Whenever I lug things back and forth to the basement of my house, I pretend I'm a famous actress and the paparazzi is hiding in the bushes, ready to take snapshots of me in my not-so-glamorous form. I'm usually wearing something that can get dirty, and even if I'm wearing socks I slip on my sandals because it's easy to.
I know I look like a schlump carrying a big blue plastic container or my sleeping bag wearing socks and sandals and having my hair in disarray. My alter ego comes out--this is what movie stars really look like: no makeup, no fancy gown and glittery borrowed jewelry. They look like you and me. I always fight the urge to throw my hand in front of my face to ward off the flashing of the camera bulbs.
You've seen the photos in People and Us magazines. "Real stars buying coffee! Shopping at Walmart! Cleaning up dog poop! Schlepping stuff to the basement!" This is what life is really about, not just take after take of kissing Leonardo DiCaprio. Or Johnny Depp. Or that young strapping fellow from Desperate Housewives.
Don't get me wrong, fantasizing about the red carpet has its place too, but it's fun to imagine the ordinary life of people who don't have an ordinary life.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Moosed
Since I've lived in New England I've wanted to see a moose. I've been to Maine many times and seen those ubiquitous yellow signs with a black moose silhouette, but never one up close and in person. Recently I paid a hundred bucks to stay in a lodge in Maine and go on a moose cruise, sort of like a whale watch. See moose we did, but we also encountered other strange creatures.
My friend Denise and I went on this cruise. We got on, and there were about 12 people; couples, some kids, Denise and I, and this woman close to my age who was by herself. We started chatting with her; she was from Bar Harbor, Maine. She had come on the cruise to get away, because it was raining in Bar Harbor. She left the kids and came down for the day. She was really nice and easy to talk to.
The cruise got started, and the Captain, this guy I'd say was in his 60's, asked everyone where they were from. Everybody went around, and when he got to the woman next to us, we said where she was from so we could say the Maine accent: Bah Hahbah. We thought we were pretty funny.
The Captain spewed off facts about the lake and pointed out interesting tree and rock formations. We came to a rocky wall of sorts, and the Captain told us that sometimes young bull moose fell off the land near the wall and they'd be floating dead in the water for 2, sometimes 3 weeks. I was startled by this information, mostly because there were children listening on this cruise. Of course the kids were probably fascinated, because one of them asked if the moose died when they hit the water, or did they die by drowning. The Captain said that was a good question, and he wasn't sure. But come to think of it, there was this bridge in Quichee, Vermont, where 15-20 people jumped to their deaths every year, so maybe they died when they hit the water. Shocked and horrified came close to how I was feeling at this point.
It didn't stop there. He went on to tell the story of a young woman who was free climbing the rock wall last year who got stuck. By the time people noticed her and went to rescue her, she let go and...you guessed it, fell to her death. I was bursting by this point and wanted to know if anyone else thought this guy was morbid or was it just me. I confided in the Bar Harbor woman, saying that every story the Captain told ended with death. She sort of laughed it off. I scrambled to get a piece of paper to jot down the details of this Moose Death Cruise so I could blog it later. All I could find was a band-aid, and Bar Harbor commented. "You're writing on a band-aid." I told her why; I just could not believe all this guy was saying.
Finally the topic turned to something more humane, Maine geese. Whew. He talked about how many geese were in the area, and how they had 4 or 5 eggs at a time. Ahh...life! Unless, of course, the water rose too high from rain, and then the eggs might roll into the lake and...well, you know the rest.
Thank god about that time someone saw a moose, so we were all spared the details of the demise of goose offspring. The cruise went on without any more horror stories, and we actually saw a couple of female moose and babies!
At the end of the cruise, Denise asked our new friend if she'd like to join us for dinner. She declined, saying that she was going to meet her husband for dinner. We parted ways, but saw each other again a few minutes later in the dining room. We saw the woman greet her husband with a kiss and sit down at a table on the other side of the room. Guess who her "husband" was? The Captain. Ewww, I was so weirded out. What???
I had many questions. Why had the Captain and this woman pretended not to know each other at the beginning of the cruise? Why had she sat silently while I dissed her man the entire time? And why the heck, when we asked her to dinner, did she not simply say, "No thanks, the Captain and I are having dinner"? I surmised that she and the Captain were indeed married, just not to each other, and the whole family owned lodge kept their dirty little secret. Denise didn't want to hear it, but I was sick to my stomach. This, right after I had met those other weirdos in New York. What is it with people??
We ran into her in the gift shop after dinner, and it was a perfect opportunity to confront her. I didn't, though, fearing that she'd get the front desk to charge extra to our bill or put something in our food. We just sort of made small talk and fake laughed. Yick.
What makes people act this way? What reason could she have for her behavior? What could she possibly gain? Some people are so strange, I just do not understand. Any theories?
My friend Amy, after hearing the story, remarked, "Well, you saw some moose. Sounds like you saw a coupla loons too!"
My friend Denise and I went on this cruise. We got on, and there were about 12 people; couples, some kids, Denise and I, and this woman close to my age who was by herself. We started chatting with her; she was from Bar Harbor, Maine. She had come on the cruise to get away, because it was raining in Bar Harbor. She left the kids and came down for the day. She was really nice and easy to talk to.
The cruise got started, and the Captain, this guy I'd say was in his 60's, asked everyone where they were from. Everybody went around, and when he got to the woman next to us, we said where she was from so we could say the Maine accent: Bah Hahbah. We thought we were pretty funny.
The Captain spewed off facts about the lake and pointed out interesting tree and rock formations. We came to a rocky wall of sorts, and the Captain told us that sometimes young bull moose fell off the land near the wall and they'd be floating dead in the water for 2, sometimes 3 weeks. I was startled by this information, mostly because there were children listening on this cruise. Of course the kids were probably fascinated, because one of them asked if the moose died when they hit the water, or did they die by drowning. The Captain said that was a good question, and he wasn't sure. But come to think of it, there was this bridge in Quichee, Vermont, where 15-20 people jumped to their deaths every year, so maybe they died when they hit the water. Shocked and horrified came close to how I was feeling at this point.
It didn't stop there. He went on to tell the story of a young woman who was free climbing the rock wall last year who got stuck. By the time people noticed her and went to rescue her, she let go and...you guessed it, fell to her death. I was bursting by this point and wanted to know if anyone else thought this guy was morbid or was it just me. I confided in the Bar Harbor woman, saying that every story the Captain told ended with death. She sort of laughed it off. I scrambled to get a piece of paper to jot down the details of this Moose Death Cruise so I could blog it later. All I could find was a band-aid, and Bar Harbor commented. "You're writing on a band-aid." I told her why; I just could not believe all this guy was saying.
Finally the topic turned to something more humane, Maine geese. Whew. He talked about how many geese were in the area, and how they had 4 or 5 eggs at a time. Ahh...life! Unless, of course, the water rose too high from rain, and then the eggs might roll into the lake and...well, you know the rest.
Thank god about that time someone saw a moose, so we were all spared the details of the demise of goose offspring. The cruise went on without any more horror stories, and we actually saw a couple of female moose and babies!
At the end of the cruise, Denise asked our new friend if she'd like to join us for dinner. She declined, saying that she was going to meet her husband for dinner. We parted ways, but saw each other again a few minutes later in the dining room. We saw the woman greet her husband with a kiss and sit down at a table on the other side of the room. Guess who her "husband" was? The Captain. Ewww, I was so weirded out. What???
I had many questions. Why had the Captain and this woman pretended not to know each other at the beginning of the cruise? Why had she sat silently while I dissed her man the entire time? And why the heck, when we asked her to dinner, did she not simply say, "No thanks, the Captain and I are having dinner"? I surmised that she and the Captain were indeed married, just not to each other, and the whole family owned lodge kept their dirty little secret. Denise didn't want to hear it, but I was sick to my stomach. This, right after I had met those other weirdos in New York. What is it with people??
We ran into her in the gift shop after dinner, and it was a perfect opportunity to confront her. I didn't, though, fearing that she'd get the front desk to charge extra to our bill or put something in our food. We just sort of made small talk and fake laughed. Yick.
What makes people act this way? What reason could she have for her behavior? What could she possibly gain? Some people are so strange, I just do not understand. Any theories?
