friend Vidya who pretty much is a walking New York City directory and who I always go to when I need to find something. She should be using LMGTFY on ME).

Anyway, you find this question of Frederico's eyeroll inducing and want to point out that he could just as quickly and easily find the answer himself. So you do the following:

Got to www.lmgtfy.com

In the search box you type in "empire state building address" then hit Google Search.

Once you have done this a link will appear below the search box (I suggest converting it to a Tiny URL). Then you copy, paste into an email, and send off to Frederico. Voila!

Copy this addy into your browser to see what he will see:

http://tinyurl.com/3kqzxno

This should accomplish 2 things:

1) He will know where to go to find the Empire State building and you get the credit for giving him the answer.

2) It will hopefully get your point across and he will no longer ask you inane questions. Bonus points if he finds it funny as well and shares the wealth with his other friends!

Use it wisely, and often!

K Is For...

2011-04-15T15:28:00.006-04:00

"Killing A Classic"

A moment of silence please for the impending death of...

Books.

This post won't come as a surprise to any of you. Bookstores are slowly becoming a thing of the past -- and as much as the boyfriend might argue it, Amazon is NOT a bookstore, I'm sorry. Borders is going under and that makes me especially teary-eyed because it originated in my hometown of Ace Deuce. My fave location in NYC just shut its doors -- I went there for the last couple of days of their closing sale and it looked like a pack of rabid hyenas had stormed the doors and raveged hell on the remaining merchandise. Nary novel of my liking was to be found! And I have a wide range of tastes, you guys. Philippa Gregory to Nalini Singh to (my all time favorite) Jacqueline Carey.

(As a side note, I value any and all readers, but people who claim to like "Ulysses" I think are full of it. That book is five million pages long with run on sentences the likes of which I have never seen. Please. You're reading it to be able to say you read it. That's fine, just own up to it.)

But I don't care if you read romance, or history, or biographies, or fantasy, or sci fi, or self-help. All people who read get a giant two enthusiastic thumbs up from me. This is probably the product of growing up with two librarian parents.

Interlude for the Medieval Helpdesk...

Freaking love that video. Anyway, books of course are being replaced by Kindles and Nooks and the like, and I'm just not into it. I don't think I will ever get one of those no matter what. I need the feel of the pages in my hands and the smell of the books, and the spines to display on my beyond overflowing huge bookcase (one of the 3 pieces of furniture in my apartment).

I love books. I just do. Books as in the papery-kind. I stick my nose in the middle of new books and inhale. I love walking the aisles of the bookstores wondering what I will find next -- and that is one thing that is limited by online purchasing. You just don't get the same browsing experience. I love pulling a book down off the shelf and reading the first few pages to get a feel for it. (I never read the back because I don't want a single iota spoiled).

Do I think bookstores will completely disappear? To be honest, no, I don't. I think they will become almost extinct in the years to come but I also think there will always be people who value books -- and their children, and their children's children -- who will preserve the remaining teeny tiny bookstores as "novelty" stores. But the Barnes & Nobels and Borders of the world with their coffee shops? Yeah, I do think those will be no more.

Libraries I hope stick around but I think they will become nothing more than buildings of computers with cyber-librarians. I believe there is already one of these in existance. Books and real-live librarians may remain but I wouldn't count on it. Libraries will be used more to give people access to computers that wouldn't have it otherwise. And to give homeless people a place to bathe. Oh, the stories my mother could tell you...

When I was about 14 I wrote a story about a woman who gave her granddaughter a gift of a book and her granddaughter was confused because she had never seen one before. I hope it doesn't come to that, but I do think it will come damn close. I leave with a video my mother sent to me this morning which prompted this post. Both amusing and depressing.

It's A Book...

http://www.wimp.com/abook/

J Is For...

2011-04-15T01:23:00.001-04:00

"Just Because"

You can't get much better than this classic:

I Is For...

2011-04-14T18:55:00.009-04:00

"It's Springtime!"

Which of course makes me think of "Springtime for Hitler and Germany" from The Producers. Damn song is stuck in my head.

But for real and for true, spring is here! It's 6:47 as I type this at my desk and the sun is still out. Amazeballs! I have seasonal depression up to wazoo so I'm glad to see that bright and shiny round thing in the sky sticking around hours later. And it is warm today! I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans but am quite comfortable walking around without a jacket.

Let us rejoice and be glad! Let us frolick through Central Park! Let us eat hotdogs and go to baseball games! Let us have cookouts and drink beer on balconies! Let us congregate at the beer garden in queens (the original one of course)! Let us take advantage of the spring clearance sales! Let us line up at Shake Shack and eat ice cream on the streets! Time to get CRAZY!

Until summer. Then I will be shut into my air conditioned apartment complaining about the heat and how my hair is frizzing.

H Is For...

2011-04-13T12:38:00.000-04:00

"Happy Birthday To Me!"

I feel like I'm cheating, because entry H was supposed to be on Saturday. But I DON'T CARE! Because it's my birthday and I can do whatever I want to do. Yep, that's right. Today is my day.

I'm 27 years old now -- I think that qualifies as "late twenties." When I was 13 and my sister got married at age 26 I thought she was SO OLD. But I barely feel like a legitimate adult. Actually I like the term "heavily subsidized pseudo-adult" which is how Speak Coffee puts it.

I have a job and an apartment and I pay bills and buy groceries, and I have my laundry washed and folded (which I just began doing and is not only "adult" but "New York adult"). I travel by myself, and I take care of my "children" (my kitties). I guess there is a certain amount of responsibility involved in my world.

But I feel like this entry from Hyperbole and a Half best describes my approach toward "adultism":

This Is Why I'll Never Be An Adult

Note: if you don't read this blog already, start now.

I feel as though responsibility has been forced upon me via life, but that I'm actually a pretty irresponsible person who can barely take care of herself, let alone her cats. Actually, I kind of prioritize with taking care of my cats. They are easier to care for than I am.

I also just realized that Speak Coffee and I have known each other for 14 years -- more than half our lives. Holy poop.

Tonight? Chic dinner with 4 of my closest friends at a NYC hotspot. Saturday? Par-tay.

Somewhere in there I get my present from the boyfriend. He better have been kidding about the toaster.

G Is For...

2011-04-13T00:21:00.001-04:00

"Gorgeous"

Well guys, I did it. After meeting her twice and careful consideration, on Sunday night I adopted the newest member of my family. Meet Cleo's little sister, Delilah:

I call her Lilah for short.

Here she is snuggling into my covers:

And here she is hiding in a corner and looking up at me:

And here she is with my boyfriend's hand (you can tell it's not my hand because it's all big and boy-like):

Lilah is 7th months old and is a tiny 6 pounds. She has a lot of energy but she's not super crazy which is good. Cleo was furious at first but now they seem to be getting along. She's a real sweetie.

F Is For...

2011-04-12T00:32:00.000-04:00

"Family"

Two things before I start on this entry:

1) I am behind on my A-Z challenge. I realize this and I plan to write double or triple entries to catch up.

2) Thank you to everyone who has commented on my blog in the past few days. I promise I will be visiting all of yours! I have read and appreciate every comment.

