We're Gettin' Close, Folks

2006 is fast approaching and it's almost time to wave goodbye (or good riddance, depending on how you feel today) to 2005. I've noticed that many of my friends in the blogosphere are contemplating 2005 and what it brought into their lives. My friends in NYC (who I miss dearly and love to pieces) seem to be looking forward with as much hope as possible, while trying to ignore the bitter taste that 2005 has left in their proverbial mouths. Folks up there have had a really rough go of it since Nicole's death and things haven't been the same since. How could they be, right? You can't expect life to be the same when someone you know and love is murdered.

But should that cloud everything else about 2005? Does one horrific event define the year or is it a combination of it all? I bet Nicole would be pretty pissed off if we all couldn't think of the good parts, too. Good parts like Mary Jane's show that was so good I saw it twice. Like hanging out with Jeffrey at the bar after the show and Julie snapping our picture in the afternoon sunlight (I can't believe Yuca Bar serves brunch 'til 4PM! Ahh, NYC). Like Kristie's wedding and getting to be a part of that whole experience (when your best friend gets married to someone you actually like and respect it's an amazing feeling), looking at photographs from that weekend makes me tear up with joy (thank gawd we're not fat anymore - snarf). Like going back to Brooklyn for Julie's birthday and MT snogging his cast-mate on the dance floor (hot, I tell you. That's right, MT, shake that booty). More on MT - he's a working actor, folks, that is a great thing. How about moving to Miami and getting to see the man every day when I wake up? That's a big deal. As much as I hate Miami, I love the man and living with him is a good thing. My brother turned 20, when did he grow up? Jess got engaged and moved and is moving again. Duke! We got a dog, people - a dog! K Lance finished up one project, moved onto another, took a much needed vacation, and is starting yet another chapter in his journey. I got a dress form - a real one - and I've created more pieces in the last year than in my whole life combined... and they keep getting better. There have been so many good things.

So many, that if I let the bad parts overshadow them I'd be doing a disservice to the joy in my life. I learned a lot. I cried a lot. And at the end of the year I'm realizing that the bad parts brought the people I love closer to me. In that sense, 2005 has been a wonderful year. I hope that 2006 brings more learning, more loving, and more laughter.

As I said to Anisa in a comment on her blog and to friends in Christmas cards this year - these words of Shell Silverstein from Where the Sidewalk Ends are some of my favorite.

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DONT'S
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
the IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.

Bring on the ANYTHINGS, 2006. Bring it.

Sad, Sad Day

I am about to warm up the very last of the holiday leftovers for lunch. It's sad. I love leftovers. Well, holiday dinner leftovers. Regular old Tuesday night supper doesn't thrill me on Wednesday afternoon. But give me some turkey and gravy, stuffing, and a random veggie and I am a happy girl. Man, I should have brought cranberry sauce, too. The kind that retains the ridges of the can. Oh man, it's like adult jell-o. LOVE IT.


Random: My good pal, K Lance, is settling into his hotel in Steak City. And Kristie is pissed. Not at K Lance, o'course.

Yo, Mel Raps!

That's a bold-faced lie. I don't rap. Julie does, I just kind of roughly sing along pathetically trying to be as "hard" as I can. Even when it's a Beastie Boys song. Um, what's so hard about the Boys? That would be nothing. I mean, I love those crazy Jews, but ain't nothing too street about them. Suits me just fine. For the past month I've had "An Open Letter to NYC" stuck in my head. It's been the constant background track for my life. It's such a stark contrast to everything that's Miami. I love it. It's totally goofy, but at the end is actually quite poignant.

Just a little something to show some respect
To the city that blends and mends and tests
Since 911 we're still livin'
And lovin' life we've been given
Ain't nothing gonna take that away from us
Were lookin' pretty and gritty 'cause in the city we trust
Dear New York I know a lot has changed
2 towers down but you're still in the game
Home to many rejecting no one
Accepting peoples of all places, wherever they're from

Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens and Staten
From the Battery to the top of Manhattan
Asian, Middle-Eastern and Latin
Black, White, New York you make it happen


Totally unrelated notes: Kristie likes gummi pizza candy - I think that's disgusting. MT is hilarious and I hope he has a fun NYE. Jess started her new job and is moving. I am so sleepy that I could fall asleep at my desk right now. This weekend I'm going to make latkes, even though they won't be nearly as good as Shira's. This morning the 8:20 bus never came (late to work again), so I called the transit office to tell them and lodged complaints about all the whack shit that goes down on those buses.

Drop Those Drawers!

It's always a bit of an adventure on Miami-Dade Transit, as you can tell from previous posts on this very blog. Whether it's other passengers who make the ride more interesting or the nasty drivers who give you an earful, you're certain to have anything but a boring ride in the morning on a Miami bus.

My friend, Greg, has told me horror stories of his years as a Miami Transit passenger and I have to say, they always sounded a bit exaggerated. Like the time a driver misjudged the height of an overpass, or the height of the bus (either way, it was a bad assumption), and proceeded to peel off the top of the bus. Gone, just gone, drove right under the overpass and the top of the bus peeled off like the top of a sardine can. Or the time that a bus broke down in the middle of the highway and caught on fire. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't believe Greg, it's just that he has a flair for the dramatic when it comes to telling a story.

Well, as of this morning I have changed my tune about Greg's ability to tell a straight tale. We were riding along like normal and *boom* something happened. It was loud, it shook the bus, we got rocked out of our seats and the bus leaned rather sharply to the side. People on the sidewalk jumped. Cars behind us screetched to a halt. The driver had driven up onto the curb - hence the jolt and the tilting and the jumping out of the way - and even worse, he had driven up onto the exact part of the curb that had been crumbling and had steel rebar sticking out of it. Steel rebar is used to reinforce concrete in flat applications. It's a bar about 3/4 to an inch thick and lays in a grid pattern w/in the concrete. Well, since this particular piece had been crumbling already the rebar was sticking out at just the right angle to lodge its sharp end into the tire when the driver drove up onto the curb. Tire popped, bus tilted even more, bus stopped, driver handed us all transfer slips and told us to get off the bus. No explanation of what had happened, no apology for making us all late to wherever we all were going, nothing. Was he drunk? Did he fall asleep? Was he just not paying attention? He was definitely up on the curb before he blew out the tire. I'm sure I'll get no explanation just like I've never gotten an explanation of why the 4:30 bus hasn't come 3 times when I've been waiting for it after work. I know traffic is bad sometimes, but to wait almost 2 hours for a bus? Not cool.