My friend Amy, after hearing the story, remarked, "Well, you saw some moose. Sounds like you saw a coupla loons too!"
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Prince @ Bryant Park 5 (last one!)
So Benny and I go into the library, and we run smack into this other fan, Angie. I remember seeing her at the concert, and Benny acts like he knows her. He asks how she is, and she says she's not doing so well. Prince is playing at this restaurant tonight...and Benny says, "Oh yeah, what's that place called? Butter, yeah, that's right." ( all morning he's been telling people the name of the place and suddenly he can't remember the name? Hmmm...)
Angie is agitated, and says she needs to see Prince tonight, but she doesn't know if she can change her plane ticket, she came all the way from Minnesota, can she change her plane ticket? she has to go to her hotel room and get her stuff. She's sort of wandering around, and she has tears in her eyes. Weird.
Benny and I go through the motions to sign up for free computers. I get one for noon, and he gets one for 12:05. It's now around 11:45. Angie comes up to me, still with tears in her eyes, and I'm curious, so I ask her what's wrong. She says she doesn't know if she can tell me, it's such a long story...and then launches into it. Something about how she knows Prince, see, her dad is a musician, and she once was at a concert, and Prince asked her to go onstage, and she didn't want to, so he got mad, and then she was at a club and he was there, and he called her name: Angie, and that new song, "Fury"? It's about her.
She needs to go see him tonight, she's gonna kick his ass, she left 2 kids at home, she doesn't know what she's gonna do, maybe she can use my cell phone. #1, how does she know I have a cell phone, and #2, and I ask her, why does she want to use my cell phone? She doesn't answer.
She says she knows I think she's crazy, everyone does when she tells the story, and this time I don't answer. I ask her why can't her dad the musician help her see Prince, and she says they're not talking right now. She doesn't know what she's gonna do, she left 3 kids at home...I say, "2 or 3 kids?" she said 3, she has an 18 year old at home...I say, "18! Wow, if you don't mind, how old are you?" (she looks not more than 30) She says, "I'm not that old!"
I start getting a weird vibe, and I decide that I'm going to ditch Benny and Angie. I say that I have to go to the bathroom so I can use my cell phone and pretend a friend has called me and I have to go home, can't go to the concert. Angie goes with me. I go into a stall, wait a few minutes, and come out, expecting Angie to be waiting for me. She's not. I make the phone call (to my voicemail), and Angie still doesn't come out. I go around the corner and there's Benny. I ask him if he's seen Angie, and he says that she went back to her hotel. Okay, weird. Pours her heart out to me and then doesn't say goodbye. And how is she going to get a ticket for tonight without going online?
I tell Benny that my friend called and reminded me I have a party to host tonight, oh god, I had forgotten, so now I really do need to go home, the decision has been made for me. He says, "Hmm...maybe I should go too. I can go to the bus station with you." And I say, "Well, actually, I'm gonna go to my dad's house before I go home..." and he gets it and says, "Okay, well, maybe I can use your computer at noon because your time is first." And I don't want to give him my temporary card with my name on it, don't want him to have any of my info, so somehow I hem and haw my way out of it, and we hug goodbye and I'm outta there.
And on the way to the bus station I pass the internet cafe at noon, and I think to myself that I can just go in there and get a ticket myself, but then I don't want to run into Benny later at Butter, and be alone at 1:00 in the morning with him. So I decide not to, I'm just going home.
I take the first bus I can and get right on, and as we're driving away, I theorize that Benny and Angie were working together and they were trying to scam me. The phone call he made to meet someone later? Her, at the library. Too many things didn't add up. They thought they had an easy mark, a lone woman with 2 hours of sleep. But they didn't know who they were messing with. Born and raised in NYC, and I watch Dateline religiously, besides. I ain't no fool! Humph! My life and sanity is more important than a concert that I might not have even gotten a ticket for, anyway. I arrive home and sleep for 11 hours.
The next day I get an email from the Prince fanclub, reviewing the show at Butter. Prince played a 3 hour set (not 3 song, 3 hour), with celebrities and fanclub fans surrounding him. I want to vomit. I get depressed all day, but console myself with the fact that I had to listen to my gut and I probably wouldn't have gotten a ticket anyway. I pride myself on my ability to know when something's amiss. I ain't no sucker.
Next time I will pack a nice outfit and bring a friend.
Angie is agitated, and says she needs to see Prince tonight, but she doesn't know if she can change her plane ticket, she came all the way from Minnesota, can she change her plane ticket? she has to go to her hotel room and get her stuff. She's sort of wandering around, and she has tears in her eyes. Weird.
Benny and I go through the motions to sign up for free computers. I get one for noon, and he gets one for 12:05. It's now around 11:45. Angie comes up to me, still with tears in her eyes, and I'm curious, so I ask her what's wrong. She says she doesn't know if she can tell me, it's such a long story...and then launches into it. Something about how she knows Prince, see, her dad is a musician, and she once was at a concert, and Prince asked her to go onstage, and she didn't want to, so he got mad, and then she was at a club and he was there, and he called her name: Angie, and that new song, "Fury"? It's about her.
She needs to go see him tonight, she's gonna kick his ass, she left 2 kids at home, she doesn't know what she's gonna do, maybe she can use my cell phone. #1, how does she know I have a cell phone, and #2, and I ask her, why does she want to use my cell phone? She doesn't answer.
She says she knows I think she's crazy, everyone does when she tells the story, and this time I don't answer. I ask her why can't her dad the musician help her see Prince, and she says they're not talking right now. She doesn't know what she's gonna do, she left 3 kids at home...I say, "2 or 3 kids?" she said 3, she has an 18 year old at home...I say, "18! Wow, if you don't mind, how old are you?" (she looks not more than 30) She says, "I'm not that old!"
I start getting a weird vibe, and I decide that I'm going to ditch Benny and Angie. I say that I have to go to the bathroom so I can use my cell phone and pretend a friend has called me and I have to go home, can't go to the concert. Angie goes with me. I go into a stall, wait a few minutes, and come out, expecting Angie to be waiting for me. She's not. I make the phone call (to my voicemail), and Angie still doesn't come out. I go around the corner and there's Benny. I ask him if he's seen Angie, and he says that she went back to her hotel. Okay, weird. Pours her heart out to me and then doesn't say goodbye. And how is she going to get a ticket for tonight without going online?
I tell Benny that my friend called and reminded me I have a party to host tonight, oh god, I had forgotten, so now I really do need to go home, the decision has been made for me. He says, "Hmm...maybe I should go too. I can go to the bus station with you." And I say, "Well, actually, I'm gonna go to my dad's house before I go home..." and he gets it and says, "Okay, well, maybe I can use your computer at noon because your time is first." And I don't want to give him my temporary card with my name on it, don't want him to have any of my info, so somehow I hem and haw my way out of it, and we hug goodbye and I'm outta there.
And on the way to the bus station I pass the internet cafe at noon, and I think to myself that I can just go in there and get a ticket myself, but then I don't want to run into Benny later at Butter, and be alone at 1:00 in the morning with him. So I decide not to, I'm just going home.
I take the first bus I can and get right on, and as we're driving away, I theorize that Benny and Angie were working together and they were trying to scam me. The phone call he made to meet someone later? Her, at the library. Too many things didn't add up. They thought they had an easy mark, a lone woman with 2 hours of sleep. But they didn't know who they were messing with. Born and raised in NYC, and I watch Dateline religiously, besides. I ain't no fool! Humph! My life and sanity is more important than a concert that I might not have even gotten a ticket for, anyway. I arrive home and sleep for 11 hours.
The next day I get an email from the Prince fanclub, reviewing the show at Butter. Prince played a 3 hour set (not 3 song, 3 hour), with celebrities and fanclub fans surrounding him. I want to vomit. I get depressed all day, but console myself with the fact that I had to listen to my gut and I probably wouldn't have gotten a ticket anyway. I pride myself on my ability to know when something's amiss. I ain't no sucker.
Next time I will pack a nice outfit and bring a friend.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Prince @ Bryant Park 4
Benny and I went to get breakfast, but he had to make a phone call first. He used a pay phone, something I haven't seen in awhile. He talked to someone and arranged to meet later. When he got off the phone, I asked what he did for a living. He said he was in real estate; he followed up by saying that he didn't like to carry his cell phone with him. Hmm...never met someone who had a cell phone and didn't like to carry it, much less someone in real estate.
