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 26, 2008

I'm a badass.

In case you were wondering.

Some punk tried to grab my iphone on the subway but all he got was a slice of skin from my right index finger.

He ran off the train like he thought he had it.

I am so officially a New Yorker now.

In other news, the pizza guy told me his name is Pablo but I am skeptical.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

THURSDAY SLICE: Oy.

  1. Yesterday: Work. Big salad. Laundry done. Sheets changed. Previous tenant's broken-ass TV thrown out. Boxes broken down and thrown out. Tub scrubbed. Floor cleaned. Rolly cart fixed. Kitchen leak repaired. Closet organized. Nails filed. Paper towels bought. Doughnut eaten.
  2. Today: Hang pictures, feed friend's cat, eat leftover fajitas and a Christmas orange, nap.
  3. Tomorrow, etc.: More work, Target spree, and post office to collect a package.
  4. Soon I hope to begin writing again. It's been nearly 5 months and 3 moves.
  5. 2009 will be great. No more nonsense.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Getting it together.

Slowly but surely.

I wish I had planned this whole Christmas thing a little better, but I just couldn't manage it. Mailed my gifts late. Must buy groceries. Must do laundry. Must clean new apartment.

Figured out if I turn off the radiator, it won't keep me up at night with the clangy-clangs. Today I dragged out the giant broken TV the previous tenant thoughtfully left behind. Gave the super a bottle of Patron, so maybe now he'll call the plumber about the giant leak in my kitchen. Gonna get those white plastic ties to snap onto my broken laundry cart rolly thing to try and fix it. Wanna hang some pictures. Need to go to Target for a pick-me-up but oh yeah, it's Christmas Eve and I'm at work.

The honeymoon's over. I was on a contact-high for two months after moving here. Time for reality.

In other news, I'm gonna do a minute of stand-up on Feb. 12.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Meltdown Monday.

Lost my shit yesterday.

Big picture still good.

These stupid tiny things that make NYC living a challenge got to me. Between the gaping hole and running leak in my new kitchen ceiling, to the movers costing an extra hour on Saturday, and a ton of other little things that are costing me money or time I don't have, I just lost my shit when my boss told me he wasn't sure I would get paid for five days of work this week. Maybe only two days.

Have I mentioned I'm paying double rent in Jan/Feb because I moved out in a jiffy from the place where my massage table was stolen?

It'll all work out and 2009 is gonna be great, but right now all I want to do is sleep and ignore my problems.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

I just have to say this.

Hendrik Hertzberg is a boor. All through the primaries, week after week, he sounded like a Mama Duck hovering over Baby 'Bama's run for office, ridiculing opponents and swatting away any legitimate criticism of Obama. Perhaps he sensed that were he to parse apart such criticisms carefully, such consideration would take the shine off of his giddy man-crush. He would have done much to bring me around if he had taken fellow liberals' issues with Obama seriously, instead of writing preemptive strikes like this that aren't even funny.

He just takes it all so personally and tries to be cute about it. Which, if I were drinking the 'Bama Slama Kool-Aid like so many others, I probably would think is awesome.

It's unseemly.

Obama is a politician. A good one. With a fucking mess on his hands. He is human. He will err. There will be disappointment.

Right now I'm disappointed Clinton is going to be Secretary of State. It's like giving up. That woman is a policy wonk through and through, which is why I wanted her in the White House. And if she's not at 1600 PA, I want her in the Senate, drafting legislation, not having photo-op teas.

I hope the cost of selling her soul was that it will absolve her campaign debt.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Peace out, P-Dub.

Tonight I will be sleeping on the floor of my new studio apartment. Tomorrow the movers come.

This morning, as a parting gift (pun intended), PW, the Pantsless Wonder, greeted me outside my room with the best shot of her nylon-covered FUPA yet.

I could not count the folds. The folds, they were so many. So horrifying and so many.

Peace in your crease.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

THURSDAY SLICE: How I earn my coin.

This is a transcript of an actual chat. Names of people and of databases have been changed to protect the Peacock and to make the story better. Note: the name APATHY stands for someone whose name actually has the word Apathy in it.