Since we had to wait for the next bus (which wasn't scheduled to come by for another 45 minutes) another girl and I went to the KMart that was right next to where we stopped. KMart - hadn't been to one in a long time and it might be worth it to kill some time and see what kind of specials they have on post-holiday stuff. We looked at bedding, at clothes, at socks, and we picked up a couple pairs of panties. We were headed for the check out not 20 minutes after we walked in the door, when we saw Greg at the front of the store. "Melissa!!! Melissa, the bus is coming! C'mon!" As we got closer we could see he was pretty agitated. "Melissa, put those drawers down and let's go! The bus is coming!" We ran out, but the bus had already gone. Somehow the 45 minutes had turned into 20 and Greg had missed the bus with us because he came to drag us out of KMart. That's a real friend right there.

I called the man, asked if he could come get us (which he graciously did), and we were only 45 minutes late to work. Funny thing is, we got to work the same time as the people who caught the bus. The man is awesome. W/o him I'd be a mess. I'd be a mess with new panties, but a mess nonetheless.

Act 2 Is Never Quite As Much Fun...

Dishes. They are the dreaded second act to the wonders of the dinner first act. You have a fantastic holiday dinner with all the trimmings and you relish every bite... and then there are the dishes to do. Yuck. It's like there's a whole childlike celebration with gifts and over-eating and twinkling lights and laughter and then *boom* there you go, a sink full of dishes need to be washed and you're the adult, you cooked the meal, and there's no mom to help you in the kitchen. Blech.

The man and I had a superb dinner. I highly recommend smoked turkey. If you've not had this tasty treat you really should take a trip to the grocery. Tender and juicy and freaking yummy. We just got a breast and popped it in the oven for about an hour while I cooked everything else - absolutely delicious. Kristie was so right. Imagine that... that woman is ALWAYS right. No, really - she is. Just ask her, she'll tell you. *wink wink*

I must say - despite all my hemming and hawwing and bitching and moaning - this particular Christmas (although in Miami) was quite nice. The man is wonderful and just being with him is a gift in itself. He not only gave me a dress form (which I so greatly needed) he also gave me 2 fashion books that are already a big help to me. And - get this - my parents sent me a laptop. A brand new laptop! I can't believe it. I'm still in shock. I wasn't expecting this at all and it's really so extravagant it hasn't sunk in yet. I'm feeling rather like Ralphie when he gets the Red Rider BB gun in A Christmas Story. Well, before he shoots his eye out, of course.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the kitchen to get some leftover cranberry sauce. Yum!

Ho, ho, ho!

This is what Christmas Eve should look like. Snow sparkling on the ground like diamond dust when the moonlight hits it, twinkling stars and flickering street lights like candles in the cold night air, a blue-ish silvery glow from the snow and the cold and the winter wind... Maybe some carolers trodding through the snowy streets singing sweetly and filling the night with song... (ok, that's a little too idyllic even for me)





Unfortunately that's not what I'm going to see out my window tomorrow night. What I'll see looks a lot more like this. Oh, is that the roofers? Nope, just Santa Claus. Damnit.






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So, my parents went to a concert last night. Now that my brother is in college (second year - I still can't believe it, in my head he's 3 years old) my parents seem to go out a whole hell of a lot. They're at the movies every weekend and they go to concerts and shows and out to dinner. I think it's great, but it kind of weirds me out. My mom still complains about my dad every chance she gets, and my dad still ignores her the best he can and tries not to say anything bad about her. But the thing is - they seems to get along better. That's a very good thing. But anyway, I'm getting off track. They went to see a concert last night at the MCI Center. As I'm still recovering from the nasty cold that befell me earlier in the week, I went to bed before 10:00. I was just settling into what I'm sure would have been a lovely dream about junk food and half naked muscle-bound mechanics (don't ask) when my cell phone jarred me back to reality.

I see it's my dad calling. "Hey, Dad, what's up?" No response. "Uh, Dad?" Then I hear it - the music. I hear music in the background and I think his phone must be in his pocket or something and he hit a button and accidentally called me. So, I call him back to tell him to lock his keypad. It's rung twice (with his fabulous "Monday Night Football" theme song ring - yep, I kid you not) before I remember that he has a clamshell phone and the buttons aren't exposed - he totally called me on purpose and stuck the phone out to make me listen to whatever it was that I heard on the other end of the line. "Hey, Mis, we're at the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert and it rocks, listen!" And then there was the music again. I listen for a whopping 5 seconds and hang up, crawl back into bed, drift back to dreamland, when he calls 15 minutes later... again. "Dad! What do you want? I'm sick and I'm asleep!" But of course, he's not listening, he has the phone outstretched for me to hear the wondrous sounds of electric guitars and operatic voices. Oy vey, padre. So I turned the phone off and went back to bed.

I called him this morning and all he could talk about was how awesome the show was and "didn't you love the sound of it? Wasn't it great?". He really was just that excited about it, so I can't fault him. It was kind of cute to hear him so jazzed up about something, but next time I'm trying to sleep off a cold I'm turning my phone off from the beginning.

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Kristie sent me this today and it's so funny and sad and terribly appropriate that I snorted with laughter when I read it. It really is sad, but c'mon people - you can't protect yourself from everything.
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Google is getting festive with their page header as usual when a holiday rolls around. For the last couple of days the little critters have been getting closer and closer to plugging in that cord... I'm only assuming that by tomorrow they will have plugged it in and the Google will light up. That will be awfully cute.

Yuck

Went home early from work yesterday, feeling crappy. Bad headache, throbbing sinuses, groggy from Benadryl, generally feeling gross. Took more Benedryl, the man made me some soup, I passed out in bed and he woke me not a half hour later because I was grinding my teeth. This happens when I'm stressed. How can I be stressed in a deep cold-medicine sleep? I'm a freak - it's the only explanation. I spent the whole day in bed, in and out of sleep, drinking more tea than one person should consume in a day, but I do feel better today. Still stuffed up, still feeling groggy, but not nearly as bad as yesterday. The man was great - made me soup for lunch and crunch wraps for dinner. Yum yum a ding dong. Hopefully I can get him to make chili soon. He makes great chili and we got all the fixins the other day at the grocery. That would make me feel even better. Hey, MAN, you reading this? *wink, wink*

On an up note - our Christmas packages arrived from my parents this morning. I can't wait to open them! Is it Sunday yet?