Now as to the reason I am behind. (First let me say that if you want to read one of my funny entries, please visit the "Best of the Blog" -- I specifically recommend "How To Move With A Cat" if you are looking for a good laugh).

Unfortunately this is not a happy entry. My grandfather died last week and I had to fly to Chicago without warning. He had been sick for the past year, but when he passed away it was very swift and somewhat unexpected. I am thankful that he lived for much longer than the doctors predicted. When he was diagnosed with leukemia last spring, he was given an estimated 3 months to live. He lived for a year after his diagnosis, just shy of his 90th birthday. I am also thankful that the end came swiftly. He lived in his home up until the day before he died and had very little suffering. He died peacefully in his sleep in the middle of the night with my mother and her brother (my uncle) at his side. I only wish that I had been able to see or speak to him one more time before he passed away. I honestly thought he had more time - we were all planning to gather in Chicago to celebrate his 90th birthday. But suddenly he was in the hospital and the next night he wouldn't wake up. And that was that.

My family flew into Chicago on Thursday and stayed there through the weekend. The only -- ONLY -- positive side to this is that I got to see aunts and uncles and cousins and family friends I hadn't seen in years and years. It's sad that it seems there are only two things that really bring family together -- weddings and funerals. At least we can be thankful for the time we have together. And nothing like a death in the family makes you appreciate that more.

My grandfather's funeral was on a cold and rainy day (very appropriate) on Friday morning. The rest of the weekend was spent with relatives and friends dropping by to pay their respects. It was good to have everyone's support and exhausting at the same time. And by the end of the weekend I had answered the "what are you doing with your life" question so often I wished I had typed it out and pinned it to the front of my shirt.

If you've read this far, I appreciate it vastly. Everyone knows what it feels like to lose someone, but it is different to everyone and everyone handles it in their own way. Anyway, that is why I am behind on my entries which I plan to rectify this week. I'm not a Hallmark card kind of girl. I'm one of the most sensitive people you will ever meet but demonstrating that outwardly makes me incredibly uncomfortable and itchy in my own skin. I always go for the Far Side cartoon cards...not the sappy poetry.

But I hope all of you are happy and valuing the good things in your life. No matter how much negativity there is you can always find something (or someone) good. I wish I'd had one more chance to speak to my grandpa before he passed away. But I know he knew how much I loved him.

E Is For...

2011-04-06T01:50:00.000-04:00

"Ew"

Which immediately makes me think "King of the 'ew?" "The Britains!" "'ew are the Britains?" "We all are. We are all Britains, and I am your King." "Well I didn't vote for you."

I can keep going but I'll spare you. "Ew" in this case actually refers to this:

I know, I know, this is a banana, and you guys are all thinking "Um, Liz, banana starts with B. Didn't you go to Kindergarten?"

Why yes I did go to Kindergarten, and by the time I was in first grade I was so advanced in reading that I had my own reading group all to myself. I named it the Magic Cats. (My life seems to have gone downhill from there.)

Anyway, I digress. See, I never liked bananas. Not ever in my entire life. Occasionally when I was little my mom would slice them on my cereal and I'd eat it and be like "yeah, ok, this isn't a bad addition," but I would never just sit down and peel and eat a banana. Banana bread, however, is to die for.

Then I grew up and I thought that I should try bananas again. I thought to myself, self, bananas are good for you and it's not like they have an intense flavor that offends you (I'm not one for spicy food) and it's full of neat-o stuff like Potassium, which is supposed to be good for you, whatever that is, so you should just man up.

(Digression for photo of Brian from Family Guy doing the "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" dance:

)

And we're back.

Anyway, I grew up and started buying bananas here and there. And occasionally I'd eat one, and think to myself, "meh." So herein lies the problem. I buy bananas because I think I should eat bananas, because eating bananas will make me feel better about myself or some ridiculous notion. So I buy them and I set them on the counter in this cute fruit basket my mom bought me (therefore making me feel obligated to put fruit in it) and then every time I see them sitting there I'm like "meh" and walk on by.

And then they go bad.

And there is nothing more "ew" or vom-worthy than an old banana. Well, actually there are probably many things. But it's up there.

I'm destined to keep buying bananas because it's a habit I cannot break. I even tried eating one the other day before it got too ripe but it wasn't ripe enough and gave me a stomach ache. Very sneaky, banana. So I guess my only solution is to keep buying them and watch them get too ripe and learn how to make them into banana bread. Which is yummy.

So anyone have a good banana bread recipe they want to share?

And does anyone else remember Bananas In Pajamas? Because they were totally awesome. Only bananas I ever really liked.

D Is For...

2011-04-05T17:18:00.000-04:00

"Damn I Slept A Lot Last Night"

I'm what you would probably call a night owl. I'm the most awake at about 2 am which is when I get my best ideas and am most inspired to write. I love sitting up alone with my cat under a single light in my apartment and reading a book or surfing the web or working on one of my many stories and novels in progress. I always know I should go to sleep earlier than I do, but I just can't help it. If you asked me to go to sleep at 4 in the afternoon, however, I would happily comply.

I'm also not what you would call a morning person. I was once woken up early by a friend in college to go to an early fencing practice and screamed at him to "get the **** out of my room!" I felt horrible and later apologized profusely, but anyone who knows me knows I do not wake up easily or well. My boyfriend has learned this through trial and error. He's a brave soul though because he still tries to get me out of bed in a timely fashion. I both thank him and want to punch him in the face for that.

But last night I was feeling really weird and dizzy. I had to go right from work to one of my clients' shows (which was crazy off the hook by the way - very rock concert meets performance art) and by the time it was over I was so tired I could barely see straight. I made my way home around 9:30 and sat down in my favorite (ok only) chair to watch some tv and surf some net. About an hour later my head was spinning and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I texted my boyfriend that I was going to bed. This morning I found 3 missed texts from him. I passed out at 11 pm and slept straight through 12 hours, arriving late at work this am.

Now this isn't to say I'm not a marathon sleeper. In fact, if sleeping was an Olympic sport I'm pretty sure I'd be a gold medalist. I wonder if that would be a winter or a summer sport... Because I can do it all year round, you guys. I have serious skills. I'm also a pro at napping. I'm pretty sure I was a cat in at least one of my past lives.

What makes last night so weird is that I went to bed so early! I never go to bed that early! That's completely insane for me. I usually fight it, too, when I start to get tired. Like it's a battle I don't want to lose and if I manage to stay up something amazing will happen. Even when I was little my mother told me that I wouldn't go to sleep until 11 pm and slept until 8 am which is crazy for an infant. And when I was a toddler I refused to nap and would stay awake as late at night as possible. Like I was afraid I was going to miss something if I went to bed. I'm pretty sure I thought my parents were bringing out the really cool toys they were hiding from me at night or throwing huge parties or something.

Anyway, I feel a lot better today so maybe last night was just an anomaly. Or I'm getting sick which is an option I can't really deal with right now. So I'm going to go with bizarre Twilight Zone-esque episode instead.

