That Was the Week That Was

I've made it through my first week at my new job. I'm always nervous about saying anything about where I'm working. But I will say that there's a lot of potential here. My biggest issue has been that I've felt slightly overwhelmed by the whole thing. I've been questioning whether I'm truly qualified for this. I'm in ad sales, which I really don't have any experience in, and of course I'll be working with multi-million dollar companies. Granted, I'm a lowly sales coordinator, but even so. I'm trying to pretend like I know what I'm doing, and I hope I don't get found out, because something tells me this could be a really good thing for me.

I also took a perverse pleasure in the fact that my friend gave her notice at "Rhymes With the Cat." For whatever reason Pamps (the nickname given to our ineffectual vanilla boss-a former co-worker commented that she pictured him as a giant toddler in diapers, therefore "Pamps," short for Pampers) had a hard-on for her (only in the professional sense, he saved the personal lust for a different employee). He saw her as the second coming, although no one was quite sure why. I remember when she first started less than a year ago we all made an effort to keep our negative opinions to ourselves. We wanted her to see what was going on for herself. I think we were all pretty surprised at how quickly she got it. She IM'd me earlier in the week and told me that she'd received an offer from this new company, and that she was having a lot of guilt about giving notice. I told her to erase that guilt and do what was right for her, partially because it's the truth and partially because I want to see this company get what's coming to it.

And the best news of all this week was the arrival of Maya Katherine on Wednesday. This seemed to be the longest pregnancy in history. But from all appearances, my little Taco was worth the wait. I can't wait to meet her!

Now This is Happening

In honor of tonight:



Also, check out this insanely amazing interview with Stephen Colbert.

http://stereogum.com/archives/video/stephen-colbert-uses-rems-accelerate-as-a-cod-piec_008698.html

Last Night

Last night, you looked a little bit like Heath Ledger. I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Someone in the crowd behind me said it too. Perhaps it was the hat you decided to wear. It was a fedora-esq hat, something my grandfather might have worn, but you probably got it at some secondhand store in Brooklyn.

Sometimes I have a hard time being around you. Ok, always. I try and play it cool, but even after all these years, you rattle me. That's the only way I can describe it. I see you, and all of my supposed strength goes right out the window. I usually try my best to avoid looking at you at all, but I do make a point of at least saying hello. I won't let you know that you get to me, ever.

I tend to go back in time and think about those nights, years and years ago, when we wandered around the city after hours, stopping in darkened doorways and in front of the PATH station, kissing until someone made the inevitable "get a room" comment. I remember never feeling more beautiful and more confused on those nights. No one has ever evoked those conflicting emotions in me, not even D.

Will you always make me feel like this? Will I always feel both attracted to you and feel a seething hatred? Because sometimes I do. I hate you standing up there, mugging, dancing, being you. And with that, I still want to push you up against a wall and kiss that spot on your shoulder. Am I alone? Or does everyone have that one person who just will always bring them back, rattle them, make them question every step they've ever made. Maybe it's just me.

Stepping in Shit and Another Amazing Events

So yeah...I guess it's been awhile.

I think I hit a point with my blog where I began to feel that I just had to post something, anything. And I didn't want to do that because I kind of hate those sort of blogs. "I ate pizza today." Well, good for you! I guess I was just waiting for something to happen that was actually worth writing about. In the immortal words of one B. Summers, I was waiting for "something to sing about."

Last Sunday, I decided to be productive and make my way over to Bed, Bath and Beyond. I had wanted to organize my closet a bit, and we were in serious need of a new shower curtain liner. So I put in my headphones and headed up 6th Ave. I happen to really love Bed and Bath. Everytime I go there I see about a million things I don't actually need, but just look REALLY cool. Like, I don't actually need a margarita maker, but honestly, how awesome would that be to have in your home? I'm kind of like a three year old. I get very distracted by shiny things.

I managed to get what I needed, and started to make my way to check out. One of the things about living in New York City is that you get used to the fact that people bring their dogs everywhere. For me personally, I have my limits. I won't ever bring Milo into a restaurant (kind of obvious, you'd think), nor would I bring him into any sort of major store, whether it be clothing, hardware, or oh, I don't know, Bed Bath and Beyond. You'd think that if you did feel the need to bring your dog with you into one of these stores, you'd keep an eye on them. I mean, it seems like common sense, at least to me. So you can imagine my surprise when on my way to check out, I stepped in dog shit.

For a moment, my only real emotion was complete and utter disbelief. Had I stepped in the poop outside of the store, yes, I would have been annoyed, but it would have seemed a little more logical. Stepping in shit by the coffee makers in BB&B couldn't really register in my tiny little brain. And now what? There appeared to be no managers anywhere, no bathrooms nearby. I had shit on my shoe. And I just wanted to take my pretty new shower liner and get the hell out of there. Herein lay my predicament. Did I make a scene, or just figure out how to go on without drawing too much attention to my situation? What did I choose to do? I chose to drag my foot along the ground, wiping the crap along the floor. Horrible, I know. And when I got up to pay, fearing I might stink, I stood a good 10 feet away from the cashier. As soon as I got out of the store, I stepped into a murky puddle and made my way back home, still completely baffled by what had just happened to me.

It's been said that stepping in shit is actually good luck. As I made my way home on Sunday, I couldn't quite see that being the case. Now, I'm beginning to think there might be something behind that old wives' tale. On Thursday, I went on a job interview. Thursday afternoon, I was given an offer by that job that I absolutely could not pass up, and will probably end up changing my life. And yesterday, I gave my notice at "Rhymes With the Cat." I've been trying to get out for so long, and apparently all it took was a little dog shit to make it happen. Go figure.