Please... for my sake, SHUT UP!

The gift and food induced stupor has officially worn off and Cuban Lady is back to officially annoying me. I don't understand why she feels the need to raise her voice and talk over everyone she has a conversation with, but she does it. She'll ask a question, stop speaking briefly (seemingly anticipating an answer to her question), and then when the person starts to answer her she raises her voice and talks over them. I don't get it. She's been on the phone all day, and since she sits right next to me I've heard her practically screaming in various languages I don't understand since about 10:15. I'm doing my best to tune her out and concentrate on my work, but even the bagel wasn't enough to distract me from the sound of her gratingly nasal amped-up voice. I'm going to get my yummy turkey sandwich I brought for lunch - hopefully the chewing will drown out some of her volume.

Also, Sales Guy is getting his work review in Texas Lady's "office" right now and I can hear every word. I'm really not trying. In fact, it's a wonder I hear anything over Cuban Lady's yelling, alas I can. He's not exactly having a super day, let's put it that way.

Wow, Christmas Rocks!

I know I've bitched and moaned a lot about holiday happenings here at the office. It's all been justified, but today I'm actually enjoying the festivities.

See this cute little t-shirt? My boss's boss gave it to me for Christmas, except in black. Funny thing is, it's part of the new Fiorucci line at Tarzhay and I've almost bought it for myself twice. I see it every time I go and I love it. I absolutely love it. He handed me a box this morning and said he saw this and it screamed my name at him. How cute is he? He's the best gay Peruvian I know. When I told him I've almost bought it twice he was so excited he made me go put it on and then he paraded me around the floor showing people (people I don't know) and saying things like, "Eezn't she faaaabulous?" So now I'm wearing these great grey & pink plaid wool slacks and that cute t-shirt. It's a total Target outfit and I happen to think it's wicked cool.

Now I'm headed to make myself a bagel with cream cheese and apricot jam. We all brought food in for breakfast just for us here in the department and we're pigging out. I've managed to avoid the cheese tray, but I've eaten so many mandarin orange segments I've given myself a nice little sore spot on my tongue. Ouch. Leave it to me to poison myself with fruit. I'm such a loser.

I think it must be the gift and food induced stupor, but Texas Lady and Cuban Lady have been tolerable all morning. Texas Lady has been downright friendly. Gave me an ornament and everything. Weird. I am feeling a bit sheepish, because a lot of people gave me gifts, but I didn't get anyone anything. I figured I'm a contractor, I'm not really part of the department, so they'd do their gift stuff amongst themselves. So now I feel like a heel because I came empty-handed. I'm sure this bagel will help me get over it. *gulp*

Mail Call!

Today is the busiest day of the year at the post office. Sure, lots of people rush to get their taxes postmarked by midnight on April 15th, but as far as packages and individual mailings go - the Monday before Christmas is the busiest single day at the USPS. Since I'm well aware of this you'd think I'd have gotten my ass in gear and mailed all my stuff out early. Well, if you think that you don't know me very well. I always have the best intentions of getting to the post office early in the gift sending season to save myself the stress and irritation of waiting in the long lines with the throngs of other postal patrons, many of whom are usually coughing or sneezing due to some sort of flu or cold that I end up coming down with just in time for Christmas Eve. It's the law of the land when it comes to my gift sending. But you know what they say about the best intentions... they're worth two in the hand, or something like that.

In order to make sure the gifts reach their recipients on time, the man took me to the post office before work this morning so I could mail out my stack of packages. Of course we didn't have much in the way of packing supplies at home, so everything had to be boxed up when we got to the PO. It was like tag-team mailing. The man went out in search of newspaper to use as padding inside the box headed for my family's house, as the only box big enough to fit all their individual gifts was so big there was a considerable amount of blank space that needed stuffing. It was only fitting that what he found was a Spanish language newspaper. So appropriate. I think my brother will get a kick out of that. He thinks people in DC speak Spanish a lot... he's in for a real treat when he gets here in a couple weeks.

The line wasn't really that bad and the people were pleasant enough, so all in all my postal experience this morning was just fine. Nothing to complain about, service was good, the lady who helped me was efficient, and the boxes are on their way to my loved ones. Mission accomplished. Plus, it was an added bonus that I got to observe a little of the weird public during my visit. People are strange, this is no surprise, and I think anytime you're in close quarters with strangers they seem even weirder. Sometimes it's creepy, but most of the time it's rather amusing. This morning was no exception.

A man came up behind me while I was packing up my boxes (keep in mind that I was obviously looking like a customer who was boxing up personal items) and started saying something. Since he was behind me, made no effort to alert me to the fact that he was talking to me, and he was speaking Spanish, I didn't turn around. I thought he was talking to someone else. Seemed only logical. How silly of me to assume. Logic be damned. I found out that wasn't the case when he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I worked there with a rather sour scowl on his face. Um, no. No, I don't work here. Sorry 'bout that, mister. Clue #1 being that I'm not wearing anything that remotely resembles a postal uniform. Clue #2 being that I'm addressing packages by hand and there are several wrapped gifts scattered in front of me. I think he was having a bad day, because he was grumpier than I usually am. Ouch. How do you say "cranky" in Spanish?

Then there was the guy who was talking the ear off of the man in line ahead of him about random things at an unusually loud volume. "I don't know, I mean, which is worse? Nerd or geek? I don't even know the definition of those words. Haha!" The man turned to me and said, "I can't believe he's having that conversation at that volume." It was ridiculous. The poor man he was talking to responded to about every 15th thing, so the loud man really should have picked up on it. Sheesh. Then he started in about Uncle Sam and how he tried to enlist when he was younger but was turned away because of health problems. Yada yada yada... he wished he could have given service to his country, he loves his country, he knows he'd be surrounded by good men, blah badeee blah blah blah. He was weird. I told the man he's like the guy who would come through my line when I was working at a grocery store and talk to me for 10 minutes about nothing. I'd ring everything up and then he'd try to pay with food stamps. Of course half the things I'd rung up can't be paid for with food stamps and he didn't have any money to pay for them and he'd always say something retarded like, "C'mon, Melissa, can't you make an exception for me? It's me. C'mon..." Uhh, dude, I'm 14. Fourteen. I certainly don't make the food stamp rules so how about you stop being weird and sad and get the things you can get and leave me alone? Or, as K and I love to say, "No, but God bless you."

