I missed him August 23, 2004 ~ 3:48 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedRick’s back. And you know, I missed him. I missed the way his eyes gleam when he tells me something he knows is going to annoy me off. Like “People shouldn’t have stoop sales, because you never know what kind of psycho will come on your property and then you’ll have a stoop sale stalker.” Pessimist. But I missed that.
He came out to my place yesterday and we went for a late brunch in Park Slope, then for a ramble around the local cemetery. I actually took pictures this time, so they’ll probably be on here in the next couple of days. While we were there, we found three Peregrine Falcons snacking on a squirrel (nasty, but I got some great pictures!), found $15 (to partially make up for the $20 I lost in the park a couple weeks ago), and got locked into the cemetery.
Apparently, all gates but one close at 4 PM. Well, that gate was a long, long way from my house and we weren’t trekking all the way over there, so I was about halfway over the fence when the cemetery watchman came up and told me I could get arrested doing that. I climbed down and he let us out, but I think he was bullshitting me. I mean, get arrested for climbing out? Doubtful. For breaking in, yes, but really, you gonna arrest me for trying to bust out of the cemetery? I think some people have too much time on their hands.
Joe & my toe August 20, 2004 ~ 8:30 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closed
Here be the black cat what almost broke my toe a week ago. How’d he do that? I came home and took my shoes off, as usual. Joe was ecstatic that I was home and was yowling to bitch me out for leaving him with only Jesse for company all day, as usual. Joe was rubbing against everything in sight in a frenzy of happiness, as usual. The box fan was on the floor, blowing to keep the apartment cool, as usual. Anyone else see a recipe for disaster here?
That’s right. Joe, in his “You’re home, yay!” ecstasies, rubbed against the box fan, tipping it over. The corner of the damn thing landed smack on my right baby toe, and I instantly started hopping up and down in pain. I could flex it, so it wasn’t broken, but it swelled up to twice its size and didn’t feel right. I iced it down and taped it to the next toe over, just in case, and two days later it was fine again. I tell you what, though…it’s a good thing I love that cat.
Oh, yeah, and the picture was taken after several attempts. Ever try to photograph an all black cat in an apartment with no natural lighting? Ya need a flash. Unfortunately, the flash kept making him blink. So I semi-covered the flash with my fingers, and the light going through my skin made the cool red color. Kinda like when you shine a flashlight through your fingers. Neat, huh?
Joe & my toe August 20, 2004 ~ 8:30 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closed
Here be the black cat what almost broke my toe a week ago. How’d he do that? I came home and took my shoes off, as usual. Joe was ecstatic that I was home and was yowling to bitch me out for leaving him with only Jesse for company all day, as usual. Joe was rubbing against everything in sight in a frenzy of happiness, as usual. The box fan was on the floor, blowing to keep the apartment cool, as usual. Anyone else see a recipe for disaster here?
That’s right. Joe, in his “You’re home, yay!” ecstasies, rubbed against the box fan, tipping it over. The corner of the damn thing landed smack on my right baby toe, and I instantly started hopping up and down in pain. I could flex it, so it wasn’t broken, but it swelled up to twice its size and didn’t feel right. I iced it down and taped it to the next toe over, just in case, and two days later it was fine again. I tell you what, though…it’s a good thing I love that cat.
Oh, yeah, and the picture was taken after several attempts. Ever try to photograph an all black cat in an apartment with no natural lighting? Ya need a flash. Unfortunately, the flash kept making him blink. So I semi-covered the flash with my fingers, and the light going through my skin made the cool red color. Kinda like when you shine a flashlight through your fingers. Neat, huh?
I’m being dripped on August 20, 2004 ~ 2:58 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedI’m sitting here at my desk minding my own business, and suddenly I’m getting pegged by the occasional drop of water. Apparently my air conditioner doesn’t like me and has decided to vent its dissatisfaction by spitting on me.
No me likey.
Could be worse, I guess. Sloth has an earwig trapped in her keyboard. *shudder*
Independence Day August 19, 2004 ~ 4:24 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedHaven’t been posting much, because I’m totally lazy. I have this awesome picture of the Joe-cat I want to upload for my story about how he almost broke my toe last Friday, but it’s on my Mac, and I have to reconfigure that for the internet since my service provider has switched numbers on me. I also have plans for scanning in a decent picture of Rick, but that would involve reconfiguring the scanner that I haven’t used since I moved 9 months ago. Yeah, I’m lazy.