The True Story Behind "Patty-Cake Cats"

2011-04-05T12:18:00.000-04:00

I promise I will do a "D" post today, but I have to digress for a moment and share this video that "Don't Drink And Write" sent me in response to my request for a video of two kittens "talking to each other." This isn't exactly what I had in mind, but it's so funny I was literally laughing out loud. (At my desk. At my office. Which is bad.) So without further ado:

Update: So apparently this video has been around for about 57 years but I had just not seen it before - which is shocking because (I don't know if you guys know this about me) I am completely obsessed with everything cat-related. I have seen the cats playing patty-cake multiple times but never with the voice over. So even though most of you have probably seen this and are thinking to yourselves "really? She's that late to the game?" I'm going to leave this video up anyway because it's freaking hilarious, and even if you have already seen it ad nasuem you should watch it again. It will improve your day, I promise.

C Is For...

2011-04-04T02:18:00.000-04:00

"Cookie, That's Good Enough For Me!"

Ok, I couldn't help it. I'm just kidding though. C Is Actually For...

"Cat. Duh. And Specifically For Cleo"

I realize that I'm writing this post at 2:20 am, but that technically makes it Monday, and I'm awake, and tomorrow will be a busy day for me so...

Ok, so Cleo is my cat, of course, but I don't feel like I've put nearly enough pictures of her on my blog, so I wanted to share some of the best. This one is my all time favorite from when she was a little baby cat:

And this is her when she is a bit older, playing chess:

And this is her stalking in a beam of sunlight:

And this is an extreme close-up of her cute kitty face:

Look, it's not that I'm completely obsessed with my cat. It's just that... Oh, who am I kidding. I am completely obsessed with my cat. But just look at how adorable she is!

As a continuation of my last post, I am still strongly considering adopting a sister for her. I'm leaning very heavily towards going through with this adoption. This kitten in question is adorable and has a very sad back story. Plus she's a little bit older so she won't have that initial high-strung-ness that Cleo came with. But she's still young enough to adapt. And I think Cleo would like to have a little sister. I feel guilty every time she is home alone.

To be continued...

B Is For...

2011-04-02T18:29:00.000-04:00

"Baby Boys"

Just in case you have been living under a rock and haven't seen the video of the two twin baby boys having a conversation with each other, here it is:

Baby Boy 1 seems desperately to want to get his point across. My favorite part is Baby Boy 2's "talk to the hand" at 34 seconds. I'm not crazy about babies but even I thought it was cute. Although the "dadadadada's" do get a little repetitive.

In completely different news, I saw a 6 month old kitten that I'm crazy about and strongly considering adopting. I feel bad about how long Cleo is home alone while I'm at work during the day, but can I really handle two cats? I take animal adoption extremely seriously so I wouldn't do it unless I was 100% sure. I have to consider this carefully.

How cute would it be to have a video of two kittens "talking" with each other? Much cuter than human babies.

A Is For...

2011-04-01T14:18:00.000-04:00

As a means to make myself write more, I've decided to participate in the A To Z Blogging Challenge. I will try to write 26 blog posts in the month of April, each starting with a letter of the alphabet. Oh, and I guess those letters are supposed to be in order.

So A Is For...

"Are You Kidding Me With This?!"

Now it is a well known fact amongst New Yorkers that one of the most difficult undertakings is finding an apartment that is affordable, liveable, convenient, and in a desireable neighborhood. Costs of a one room studio (like the one inhabitated by yours truly) are nigh astronomical, especially in a chic neighborhood like the West Village (my dream -- as of yet unrealized -- is to live there in a brownstone with exposed brick).

Listings are often posted 15 days before the desired move-in date. If you are looking to move April 1st, there is no point in beginning your search before mid-February, and even then you aren't likely to find something until beginning of March. In my case I had to move in 2 weeks early or risk losing the place. You need to have your paperwork organized and ready to turn in the moment your mind is made up -- and you better make up that mind of yours right quick. You have to make 40 times the monthly rent or have a guarantor who makes 80 times (at least!) or many places will not even consider you. And did I mention that there were some places I looked at that were 6th floor walk-ups? 6th floor! I didn't even know those existed!

As this was my 3rd New York city move, I was a bit more prepared this time around, and when all was said and done it was beyond stressful, but survivable. Actually not nearly as bad as it could have been. (See: my move last year). However, despite my explaining the process over and over again to my parents, they still do not seem to grasp the concept of why moving in New York is so difficult. Why are brokers entitled to first month's rent (at least!) as their fee? Why do you need a broker in the first place? And what do you mean your couch won't fit??

I've tried explaining the process over and over again and why I am so lucky to have found the place that I did, in the building that I did (on the 2nd floor!), despite the fact that it is a 1 room studio so far east I'm almost in the river, I'm shelling out more than half my monthly paycheck to live there, and I can only fit my bed, a bookshelf and an armchair. I don't have a dishwasher, but hey, I'm a New Yorker. I don't cook. My father joked that I could use a napkin for an area rug, but I'm quite comfortable! It's the perfect size for a 20-something and her cat. And I'm so excited that this is my first place alone there is a lot I'm willing to overlook. It's very Carrie Bradshaw. Plus feline. And no sweaters in the stove.

In order to help ease my parents' minds I sent them this link:

This Woman Lives In A 90 Square Foot Apartment

I am hoping this will put things in perspective for them and they will be happy about my current living arrangement. No, Dad, I don't have a doorman, but yes I have a deadbolt and two chain locks on my door. I'm also never going to tell them that a previous tenant in my building was evicted for prostitution. There are some things better left unsaid. But hey, I have a full bath and 3 closets. 3! Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

This woman's apartment is where the title of this entry stems from. Color me jaw-droppingly impressed. Because there is a lot I am willing to do to live in New York and I'm constantly in awe of the lengths people go, but I don't think I could ever survive like this with my sanity in tact. If I lived in that apartment, this would be me in short order:

Only cuter of course.

How To Move With A Cat

2011-03-31T17:26:00.000-04:00

This may not be an official installment of the "Guide To New York City Living" but it follows from a close, personal experience I recently had. I hope these step-by-step instructions are helpful to you if you ever find yourself moving with an animal of the feline persuasion.

How To Move With A Cat:

Step 1) Decide to move, meet with a broker, look at apartments, settle on an apartment, run all over hell and creation pulling paperwork together, submit paperwork to management company, get approved, sign your lease, arrange to move out with your current building, hire movers.

Step 2) Bring a solitary box home as motivation to begin packing. Set this box on your floor. Watch as your cat sniffs it thoroughly and then climbs inside. Squeal about how cute she is and take 57 pictures. Text these pictures to your boyfriend. Berate said boyfriend for not being as excited about the adorableness of your cat as you are.

Step 3) Bring more boxes home and begin putting things inside. Feel bad every time you have to take away a box from your cat in order to put things in it. Finally give her a box of her own that she can utilize until the packing process is complete.

Step 4) Watch as your cat jumps from empty shelf to empty shelf, from stack of boxes to stack of boxes, and on top of your dresser where she has never been before. Be impressed by how well she is taking this change in her life. Wonder at her excitement over exploring these here-to-fore unknown surfaces that she can now access. Squeal over how cute she is. Take 89 pictures of her on every surface in your room and text them to your boyfriend.

Step 5) Sadly take your cat's box away to pack the rest of your belongings. Feel incredibly guilty about this, like you have just told her you are selling her to the circus to pay for ramen noodles.