If you have to go to the post office today I wish you luck and patience. You never know - maybe you'll get a good laugh out of it.

Damn Pigs

I wish I hated bacon, alas, I do not. I love bacon, in fact. I love bacon with a passion that cannot be denied - and rarely is. Damn you, pigs. Why must you be so tasty?

I Should Get A Patent

I've developed a sure-fire way to determine if you're ready to have kids. It's very simple: spend 3 hours with a 10 yr old. Not a toddler, not a baby, not a teenager, a 10 yr old. That's what I did last night and it almost killed me. I wasn't even questioning whether or not I want kids (not even on my mind right now), but last night was further proof that I am not ready for children, not even one, no way no how, not now. I spent 3 hours shopping at a mall with my boss's daughter last night while the man played tennis at the Y nearby. She & I are pretty good buddies. She calls me sometimes to tell me funny jokes or sing me girl scout songs or the most recent horrible local Ford commercial jingle. Bascially, she's my closest friend here in Miami. She's 10 going on 35.

Last night she exhausted me so badly I almost fell asleep in the car on the way home. If we weren't skipping from store to store we were dancing around the racks at the Gap (those sales people hate us and I, personally, think it's hilarious) or trying every tester bottle of various cosmetics at Origins. Oy vey. Sometimes I forget she's really only 10 and I use words she's unfamiliar with. Yes, there really was a time, back in the day, when your vocabulary wasn't what it is now - and how did you manage to learn all those new words? It's funny to remember the times when you heard a new word for the first time and you learned what it meant. Do you remember that happening to you as a kid? I remember learning what "suspicious" meant. I think I used it 20 times an hour - at least. Last night she learned "insanity" and "insane". Everything was insane this or insane that. Oh my goodness, those shoes are so cute it's absolute insanity. Are they insane, how can this be on sale for $15? It went on and on and on and on...

This morning I'm tired. I'm tired and I'm really glad I'm on the pill. Don't get me wrong, I adore that kid, she cracks me up and she's so very smart (and she was a foster kid until 2 years ago when my boss adopted her at age 8, her story is so inspirational that I think about her when I start to bitch and moan about stupid things that irritate me... yeah, like just about everything that I whine about on this blog). But, she tires me out. I do not want kids right now. It's nice to have that concept cemented in my brain, even though I didn't doubt it before. I'm content to play with other peoples' children and hand them back to their parents at the end of the day. Yes, indeed. Especially if I get to keep hanging out with my boss's kid - she's awesome and she makes me want to take a nap.

Give Me Latkes Or Give Me Death

Have you ever had a craving so intense that you can almost taste the particular thing you're craving? This usually happens to me with sushi. I have intense sushi cravings on a regular basis, but today it's different. Today I am craving Shira's latkes in the worst way possible. Not just any latkes, no run of the mill potato pancakes will do. I want some so badly that no other food is satisfying. Nothing. I've had chocolate (which I'm now wearing on my pants - nice one), crackers, an empanada, a cookie, but nothing is even coming close to the delicious joy of Shira's latkes. Last winter she made them (spent hours and hours - she grated the taters herself, folks) from scratch and they were the most delectable things ever. EVER. And now I want some. *tummy growl*

While we're on the subject...

... of intolerance and bigotry, let's move right on into the realm of the insane. Iran's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has once again made comments that are drawing international condemnation and anger. There's being a little misguided by your fundamentalist faith and then there's taking the leap into lunacy in the name of such faith. Unfortunately more and more people are voicing their frighteningly hardlined opinions on various religious and ethnic groups and lumping their insanity in with their relgion. This is, in effect, hijacking an entire faith for your own purposes. I highly doubt that whatever you may call god would approve of fundamentalism that breeds hatred.

The Holocaust happened. It is not a myth, if only that were true... Slavery was real, the Holocaust was real, Rwandan genocide is real, oppression and hatred are real. To dismiss any of them as "myths" is reprehensible.

Update: Bus Woes

Well, I'd like to report that the bus driver and I patched things up over a nice cup of coffee and the morning paper, alas I cannot. This morning he stopped to let a girl on the bus who was late. The bus was stopped in the same spot it was when he almost didn't let me on yesterday... and he let her on no problem. Even said "good morning" to her. We're both in our late 20s (or so it appears), both dressed similarly (the dreaded business casual), seem to have similar dispositions. Differentiating factor: she's black, I'm white. He let her on without a second thought. At first I was very angry, and then I just wanted to cry.

I don't get it. I understand the factors behind racism and long-standing prejudices (say what you will, yes I grew up white in the 'burbs, but I do understand the motives even if not from a first hand perspective), but I don't condone them as excuses or reasons. Is it idealistic of me to feel the way I do? Sure. But the fact remains that I've never been anything but cordial to the bus driver and he's treated me poorly from day one. I wish he was rude to me because I was rude first - that I'd understand. It makes me very sad that he's judged me based on his preconceived notions about people who have my skin color. Does it happen every day to people with brown skin? Absolutely. Have I ever made someone with brown skin feel bad about being brown? No. And so I take it personally when someone makes me feel bad for being my own shade of pinkish beige.

Hey, Mr. Bus Driver, Don't Be Such A Wanker!

I have the same bus driver every morning on the wonderful Miami-Dade Transit bus I take to work. This morning I was late to the bus stop. Not late enough to miss it, but late enough to have to get on after it had already pulled out of the bus driveway. When the man turned onto the street I saw that my bus was sitting in stopped traffic at the red light to get out of the station. I hopped out of the car, jogged over to the bus and the driver almost didn't let me on. He shook his head "no" and just looked at me.

You've got to be kidding me, I thought. I looked at him with an expression half filled with disdain for him (I don't like the guy at all) and half filled with desperation since I really needed to get on the bus. He didn't open the door until I banged on it. I got on and he said, "I shouldn't have let you on. You should have missed this bus. I don't care if you're late." OK, I understand I should be on time, but I don't need a lecture on time management from the bus driver.