SHREK: apathy
APATHY: Yes SHREK
SHREK: Derora is there pls ask your doubt
APATHY: Derora
Derora Noo: this is about ticket 1681686?
Derora Noo: maybe we should bring PAUL BUNYAN in? he requested it

SHREK: sure
Derora Noo: ok. hang on
APATHY: This is done by BLAGOJEVICH from Offshore team
APATHY: if you check the notes you come to know
Derora Noo: PAUL BUNYAN will join us
Derora Noo: first, are you saying that because BLAGOJEVICH wrote the note saying it was done that it is done?
Derora Noo: is that what you are confused about?
SHREK: PAUL BUNYAN are u there
Derora Noo: i invited him and he said he'd join
Derora Noo: but back to APATHY's question...
Derora Noo: are you saying that because BLAGOJEVICH put a note in saying that the work was done that it is your belief that the work was done?
APATHY: Derora
APATHY: did u checked
APATHY: This is the ticket 1681686
APATHY: when where 1681686 raised, ITCO contact DBA and asked them to execute immediately
Derora Noo: SHREK, could you please invite PAUL BUNYAN into the chat? i've invited him 3 times but it's not working and maybe it has to be you who invites him
APATHY: Pls check with you team
APATHY: whether it was done or not
Derora Noo: APATHY, i'm sorry but i'm having a hard time understanding you.
Derora Noo: if you are asking whether or not the work was done, it was not done
Derora Noo: it clearly was not done
Derora Noo: many many emails are going around saying there are problems and it was not done
APATHY: ok
APATHY: it means request was not done
APATHY: let me chk
Derora Noo: if you are doubting this because BLAGOJEVICH wrote a note in 1681686 saying it was done, let me tell you it was not done
Derora Noo: absolutely and without a doubt
Derora Noo: he did the GR and i guess he thought he did the CCP
Derora Noo: but he did not.
APATHY: ok
APATHY: ok then let me chk
APATHY: This is the only request 1681686
APATHY: ?
Derora Noo: this is one of the emails i got outlining the problems: "I don't see the changes from 1681686 as requested. This ticket is NOT completed."
Derora Noo: yes. that is the only request we are talking about
Derora Noo: also, PAUL BUNYAN said the wrong log was attached to the CCP
Derora Noo: so you see there are many problems and reasons why this is not done

APATHY: ok
APATHY: I am checking the request
APATHY: give me 2 min
APATHY: This the only request #1681686
Derora Noo: yes
APATHY: ok
Derora Noo: if you need further info on the ticket, please ping PAUL BUNYAN.
Derora Noo: ok?

APATHY: can u pls invite PAUL BUNYAN
APATHY: into this chat
Derora Noo: i have invited him 3 times and it's not working. i think SHREK has to invite him
Derora Noo: i just pinged SHREK
Derora Noo: SHREK is inviting PAUL BUNYAN

APATHY: ok
SHREK: i did
PAUL BUNYAN entered the room.
Derora Noo: hi PAUL BUNYAN
PAUL BUNYAN: Hi
Derora Noo: APATHY has questions about 1681686

And so on and so on and so on and so on until it finally stopped three hours later.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Tweetables

Ch-ch-ch-CHI-a.

1) I'm mildly crushing on this Eastern European guy. Someone told me he's German but that just can't be right, though after my recent bout with my filthy roommate the Pantsless Wonder, perhaps it's an attraction to cleanliness?

2) The Olympian is out with Ebola. I said nothing as he coughed and then shoved his hand in my jar of raw almonds all day long. They were expensive.

3) I bought my new iPhone Priscilla a cute pink gel dress.

4) I got a corporate blogging/consulting gig.

5) I have three plays in the hopper--one that is being workshopped in the spring, one I'm working on with a friend in Minni for the Fringe '10 circuit, and another that's got no deliverables attached.

6) I'm reading Fever/Dream and totally digging it.

7) Can't wait for Blasted on Saturday. Seriously pissed to miss Philip Roth in Khartoum.

8) In anticipation of my move, I'm fashioning a shiv from a plastic comb. Maybe I'll buy it a cute pink gel dress, too.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Come on, I should know better by now.

So the packing is going well. Movers are coming Saturday at 10. Mr. & Mrs. Boston Bean are coming Saturday at 3 for an overnight trip to see Blasted at Soho Rep. And I've gotten over the fact that no one's responded to my Craigslist roommate ad, which means I'm going to have to eat it and pay double-rent in January and February. Goodbye two-grand. I'm waiting for my roommate to tell me she wants me to pay Jan and Feb utilities, which include her stupid landline, her stupid cable tv, and the stupid electricity she leaves on in the apartment in every room for every second of every damn day.