He had driven here from DC, and he was planning to stay the day. He told me and had told other people that Prince was planning on playing that night at a restaurant called Butter. Prince fans could buy a ticket for $121 by logging on the official website at noon. How come I didn't know this information? The announcement was made on the website at midnight the night before, when we were all in line. We hadn't met Benny till the morning, when he showed up in the front of the line with a gym bag full of handmade tee shirts he had made. I bought one, and let him cut in front of me. I had asked him if he had more, but he said they were in the car, so I just bought what he had. He was charming.
We stopped at a place to get something to eat. I told him I had to eat cheaply because I had given him all of my money to get the tee shirt. He offered to buy me something, but I declined. He saw some more fans in the place and went over to tell them about Butter. What a schmoozer. We talked about plans for the day. I told him I couldn't really afford to drop $121 for a ticket, and besides I didn't have a place to stay, I would be wandering the streets all day on 2 hours of sleep, dragging a sleeping bag around with me. He said he was going to get a hotel room and I could use it to take a shower or whatever. He was going to buy a cheap linen suit for Butter. Maybe I could get myself some shoes, let my hair down, then I'd be ready for Butter. Thanks, Benny.
I noticed his wedding band and asked if his wife was a Prince fan. He said she wasn't. She was home in DC, pregnant with their first child. This was his last hurrah before becoming a stay at home dad.
It was around 11:00, and I still needed to think. We passed by an internet place, so we went in to check out the website. I logged on, and indeed, what he said was true. Tickets went on sale at noon. What was I going to do? He suggested we go over to the public library, where logging on was free. At least we could try to get a ticket.
I hemmed and hawed. At one point I said that I thought I'd just go back to Boston, and he said, "Yeah, you know, I might just go back to DC too. Should we just go to the bus station?" I thought he had a car? Hmm...I wasn't sure what to do, and he suggested we just try the public library. Okay. I was thinking on 2 hours of sleep. Fuzzy.
He had driven here from DC, and he was planning to stay the day. He told me and had told other people that Prince was planning on playing that night at a restaurant called Butter. Prince fans could buy a ticket for $121 by logging on the official website at noon. How come I didn't know this information? The announcement was made on the website at midnight the night before, when we were all in line. We hadn't met Benny till the morning, when he showed up in the front of the line with a gym bag full of handmade tee shirts he had made. I bought one, and let him cut in front of me. I had asked him if he had more, but he said they were in the car, so I just bought what he had. He was charming.
We stopped at a place to get something to eat. I told him I had to eat cheaply because I had given him all of my money to get the tee shirt. He offered to buy me something, but I declined. He saw some more fans in the place and went over to tell them about Butter. What a schmoozer. We talked about plans for the day. I told him I couldn't really afford to drop $121 for a ticket, and besides I didn't have a place to stay, I would be wandering the streets all day on 2 hours of sleep, dragging a sleeping bag around with me. He said he was going to get a hotel room and I could use it to take a shower or whatever. He was going to buy a cheap linen suit for Butter. Maybe I could get myself some shoes, let my hair down, then I'd be ready for Butter. Thanks, Benny.
I noticed his wedding band and asked if his wife was a Prince fan. He said she wasn't. She was home in DC, pregnant with their first child. This was his last hurrah before becoming a stay at home dad.
It was around 11:00, and I still needed to think. We passed by an internet place, so we went in to check out the website. I logged on, and indeed, what he said was true. Tickets went on sale at noon. What was I going to do? He suggested we go over to the public library, where logging on was free. At least we could try to get a ticket.
I hemmed and hawed. At one point I said that I thought I'd just go back to Boston, and he said, "Yeah, you know, I might just go back to DC too. Should we just go to the bus station?" I thought he had a car? Hmm...I wasn't sure what to do, and he suggested we just try the public library. Okay. I was thinking on 2 hours of sleep. Fuzzy.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Prince @ Bryant Park 3
About 6:00 Benny worms his way to the front, as do a couple of women I've chummed it up with. It's very hard to tell people that no, they can't cut in line and stand with me. The pregnant aunt and her nieces call me over, wondering where I've been. I go back up to my original spot and thank them. They remind me of the alliance.
The park opens up at 7:00. It's very organized. A man announces that they will let people in 10 at a time, and we are instructed to walk, not run, to the stage. We listen to instructions. I hang with my new pals and we gather together behind the VIP section, pretty close to the stage. I make new pals. A woman in front of me tells me and this other woman that we need to have her back, because if Sheila E comes out, she will fall backwards. We promise to catch her. Her pal who works with her at the post office has a nice digital camera, which he uses to capture all the beautiful female Prince fans in the audience.
The stage is set up with big black screens so we can hear what's going on behind them but can't see anything. We hear the sound check, the same song (Get on the Boat) about 5 times. We get excited every time. In between sound checks, the newest CD (3121) is played. My favorite jam (Black Sweat) comes on, and I go crazy. Black fans see white girl kick it and are surprised and impressed.
8:30--concert starts. Prince comes out looking like a baby's nursery. He has on a light pink suit and a turquoise shirt. Only Prince can work an outfit like that. He looks as hot as ever. He and his protege play 3 songs. Sheila E comes out, and we have to fan the fan in front of us. She swoons, but doesn't faint. After each song, during the commercial breaks, Prince messes with the sound system. He is not satisfied. We don't care. Sounds good to us.
After 3 songs, Prince exits and we chant, "More, more, more!" He does not give us more. That's it. Half an hour. Way too short. We are told how to exit safely. I stand in a daze. The crowd thins. I think I see Frenchie, a contestant on American Idol, season 3. She got booted off after it came out that she had been on an adult website. She showed America what was what when she got hired to be in Rent on Broadway.
I ask my new friends who wants to get breakfast. Everyone has to go to work, but Benny says he'll get breakfast with me. We leave the park.
The park opens up at 7:00. It's very organized. A man announces that they will let people in 10 at a time, and we are instructed to walk, not run, to the stage. We listen to instructions. I hang with my new pals and we gather together behind the VIP section, pretty close to the stage. I make new pals. A woman in front of me tells me and this other woman that we need to have her back, because if Sheila E comes out, she will fall backwards. We promise to catch her. Her pal who works with her at the post office has a nice digital camera, which he uses to capture all the beautiful female Prince fans in the audience.
The stage is set up with big black screens so we can hear what's going on behind them but can't see anything. We hear the sound check, the same song (Get on the Boat) about 5 times. We get excited every time. In between sound checks, the newest CD (3121) is played. My favorite jam (Black Sweat) comes on, and I go crazy. Black fans see white girl kick it and are surprised and impressed.
8:30--concert starts. Prince comes out looking like a baby's nursery. He has on a light pink suit and a turquoise shirt. Only Prince can work an outfit like that. He looks as hot as ever. He and his protege play 3 songs. Sheila E comes out, and we have to fan the fan in front of us. She swoons, but doesn't faint. After each song, during the commercial breaks, Prince messes with the sound system. He is not satisfied. We don't care. Sounds good to us.
After 3 songs, Prince exits and we chant, "More, more, more!" He does not give us more. That's it. Half an hour. Way too short. We are told how to exit safely. I stand in a daze. The crowd thins. I think I see Frenchie, a contestant on American Idol, season 3. She got booted off after it came out that she had been on an adult website. She showed America what was what when she got hired to be in Rent on Broadway.
I ask my new friends who wants to get breakfast. Everyone has to go to work, but Benny says he'll get breakfast with me. We leave the park.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Prince @ Bryant Park 2 (long, but interesting)
Robin got in line with me for a little while, we caught up, and then he went home. I began schmoozing, seeing who was who and what was what.
The first guy in line was Sean, who worked at the library right at the edge of the park. He got there at 5:45. Next was a man, and then two women, all of whom were not very talkative. They got there at 7:00. Next was a husband and wife team who were very talkative. A lot of fun. And right in front of me, a pregnant woman who brought a canvas hammock, so help me god.
Then came me, and then Rosalie, a woman from NYC, and behind her, a man who was originally from Israel and travelled a lot. I went around and said hi to all these people and said, "Okay guys, now, let's form an alliance!" Someone said, "What is this, Survivor?" and I told her it sure was, because we needed to stick together when people wanted to cut in line and once we got to the stage we shouldn't let anyone in front of us. We all agreed to watch each other's backs.