Step 6) The night before your move sit your cat down and calmly explain to her that the two of you are moving out. That she will be seperated from her brother, the dog and her aunt, your roommate, but you promise that you will all see each other again. Promise her that you love her very much and that you are sure the two of you will be happy in your new home. Tell your boyfriend about this conversation and watch him rub his temples.

Step 7) Greet your movers at the door and notice that your cat has completely disappeared from sight. Peek under your bed and find her hiding under it in the furtherst corner. Feel terrible that her safety zone will soon be removed.

Step 8) After the bed is moved realize that the cat has relocated and you cannot find her. Search the remaining furniture in the room, the closets, and the rest of the apartment. Panic. Be convinced she ran out the door while the movers weren't looking, got on the elevator, somehow pressed the ground button, ended up in the lobby, waltzed out the front door of the building and is now wandering the streets alone and scared.

Step 9) Find the cat under your roommate's bed.

Step 10) Pull out the dreaded cat carrier and prepare yourself for battle. Try to coax your cat out quietly. Wave a toy at her. Try to lure her out calmly with a piece of string. Be completely unsuccessful of anything but garnering yourself a glare that could melt steel.

Step 11) Begrudgingly allow your boyfriend to help you. Be horrified when he waves his power drill at the cat. Catch the cat as she shoots across the room in abject terror at ten thousand miles an hour. Succumb to vigorous scratching that leads to you dropping the cat. Chase her into your now empty room.

Step 12) Close yourself in your bedroom with the cat, your boyfriend, and the cat carrier. Be impressed at the size of your cat's tail. Listen in disbelief as your cat makes sounds you did not think an animal of that size capable of making. Finally grab the cat and stuff her into her carrier. Listen to her tiny and pathetic meows of defeat. Feel like a terrible person.

Step 13) Travel by cab to your new place with the saddest cat in the history of the known universe.

Step 14) Let your cat out of the carrier at the new apartment. Watch as she explores her now much smaller living space with her belly close to the ground as though she is training with the army under barbed wire. Finally open a cabinet for her to run into as there is no other place for her to hide and the movers will be arriving shortly.

Step 15) Do not see your cat for 6 hours. Be completely unpacked with all furniture in place and sitting calmly before she emerges. Try to coax her to eat. Fail. Watch as she runs under the bed which is still her hiding place but now in a new location. Roll your eyes as your boyfriend tries to lure her out with a tape measure.

Step 16) Feel like a horrible owner and an awful person for uprooting your cat's entire life and turning her world upside down. Convince yourself you are not fit for animal ownership. Be sure you have destroyed her sanity and you will have to put her on kitty xanax which there is no way you can afford.

Step 17) Realize all is forgiven when your cat emerges from under the bed at midnight and curls up with you. Finally breathe a sigh of relief. Thank whatever gods may be that cats have a short memory.

Step 18) Declare that you are never, ever moving again.

My Friend Is Published

2011-03-24T16:56:00.000-04:00

Eileen Wiedbrauk has been published before, but this is big news from one of my best friends so I want to spread the word! Please read her geniusly clever and hilarious take on a fairy tale classic online at Fairy Tale Magazine.

And help me get the news out there!

Bizarre New York City Sign Of The Day

2011-03-22T00:34:00.000-04:00

Escalators are for Passengers Only

Someone please explain the meaning of this sign to me.

Today I was getting off the E train and took the escalator up to the street. On the way up, I encountered this proclamation above me, which leads me to beg the following questions.

Dear New York City MTA,

Do you mean that joyriding is not allowed on the escalators? Is this an attempt to derail teenage shenanigans before they start? Because I'm pretty sure there are worse crimes the teens of New York could commit, and more interesting ones as well, than riding a moving set of stairs. Are you asking homeless people not to hangout on the escalators? Are you afraid they are going to ride up and down soliciting people for money? I suppose they do that on the trains and those are moving so it only makes sense to jump to this conclusion. Are you saying that only passengers of the subways are allowed on the escalators? Given that there is no reason to take the escalators to or from the subway unless you a) plan to ride the subway, b) have just ridden the subway, or c) are a homeless person who plans to solicit money, I feel as though this doesn't need specification.

Really, I'm lost. Please enlighten me. Who is it that is riding these escalators who isn't supposed to be? WHO? Inquiring minds want to know!

Sincerely,

Inner Monologue Of A Dog

2011-03-16T15:31:00.000-04:00

A Soliloquy Of Oral Fixation

"Hey, look at this! There is something on the ground! I wonder if it goes in my mouth? I shall try putting it in my mouth. It does! It does go in my mouth! Hey, there's something else on the ground! Does this go in my mouth? Yes, yes it does go in my mouth! Oh, and this goes in my mouth too, and this and this, and this goes in my mouth! Wow, so many things on the ground to put in my mouth! Hey, stop trying to take things out of my mouth. Oh well, if you take them out of my mouth I will just put them back in my mouth which is where they belong. Are you going to give me something? You are? Does it go in my mouth? I bet it goes in my mouth. It does! It does go in my mouth! And this goes in my mouth, and this goes in my mouth, and this and this and this and this and this! Everything goes in my mouth! Stop trying to take that away from me. It clearly goes in my mouth. And your foot goes in my mouth, and your hand goes in my mouth, and your shirt goes in my mouth, and your purse goes in my mouth, and your laundry, and your shoes, and the chair, and the table leg, and this box, and the cat, they all go in my mouth! All of them! If I could I would fit the world in my mouth. That is where everything belongs."

Taxi Cab Door + Head = FAIL

2011-02-18T20:10:00.000-05:00

My head really hurts, you guys. I'm pretty sure I'm concussed.

This morning I was getting into a cab and somehow, using my incomparable spacial awareness skills, managed to smack my head on the top of the the door. It was an internal resounding thunk followed by a brain rattle and then throbbing.

That throbbing has since taken over my entire head which has been now hurting for close to 10 hours. I've been pretty overzealous with the Tylenol at this point -- definitely way more than two tabs every six hours.

I'm pretty convinced I'm going to go to sleep tonight and slip into a coma.

Stupid cabs with their stupid stupidness.

Other than my self-imposed brain damage, this day was beautiful. Made me really sad I had to be in the office all day. And thinking of how great this day was made me think of my favorite SNL Lonely Island video. Never fails to make me laugh. Enjoy!

I Love Post-its®: An Ode Of Joy

2011-02-17T17:08:00.000-05:00

This is an entry about love. About one thing in this world that I cannot do without. And that thing is Post-its®.
Post-its®, you come in such a beautiful array of colors. Pastel? Neon? Ultra? You look good enough to eat!

Oh Post-its®, what would I do without you? How perfectly you stick to my desk and how easily I can scribble down inane messages from people whose calls I don't plan to return. How lovely you look in your neat little rainbow stack and spread about in what I like to call a system of organization.

Oh Post-its®! The dispenser? How genius! Small and large, you refuse to be conformed to one size. Through your variety I am a free woman. Free to take notes and stick them all over my desk and computer and phone like sprinkles of joy. Even the worst message from the most irritating press outlet won't bog down your beauty.

Yes, Post-its®, this post is dedicated to you.

I could not live without you.