Here's what really chars my toast - Greg (my friend who rides with me) is late an average of once a week. He runs up to the bus and gets on no problem. Greg isn't the only one the driver lets on when s/he's late, either. Even when the bus isn't already stopped at a red light Greg (or whoever) gets on and the driver smiles and says "good morning". This also pisses me off. I say good morning to that assclown every damn day and he never acknowledges me. I can guarantee you that he doesn't like seeing a white chick in that neighborhood. Not many people do, and I can actually understand that in light of the nasty racial history of our neighborhood. But, I wasn't here when the 1980 riots were burning the city down, so cut me a freaking break, yo. I'm pissed off about it. Look man, I know you don't like me. I don't particularly care for you, either. But, I don't like you because you're a rude, punk-ass bitch. You don't like me and you've never even so much as spoken to me.

Pinky Swear Not To Tell?

This is from postsecret. If you haven't checked out the site you really should. What they do is really cool. You'll see. I liked this one the most this week. For some reason it resonated with me. Kind of hopeful even though the author knows it's a futile exercise. Or is it? I suppose it's not futile if it serves a purpose for him/her. If it's some sort of outlet, then it's worth it.

Potluck Can Be Scary

For the second time this holiday season I am met with the question of whether or not I am behaving in a Scrooge-esque manner. This is the latest quandry:

I recevied an email this morning at work that was generated last week. I only got it today because I'm a contractor and most people don't know I'm here. It's much better that way, I'm not complaining one bit. Since most folks don't know I'm here they don't have my email address to invite me to a holiday potluck lunch and gift exchange with the people on my floor on Thursday. Here's the thing - I don't want to attend. Really. My reasons are many. Let's go over them quickly.

• 1) I've been in the womens' bathroom when several of the potluck participants have not washed their hands after doing their requisite business. That's nasty. There are many more who give their hands a little splash, but there is no friction involved and certainly no soap. Rinsing is not washing, people. If they do that at home I don't want to eat anything they may bring in for the potluck. The thought of what might be in those dishes makes me throw up in my mouth a little.


• 2) I know 5 people at this office (not counting my security guard buddies at the front desk downstairs). Those 5 people are sometimes cool, but most of the time not so much. Think Cuban Lady, Texas Lady and my boss, folks. I'm not looking to go out and spend time & money on a gift to exchange with any of them. Besides, I'd have no one to talk to at the lunch and would wish I was back at my desk the whole time.


• 3) I really don't have the money to go out and buy a $25 gift for a stranger. Plus, I don't want to. I hate forced gift-giving. I love to exchange gifts with family and friends and be involved in some sort of Secret Santa or Hanukkah Harry (you know you love it) with people I actually know. But not with these dirty-handed strangers.

So, here's the worst part - I just got another email with a spreadsheet attached listing everyone on the floor and what they're bringing for the potluck next to their name. If you haven't given your RSVP (like it's needed, puh-lease, they just assume everyone is coming) there's a blank space next to your name where presumably a food item of some sort should be residing. Which means, you guessed it, I've got a blank-blank-a-doo space next to my lovely moniker. Instructions state to fill in your spot and send it back to the writer. But the thing is, I'm not filling the damn thing out! No way. Not doing it.

Scrooge-esque? I don't think so. As Kristie said, "Maybe if they gave you benefits you'd think about going." As it stands now, I'll be at my desk for lunch on Thursday enjoying a lovely sandwich and maybe some Triscuits. Happy holidays to me.

Trash to Treasure. What if it was never trash?

Quickly (because I need a nap and an iced tea badly - in reverse order) let me tell you a little bit about this weekend, as it has been stupendous. Yesterday, not only did the man take me to a new thrift shop, but he found the most perfect pair of... drumroll, please... *dadadadadadadadaaaaaa* Jimmy Choos that fit me perfectly for $10. Oh yeah, baby, I said $10. Jimmy Freaking Choos that look like they've been worn maybe twice are now mine. Man, I feel like a label whore and I must tell you, it feels slightly satisfying. Weird. The shoes are gorgeous and I cannot wait to wear them somewhere fabulous, or maybe not even so fabulous. I'll wear them around the house with sweats and feel like the goddamn diva I am. (giggling madly at the sight of that typed out onscreen - bah!)

I also got a suit and a couple jackets and a perfect condition vintage London Fog overcoat in a beautiful slate blue with lining still zipped in for a whopping $5. This thing hung in someone's closet for 30 years and was very well taken care of. And now it's mine. I got loads of other great stuff, too, and I spent hardly anything. I would elaborate, but portions of my varitable pirate's booty of bargains are intended to be gifts soon and I'd hate to ruin the surprise(s).

The man got a fantastic 50s-60s chandelier from a guy from Pittsburgh selling things at the open air market on Lincoln Road this afternoon. Very cool little encounter, very cool chandelier. It's going to be reincarnated soon and I can't wait until he's done with it. I just know it's going to be super cool. And I picked up 25 peach & orange roses for $5. Now the living room smells heavenly. There's something about fresh flowers in the house that always perks me up.

Falling asleep at desk... must lay down... or is it lie down? I never know and I'm usually wrong. Whatever, anyway I went for a quick run this morning first thing and while I felt great all day, now it's hitting me that I got exercise that's been loooong overdue coupled with sensory overload at the market and now my body and mind need a rest.

Meltdowns Make Great TV

It's no secret that I am obsessed with Project Runway - Bravo's brilliant reality show about fashion designers who compete for a nest egg to start their own lines and a mentorship with Banana Republic. I think it's smart and entertaining and I get really into it. I get so into it that I scream at the TV as if the contestants can hear me. I tell them when they're great and when they suck eggs. Much like when I'm watching the Steelers play football, but in a much more stylish manner. So, when the man suggested that I keep track of the challenges the designers are given for each episode and then replicate those challenges myself I jumped at the idea and ran to get my notepad to begin the flurry of documentation. This weekend I'll start the challenge fiesta. I'm getting 6 yards of muslin and $20 for supplies. I have to make an ensemble that captures my essence as a designer with only those components. Oh, the wheels are turning, boys and girls. The hamster is running at top speed.

Hopefully next Tuesday night there will be more ridiculous and delicious drama like that seen this past week. Andrae lost his mind and had a meltdown of nuclear proportions for millions to see. I loved it. Zulema revealed her true bitchy self, for which I'm glad because it's nice to have a clear leader in the character-you-hate-the-most race. She's like Omarosa and Martha Stewart's love child with a little bit of an immigrant's chip on her shoulder. It's fantastic.