I became the unofficial line counter, just because I was curious. I walked up and down the line with a little notebook, taking notes and counting. People thought I was from a newspaper or from Good Morning America. I liked that, and didn't always say that it was just for my scrapbook and blog. Here are some of my recordings:
11:45 pm--19 people in line, including folks from New Jersey, Washington DC, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. After telling them I had travelled from Boston, I shouted out, "New England represent!"
1:00 am--Rosalie and I went around the corner to check out the VIP section. These were people who had won tickets to be the first people to go in. There were 6 of them when we first checked it out.
People often identified themselves by usernames from Prince's website. "Hi, I'm Utopia 7." "Hi, I'm Rosalie." "You're Rosalie! Girl, I dissed you last week, but what you said was crazy!" I was told if I wanted some free entertainment, go to the chat room and watch the fun.
After we met the VIPs, we went back to our section and I cuddled up in my sleeping bag (sans pad) and slept for 2 hours. I woke up at 3:00 feeling...well, not exactly refreshed, but good. I decided anyone who was in line after 3:00 was not a diehard fan because they didn't exactly spend the night. There were probably about 50 diehard fans.
A drunk homeless man came to our section with a sign that said, "Why lie? I want a beer." I thought it was funny. He chatted with us for a few minutes. I decided to take a picture of this scene for my scrapbook. Big mistake. I think I must have set off a Post Traumatic Stress episode in him, because when the flash went off, so did he. He started talking at me and pointing his finger. Rosalie tried to calm him down by making small talk, but he wouldn't leave me alone. I dealt with it by sitting Japanese seiza style and going into a trance, staring straight ahead and not saying a word. You can't talk sense to someone when they're ranting. I was fully aware of the man, and was waiting, waiting for him to actually touch me with that pointy finger so I could get up and kick his ass. Luckily for him, his friend came along, whispered something in his ear, and boom, they were gone. Rosalie told me she had my back, but she hadn't realized I had a pit bull within me.
3:15 am--78 people in line, plus 11 VIPs. I chose people at random to tell what their number was. One guy who was proud of being from Brooklyn was number 35.
4:10 am--105 people. I goofed when I told Mr. Brooklyn that he was 45. He said, "What? Last time I was 35!" Oh boy. We had people sneaking in the front already.
5:00 am--260. After that I stopped counting.
At 5:32 the park sprinkler system came on, waking those who were sleeping and soaking people's things. We all became a little more aware.
One and a half hours till the park opened.
The first guy in line was Sean, who worked at the library right at the edge of the park. He got there at 5:45. Next was a man, and then two women, all of whom were not very talkative. They got there at 7:00. Next was a husband and wife team who were very talkative. A lot of fun. And right in front of me, a pregnant woman who brought a canvas hammock, so help me god.
Then came me, and then Rosalie, a woman from NYC, and behind her, a man who was originally from Israel and travelled a lot. I went around and said hi to all these people and said, "Okay guys, now, let's form an alliance!" Someone said, "What is this, Survivor?" and I told her it sure was, because we needed to stick together when people wanted to cut in line and once we got to the stage we shouldn't let anyone in front of us. We all agreed to watch each other's backs.
I became the unofficial line counter, just because I was curious. I walked up and down the line with a little notebook, taking notes and counting. People thought I was from a newspaper or from Good Morning America. I liked that, and didn't always say that it was just for my scrapbook and blog. Here are some of my recordings:
11:45 pm--19 people in line, including folks from New Jersey, Washington DC, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. After telling them I had travelled from Boston, I shouted out, "New England represent!"
1:00 am--Rosalie and I went around the corner to check out the VIP section. These were people who had won tickets to be the first people to go in. There were 6 of them when we first checked it out.
People often identified themselves by usernames from Prince's website. "Hi, I'm Utopia 7." "Hi, I'm Rosalie." "You're Rosalie! Girl, I dissed you last week, but what you said was crazy!" I was told if I wanted some free entertainment, go to the chat room and watch the fun.
After we met the VIPs, we went back to our section and I cuddled up in my sleeping bag (sans pad) and slept for 2 hours. I woke up at 3:00 feeling...well, not exactly refreshed, but good. I decided anyone who was in line after 3:00 was not a diehard fan because they didn't exactly spend the night. There were probably about 50 diehard fans.
A drunk homeless man came to our section with a sign that said, "Why lie? I want a beer." I thought it was funny. He chatted with us for a few minutes. I decided to take a picture of this scene for my scrapbook. Big mistake. I think I must have set off a Post Traumatic Stress episode in him, because when the flash went off, so did he. He started talking at me and pointing his finger. Rosalie tried to calm him down by making small talk, but he wouldn't leave me alone. I dealt with it by sitting Japanese seiza style and going into a trance, staring straight ahead and not saying a word. You can't talk sense to someone when they're ranting. I was fully aware of the man, and was waiting, waiting for him to actually touch me with that pointy finger so I could get up and kick his ass. Luckily for him, his friend came along, whispered something in his ear, and boom, they were gone. Rosalie told me she had my back, but she hadn't realized I had a pit bull within me.
3:15 am--78 people in line, plus 11 VIPs. I chose people at random to tell what their number was. One guy who was proud of being from Brooklyn was number 35.
4:10 am--105 people. I goofed when I told Mr. Brooklyn that he was 45. He said, "What? Last time I was 35!" Oh boy. We had people sneaking in the front already.
5:00 am--260. After that I stopped counting.
At 5:32 the park sprinkler system came on, waking those who were sleeping and soaking people's things. We all became a little more aware.
One and a half hours till the park opened.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Prince @ Bryant Park 1
This post is gonna take awhile. Lots of stories to tell. I'll try to keep it interesting. Not gonna worry about grammar this time.
Took the Greyhound bus to NYC right after work on Thursday. I was worried that I would be late, but realized there was nothing I could do about it. I would get there, meet my friend Robin who would walk over with me, and get in line. All I could do.
I arrived at around 8:15, earlier than scheduled. Sweet! I waited for Robin. And waited. And waited. As I was waiting, I noticed a group of young Japanese men sitting down with a guide book and a cell phone. How did I know they were Japanese? I can spot 'em a mile away; I have Japan-dar! Plus I recognized the writing on the book. I went over and asked if they needed any help. They said they were trying to find a hotel, but they were all booked. They were Japanese, currently living in Canada. Bankooba. Translation: Vancouver.
I asked if they knew Prince. Huh? Oh, Prince, the singer! Uh, yeah, why? I told them that I was camping out for the night to see him; I didn't have a place to stay either. Wanna hang out with me to see Prince? They respectfully declined, and I respectfully wished them luck and went back to waiting.
A few minutes later they came over and asked if I knew a certain hotel in Chinatown. I did not. They showed me the place and asked if I knew the best way to get there. I did not. I called the place and asked; got the info, and told them what to do. They were thankful, I did my good deed for the day, and went back to waiting for Robin, which by this time was going on 45 minutes.
Robin came breezing in. Turns out he was waiting across the street in the other bus building. Oh well. We (or rather, I) booked it over to the park, stopping at McDonald's on the way to grab a bite to eat. Yep, more crap to digest. Yes, I read Fast Food Nation. Yes, I still eat at McDonald's when desperate times call for desperate measures.
Got to the park and asked where the line started. Was directed to the spot. Where I was not the first in line. I was eighth. Good enough.
Took the Greyhound bus to NYC right after work on Thursday. I was worried that I would be late, but realized there was nothing I could do about it. I would get there, meet my friend Robin who would walk over with me, and get in line. All I could do.
I arrived at around 8:15, earlier than scheduled. Sweet! I waited for Robin. And waited. And waited. As I was waiting, I noticed a group of young Japanese men sitting down with a guide book and a cell phone. How did I know they were Japanese? I can spot 'em a mile away; I have Japan-dar! Plus I recognized the writing on the book. I went over and asked if they needed any help. They said they were trying to find a hotel, but they were all booked. They were Japanese, currently living in Canada. Bankooba. Translation: Vancouver.
