is it wrong that i think the letters that the (soon to be ex maybe maybe not?) governor wrote to his ladyfriend are really beautiful? so much so that i almost feel sorry for the guy? perhaps if they werent quite so elequently put i would still be in 'serves you right hypocritical politician' mode but the letters back and forth are quite touching and so sad.
(also -- i think i need letters of this caliber written to me. by someone who isnt married. or quite so wrinkled)
the news this morning was like watching a car wreck. i shouldn't sympathize with the man becuse they posted his emails (who is dumb enough to be incriminating via email??) but i do.
should the pitchfork toters have their way and stick it in his political career-- he could always get a gig writing novels under a psedonym.
they might be romantic fiction novels. is it wrong that i would read that book?
our continued fascination with this subject (because certainly this isnt a new type of news) almost fascinates me more than the actual storyline.
seriously its a zzzzzzzzz-fest. another polititian stepping out on his wife. bor-ring. from what it seems these days you would be hard pressed to find a man - polititian or not - who doesn't step out. why is this still interesting? more so than when normal men and women do it?
'In todays top news Steve Williams took a long lunch with his busty secretary over at the Motel 6. And now with Chet with your weather.'
never happen.
is it wrong that i dont actually care where my politician puts his penis? its the power trip of politics-- some of them get away w it they all just gamble that theyll be the lucky ones.
when clinton's "i ..did not.. have... sexual realtions... " press conference was on every news station and radio wave and smoke signal i put my fingers in my ear -- i don't care about that. in-office he was eons ahead and better than his predecesor. do we care enough about where he puts his it that he needs to be kicked out of office? his peen has what to do w the policies that hes implements? we are so sanctimonious and hypocritical and want to talk about the wrong fucking things.
i can not wait for his book to come out.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, July 27, 2008
fragment: not even the bunny can believe
typically it is frowned upon by everyone; including the old wives that tell tales of this nature, the fable tellers at al. right. that putting ones eggs all in one basket is a bad look. imagine if the basket may or may not be imaginary its probably worse?
but what if said basket is beautiful? spangled with possibility and positivity? which, lord help me i need more than health insurance.
i hate the seductive tease of baskets.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
free lunch
i am going to ban smiling. i am also considering putting a ban on men. not all men as i may have at some point in life threatened. just the type that recently seem to keep running me out of restaurants.
i've noticed their lecherous 'better-to-eat-you-with'-my-dear' smiles; with teeth the size and shape and shade of white chiclets. the painfully tan skin that registers somewhere between rotisserie chicken brown and mexican pottery orange, and hair so slicked with gel it its nearly reflective except for a swatch of sophisticated gray at the temples. they may or may not be wearing a gold chain. they may or may not be on 10th avenue. they are almost always trying to surreptitiously look down my shirt.
as a result, i am going to stop smiling at people. this is new york -a place where nobody smiles at you unless they are trying to con you. or sometimes they smile while pushing their shopping cart full of trash to yell at aliens or pick cigarette butts out of the cracks in the sidewalk. smiling at people here usually makes them nervous. not so with mr. greasy mystic tan. he makes eye contact. i smile out of service-industry job habit. he smiles back because he is about to try to con me.
when he smiles the sun glints off of his shiny chiclet teeth and off of his shiny understated but extremely expensive watch and he's hoping i will be blinded and not notice that he is old enough to date my mother. or at least my sister who has at least 10 years on me.
i laugh (shame on me) at the inane thing he has said post eye contact teeth-blinding and he's hoping that i won't notice the third thing he is about to say is a mostly inappropriate joke. the fourth thing is either "do you come here often?" or "i've seen you here before". around this point i am resigned to my fate of a conversation that will go on far too long and undoubtedly lead up to come on by a grossly inappropriate person.
i am a creature of habit without an expense account and there is an unfortunate lack of places to eat lunch on this section of 10th for under $8 so if i find one i'm there every day. usually it's me and the old man reading the new york times or playing sudoku. and sometimes its grandpa coppertone asking me out.
of course he's seen me before. there's no way around this question and there's no way to lie. if he sees me again there's nothing, absolutely nothing worse than an angry pushy person. or else he may think i'm there a 'second' time in order to see him.
i don't care if he does own the restaurant i am sitting in, or the doctors office next door or a villa off the coast of a semi-private island near bali. there's no such thing as a free lunch.
i've been run out of 3 delis and a counter service bodega this way.
i've noticed their lecherous 'better-to-eat-you-with'-my-dear' smiles; with teeth the size and shape and shade of white chiclets. the painfully tan skin that registers somewhere between rotisserie chicken brown and mexican pottery orange, and hair so slicked with gel it its nearly reflective except for a swatch of sophisticated gray at the temples. they may or may not be wearing a gold chain. they may or may not be on 10th avenue. they are almost always trying to surreptitiously look down my shirt.
as a result, i am going to stop smiling at people. this is new york -a place where nobody smiles at you unless they are trying to con you. or sometimes they smile while pushing their shopping cart full of trash to yell at aliens or pick cigarette butts out of the cracks in the sidewalk. smiling at people here usually makes them nervous. not so with mr. greasy mystic tan. he makes eye contact. i smile out of service-industry job habit. he smiles back because he is about to try to con me.
when he smiles the sun glints off of his shiny chiclet teeth and off of his shiny understated but extremely expensive watch and he's hoping i will be blinded and not notice that he is old enough to date my mother. or at least my sister who has at least 10 years on me.
