Posts Tagged ‘I Love New York’

What always happens? Life.

January 19, 2010


So. I’m back. It’s been a while. I moved. A relationship ended. A second job started. A much-loved dog died. My birthday happened on schedule. I developed a real penchant for beer. A new year began. Life. It’s happening to me now.

I traded a 7th floor walk-up for a panic room where I sleep with my head out the window on the street where my parents got engaged and I love it. I can almost touch parallel walls simultaneously in my bedroom, but I got DVR. My closet is in the living room, but I doubled the amount of toilet options. My pillow is on a windowsill, but that means there’s a window. I have fewer roommates, but one of them is my sister. New York. It’s all about the give and take, (but really about the tolerance levels regarding the take portion). And just like that, I’m moving on up to the (lower) west side.

life.

So I’ve been busy being happy. Sad. Spackle-ing walls. Forgetting my umbrella. Waiting in lines at the DMV. Writing about deep fryers, cardboard Christmas trees and cookbooks written by toddlers. You know. That’s why I haven’t been around. The point is, I get my groceries delivered, and 95% of the time they’re what I ordered, and not someone else’s box of hot sauce. I’m taking life in stride, but I’m taking it, no matter what. I mean, life is really bringing everything to the table here. This is me taking a huge bite out of my slice of the pie. I’ll try to write about it. I’m great at keeping promises like that.

Also, I don’t pay myself for this, so, see you again in 2011.

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Overheard in New York

March 5, 2009

Today I went to the “magazine bodega”  I usually go to when I’m feeling like supporting magazine sales everywhere with a philanthropically-justified purchase. While scanning the racks for the latest issue of Glamour I heard  an older man address a girl paying at the counter. “Excuse me dear, but would you mind passing me a smile?”  

Ohellno. And thus, I was rippedfrom my internal monologue (glamour-glamour-glamour-glamour? glamour-glamour-glamour!) and dropped squarely into the mental situation room which is where I go to make some split-second decisions about who I am going to write off as krazy. Tonight, I was taking a hard look at where this guy fell on the creepy vs. grandpa-cute scale.

Verdict: The man was tipping the scales in favor of grandpa-cute, but only slightly, as he was in the younger grandpa category, which we all know is a gray area because that’s where kraziness can still stand on it’s own without being completely endearing. Still, he had the kind of look in his eye that said it was one of those days where he got out of bed, put on his boat shoes and flannel robe and promised himself that he would compliment one person today and make their day. Which is funny, because the person he chose had the kind of look in her eye that was already running out of the bodega without signing her credit card receipt. And her execution was flawless.

The girl came back in to sign it and gave the man a completely uneasy smile, to which he said “You must be in the business of long lashes!”

I basically pulled up a chair at this point. She said thank you (and really what can you say? Yes, I am in the business of long lashes? No, I can’t give you a smile because it’s stuck to my face? I was seriously thanking God I wasn’t involved in this cracked out Jeopardy game because I would have said these things. “No, actually I’m in publishing!” Are long lashes recession-proof? Punch me in the face.) 

“No, thank you,” he said.”I profit from your smile!”

 First I see a cookie cake on display in the Rockefeller Center concourse that said “I love you, Sarah” on it, and now this?