This Blog Is A Testimony To My Biggest Problem

2011-02-11T14:06:00.001-05:00

More than two months.

That is how long it has been since I have posted on this blog.

Ridiculous.

Inspired yet again by Eileen I have decided to update and to use said update to explain something about myself.

I have a really, really hard time committing to anything for more than a couple of weeks, months, or years depending on the situation. This blog? A couple of months. Writing "morning pages"? A couple of days. New York? Been her for almost 5 years and wondering what it would be like outside the city (of course if I did move out I would probably want to move right back after sheer boredom).

I really need to FORCE myself to commit. To anything. Perhaps this is fickleness not in a dating sense but in life? Whatever it is, it is no good.

I'm really going to try to upate more frequently. I'm going to try SUPER HARD.

And now a cat video:

I feel like that is something Cleo would do to Bo.

To get back into the blogging spirit....

2010-11-27T16:55:00.000-05:00

I have been slacking times 23943742 on this blog and I really need to get back into the swing of things. Eileen has convinced me that I should write one entry a week so I'm going to try to stick to it.

And here is my first one in a long time. A hilarious video. Make sure to watch it with the sound on:

Reason #3948572034 Why Cats Rule

2010-09-19T21:59:00.001-04:00

You can make them into your bed:

Stand Down!

2010-09-16T23:53:00.000-04:00

As a regular theater-goer, I must issue a complaint.

Everyone, listen up: the standing ovation is way overdone!

Once upon a time it was used for an exceptional performance, and on a rare occasion at that. Now it seems that every damn show I go to that doesn't utterly suck gets a standing ovation.

It's always just a few of you out there who start it, I know it is. It's like a freaking wave at a baseball game. One group of over-eager tourists stands up and then the people behind them can't see and THEY stand up and then the people behind THEM have to stand up and so on and so forth until I'm rolling my eyes but want to see the actors take their bows so I am forced to stand up too. Or I could stay seated and have everyone look at me like I'm that dissenting asshole. Those are my choices.

Well, I am sick of being forced to give a standing ovation I don't believe in, people! Pick and choose your standing ovations more carefully or I'll...I'll...well really I'll do nothing because there is not much I can do against the tourist masses. But I will post angrily on my blog, dammit!

Oh, and another thing that annoys me about curtain call while we're on the subject? People who clap along to the music rather than applaud.

And now a funny cat cartoon to lighten the mood!

Oh To Be A Cat...

2010-09-13T23:45:00.000-04:00

Not to be morose, but I've been kind of in a bad place for the past...well...while. Not so happy with work, or my life in general. The choices I've made, where I am, etc etc. The fact that I feel like I should have everything figured out by now and I don't, not nearly. But I'm starting to suspect that we never do.

Anyway, these things really make me want to be a cat. Particularly because of this:

And this:

"Cats: 34 Million Years of Just Not Giving A Fuck"

I promised my blog would be a happy place though, so I promise to bounce back immediately! And in the meantime, may you all be as peaceful as cats.

I Do Not Like the Cone of Shame...

2010-09-13T00:47:00.000-04:00

My poor puppy is wearing a cone.

It's sadly hilarious. My roommate calls him space puppy. I call him megaphone or satellite dish. Here he is:

I promise I'll do a real post again soon...I know it's been awhile. But I had to share this gem.

It Will Cost Me HOW Much To Breathe?

2010-09-07T16:03:00.001-04:00

This isn't meant to be a serious post that opens up commentary on the state of health care. I'm more relaying this story because I'm annoyed and I think it proves that something is very wrong -- I'm not sure exactly what it is that's wrong. But something is. Very.

So I've been fighting this hacking cough for the past week and I hate going to the doctor so I was just kind of willing it to go away, which wasn't working so well. So after a weekend of my parents lecturing me on "taking care of myself" I decided to break down and go to the doctor when I got back to the city.

So I went today -- in and out in about 10 minutes and I walked away with a diagnosis of bronchitis (ok fine, Mom, you win) and a prescription for antibiotics.

I went to the pharmacy on my way back to work to get the perscription filled. So the pharmacist does her thing, whatever it is, making pills magically appear and what have you. Then she looks at me from across the counter, head cocked to the side and a grimace on her face as though in horrified shock and says:

"It's going to cost you $50. For five pills."

She says this to me in a pretty incredulous way, and in my mind I'm like "what fresh hell?" I've been through this with my health insurance before and I'm not so surprised, but she says it in such a way that it's almost like a question. How does she expect me to reply?

"$50? Oh, thank you no, I don't need to breathe that badly. If it was $10 it would be worth it, but $50? Eesh. Guess I better learn how to live with depleted levels of oxygen and a debilitating cough right quick."

"$50? Oh, I'm sorry, I must have given you the wrong insurance card. Here is my other insurance card, the one that doesn't suck that I use when I REALLY need medication."

"$50? Oh, never mind. Do you know how many extra-dirty martinis I could buy with that money?" (Probably only 2 in this city but that's moot).

"$50? Never mind, I have to pay rent this month and that just set me over." (This is actually the truth but if I die it doesn't matter whether or not I have an apartment so my health must come first).

"$50? I'll give you $10, how does that sound. $30 you say? How about $25? So glad I've been practicing my haggling skills."

So of course I just said "Yeah, well, not much I can do about that." Paid for the damn pills and went back to work.

I'm not sure what needs to change here, but obviously it's something I can't do much about. So lady pharmacist, if you have any ideas, please shoot them at me.

Total cost of my diagnosis and treatmeant with doctor's co-pay? $65. I must really like me some oxygen.

Why My Mother Will Never Be Arrested for Drug Possession

2010-09-04T23:15:00.000-04:00

Today my mother and I were spending a leisurely afternoon on my sister's back porch, her reading the New York Times and me catching up on my book.

She suddenly exclaims, "Paris Hilton was arrested on drug charges!"

I roll my eyes. Shocker, right? But my mother really isn't usually that interested in celebrity gossip so I was kind of surprised that she was bothering to tell me at all.

Me: "What happened this time?"

My Mother: "Apparently she was pulled over by the police, and when she got out of the car a bag of cocaine fell out of her purse."

Me: "Seriously?"

My Mother: "I just can't believe that. How ridiculous..."

Me: Nods, thinking to myself, *Yes, Paris Hilton and her shenanigans ARE ridiculous.*

My Mother: "I mean, who has stuff just falling out of their purse? I've never had stuff fall out of my purse. That is just silly."

Me: "Yeah, me neither."

My Mother: "And why was the bag of cocaine on top anyway? I would bury it way down near the bottom."

Me: "...me too?"

My Mother: "Actually, I wouldn't even keep it in my purse at all. I would hide it in the side paneling of my car."

Me: "......"

And that is why my mother will never be busted for drugs.

Those of you who know my mother in person will appreciate this post a lot better...

Where Liz Decides to Try and Be Creative

2010-09-03T23:55:00.000-04:00

Inspired by my real life (and blogger) friend Eileen of Speak Coffee to Me (and, well, pretty much everyone else in the world who is at all internet savvy in the most remote way) I decided to create my own header for my blog.

These cats took me a really long time to make, you guys. Like, an embarassing long time.