I asked if they knew Prince. Huh? Oh, Prince, the singer! Uh, yeah, why? I told them that I was camping out for the night to see him; I didn't have a place to stay either. Wanna hang out with me to see Prince? They respectfully declined, and I respectfully wished them luck and went back to waiting.
A few minutes later they came over and asked if I knew a certain hotel in Chinatown. I did not. They showed me the place and asked if I knew the best way to get there. I did not. I called the place and asked; got the info, and told them what to do. They were thankful, I did my good deed for the day, and went back to waiting for Robin, which by this time was going on 45 minutes.
Robin came breezing in. Turns out he was waiting across the street in the other bus building. Oh well. We (or rather, I) booked it over to the park, stopping at McDonald's on the way to grab a bite to eat. Yep, more crap to digest. Yes, I read Fast Food Nation. Yes, I still eat at McDonald's when desperate times call for desperate measures.
Got to the park and asked where the line started. Was directed to the spot. Where I was not the first in line. I was eighth. Good enough.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
O+> All Night Long
I'm going on an all night adventure. Prince is having a free concert on Friday morning at 7 am as part of Good Morning America's summer concert series. It's in Bryant Park, a small park in New York City. He and his new protege, Tamar, will play 2-3 songs. Short concert, but worth every hour I spend sleeping on the sidewalk.
I'll leave from work tomorrow and catch a Greyhound bus, which will arrive at 8:30 pm. I hope that's not too late. My plan is to scope out the park and see where the line starts, and then park myself there with my sleeping bag. At first I thought I would be the first one in line, but now I'm not so sure. The woman at Bryant Park said she's been getting a lot of calls for this concert. No surprise there. Well anyway, I'll be one of the first in when the sun comes up.
I'll bring my backpack filled with a notebook, umbrella, camera, Yoo Hoo, and Doritos. Organic food gets the big heave ho for this excursion. The big item is my sleeping bag, but it's light and semi-compact. And warm.
Tune in Friday morning to Good Morning America, 7 am, and see magic right before your eyes. You might even see me in the front row! Next blog will continue the adventure...wish me luck!
I'll leave from work tomorrow and catch a Greyhound bus, which will arrive at 8:30 pm. I hope that's not too late. My plan is to scope out the park and see where the line starts, and then park myself there with my sleeping bag. At first I thought I would be the first one in line, but now I'm not so sure. The woman at Bryant Park said she's been getting a lot of calls for this concert. No surprise there. Well anyway, I'll be one of the first in when the sun comes up.
I'll bring my backpack filled with a notebook, umbrella, camera, Yoo Hoo, and Doritos. Organic food gets the big heave ho for this excursion. The big item is my sleeping bag, but it's light and semi-compact. And warm.
Tune in Friday morning to Good Morning America, 7 am, and see magic right before your eyes. You might even see me in the front row! Next blog will continue the adventure...wish me luck!
Monday, June 12, 2006
Go See the Doctor
I went to see the ear doctor today. Or so I thought. Turned out he was an ear, nose, and throat specialist. See, I've been having this throbbing pain in my left ear for about 5 months, and while not severe, I know it's not normal. My primary care physician didn't find anything, so I took it upon myself to take it to the next level.
First I had an ear test, which found that I had normal hearing, not bionical, as I had suspected and hoped. Next I went in to see the doctor. He came in and asked me a few basic questions: how old are you, do you smoke, do you drink, tell me about the problem. I told him, and he proceeded to look not only into my ears, but into my nose and throat too. Guess they're all connected, duh.
Then he started with the tests, which started out weird and got progressively weirder and more painful. As he began each test he told me exactly what he was going to do, which is usually comforting when seeing a doctor, but not this time.
He asked me to pinch my mouth shut. I felt like I was going to give him a kiss. Ick. Then he asked me to raise my eyebrows. What? Then he said, "Now, I'm going to put my hand on your face and push, and I want you to resist me. Right side--resist. Left side--resist. Good!" Eww! "Stick your tongue out and say 'heeeeee...'" What the hell?!
Then he said, and I am not exaggerating, "Now I'm going to stick my finger down your throat and you will gag. You're supposed to." Great. He did, and I did. Wonderful. Then he stuck a depressor on my tongue and told me to just relax my tongue. I had to stop him at that point and say, "Can you just wait a minute? After I gag, I usually need time to gather myself." This doctor's affect was very flat. It felt like he was going through motions and didn't treat me like the freaked out patient I was.
Finished with the ears and the mouth, he moved on to my nose. He looked up my nose and said that it looked good. Nice compliment. Then he retrieved this contraption from a cabinet that looked like it was from a 1950's science fiction movie. It had a turquoise handle and a long narrow wire thing that stuck out of it. It looked like a skinny gun. At the end of it was a small conical thing with a hole in it. The doctor said to me, in a voice that indicated this was the most normal thing in the world, "Now, I'm going to give you a little spray in your nose to make it numb." He approached my nose with the ray gun, and I held up my hand and said, "Now just wait a minute, please. Now what is this? And why is my nose needing to be numb?" Turned out my nose needed to be numb because the final step was to have an instrument stuck up the inside of it to look around closely. Oh, joy and celebration!
So I allowed him to spray my nose, and that wasn't so bad. I asked him if I was going to feel the instrument in my nose; I expected not too, since I was supposed to be numb. He said, "Oh, you'll feel the instrument in your nose." The one time he shows some emotion is when he's about to inflict the most pain on me. Thank you.
He went back to his magic cabinet and pulled out a black wire with a tiny light at the end of it. We'd moved up to 1980's science fiction. He showed me that it was flexible; when he pulled the end of it, the lighted end rotated around like some electronic worm. That thing was going into my nose. I could hardly contain my excitement.
He put that thing in my nose and oh my god, not only could I feel it, but it hurt! Ouch! I raised my hand, and he said, "Yes?" and I told him that that was just my way of expressing discomfort. He continued. I thought about how much better I liked getting tattooed, and I remembered to go to my "special place" that I went to whenever I needed to not feel pain, like at the tattoo parlor and the dentist. Come to find out my special place could not be reached when being probed by Captain Hook Junior's claw.
He finally finished my session of torture and told me the conclusion of my visit. There was nothing wrong. Perhaps it's just a muscle spasm, and, while annoying, is not anything to worry about. In other words, I had just spent $30 in co-payments and I would just have to live with throbbing pain in my ear. Doctor, I don't know how to thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to listen to my iPod really loud, throw up, and sniff some cocaine. Stimulate the senses a little bit, ya know? Have a nice day.
First I had an ear test, which found that I had normal hearing, not bionical, as I had suspected and hoped. Next I went in to see the doctor. He came in and asked me a few basic questions: how old are you, do you smoke, do you drink, tell me about the problem. I told him, and he proceeded to look not only into my ears, but into my nose and throat too. Guess they're all connected, duh.
Then he started with the tests, which started out weird and got progressively weirder and more painful. As he began each test he told me exactly what he was going to do, which is usually comforting when seeing a doctor, but not this time.
He asked me to pinch my mouth shut. I felt like I was going to give him a kiss. Ick. Then he asked me to raise my eyebrows. What? Then he said, "Now, I'm going to put my hand on your face and push, and I want you to resist me. Right side--resist. Left side--resist. Good!" Eww! "Stick your tongue out and say 'heeeeee...'" What the hell?!
Then he said, and I am not exaggerating, "Now I'm going to stick my finger down your throat and you will gag. You're supposed to." Great. He did, and I did. Wonderful. Then he stuck a depressor on my tongue and told me to just relax my tongue. I had to stop him at that point and say, "Can you just wait a minute? After I gag, I usually need time to gather myself." This doctor's affect was very flat. It felt like he was going through motions and didn't treat me like the freaked out patient I was.
Finished with the ears and the mouth, he moved on to my nose. He looked up my nose and said that it looked good. Nice compliment. Then he retrieved this contraption from a cabinet that looked like it was from a 1950's science fiction movie. It had a turquoise handle and a long narrow wire thing that stuck out of it. It looked like a skinny gun. At the end of it was a small conical thing with a hole in it. The doctor said to me, in a voice that indicated this was the most normal thing in the world, "Now, I'm going to give you a little spray in your nose to make it numb." He approached my nose with the ray gun, and I held up my hand and said, "Now just wait a minute, please. Now what is this? And why is my nose needing to be numb?" Turned out my nose needed to be numb because the final step was to have an instrument stuck up the inside of it to look around closely. Oh, joy and celebration!