Non sequitur: my local NPR station is doing their pledge drive (ugh) and I think someone just got fired because there's dead air... has been for about 6 minutes now. Way to go, chief.

Non sequitur numero dos: I think Cuban Lady fell out of her chair yesterday. I have no confirmation of that because I didn't get up to go see if it had happened. Yep, I'm going to hell. But that's OK, because K will be there, too. We'll totally keep each other company.

Is He Serious?

I know that he is serious, that's the creepy part. He's a crazy fanatic. Wanker. This is not good. I don't want to get too political here, but I've got Palestinian issues and Israeli issues. In this instance, my Palestinian issues are getting worse. Unfortunately it's not boding well for my Iranian issues, either.

Dresses to Cakes and a Shooting In Between

In a departure from my usual bitch-and-moan posts about co-workers and locals in SoFl, I've decided to post some news snippets that have caught my attention over the past couple of days. I know, I know, you want to read all my petty complaints about my office and the people of Miami, don't worry, it will return. Beleeeee dat. Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves here - some of this is not news at all, but someone wrote about it online, so it gets lumped into the "news" category by default.

1) Project Runway season 2 started last night and it was fabulous. For real. Fabu-friggin-lous. There's a designer from LA, Nick Varreos, who's a pattern making instructor. He's amazing. I mean, really super duper amazing. The man and I both are totally taken with him and his level of skill. Besides, pattern making is something that fascinates me because it's something I'm learning and he's such a pro at it. I hope he goes far. There are a couple designers that I'd like to kick in the teeth, so I hope they either go soon, or they're kept around and made to suffer later. I'm such a bitch. But hey, what's a reality show w/o a little drama, right?

2) A man who said he had a bomb in his backpack was shot and killed at Miami International airport yesterday. Turns out the man was mentally ill (bi-polar, I believe) and was either off his meds or on the wrong ones. Bottom line: he said he had a bomb, he reached into his bag after marshalls told him to stop, he was shot. He had no bomb. I think the marshalls made the right decision. The details that came out later (the mental issues, the lack of bomb) make it really sad, but you can't say you have a bomb and threaten to use it when you're getting on a plane. You just can't. His wife was travelling with him and she's devastated. She tried to stop him, but couldn't, and now he's dead. Sad stuff. I can see the airport from my office window. There were news helicopters all over the place yesterday.

3) Nicole Richie and her fiance have called off their 9 month engagement. I wanted them to live happily ever after just so Paris Hilton would feel like she came in second place, but hey, what are you gonna do? Plus, as I told K & J this morning - I was rooting for her dude because he's a former fatty who scored a cutie like Nicole (even though someone needs to give that girl a sandwich... or four). Former fatties, unite!

4) Local DC lawyer turned master baker (insert juvenile joke about "master baker" here and laugh heartily - 'cause dat shizzle is funny), Warren Brown, now has a new show on the Food Network in addition to his fantastic DC bakery called Cakelove. He's opening a second location and shooting season one of this new show. I love this guy. He's super cute and he totally changed career paths midstream even though it was terribly difficult and he became a huge success. Most folks who start a business, let alone a food-based business (which has a lower success rate for start-ups), fail or only see a profit after years of toil. But Brown saw a profit after just one year of running Cakelove. He's charismatic and it's great to see his success unfold in the public eye. Way to go, Warren. You're my hero of the day.

Theatre Where?

Check this out. It's something I think my good buddy K Lance would enjoy seeing. And it's something that makes so much sense. Shakespeare is timeless. You just have to relate to it. Theatre gives such an outlet to people of all backgrounds. A little expression goes a long way, and it doesn't have to be in your own words. Anyone who has been on a stage will tell you that it's the creation and integration of a character outside yourself that sometimes can teach you tons about yourself. It warms my heart to see it in action. My actor friends make me proud and inspire me every day. I hope that a lot of people go see this kid's show. Maybe it will demonstrate to a wider audience that good things can happen in "bad" places.

Maybe even here in my 'hood?

Pardon Me, Is That A Giant Phallus?

Drawing courtesy of NatalieDee. She rocks. You should check out her site for holiday gifts if you need a gift for someone with a sense of humor. Or someone w/o a sense of humor. Maybe that's even better. It could be an educational gift of sorts. "What do you want for Christmas, little girl?" "Santa, I'd like for all the jackasses with no senses of humor to get something from NatalieDee's website."



I was originally going to expound on the reasoning behind the phallic symbols this nation uses as monuments to great (or seemingly great) men. Upon realization that the reasoning is painfully obvious I've decided to talk about the holidays instead.

There has been a development at the Spoke In The Wheel household recently. We have a tree. We do. A tree. We have one. It's way cute. It's 3' tall and it's the first time I've ever had an artificial tree in my 28 years. I thought until now that the artificial tree epidemic in this country was disgusting. Something about the lack of pine scent and all that. But I've realized several things. 1) if we had a real tree I'd be sad because it would be entirely unnatural in this Miami climate (at least up North I can fool myself into thinking it's kind of fitting because those types of trees grow up there). 2) if we had a real tree it would probably dry out in 3 days and drop all its pathetic needles all over the floor and Duke would be shitting pine needles for weeks (trees in Miami get trucked in from godknowswhere). 3) I really like my little fake tree.

The man found it for me. He did. He's the best. He is. I love him a whole bunch. He's not much for holidays. Take 'em or leave 'em is pretty much his thing. He's not a scrooge, he just doesn't get jazzed about holidays. If we never got a tree for the rest of time he'd be fine with it. He found the tree solely because he knew I'd feel awful if we didn't have one. We were at my favorite big-box store (Tar-zhay, folks, I digs me some Target) and he walked up with this box. It even has white lights all over it. He's awesome. We brought it home, I made some ornaments, decorated it, and now it's sitting on the table in the living room. It's not the tree of my childhood, or the tree of my dreams, but it's my tree - our tree - and I really like it a lot. The lights twinkle at night and there's just something about the glow given off by a Christmas tree when the house is dark and the world is quiet(er). That's always one of my favorite memories of the holidays. Sitting in front of the tree in silence, alone, thinking, wishing. I do it every year. I'm so glad we have a tree. It makes me smile whenever I see it. Much like the man. He has the ability to inspire grins.