But the important thing is that I'm happy with the result, and I hope you don't hold it against me that these cats don't have tails, because the tails really weren't working for me.

And yes, "Tail" is on purpose ;) This is me trying to be all witty and pun-y and such. How'm I doin'?

Planning on posting a couple hilarious cat links in the near future -- if not in the wee hours of the night then definitely tomorrow.

Update: Eileen just suggested that it might be very clever to sub-title my blog "Tales of Tailess Cats." But then she thought it might lead people to think that MY cat has no tail and then I started to worry and think that maybe my header was sending false information out into cyberspace. So allow me to clarify. Cleo does have a tail. Fear not. In fact, it is an exceptionally long one. She is not one of those breeds that is tailess and has not lost it in an accident, so if you were in the middle of writing a letter of condolence, thank you for your kind thoughts but it really isn't necessary. :)

For A Good Laugh At New York's Expense...

2010-09-03T14:10:00.000-04:00

read this genius article by the Onion.

I'd say this sums up my feelings on the city at least 50% of the time.

Happy Friday to all!

A Guide To New York City Living: Lesson 2: How To Ride The Subway

2010-09-02T22:02:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the second installation of a Guide To New York City Living, where I provide extensive step-by-step instructions based on first hand experience of surviving the city.

Today we examine a necessary skill employed by all but those with drivers, enough money to take cabs everywhere, and the ladies of "Sex and the City."

Note: Please do not try to apply this advice to Boston, DC or Chicago. Their public transportation is vastly different and makes much less sense. Aren't you glad that in NYC you can stumble home any time of night because the trains never stop running?

Following, I provide two different scenerios.

New York City Living
Lesson 2: How to Ride the Subway

Scenerio 1: Rush Hour

Step 1) Make sure that you are running very late for work, leaving absolutely no time for potential incident or delays. Even if everything is perfectly on time you are still doubtlessly going to be 15 minutes late. Hope this means that the trains will miraculously be running double time today.

Step 2) Arrive at the station and be unable to go down the stairs for five minutes because of the mad rush of people exiting who don't know that you are supposed to stay to the right.

Step 3) Arrive downstairs at the turnstile just in time to see the train you want already in the station and doors shutting as you watch from afar with a wordless cry of "Nooo!" on your lips.

Step 4) Quickly scan your card in a fruitless last ditch attempt to catch the train. Learn that your monthly MetroCard has just expired.

Step 5) Curse loudly (well aware that no New Yorker is going to pay attention to such a thing) as you search through your purse for your new monthly MetroCard that your office manager just gave you. Be unable to find your card amid the myriad make-up containers, empty bottles of Advil, nail files, gum wrappers, old receipts, pens, lip gloss and loose change.

Step 6) Finally find your new card and make it through the turnstile. Don't sit down. You don't know where that seat has been.

Step 7) Wait 15 minutes for the train, which finally arrives packed to capacity. Wait for so long for people to exit that by the time you are able to board the conductor gets over-anxious and closes the door. On your arm. The door will not pop open as it is supposed to. A kindly stranger will help pull you free.

Step 8) Be unable to find a seat. Even though you are surrounded by all men over 6 feet tall, they are all be holding the handrails in reach, leaving you to have to stand on your tippy toes and hang on to the rail over the seats. It's a good thing you remembered your deoderant because your armpit is definitely in someone's face.

Step 9) Speed along and feel like the train is about to derail and you are hurdling toward your impending doom.

Step 10) Be miffed when the train grinds to a halt in the middle of the tunnel for no apparent reason. Hear the following useful information from the conductor: "woifnsISjmg. Shkf gwfj delays. APighpogs incident soojw foaiw gaswigjps. Should be moving shortly."

Step 11) Finally reach your destination. Shoulder your way off the train because you don't want to be on there till the next stop.

Step 12) Wait patiently for 16 people to enter the station through the turnstile you plan to use.

Step 13) Exit using the right side of the stairs. Notice that once again no one is paying attention to this rule. Pretend you're trying to get away from a fire -- elbows out. Pat yourself on the back that you are the one person on the island of Manhattan who tries to play by the rules.

(In an escalator situation, stand on the right and walk on the left. No one pays attention to this rule either. Plan to walk because you haven't been to the gym in two weeks but don't make it very far).

Step 14) Breathe the sweet, sweet air of freedom.

Step 15) Arrive 45 minutes late to work.

Scenerio 2: 4 AM

Step 1) Decide in your drunken state that rather than taking a cab you are going to save money and you and your friends are going to take the subway.

Step 2) Spend the next 25 minutes trying to locate the subway that you need.

Step 3) Decide to stop at McDonald's on the way. You need fries to sustain you on the long ride home.

Step 4) Wait on the platform with the other drunk people.

Step 5) Continue to wait.

Step 6) Enjoy the music played by the random bucket-playing man. Do not give him money. Ignore the woman asking for change who says she needs to get home to Jersey.

Step 7) Wait some more.

Step 8) Finally rejoice when the train arrives after 45 minutes. Board and noticed that it smells like something died. See the homeless person passed out on the bench. Quickly switch cars.

Step 9) Sit down and promptly pass out. (Note: Make sure not to sleep through your stop. Waking up at the end of the line = unhappy, and it's a long road back from Queens).

Step 10) Arrive at your destination and breathe the sweet, sweet air of freedom.

From here please refer to Lesson 1: How to be Hungover beginning around Step 27.

I realize I may have left out some key points for those of you who have never been to New York before. If you are unfamiliar with the New York City subway system these can include:

1) Figuring out which trains you need to take. Use hopstop.com. It is the best. Seriously.

2) Trying to read a subway map. Hint: Just make sure you check hopstop.com before you leave. It will save you a lot of undue grief.

3) Cancellations and changes in service. Be prepared to ride uptown to go downtown. That's all I'm saying.

4) Exiting the subway on a street corner and standing there for 5 minutes wondering what-fresh-hell direction you are supposed to go in. God Speed.

So I realize that my next lesson was supposed to be how to take a cab. For those of you with extra change in your pockets, I promise that for next time.

Bugged!

2010-09-02T11:54:00.001-04:00

Last night Elissa and I decided to clean our apartment.

(I'll pause for a moment to give you time to recover from your state of shock.)

There we were, merrily cleaning and dusting and washing and swiffering, when I decided to rearrange the pillows on the couch.

I look down and there is a brown, almond shaped bug with antennae and multiple legs and not really so small but not cockroach size (and trust me I've seen a cockroach or 17 in my day) just hanging out all "what up yo?"

So I screamed and threw the pillow and the bug crawled into the couch and I decided that I was never sitting on that couch again, but that's ok because I have other pieces of furniture like a large comfy chair and not so comfy dining room chairs and couches are kind of overrated, aren't they?

So fast-forward 10 minutes and I look up from across the room and there is the bug crawling across the wall up close to the ceiling all "hey, here I am again! What's new peeps?"

Immediately I leapt into action.

Which is to say that I leapt onto the livingroom chair and begain screaming and pointing frantically and begging Elissa to kill it.

So Elissa grabbed a bottle of Green Works cleaner and sprayed the bug until it fell off the wall and then sprayed it and sprayed it and sprayed it on the ground until it was drowned in a puddle.