So I allowed him to spray my nose, and that wasn't so bad. I asked him if I was going to feel the instrument in my nose; I expected not too, since I was supposed to be numb. He said, "Oh, you'll feel the instrument in your nose." The one time he shows some emotion is when he's about to inflict the most pain on me. Thank you.
He went back to his magic cabinet and pulled out a black wire with a tiny light at the end of it. We'd moved up to 1980's science fiction. He showed me that it was flexible; when he pulled the end of it, the lighted end rotated around like some electronic worm. That thing was going into my nose. I could hardly contain my excitement.
He put that thing in my nose and oh my god, not only could I feel it, but it hurt! Ouch! I raised my hand, and he said, "Yes?" and I told him that that was just my way of expressing discomfort. He continued. I thought about how much better I liked getting tattooed, and I remembered to go to my "special place" that I went to whenever I needed to not feel pain, like at the tattoo parlor and the dentist. Come to find out my special place could not be reached when being probed by Captain Hook Junior's claw.
He finally finished my session of torture and told me the conclusion of my visit. There was nothing wrong. Perhaps it's just a muscle spasm, and, while annoying, is not anything to worry about. In other words, I had just spent $30 in co-payments and I would just have to live with throbbing pain in my ear. Doctor, I don't know how to thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to listen to my iPod really loud, throw up, and sniff some cocaine. Stimulate the senses a little bit, ya know? Have a nice day.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Do You Fluevog?
So it's 6:45 pm and I'm on the train going home. I read my free Metro newspaper and I see a blurb about John Fluevog, the famous shoe designer, being at his store today in Boston from 11-8. I love Fluevogs; they are so chunky and funky. Problem is, they don't fit me quite right. I decide to hop in anyway just to catch a glimpse of the designer and maybe tell him I appreciate what he does.
I go into the store, and there he is, behind the counter. Whoa. There's not too many people in the tiny space, so I could go up to him, but I get nervous. A clerk comes up to me and asks me if I need help. I grab the shoe I'm in love with and tell her my plight. "I really love these shoes, but they don't fit me. The heel always rides up." She says, "Did you try them with the heel pad?" Yes. "With the...?" Yes.
The shoes look like something Minnie Mouse would wear. They're high heeled Mary Janes, red and pink leather, with the funkiest cartoon heel you ever saw. I tell the clerk I just want to tell Mr. Fluevog how much I love his shoes, and she says, "Go 'head, tell him!" and I say, "No, I'm too nervous." She laughs and encourages me. He starts coming over, so I muster up my courage and walk up to him.
I stick out my hand. I say, "Hi, my name is Alex." He says, "Hi, I'm John." Ohmygod he said hi I'm John! While holding the shoe of my dreams, I say, "These are my favorite shoes...but...I can't wear them because my heel is really narrow, and..." and I just sort of trail off. He says, "Oh." I quickly recover. "I might buy them anyway..." and he says, "For bookends, or art or something." "Yes!" I reply, a little too enthusiastically. Nevermind that I have no intention of paying $186.00 for shoes I will buy as bookends because they don't fit me. I say thank you, he says, take care, and I go up to the clerk. "I did it!" She laughs. We say goodbye.
I met John Fluevog. While wearing black Converse low tops with flames on them. How's that for hot?
I go into the store, and there he is, behind the counter. Whoa. There's not too many people in the tiny space, so I could go up to him, but I get nervous. A clerk comes up to me and asks me if I need help. I grab the shoe I'm in love with and tell her my plight. "I really love these shoes, but they don't fit me. The heel always rides up." She says, "Did you try them with the heel pad?" Yes. "With the...?" Yes.
The shoes look like something Minnie Mouse would wear. They're high heeled Mary Janes, red and pink leather, with the funkiest cartoon heel you ever saw. I tell the clerk I just want to tell Mr. Fluevog how much I love his shoes, and she says, "Go 'head, tell him!" and I say, "No, I'm too nervous." She laughs and encourages me. He starts coming over, so I muster up my courage and walk up to him.
I stick out my hand. I say, "Hi, my name is Alex." He says, "Hi, I'm John." Ohmygod he said hi I'm John! While holding the shoe of my dreams, I say, "These are my favorite shoes...but...I can't wear them because my heel is really narrow, and..." and I just sort of trail off. He says, "Oh." I quickly recover. "I might buy them anyway..." and he says, "For bookends, or art or something." "Yes!" I reply, a little too enthusiastically. Nevermind that I have no intention of paying $186.00 for shoes I will buy as bookends because they don't fit me. I say thank you, he says, take care, and I go up to the clerk. "I did it!" She laughs. We say goodbye.
I met John Fluevog. While wearing black Converse low tops with flames on them. How's that for hot?
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Gross!
So last night I'm in the bathroom and I see this multi-legged creepy looking insect skitter behind the toilet, next to the broom. I immediately grab my cat and put her face within viewing distance. I yell, "Look, Shelby, get it!" She looks around and sees the broom, which she thinks I've pointed out to her so she can chew the plastic bristles. She puts her face close to the broom bristles. "NO!!!" I scream. "Look, look! Get it! It's a bug!" The bug comes out a little, and Shelby takes one look and walks away. Like she does every time she sees a bug, goddammit.
I go get a boot to smash it, and succeed in doing so. However, as I'm smashing it, it's still moving a little, so I get freaked out and jump back, yelping. My bare foot lands on something wet and squishy, which makes me scream louder. It's a fresh hairball, compliments of Shelby. Ewww!!
Oh god, I was so freaked out by all of this, I just left everything where it was and went straight to bed. Cleaned everything up this morning. That's what I get for taking my slippers off for just one second. If you live on the first floor with a lazy cat, don't slack. Always be aware...
I go get a boot to smash it, and succeed in doing so. However, as I'm smashing it, it's still moving a little, so I get freaked out and jump back, yelping. My bare foot lands on something wet and squishy, which makes me scream louder. It's a fresh hairball, compliments of Shelby. Ewww!!
Oh god, I was so freaked out by all of this, I just left everything where it was and went straight to bed. Cleaned everything up this morning. That's what I get for taking my slippers off for just one second. If you live on the first floor with a lazy cat, don't slack. Always be aware...
Friday, May 26, 2006
No More Heartache!
I tried the Pill Pockets, and they work like a charm! Pop the Atenelol in, Shelby eats the treat. Pop in the baby aspirin, same thing. Yay! No more sleepless nights worrying that I'll have to force a pill down her throat. No more avoidance. In fact, she eagerly awaits her treat every morning now. This morning, I had the audacity to go to the bathroom before giving her the daily treat. She was so angry, she followed me and bit my foot. Naughty kitty. Happy Mommy.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Heartache
I just found out that my almost 10 year old cat Shelby has mild heart disease. She was put on Atenelol and baby aspirin. My boss takes the same medicine. Weird. The Atenelol is to slow her heart down, and the aspirin is to prevent clots from forming. Apparently if clots form, her hind legs will stop working. Yikes.
Every day she has to take 1/4 of the Atenelol, so the size of the pill is pretty small. She has to take one baby aspirin every three days. That pill is pretty big. I spent at least five minutes in the aspirin section trying to decide if Shelby would like orange or cherry flavor better. Bayer, or St. Joseph's? I chose Bayer orange--chewable.
The first day of medication I put the Atenelol in some cream cheese and she ate it right up. I was psyched. I tried the same thing with the aspirin. She looked at it, sniffed it, and walked away. I left it for a little while, and it disintegrated. I mushed it all around, thinking with some more cream cheese she'd eat it and never taste the aspirin. I was wrong. I was freaked out because I knew she needed to take it. I decided to shove it down her throat the way I know people do. Well, she didn't like that much and fought me, so I ended up sort of smearing it all over her mouth like some disgusting lip gloss. She licked it all, so at least she got it in her.
The next morning when I got out of bed she cried to go in the hallway, which she never does in the morning. I opened the door for her and she went to sit under the wicker table, which is her special place to sit whenever she's really freaked out. Great. I hadn't even tried to give her the pills yet.