So the holiday spirit is creeping in down here and I'm feeling better about the whole shebang. Going shopping for some supplies this weekend to continue with the creation of gifts and various crafty projects. Bonus feature: the man found a new thrift shop this morning that we're going to check out this weekend. I don't know what I did to lure him into my dangerous web, but I'm thrilled he stumbled in.

Hi!

Happy Tuesday. Hope it's going well for you. Hope wherever you are there's a good dusting of snow on the ground. If that's not the case then I hope you get to see a glimpse of Central Park on TV because when I saw it this morning it looked like a postcard - like a perfect, beautiful, picturesque slice of life in New York before the snow gets all grimy and your face freezes off. Just wish I was there in person.

Maybe soon. That would be fabulous.

What is fabulous right now is that mah gurrrl, Jess, gots herself a jobby job. WAY TO GO, JESS! Hired her on the spot, folks. On the frickin' spot. Now that's wicked cool.

Serenity NOW

It's only Monday afternoon. Early afternoon at that - and I already want to bludgeon my co-workers. They're just the suckiest of sucky. C'mon, people, it's MONDAY for chrissakes. Give me a break from your stupidity for one stinking day.

And for some reason it's taken me 20 minutes of fidgeting with this computer to be able to upload photos to this post. Technical difficulties pepper my already irritating work experience with lovely moments of wanting to tear my hair out, natch.

K, thanks for the image. Frigging love it.

You Gotta Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When To Fold 'Em

I had my "girl date" this weekend. It was great! The girls are really cool and we had a great time. We planned on going to brunch, but we got to talking and had such a good time learning about each other that we never left Renee's apartment. Before we knew it 2:00 was flashing on the clock and we didn't know where the time went. Very cool. Sara brought chocolate covered strawberries, so we drank coffee, ate choco-strawberries and talked like we'd been friends for much longer than a whopping few hours. It was so nice to have real conversation with people in this city. It's not that all people here are shallow idiots, it's just difficult to find someone who shares your kind of history and has a simliar background. So, while I was just meeting the girls for the first time, there was a familiarity about them that was comforting. They're the kind of people that I'd be friends with back in New York or DC or Pittsburgh. My friends would like them. That says a lot. We're getting together again this weekend and we have a happy hour set up for newxt week for the rest of the "transplants" as we call ourselves. This is going to be very good for me. I can feel it.

The rest of the weekend was great, too! There were a couple of hotel liquidation sales on South Beach and the man and I found some great stuff. It bums me out that so many old hotels are being turned into condos, but I love when they get rid of all their furniture. Some of these places haven't been touched since the 60s, so the furniture is really cool. Out with the old and in with the pretentious and wealthy, I guess. Pretty soon it will seem like a perpetual photo shoot for a "lifestyles" magazine that strives to highlight the fabulous details and perks of a life of luxury... lots of stick-thin bikini babes with their fake breasts and perfect noses, getting into Bentleys and Hummers with their Latin Lovers who wear too much cologne and use enough hair product for a small village while wearing their tiny t-shirts and buckle shoes... oh wait - that's South Beach already. Oh well. I'll still take my pale, giggly self out to the beach.

This weekend was great, but it was not great at the same time. What I mean by that is we had such a good time (we were always on the go, if we weren't at the beach we were going to Art Basel parties in the Design District or hanging out with friends or going to our new favorite little sushi place) it makes us think that maybe we're jumping the gun about leaving. We're not reconsidering, it's just that when you experience what we experienced this weekend it becomes apparent that if we lived in a different part of town it would be a lot easier to deal with the parts of this city that we hate. If we put ourselves out there and made an effort to meet people and hang out with friends, this place would be better. We wouldn't be as discouraged. Miami would still be Miami, but things would be easier to handle. Bottom line is that it would be hard to afford to live in a part of town that would make the crap more tolerable. I'm getting frustrated just thinking about it. I'm going to get some Cuban toast. That always makes me feel better!

Yes, Virginia, there really are normal people in Miami

Development - something has happened that makes me want to rescind 2% of my previous Miami-bashing comments. I have a profile up on MySpace. I was basically pressured into it by a friend of mine who is a die-hard MySpacer even though I'm already a Friendster person. Anyway, I succumbed to his pressure (basically it amounted to this: "I'm always on MySpace and I'm going to be travelling a lot and MySpace is the only way to really keep track of where I am and what I'm doing, so if you don't care about me and what happens to me and you think we should lose touch then don't sign up for MySpace". Argh. I'm a doormat.) and yesterday was the first time I've really been glad I did.

Yesterday I got a message from a lovely girl down here in SoFl who started an online group of Northeastern women who have all moved to the south Florida area. She said she was just trying to build a network of "normal" people to be friends with and get together with now and then to enjoy each others' company. That might sound strange to you if you've never lived in Miami. This place is like an alternate universe most of the time, so I instantly connected with this woman. Well, she started that group just yesterday morning and now there are about 12 or so of us. I was reading profiles of the members and I read a very funny one from a woman who's orig. from Pittsburgh, like me. I messaged her and we've been email chatting for the better part of the day (oh Fridays...) and she's hilarious. She, the group founder and I are getting together for brunch tomorrow in South Beach. I'm really happy about that.

I know that part of my frustration with this place is that I haven't really made friends here. Sure, I chat it up with the folks at the office, but we don't hang out outside of work. I'm a very social person and I depend on my friends for a lot of support, whether they know it or not. Not being near them is very hard for me and I feel like even just this brunch makes me feel like less of a loser. It's not that my lack of friends has made me loser-ish, it's that my lack of effort to meet people has made me feel bad about myself. I had sunk into a rut of disliking this city and it had caused me to shut down all plans I had of going out and meeting people.

So, tomorrow I will go to brunch and I will have a good time. I have a solid feeling about these girls. Genuine people with healthy senses of humor. It's just what the doctor ordered.