Mike, you would have been so proud.

A better entry to come later, I promise...

My Brain Itches

2010-09-01T12:47:00.000-04:00

I'm actually in a really good mood today, you guys.

I had to catch a cab this morning and the driver (who is typically surly and terrifying) acted like he was overjoyed to have me as a passenger.

Him: "Hello! How are you today??"

Me: "Good thank you. And you?"

Him: "I'm doing greattttttt!!!!"

Yes it was all dragged out like that too, and not in a sarcastic, bitter kind of way, but in a really, trully this guy is having a fantistic day kind of way. It was instantly contagious.

Wow, I thought to myself. Maybe this IS a really great day?

Then I got to work and I got into the elevator with a messenger who was middle-aged, black (this is important because it comes up later), and was acting like he was on speed. Seriously, he pushed the button to his floor about five times. Then the button to my floor five times, then a couple other girls got on the elevator and he pushed the button to their floor about five times.

The security guard (also black) called out to him to ask where he was going:

Security guard: "What floor are you going to?"

Messenger: "Six! Some architecture place!"

Security guard: "See me before you leave."

Messenger: "I got you, black man!"

I just loved that whole assumption of "you're black and I'm black so don't worry I won't screw you over."

Then we're in the elevator and he turns to one of the other girls and delivers this gem:

"If I was Tiger Woods I'd wanna marry you. Seriously though, I think that guy's in New York now. Careful, he could jump out of a bush any time!"

My day was really on a roll now.

The only negative so far (other than being at work) is that I've had this wracking cough for the past couple of days which now seems to have turned into a full-on respiratory infectiony thing and it's not fun.

You know that feeling where your ears itch really deep on the inside? Like, so deep you feel like you could scratch them on the inside with your tongue but that really doesn't work, so you want to jam Q-tips into your ears as far as they will go and massage your brain with them? Well that's how I feel today. And it's annoying as hell.

Pet My Peeve

2010-08-30T20:58:00.001-04:00

Wow. That sounds amazingly dirty.

I've been making concerted efforts to turn over a new leaf and not be such a negative person, and also make sure that my blog is not 100% negative. That being said, I've found that it is much, much easier to bond with others over things we both hate rather than things we both enjoy. This may be especially true for women, but think about it. How amazingly fun is it to relish with glee over the horrendous things in life and share your mutual complaints for hours and hours until the wee hours of the morning? Especially if you're doing so over a bottle of wine.

Think of this not just as a list of my pet peeves, but rather the opening of a dialogue. Please, share with me the things you hate. I welcome the opportunity to bond and bitch over this with you.

Without further ado, I bring you my list of pet peeves:

Peeve 1) People who take elevators to the second floor. Unless you are in four inch heels or have a broken leg, this should not happen. Ever.

Peeve 2) The word "spearhead" when used in a work setting.

Peeve 3) Wearing nothing but socks in bed. This may be my ultimate pet peeve.

Peeve 4) Pork pie hats. I do not understand them. I do not want to understand them. And my irritation tends to increase with the ratio of head to hat. I have provided this handy graph so you can see what I mean:

Peeve 5) Emails that come with requests of receipt. You'll know I got your damn email when I respond to it and not before.

Peeve 6) That one sign in the subways that says something along the lines of: "Do not throw trash on the subway tracks because throwing trash on the subway tracks causes fires and no one wants fires do we no we do not." I don't know who writes these signs but someone should tell them what a run-on sentence is.

Peeve 7) My most recent peeve. People who combine their names on Facebook. Usually (I hope only?) this happens with married couples. I'm sorry, but you are not Jonathan Sarah Westfalen. YOU ARE TWO PEOPLE. FOR GODS SAKE REGAIN YOUR IDENTITIES.

Peeve 8) This one should be obvious, but service providers of any and all kinds. Cable, electricity, airlines... If they have something you need and you can't get anywhere else, you're pretty much fucked.

Those are my main pet peeves. Thank you for reading, and feel free to share your own!

I have the feeling that I will be adding to this list as things occur to me...

UPDATE: It has come to my attention that some readers may not know what a pork pie hat is. Well, you can usually find them on hipsters (they are another border-line pet peeve of mine, as is Brooklyn). Here is a photo for your reference:

Please take special note of the head-to-hat ratio.

Fat Woman In A Little Seat

2010-08-30T16:52:00.000-04:00

This is the blog post in which I likely unintentionally insult someone.

Consider this a disclaimer if you must. I will now plow ahead unabashedly. Here is my story.

The other day I boarded the 6 train which I take home from work. Especially in the evening when everyone is making their nightly commute the trains are, of course, very crowded. It is always difficult to find a seat.

On this particular evening, I spotted one between a man and a rather (insert politcally correct adjective here) girthier woman. I dodged the people getting on and off, zoning in on that seat like a missle with a homing beacon. (This is something you will learn more about in one of my inevitable future New York City Lessons: How to Ride the Subway.)

I squeezed into the seat and began removing my bag from my shoulder to place it in my lap. It is a small shoulder bag with short straps, ergo I consider it a purse and carry it with me everywhere. It is not large and encombersome but still fits all my necessities (it has, in fact, become a black whole of necessities, and some things not so necessary, but that is another story entirely).

Anyway, a seat is a seat and I am not a large girl, and when you find one you take one, ya know? So I sit down and I am rearranging my bag and this short piece of dialogue takes place:

Woman of Girth (said in a snotty, condescending voice): Can you move your bag?

Me (desired response): If you can move your fat.

Me (actual response): Sure.

That's it, really. That's the whole story. And I wouldn't have thought twice if she had asked me kindly, but the wretchedness of her tone and the fact that I was already reduced to three quarters of a seat made me not so open to niceties. Of course, as you can see, I am a nice person and responded politely as noted.

I really don't know what the point of this was other than that it annoyed me and my mother (who is the nicest person on planet earth) recently had a similar experience on an airplane and was equally irritated so I know it's not just me.

Ankle Biter

2010-08-29T00:18:00.000-04:00

I have a dog.

I know that the title of this blog is misleading, but it's true. Technically it is my roommate's dog and, even though I am a cat person, I admit that he is the cutest little ball of fuzz to ever have a waggy tail. This is Bo:

In this picture Bo is clearly saying: "look how cute I am with my duckling fuzz fur and my little ears and black nose and brown puppy dog eyes. Look at how innocently I sit here. As innocent as innocent could be."

Bo is a lying liar who lies.

I love Bo, really I do, and it is a good thing, or I would have pitched him out of a window by now.

Bo is a baby and he is teething. This means he is in a phase when he chews on everything. And I mean EVERYTHINGGGGGGG.These things include (in no particular order):

1) Doggy biscuits.

2) His toys.

3) His wee wee pads.

4) Clothing.

5) Shoes.

6) Towels.

7) Blankets.

8) Pillows.

9) The couch.

10) The coffee table.

11) The dining room chairs.

12) People (including, but not limited to: toes, ankles, hands, arms, chins, cheeks and ears).

13) My roommate's homework.

14) Books.

15) Cat toys.

16) The cat's scratching post.

17) The cat.

We have received some really great advice from friends of ours who have owned dogs. We are eternally grateful for this advice. None of it has worked.