Someone told me about these things called Pill Pockets. They're treats with holes in them. You put the pill in the treat and fold it closed, and the cat (or dog) is supposed to eat the treat and never taste the pill. My local pet store didn't have them, but they told me about this food that I could put it in and maybe that would help. It's raw food, made with all kinds of stuff like chicken, clams, broccoli, and flax seed oil. Very healthy, delicious, and expensive.
I took that home and put the Atenelol in it. She ate it right up. Put the aspirin, whole, in the raw food. She ate all around it and left the aspirin. I ain't raising no dummy. I mushed it up in more food. No go. Dammit! I was, and am, determined to find a way for Shelby to take her medicine with food so I don't have to shove it down her throat, which is traumatic for both of us.
This weekend I quartered a baby aspirin and she ate it with the food. I praised her like she had just done a trick on command. A couple of people have told me that St. Joseph's is smaller than Bayer, so I went to the pharmacist to ask. She told me there's not that much difference in size, but the Bayer chewable aspirin can be crushed and is much sweeter than the St. Joseph's, which has a coating on it to make it easier to swallow. She suggested I try them to see the difference, which I did. She was right. Think I'll stick to the chewable.
I finally found Pill Pockets, so I'll try those the next time I have to give her the aspirin. Wish me luck!
Every day she has to take 1/4 of the Atenelol, so the size of the pill is pretty small. She has to take one baby aspirin every three days. That pill is pretty big. I spent at least five minutes in the aspirin section trying to decide if Shelby would like orange or cherry flavor better. Bayer, or St. Joseph's? I chose Bayer orange--chewable.
The first day of medication I put the Atenelol in some cream cheese and she ate it right up. I was psyched. I tried the same thing with the aspirin. She looked at it, sniffed it, and walked away. I left it for a little while, and it disintegrated. I mushed it all around, thinking with some more cream cheese she'd eat it and never taste the aspirin. I was wrong. I was freaked out because I knew she needed to take it. I decided to shove it down her throat the way I know people do. Well, she didn't like that much and fought me, so I ended up sort of smearing it all over her mouth like some disgusting lip gloss. She licked it all, so at least she got it in her.
The next morning when I got out of bed she cried to go in the hallway, which she never does in the morning. I opened the door for her and she went to sit under the wicker table, which is her special place to sit whenever she's really freaked out. Great. I hadn't even tried to give her the pills yet.
Someone told me about these things called Pill Pockets. They're treats with holes in them. You put the pill in the treat and fold it closed, and the cat (or dog) is supposed to eat the treat and never taste the pill. My local pet store didn't have them, but they told me about this food that I could put it in and maybe that would help. It's raw food, made with all kinds of stuff like chicken, clams, broccoli, and flax seed oil. Very healthy, delicious, and expensive.
I took that home and put the Atenelol in it. She ate it right up. Put the aspirin, whole, in the raw food. She ate all around it and left the aspirin. I ain't raising no dummy. I mushed it up in more food. No go. Dammit! I was, and am, determined to find a way for Shelby to take her medicine with food so I don't have to shove it down her throat, which is traumatic for both of us.
This weekend I quartered a baby aspirin and she ate it with the food. I praised her like she had just done a trick on command. A couple of people have told me that St. Joseph's is smaller than Bayer, so I went to the pharmacist to ask. She told me there's not that much difference in size, but the Bayer chewable aspirin can be crushed and is much sweeter than the St. Joseph's, which has a coating on it to make it easier to swallow. She suggested I try them to see the difference, which I did. She was right. Think I'll stick to the chewable.
I finally found Pill Pockets, so I'll try those the next time I have to give her the aspirin. Wish me luck!
Saturday, May 20, 2006
The One-Eyed Goat
One of the highlights of my trip to Germany was seeing the one-eyed goat.
My friends and I were driving in the German countryside, and I saw a fuzzy brown creature in a pasture as we drove by. Having been born and raised in NYC, I get excited seeing wild creatures that are not squirrels or pigeons. "Stop the car!" I screamed. "I think I see a three-headed goat!" Thomas promised we would stop on our way back.
We got back to the pasture and the kids and I scrambled out of the car. The pasture was closed off by a flimsy fence of wood and plastic. Off in the distance we saw the creature: not a three-headed goat, merely a one-headed goat with huge horns and a beautiful brown coat of fur.
The goat, who was munching on grass, stopped and looked up at us. It seemed to be thinking, "Hmm..who's that? Maybe I'll go check it out." He started ambling towards us, slowly at first. As he got closer, his steps got faster. He started trotting, and about three quarters of the way he sprang into a full run, until BAM! he ran right into the fence. We jumped back, of course, a little scared, but amused as well. The fence held tight.
He turned his head and bleated at us, and that's when we saw that not only did he have one head, he only had one eye. Where his right eye was supposed to be was a dent covered with fur. We fed him some grass and then he gave us one last bleat and dismissed us, walking back slowly to the pasture. He began munching grass again. We kept watching him, transfixed by this strange creature.
After a couple of minutes, the goat looked up at us again, with absolutely no recognition in his squinty goat eyes. Again, he seemed to be thinking, "Hmm...who's that? I'll go check it out." He went through the rountine exactly as he had done before: walking, trotting, running BAM! into the fence. Let's just say that particular strudel didn't have all the ingredients, if you know what I mean. Doesn't take much to entertain me.
My friends and I were driving in the German countryside, and I saw a fuzzy brown creature in a pasture as we drove by. Having been born and raised in NYC, I get excited seeing wild creatures that are not squirrels or pigeons. "Stop the car!" I screamed. "I think I see a three-headed goat!" Thomas promised we would stop on our way back.
We got back to the pasture and the kids and I scrambled out of the car. The pasture was closed off by a flimsy fence of wood and plastic. Off in the distance we saw the creature: not a three-headed goat, merely a one-headed goat with huge horns and a beautiful brown coat of fur.
The goat, who was munching on grass, stopped and looked up at us. It seemed to be thinking, "Hmm..who's that? Maybe I'll go check it out." He started ambling towards us, slowly at first. As he got closer, his steps got faster. He started trotting, and about three quarters of the way he sprang into a full run, until BAM! he ran right into the fence. We jumped back, of course, a little scared, but amused as well. The fence held tight.
He turned his head and bleated at us, and that's when we saw that not only did he have one head, he only had one eye. Where his right eye was supposed to be was a dent covered with fur. We fed him some grass and then he gave us one last bleat and dismissed us, walking back slowly to the pasture. He began munching grass again. We kept watching him, transfixed by this strange creature.
After a couple of minutes, the goat looked up at us again, with absolutely no recognition in his squinty goat eyes. Again, he seemed to be thinking, "Hmm...who's that? I'll go check it out." He went through the rountine exactly as he had done before: walking, trotting, running BAM! into the fence. Let's just say that particular strudel didn't have all the ingredients, if you know what I mean. Doesn't take much to entertain me.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Things You Never See
Just a few weeks ago the wheelchair stall in the ladies' room was actually occupied by someone in a wheelchair. First time I'd seen that.
Today for the first time I saw a bird actually sitting in her nest.
I've seen plenty of unoccupied wheelchair stalls and nests. When's the last time you saw them occupied? Ever seen a baby squirrel or pigeon? Why did Chris Daughtry get voted off of American Idol, when he was clearly the favorite?
Serious questions, folks. Wanna make you think.
Today for the first time I saw a bird actually sitting in her nest.
I've seen plenty of unoccupied wheelchair stalls and nests. When's the last time you saw them occupied? Ever seen a baby squirrel or pigeon? Why did Chris Daughtry get voted off of American Idol, when he was clearly the favorite?
Serious questions, folks. Wanna make you think.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
In the World of Children
I love the games children make up. Today a couple of girls were pretending they were babies. I asked them what they were playing. One of the girls who wasn't being a baby said, "We're playing Baby Find Celebration." I asked what that was, and she told me that a baby gets lost, they find the baby, and they celebrate. Simple, yet powerful.
One of my kids came in today sounding a little stuffy. I asked her if she was getting a cold, and she said, "No, I already have it."
One of my kids came in today sounding a little stuffy. I asked her if she was getting a cold, and she said, "No, I already have it."