Flaming Emails and a Rather Affected Outlook

I believe the cubicle next to me is dangerous. I think it's infecting people who sit there with the dreaded stupidity virus. Cuban Lady sits there and she's obviously been contaminated, but I had previously assumed it was just in her nature to be dimwitted. She's out today, so there is a substitute secretary sitting in her cube - the cube of evil. The sub is stupid, too. I think he's been compromised. As a sub, he had to call the IT desk to get the computer configured to his settings. That phone call was my first clue that there was something terribly wrong with the cube itself. What transpired during that call can only be attributed to a force beyond human understanding. I believe it to be rooted in pure evil, I believe it to be the stupidity virus. The following is the side of the conversation I was able to hear:

Sub>:

• Hi, IT guy? *pause*
  
• Um, IT guy? *pause*
  
• Oh, Phil, sorry. Hi, Phil. I didn't know your name was Phil. *pause*
  
• Hello? *pause*
  
• Oh yeah, hi, I didn't know if you were there, Phil. Thought you might have hung up or something like that. *pause*
  
• I don't know. I didn't hear anything. Sounded like you weren't there. *pause*
  
• OK, I'm calling to get this thing set up. *pause*
  
• I don't know what you call it, set up, that's what I know it as. I need it set up. *pause*
  
• Well, I said I don't know, Phil. I'm not the IT guy. Gawd. *pause*
  
• Set up. Set up. I need this thing set up so I can use it. I can't just sit here all day you know. *pause*
  
• Yeah, OK. Where is it? *pause*
  
• Where? Uh huh. I don't have one of those. *pause*
  
• Yes, I'm sure. I told you I was sure, Phil. There isn't anything like that on mine. *pause*
  
• I am looking there. There isn't one. *pause*
  
• Oh... um. Well, well... that doesn't make any sense at all and I think it's completely stupid. *pause*
  
• Because! Why don't they just call it EMail? What the hell is an Outlook anyway and how does that have anything to do with Email? It's like calling the Email button "Monkey" or something. Gawd.

Is it time to leave yet? 5:00 cannot come soon enough. A whole day of this queen and I might implode. I forgot to mention that you should read that converation with a very affected fake-gay tone in your voice. There's being gay and then there's being an annoying queen. Save the drama fo yo mama and talk like a person, Chief. This is the kind of guy that makes homophobes feel justified. This is the kind of guy that makes my gay friends cringe. It's sad, really. Just act like yourself, I know it's hard, I struggle with that as a straight woman. Be yourself, it's the best route. But above all, protect yourself against the stupidity virus. I'm sure it can be fatal in extreme cases.


On a different note: Have you ever done a Google image search using rather specific words like "ridiculous stupidity" and come up a handful of pictures of regular-looking people doing nothing out of the ordinary? When looking for a pic to post with this entry I searched and found that everyday normal folks have awful things written about them in photo titles posted online. "Ridiculous tupidity" brought up random photos, one of which was of a woman who looks like my grandmother sitting at a table drinking tea. Strange. By the way, if you Google "raving queen" Elton John comes up.

Bah Humbug?

Am I some sort of meiser? Have I traded in my Tiny Tim-like persona for that of an Ebeneezer Scrooge? I have to admit I'm afraid I'm becoming a little scrooge-ish. This year I have yet to feel the holiday spirit. It's December 1. I am not overcome with joy and looking forward to lights and Christmas songs and all the things that I normally feel this time of year. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm in Miami. To say that I am unaccustomed to 75 degree weather and palm trees in December is an understatement. I hate it. It sucks ass. But, the weather alone cannot possibly be the sole culprit. Sure, balmy sunny days don't make me want to rush out and throw on a wool sweater - which has been my normal winter routine for all my 28 years thus far. But, that alone cannot be the reason for my lack of holiday cheer.

Don't get me wrong, it's never really been Christmas, per se, that I've looked forward to. Not being a Christian has a lot to do with that, but I love Christmas music and Christmas cookies and all the Christmas-y things that go along with the whole celebrating Jesus' birthday thing. Being kinda sorta Jewish and kinda sorta nothing (it only makes sense if you know me, so save yourself the trouble of trying to comprehend it) doesn't preclude my enjoyment of holiday festivities in the least. All the things I associate with the winter holiday season are tough for me to experience down here in Cuba, erm, Haiti, uh I mean Miami.

First, there's no winter. Sure, there's a quarter of the year that is technically referred to as "winter" when the area is flooded with tourists and snowbirds and the people who live here full time walk around talking about how cold it is... uh, it's 75 & sunny today. WTF? Winter is integral to my holiday experience. I need snow to feel chilly and rosy-cheeked and generally joy-filled. I'm telling you right now, there is no way I'm cheery enough to let someone else have the parking spot I was waiting for in this weather. Given a little snowy frost in years past, that wasn't an uneard of event. Even at Tyson's Corner - and for those of you who've been to Northern VA, you know how much cheer that kind of generosity takes. Jess is experiencing strange warm weather-related feelings, but not to the degree that I am (which is a very good thing for her - no one should be subjected to this internal ickiness).

Second, I'm really kind of pissed that Christmas decorations came out before Halloween. Even CVS had candles and their el cheapo menorahs out the 3rd week of October. This disturbs me. I understand capitalism, folks, I know the machine behind the decoration monster - but I don't have to like it. It's an ugly monster and it has terrible halitosis.

Third, I'm broke. I always feel better about the holidays when I can lavish gifts upon people I love. This is silly. And yet - it's the truth. I love being able to make gifts for people, but I like to make them gifts in addition to the ones I spent way too much money on. This year I am making gifts (cool stuff, really) and just taking the expensive store-bought ones out of the equation. I actually think it's much healthier for all involved this way, I'm just not entirely comfortable with the idea yet. I know I always appreciate a hand-made gift more than something purchased (cases in point: K has made me 2 scarves now and I love them both and wear them even in 75 degree weather, and the birthday card that the man made me is the best I've ever received), so this is something I need to get over.

Lastly, I am saddened by all the religious debate and strife based on the winter holiday season. This article is a prime example. I am all for the separation of church & state, but a "holiday tree"? C'mon, people. That's retarded. It's a Christmas tree. I don't want to see a big menorah called the "holiday candle holder". It's a Jewish thing - a tree is a Christian thing. Duh. Let's not be childish in the bad sense. Let's be childish in the sense that we delight in the wonder and togetherness of this holiday season. If our families are far away let's keep in touch and tell them we love them. If our friends are scattered across the globe let's email them and even send them a real card via snail mail. If we find ourselves wanting to crawl into a hole and hide until after New Year's Eve let's try to be less scrooge-ish and more joyful. That's my plan. I've got to get myself out of this holiday funk and into the holiday spirit.