But my laziness is not the main focus of this post. Tomorrow (August 20) is the five year anniversary of my move to Brooklyn. I remember this only because August 20 was supposed to be my wedding day. Obviously it wasn’t, because about 9 months before then, I realized I couldn’t marry the guy and ended the relationship. He was sweet enough, but emotionally about 5, and he actually expected that I would follow him to Ft. Hood, Texas and become an Army wife. Can you picture me as an Army wife? Neither could I, thus the broken engagement.
So when the time came to move to New York for grad school that summer, I decided the date should be August 20. What would have been my wedding anniversary has since become the anniversary of my personal independence day. I love irony. Happy Independence Day to Me.
Beatdown August 18, 2004 ~ 9:59 am
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedTo people who think they can use the fact that they know me to get special favors.
Case in point: I’m an Assistant Registrar. Since I went to this school, I know a lot of the students in the Theatre Department. I do my damnedest to make sure that people who apply to graduate are going to graduate, including sending them updated letters on what they still need. This wasn’t done prior to me starting this job, and now I’m starting to see why.
Yesterday, someone that was in the Dramaturgy program a year behind me calls to bitch us out. She’s just gotten a letter that says she will have to pay a fee if she doesn’t get her thesis done before the end of the summer. (It’s school policy that you have to pay the fee if you are completing the degree in a semester in which you aren’t taking classes. It’s normally a nasty surprise, because no one reads the Bulletin, so I sent out letters informing people this was coming up.) In addition to a verbal bitchfest, she sends me an email, saying this was sneaky and underhanded, since she had already completed her thesis and now her degree was going to be held up.
I responded by saying that we sent out the letter the day before her thesis was approved and thus had no knowledge that it was approved. I told her that she would be graduating on time, that we had sent these letters out to a number of people to keep them informed.
She replies “And you couldn’t send another letter when you received word of my thesis, instead of putting me through hell? I realize that we are not best friends, but I do know you personally, and I would have expected some sort of notice.”
One, she had just gotten the first letter yesterday. A letter sent a day or two later, when we got the thesis results, wouldn’t have reached her until yesterday or today. Well after she called me and started bitching. Two, I don’t see how getting a letter could put you through hell, especially since we assured you that you are graduating on time when you called. Three, DON’T YOU DARE presume that just because I know you, you’re getting special treatment. I know half this campus one way or another, ain’t none of them getting favors. The last thing my old boss said to me before I left that job was “If anyone asks, you don’t do favors” and she was right. This student just really rubbed me the wrong way. So I sent her an email response I knew would rub her the wrong way. Only five words: “I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Beatdown with a Maintenance of Matriculation fee.
Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Baby! August 16, 2004 ~ 3:32 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedThat was what Rick serenaded me with on the phone this morning. Believe me, you haven’t lived till you’ve heard my very white boyfriend doing his Barry White imitation. He was actually calling to tell me that his softball playoff was called on account of rain, and he was leaving for Massachusetts. Because he likes to keep me informed like that. I’m like his DayRunner with benefits. I was sorry he drove the whole way down here and had to drive back for no real reason, but it was good to see him and watch the Olympics together last night. And he made us steak again, so that was nice.
And it’s official, my best friend from high school, Leenie, is coming up for Labor Day weekend. This will be the first time she’s been in NYC that it wasn’t freezing out. And she gets the fun of sleeping with my cat, Joe, who was a frequent participant in our high school/college sleepovers. I know you missed waking up with Joe planted on your head, Colleen! Mars 2112, here we come.
Other than that, remind me to tell you all about how the aforementioned Joe almost broke my toe Friday night. That was fun.
And I have to miss the synchronized diving finals tonight because I promised my friend Eugene that I would go see a reading he’s coordinating tonight. I also promised him a good ass-kicking if I feel like my time could have been better spent marveling at two human beings diving in perfect synchronization. But he’d probably like an ass-kicking. He’s shady like that.
Graveyard Ramblings August 14, 2004 ~ 4:29 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedI had to go to the Post Office to pick up a package this morning (thanks for the CDs, Steph!!!), and dealt with the usual bumper crop of idiots that work at the Kensington Post Office. I got there at 9:30, hoping that the line would be shorter, but no, incompetence will affect your wait time no matter how early you get there. They should have a disclaimer to that effect. I was the only one in line who actually got their package today. The three people in search of their packages were told that they couldn’t be found and had probably gone out with the mail carrier. Now I ask you, why would they send a package back out when the mail carrier has left me a little slip saying “Come pick this up at the Post Office”? I want a disclaimer posted on their front door saying “Logic Free Zone” as well.