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Grand Statements
I live my life through Grand Statements. My friend Emily says it's because I'm an extrovert and it's my way of processing things--out loud. I think about things in my life and then declare what is happening with me. Upon reflection of this process, I've come to the conclusion that the Statements are true when I utter them, but they won't necessarily stick.
Here are some of the Grand Statements I've uttered in years past, all with an exclamation point for emphasis. No Grand Statement has lasted very long:
--I'm getting married!
--I'm a lesbian!
--I want to try stand-up comedy!
--I like my housecleaning jobs! (upon receiving my Master's degree)
--Thank you for all of your help, I won't be needing your services any more! (to my therapist)
--I'm bisexual!
--I want to live in Japan for at least a year, maybe more!
--I'm getting married!
--I'm going to swim my way to health!
--I'm going to karate chop my way to health!
--I'm going to music video dance my way to health!
--I'm over my ex!
My latest Grand Statement is that I'm done with dating. D-O-N-E. I bought myself a diamond ring to emphasize the Statement, and I wear it on my left hand, on purpose. I can now wave my Grand Statement to the public without saying a word. I am not available.
The other day a guy who was sitting to my left at a table asked me out. Oy vey.
Here are some of the Grand Statements I've uttered in years past, all with an exclamation point for emphasis. No Grand Statement has lasted very long:
--I'm getting married!
--I'm a lesbian!
--I want to try stand-up comedy!
--I like my housecleaning jobs! (upon receiving my Master's degree)
--Thank you for all of your help, I won't be needing your services any more! (to my therapist)
--I'm bisexual!
--I want to live in Japan for at least a year, maybe more!
--I'm getting married!
--I'm going to swim my way to health!
--I'm going to karate chop my way to health!
--I'm going to music video dance my way to health!
--I'm over my ex!
My latest Grand Statement is that I'm done with dating. D-O-N-E. I bought myself a diamond ring to emphasize the Statement, and I wear it on my left hand, on purpose. I can now wave my Grand Statement to the public without saying a word. I am not available.
The other day a guy who was sitting to my left at a table asked me out. Oy vey.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Great Inventions
And now, my list of what I think are some of the world's greatest inventions:
-the Walkman/Discman/iPod
-the contact lens
-italics
-allergy injections
-the internet
-rolling shower curtain rings
-clumping cat litter
-caller ID
-Snickers with almonds
What are your favorite inventions?
-the Walkman/Discman/iPod
-the contact lens
-italics
-allergy injections
-the internet
-rolling shower curtain rings
-clumping cat litter
-caller ID
-Snickers with almonds
What are your favorite inventions?
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Fun With Money Exchange
So Thomas and I are in the airport, and I want to change my money. I find the exchange booth, and I tell Thomas to go get the parking ticket to exit while I go get my Euros.
I change my money and decide to have a little fun. I put the bills in my pocket and have the coins in my hand. I go over to Thomas and show him the coins, saying, "I gave the man $500 and he gave me this. Is this a lot?"
Thomas freaks out, crying, "What???" I didn't let it go on too long, after all he had been through, but it was fun while it lasted.
I change my money and decide to have a little fun. I put the bills in my pocket and have the coins in my hand. I go over to Thomas and show him the coins, saying, "I gave the man $500 and he gave me this. Is this a lot?"
Thomas freaks out, crying, "What???" I didn't let it go on too long, after all he had been through, but it was fun while it lasted.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
My European Vacation (with a backstory)
So I went to Germany to visit some good friends of mine, Imke and Thomas, and their kids, who went to my preschool. Originally from Germany, they lived here for six years and went back last summer.
Backstory:
We've been through a lot together. Last year, when they were making the big move back to Germany, it was decided that Imke and the kids would go first, and Thomas would follow four months later. Thomas needed a place to stay for those four months.
I arranged for him to take my place, because I was moving to a bigger place. It was perfect; he'd be in my studio, I didn't feel guilty about leaving my landlords in the lurch. He signed some papers, gave some money, and the deal was done.
I moved in June, and he was set to move to my place in August. Well, I got to my new place and hated it. Called Thomas, crying and whimpering, and told him my plight. He said no problem, he'd find another place. Thank goodness he did find another place, around the corner from me. He got his money back and contract ripped up. A little stressful situation for awhile, but we both came out of it unscathed.
Onto my European vacation. I was all set to leave on Thursday, April 13. Imke and I had emailed and talked on the phone about the date. In order to get a cheaper ticket, I had to make a four hour stopover in Canada. I would leave at 11:30 am and arrive at 6:30 am. Long day, but whatever.
On Wednesday night, as my head hit the pillow, I suddenly thought: 6:30 am? Friday? What day? Thursday? It's six hours ahead; will I arrive on Friday? They'll know what day I arrive. Will they know? They'll know. They'll know...I fell asleep.
2:30 in the morning on Thursday I got a phone call from Imke: "Where are you?" "I'm at home." "You said you were coming Thursday!" "I'm leaving Thursday." "Thomas is hopping around the Frankfurt airport, I have to call him to tell him! Same time tomorrow, bye!" Well, needless to say, I felt like a big jerk. I couldn't fall back asleep, thinking about how Thomas left his house at 4:00 in the morning to pick me up at the airport, and how he was going to have to do it again the next day. How could I have missed that important detail?? I knew Thomas must have been very pissed.
Next morning as I was getting ready to go to the airport, Thomas called, and he was laughing, thank god. As I apologized profusely, he said that he had calmed down after awhile. We know each other well enough for him to tell me that indeed he was pissed off, but he was fine now. He gave me his cell phone number, a place to meet and an alternate place to meet in case we missed each other. He had told his co-workers (not mentioning my name) and found out that at his company that happened a lot with Americans, so I wasn't the only one. I still felt like an idiot. First I find an apartment for him then take it back, then I make him come to the airport a day early. It's a good thing we're such good friends.
In any case, I arrived safely, met Thomas with a hug and a smile at our first meeting place, and began my vacation with a good story to tell. That's how my vacation started.
Backstory:
We've been through a lot together. Last year, when they were making the big move back to Germany, it was decided that Imke and the kids would go first, and Thomas would follow four months later. Thomas needed a place to stay for those four months.
I arranged for him to take my place, because I was moving to a bigger place. It was perfect; he'd be in my studio, I didn't feel guilty about leaving my landlords in the lurch. He signed some papers, gave some money, and the deal was done.
I moved in June, and he was set to move to my place in August. Well, I got to my new place and hated it. Called Thomas, crying and whimpering, and told him my plight. He said no problem, he'd find another place. Thank goodness he did find another place, around the corner from me. He got his money back and contract ripped up. A little stressful situation for awhile, but we both came out of it unscathed.
Onto my European vacation. I was all set to leave on Thursday, April 13. Imke and I had emailed and talked on the phone about the date. In order to get a cheaper ticket, I had to make a four hour stopover in Canada. I would leave at 11:30 am and arrive at 6:30 am. Long day, but whatever.
On Wednesday night, as my head hit the pillow, I suddenly thought: 6:30 am? Friday? What day? Thursday? It's six hours ahead; will I arrive on Friday? They'll know what day I arrive. Will they know? They'll know. They'll know...I fell asleep.
2:30 in the morning on Thursday I got a phone call from Imke: "Where are you?" "I'm at home." "You said you were coming Thursday!" "I'm leaving Thursday." "Thomas is hopping around the Frankfurt airport, I have to call him to tell him! Same time tomorrow, bye!" Well, needless to say, I felt like a big jerk. I couldn't fall back asleep, thinking about how Thomas left his house at 4:00 in the morning to pick me up at the airport, and how he was going to have to do it again the next day. How could I have missed that important detail?? I knew Thomas must have been very pissed.
Next morning as I was getting ready to go to the airport, Thomas called, and he was laughing, thank god. As I apologized profusely, he said that he had calmed down after awhile. We know each other well enough for him to tell me that indeed he was pissed off, but he was fine now. He gave me his cell phone number, a place to meet and an alternate place to meet in case we missed each other. He had told his co-workers (not mentioning my name) and found out that at his company that happened a lot with Americans, so I wasn't the only one. I still felt like an idiot. First I find an apartment for him then take it back, then I make him come to the airport a day early. It's a good thing we're such good friends.
In any case, I arrived safely, met Thomas with a hug and a smile at our first meeting place, and began my vacation with a good story to tell. That's how my vacation started.
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