i'm a white writer. in new york. original, no? i've been blogging since october 2002. this blog picks up in october 2008, when i moved from DC to NY...(and then I moved to Maine in 2012)

Friday, December 12, 2008

BAGEL SIGHTINGS: I'll see your bagel and raise you one.

Step 1: Cut a hole in the bagel...

So I've been happily slaving away at the Peacock for a couple months now. I'm a ninja temp because I do not have a permanent cube, chair, computer, or phone. I sit IN my boss's cube. IN his cube. 24 inches away. With my knees crunched up against his lateral file.

Luckily my boss (aka The Olympian) Facebooks more than I.

It has come to light, over lo these many weeks, that I have an ironically stellar knack for NOT spotting stars. The Olympian and I will leave the elevator bank and head for Starf*x for our third iced tea of the day, and he'll be like, "Didja see?" And I'll be all, "Crap! Who'd I miss now?"

So after I missed Fred Armisen* because I was too busy having an awkward moment with the electronic exit-thingy (it likes to punch my c#nt)**, I decided we needed a code word.

It's "Bagel."

As in, "Bagel, nine o'clock," which is my cue to quietly slide my eyes to the left. When it's a big star, he says, "Big Bagel," but sometimes I still can't spot 'em. Like it took me forevers to recognize Tom Brokaw, who is surprisingly soft-shouldered.

Step 2: Put your junk in the bagel...

So there's this guy here at NBC, this short older journeyman-looking guy with glasses who my boss and I call...The Bagel Hunter. Complete with his own theme music. One time we ran into him and he was all, "I rode up the elevator with Alec Baldwin, down with Salma Hayek and child, and back up with Rosie O'Donnell."

I kind of hate him a little. Bagel envy is an ugly thing.

Step 3: Make her--

All right! Give a girl a little shmear already!

So last night, as I was getting ready to go into BAM to see Pina Bausch, and replaying the fabulous conversation I'll have with Jeremy Piven when we bump into each other on the street, The Olympian texts me on my hot new pink-gelled iPhone. "Double Bagel," he says, which was oddly erotic. He wouldn't text me back who he'd seen, but that's okay, because I rode on the elevator with Frank Langella today for a whole minute (very tall). The Olympian agrees my Frank Langella beats his double-bagel sighting of Kanye and Hugh I'm-A-Perfect-Actor Laurie, but I'm not so sure.

Then, as a bonus, today I saw the Jizz-in-my-pants guy who is NOT Andy Samberg.

Now that's good shmear.

* Have you seen his videos to and from Charlyne Yi? Who is funnier I simply cannot tell.

** Can you imagine the creeps who'd come here via Google if'n I actually spelled that out loud?

1 comment:

stopwatch said...

there are no bagels like New York bagels. ;)