I feel like I’ve been eating everything in sight lately (freakin’ Golden Oreos and Mike’s Hard Lemonade!), so I wanted to exercise a little of that off. I decided to go for a walk, and ended up wandering around the perimeter of Greenwood Cemetery, where there are more famous people buried than you can shake a stick at. Not Jim Morrison-type famous. Horace Greeley-type famous. Boss Tweed-type famous. Jean Michel Basquiat-type famous. Leonard Bernstein-type famous. Charles Ebbets-type famous. Albert Anastasia, Joey Gallo, and Bill “The Butcher” Poole mobster-type famous. It’s huge, about the same size as Prospect Park, and with over 600,000 people are buried there.
I’d walked about halfway around the cemetery when I decided it was too nice to be walking around on cement sidewalks, so I went in. I was determined to find Boss Tweed’s grave, which is what I always say I’m going to do and end up never finding it. Today was no exception. See, the only maps are at the entrances, and despite having “Take Landscape Avenue to Locust Avenue to Mossy Path” firmly embedded in my mind, I didn’t find it. Should be right there, but maybe I was looking for a more impressive grave than it is. I don’t know. So I walked around for about 45 minutes, and then stumbled across the Memorials for New York’s Civil War dead and the Revolutionary War dead. The Battle of Brooklyn was fought on that ground in August 1776, so it’s only fitting. I wish I had my camera with me, so I could have taken some pictures of it, but as per usual, I didn’t. The Revolutionary Memorial is especially cool, because it features a statue of a classical female figure (Athena or Artemis, maybe?), girded for war, with one hand clasping an olive branch crown over the Memorial, and the other raised to hail something. She looks out into the distance, and when I turned to see who she was hailing, I had to smile. The statue is on the highest point in Brooklyn and has a clear view of Manhattan and New York Harbor, and was saluting the Statue of Liberty, who was facing Athena with her own arm raised. Complete accident that Liberty was facing her, I’m sure, not such an accident that Athena was facing Liberty, since she was built in 1919.
I just found out that there’s a guided tour of the Cemetery tomorrow, and if it’s not raining cats and dogs, I’m going to go. Maybe they’ll be able to find the Boss for me. And this time, I’ll bring my camera.
The torch is a giant joint. August 13, 2004 ~ 11:46 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedIt’s true. Look at it. It’s a flaming doobie.
Certain people are insisting that I point out it’s phallus shaped as well. But mostly it looks like a joint.
And the torch is finally lit. Thank you, Goddess.
O-Yimpics August 13, 2004 ~ 10:35 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedThoughts on the Olympics opening ceremonies, in no particular order, taken from my IM conversation with Kim L.:
“Ooooh, Centaur.”
“Ooooh, gods and goddesses.”
“Awww, look at the kid in the boat. Wait, he’s heading for the sinkhole in the middle! Watch out, kid!”
“Wouldn’t it be cool if the drummers fell in the water?”
“Blue hair. More blue hair. Purple hair.”
“Yay, the Afghani women aren’t wearing birkas!”
“Yay, America! Hey, they’re cheering for us! They like us even though Dubya is our President!”
“What letter are we on in the Greek alphabet? Aren’t we done yet?”
“Yay, Canada, our neighbor to the north!”
“Where’s Barbuda? Is that like Barbados?”
“Jump, Cube Man! Jump, jump!”
“Damn, they drained that water fast. I wonder if it made a sucking noise?”
“Wait, it’s sunset there. Are we on a time delay? Damn time delay!”
“Yay, Mexico! I’m so moving there if Bush gets re-elected and Canada won’t let me in!”
“YAO!”
“Hot (Mozambique, Irish, Norwegian, British) guy!”
“Why do the Koreans get to have a joint team? Why can’t we have a joint team with Canada? The Northern North America team!”
“Are we at the end of the alphabet yet? No? Damn.”
“Stop! Stop with the marching! Light the torch!”
“I thought the Greek alphabet ended with Omega. Didn’t they already do the O’s?”
“Why are there all these old people? Is there some sedentary sport of which I’m unaware? Shuffleboard?”
“They’ve got to be almost done! The middle’s almost full. Fuck! Twenty more nations!”
“Nice hat.”
“Way to wear a sarong, buddy.”
I would write more, but it’s still going. And all comments are going to be about how long the parade is lasting. Get to the torch lighting, already!