We've also received much unsolicited advice from random people standing in line at PetCo. I assume this is what it is like to have a child and to have every other mother of the world give unwanted recommendations based on how they've raised their own children.

Soon Bo will begin puppy school. I've imagined this is like a "Mommy and Me" class for dogs, where every other puppy will be sitting there perfectly behaved while our child runs around chewing on all of them.

I feel like we're terrible mothers.

A Guide to New York City Living: Lesson 1: How to be Hungover

2010-08-28T18:06:00.000-04:00

Earlier today I started a blog post about why puppies are not good for hangovers. But then I decided to take it down and start this series instead. A friendly guide for living in New York, where I use easy to follow step-by-step instructions to explain to my readers the imporant and necessary aspects of being a twenty-something in the big city. I hope you find this helpful and informative.

New York City Living
Lesson 1: How to be Hungover

Step 1) Proclaim loudly and decisively that you will have only one drink tonight. Make a point of telling your roommate that this will be a calm and casual evening and you plan to be home by 9 at the latest.

Step 2) Don't leave your apartment until 11 pm.

Step 3) Stop by the liquor store on the way to your destination. Your friend has invited you and your roommate over and you feel as though you should contribute to the party. It is the polite thing to do after all.

Step 4) Purchase a bottle of wine. Wine is classy. Especially the kind in a bottle.

Step 5) Open the bottle of wine in your friend's elevator. The twist off cap makes this easy. Pass the bottle back and forth with your roommate. Make sure you are in mid-swallow when your friend opens the door.

Step 6) Marvel at the layout of snacks and mixers your friend has provided. Compliment her on the hummus and pita chips. Present your bottle of wine. She will thank you and ask if you want a cup. Say no. Finish the bottle yourself.

Step 7) After the bottle of wine is gone, have a beer.

Step 8) Have another beer.

Step 9) Have another beer.

Step 10) Dick around with your friend's playlist.

Step 11) Have another beer.

Step 12) Decide with your roommate and your friend that you should all meet up for brunch the next morning at 11 am.

Step 13) Engage in a heated political debate with several people at the party. It doesn't matter the topic or whether or not you are right. Insist you are right.

Step 14) Have another beer.

Step 15) Notice it is now 1:40 in the morning. Convince your roommate that you should go to the bar. She will agree. A couple of your guy friends will decide to join in the shenanigans.

Step 16) Don't leave for the bar until 2:30 am.

Step 17) Insist that you have to stop to buy cigarettes even though you quit smoking 2 and half years ago.

Step 18) Stop at a bodega where they accept cash only. Have no cash on you.

Step 19) Detour to an ATM. Make your friends wait.

Step 20) Go back to your bodega and purchase a pack of cigarettes for a reasonable $16. Smoke 3 drags of one. Start to cough. Throw the cigarette out.

Step 21) Arrive at the bar. Proclaim loudly and decisively that you've had enough to drink.

Step 22) Order a vodka tonic.

Step 23) Stay at the bar until last call. It is now 4 am. Decide you need pancakes like you've never needed pancakes in your life. You will not be able to go to bed unless you have pancakes. You will die if you don't have pancakes.

Step 24) Convince everyone else of the wonder of pancakes and head out to the diner.

Step 25) Look at the menu and decide you want a bagel with cream cheese instead.

Step 26) Tell your friend that he should order pancakes so you can mooch off his plate.

Step 27) Finally stumble home. One of your guy friend's has to crash on your couch because he drove down from Connecticut and has to move his car at 9 am.

Step 28) Somehow manage to get your contacts out. Do not brush your teeth or wash your face. Pull on your pjs.

Step 29) Crank the AC and pass out with your cat.

Step 30) Have bizarre, cracked-out dreams.

Step 31) Wake up at noon with a splitting headache the likes of which you have never felt before in your life. Feel like you're dying. Think someone is hammering nails into your skull.

Step 32) Crawl out of bed and stumble into your roommate's room. Ask her if she has Advil. She'll pull herself out of bed and hand you the last two pills she has left because she is amazing and self-sacrificing like that.

Step 33) Unintentionally wake up your puppy.

Step 34) Take your pills and decide that you need to go back to bed immediately. Be unable to because the puppy is now following you around the apartment, yipping and biting your ankles.

Step 35) Step in dog pee. For some reason the puppy thinks because the cat can pee in your room (in her neat little box) that he can too.

Step 36) Hop around on one foot looking for paper towels. This does not help your headache.

Step 37) Find the paper towels, wipe off your foot.

Step 38) Clean the puddle on the floor. Lock the dog out of your room. Listen to your roommate yelling at him.

Step 39) Go back to bed.

Step 40) Wake up at 3 pm.

Step 41) Sit in the livingroom in your pjs. Talk to your roommate about how you're both really hungry and want brunch.

Step 42) Turn on the tv and start working on a blog post.

Step 43) Talk to you roommate about how you should really order brunch.

Step 44) Delete the blog post you have just written.

Step 45) Talk to your roommate about how you're both starving and should really get brunch.

Step 46) At 4:30 pm pull on a pair of jeans and leave with your roommate to get brunch.

Step 47) Stop at Duane Reade to pick up Advil for your still-splitting headache.

Step 48) Arrive at the bagel cafe and order a huge, ginormous bagel that you couldn't fit in your mouth if your life depended on it. Be really excited about your bagel.

Step 49) Begin the treck back to your apartment. Complain about how far you have to go (5 blocks). Finally arrive back home at 5 pm. Greet your doorman who is just signing in for his evening shift. Try to pretend that you aren't holding your brunch

Step 50) Spend the remainder of the afternoon watching Jersey Shore and reruns of Buffy. Write a new blog post outlining your experiences as a warning to others. Enjoy your brunch. You'll be hungry for dinner around 10 pm.

And there you have it. I hope that you take this wisdom to heart. You never know when you are going to need it. Next time? How to take a cab.

This Is Not A Blog About Cats

2010-08-27T01:25:00.000-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I love cats. I'm obsessed with cats. I'm not a crazy cat lady yet because I'm not in my 40s and I only have one. But this Cat Utopia could easily be mine one day.

However, this is not the topic of this blog. It will just feature heavily. This blog has no topic, except that I'm yet another 20 something living in New York City who decided that starting a blog would be a great way to pass the time. You're welcome.

To begin let me tell you a few important facts:

1) I have a cat. Her name is Cleo and I am obsessed with her. Expect many photos.

2) Cherry Coke is the best drink to be invented in the history of ever.

3) I have terrible handwriting.

4) Cheese rules. I mean, seriously rules. Is there anything better than cheese? The answer is no.

5) I pay no attention to sports, but if anyone asks, I am a Tigers fan.

6) I've been in New York for four years and I am more broke than when I moved here. I guess that's how it works.

7) My favorite movie is "Interview With The Vampire."

8) I would rather go to the beach than to the mountains.

9) Fall is the best season. Fin.

10) I have a strong belief that one can never own too many pairs of black boots.

There you have it. Those are all the important things you need to know about me, with the exception of age, profession, religious and political beliefs, marital status, and income bracket. But really, you can find most of that stuff in my profile anyway.