i laugh (shame on me) at the inane thing he has said post eye contact teeth-blinding and he's hoping that i won't notice the third thing he is about to say is a mostly inappropriate joke. the fourth thing is either "do you come here often?" or "i've seen you here before". around this point i am resigned to my fate of a conversation that will go on far too long and undoubtedly lead up to come on by a grossly inappropriate person.
i am a creature of habit without an expense account and there is an unfortunate lack of places to eat lunch on this section of 10th for under $8 so if i find one i'm there every day. usually it's me and the old man reading the new york times or playing sudoku. and sometimes its grandpa coppertone asking me out.
of course he's seen me before. there's no way around this question and there's no way to lie. if he sees me again there's nothing, absolutely nothing worse than an angry pushy person. or else he may think i'm there a 'second' time in order to see him.
i don't care if he does own the restaurant i am sitting in, or the doctors office next door or a villa off the coast of a semi-private island near bali. there's no such thing as a free lunch.
i've been run out of 3 delis and a counter service bodega this way.
re: vacation
for some reason i met more new yorkers in puerto rico than puerto ricans.
under a striped umbrella, lounged out on a deck chair i was ecstatic to have to concentrate on thoughts no more complex than basic colors (how deeppureazureblue the sky looked against the rich green palm tree fronds) and numbers (how amazing all ten of my manicured toes looked in redorange, or trying to remember how many drinks i'd had so far). but my idllyic, hazy daiquiri flavored morning was to be short lived. instantaneously and irrevocably shattered by the boom of a voice that struck...what? not fear. but whatever feeling is encompassed in an inward sigh and semi lucid eye-roll.
"eh youze guise! less go to dah odda pool ovah heah!"
egads.
i'm sure you never thought you'd ever see a tattoo across an obnoxiously (and ok, lovely) rippled stomach that said 'it is what it is' but alas, you lied to yourself.
egads indeed.
under a striped umbrella, lounged out on a deck chair i was ecstatic to have to concentrate on thoughts no more complex than basic colors (how deeppureazureblue the sky looked against the rich green palm tree fronds) and numbers (how amazing all ten of my manicured toes looked in redorange, or trying to remember how many drinks i'd had so far). but my idllyic, hazy daiquiri flavored morning was to be short lived. instantaneously and irrevocably shattered by the boom of a voice that struck...what? not fear. but whatever feeling is encompassed in an inward sigh and semi lucid eye-roll.
"eh youze guise! less go to dah odda pool ovah heah!"
egads.
i'm sure you never thought you'd ever see a tattoo across an obnoxiously (and ok, lovely) rippled stomach that said 'it is what it is' but alas, you lied to yourself.
egads indeed.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
don't say help say fire
"No le digas a nadie" she says, red-rimmed eyes darting anxioiusly around the room.
Don't tell anyone.
The other nods in agreement. Its amazing what I can find out just sitting here when no one thinks I am listing; or cares that I can hear.
But she shouldn't have worried. In a small company like this a secret - especially a juicy bad one- will undoubtedly travel. With nothing but a fragment of a conversation overheard, a glance caught down the hallway – your story will soon be translated across the office in wide-eyed expressions exchanged over cubicle partitions. More precise than the carefully worded staff-wide email that will undoubtedly be received tomorrow morning from the higher-ups.
A firing, especially of this magnitude could never be kept under a lid. Bad secrets never stay that way. An entire department, or at least the better part of it – depleted in less than 45 minutes.
Blipblipblip – as efficient as a sniper on a rooftop. I wouldn’t say bloodless, either.
With a last meaningful look she rushes off to the restroom. Her confidant goes to the opposite direction, past me towards her desk and then quickly out again. Coat on arm; bag in hand, no eye contact. We both know the rules and I am not offended. Last one in is the first one to go and she was last. She disappears behind the elevator doors. I guess she figures they can get her tomorrow.
I power down the computer and shut off my phone. The idea of haste does cross my mind but I’m pretty sure I have nothing to worry about. If so they can get me tomorrow too. Its my last day before vacation.
Don't tell anyone.
The other nods in agreement. Its amazing what I can find out just sitting here when no one thinks I am listing; or cares that I can hear.
But she shouldn't have worried. In a small company like this a secret - especially a juicy bad one- will undoubtedly travel. With nothing but a fragment of a conversation overheard, a glance caught down the hallway – your story will soon be translated across the office in wide-eyed expressions exchanged over cubicle partitions. More precise than the carefully worded staff-wide email that will undoubtedly be received tomorrow morning from the higher-ups.
A firing, especially of this magnitude could never be kept under a lid. Bad secrets never stay that way. An entire department, or at least the better part of it – depleted in less than 45 minutes.
Blipblipblip – as efficient as a sniper on a rooftop. I wouldn’t say bloodless, either.
With a last meaningful look she rushes off to the restroom. Her confidant goes to the opposite direction, past me towards her desk and then quickly out again. Coat on arm; bag in hand, no eye contact. We both know the rules and I am not offended. Last one in is the first one to go and she was last. She disappears behind the elevator doors. I guess she figures they can get her tomorrow.
I power down the computer and shut off my phone. The idea of haste does cross my mind but I’m pretty sure I have nothing to worry about. If so they can get me tomorrow too. Its my last day before vacation.
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