The important thing is, I'm getting out.

The ironic thing is, there are fewer roaches lately.

The sad thing is, my massage table is still missing. Stolen. Whatevs.

Oh, did I tell you? I don't think I did. Well, let me tell you. The other day I learned that when my roommate is naked and walks through the house with a bath towel around her, it does not cover all the things I would rather not see.

So the Pantsless Wonder is having a party Thursday night. At one point she had said, "I mean, you live here, so, if you want to join in, of course, I'm not going to say no..." and of course I took from that subtle turn of phrase that it would be happier for all if I found something else with which to occupy my time for the evening. Gladly. And I know it's a big deal for her so I am making sure my boxes and whatnot are out of the way, and that my packing is done.

So I made the mistake of asking this woman with whom I have yet to have a non-awkward, non-irritating conversation with, if there were a certain chunk of time she was planning the dinner for, so I would know how long to occupy myself, because I'll probably want to get to bed at a decent hour.

PW: Well, I mean, it's a whole evening. It's a party. It's a Christmas party.

DN: Is there a time when you think it would peak? Like dinner time? Because I can make sure I'm out there so it's not awkward.

PW: Well. Yeah. That would be weird. It would be great if you weren't here then.

DN: That's why I'm asking. When do you think that would be?

PW: Well, I mean. I don't know. People are coming from work, and some people might spend the night.

DN: Any idea of a start or end time?

PW: Well, I mean, it's a party.

DN: That's cool.

PW: I mean. I just. I told people to get here at 6:30, so. I mean. I don't know.

DN: Got it.

PW: I just. I don't know what to tell you. It's a party.

DN: Okay. No worries.



It actually went on much longer than that, but I want to spare you the horror.

Have I mentioned my boss aka The Olympian and his girlfriend are coming to this party? They went to college together.

I'm just gonna come and go as I please and be myself.

WTF-ever.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Quick like a bunny.

The Roach-Loving Pantsless Wonder took the news that I'm moving out next week exceedingly well. Despite how ill-matched we are, she's a very decent person. She's just different than you and I. A mutual friend described her as a bull in a china shop, but then he also said she's terrified of bugs, so...

Um, I have an assload of packing to do.

Went to the Zipper Factory tonight, then out for a lengthy discussion about rats over Korean fare, then munched peanut M&Ms on the way home while missing seeing a friend on SNL tonight.

Did I tell you I saw a rat hopping up the stairs at the Columbus Circle station? We were all rooting for it as it threaded its way between the feet of oblivious commuters.

I fucking love New York.

My local pizza parlor man said, "Hello beautiful lady," when I walked in for my slice today. He's kind of hot. And intimidating. In an older, close-cropped hair, thickly accented, slightly perspiring, no-nonsense kind of way. He's always flapping pizzas and cartons and bags and coinage and phones around at once while he says, "Go?" which means, Is this to go? but of course it takes me a second so then he's all, "Stay? Go?" and I'm like, "Oh, to go, please."

Today I stayed.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Hate me much?

I signed a lease today on an $800 200sf studio with new hardwood floors, tall ceilings, a giant closet, nice tub, and granite kitchen counters.

And only .85714 roaches per month, according to the previous tenant.

In Manhattan.

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?

Thursday, December 11, 2008

THURSDAY SLICE: Holy electrical goodness, Batman!

In the last week, I've acquired an iPhone, a Twitter account, a Pandora account, and an iTunes account.

I have an exciting (and vaguely disorienting) hunch that I can now watch tv shows and listen to NPR on my iPhone. But that's like third base, and we skipped first, so we're hitting pause in our relationship, this newfangled technology thing and I. Even though I am a little wet.

I also ate a cream puff from the Russian deli.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Next month I will have this many years.

In Italian, you say "Ho ventuno anni," to say "I am 21." The literal translation is "I have 21 years."

So I saw a cute studio last night. Perfect. Tall ceilings, huge closet, granite kitchen counters, new parquet floor. $800 a month. $40 for electric. I have the paperwork filled out and am even willing to fork over a ridiculous $250 non-refundable application fee to get it.

Then I had a massage tonight. A 90-minute massage that left me feeling like I'd been f*cked six ways to Sunday.

And on my wobbly-kneed way home, I realized that by moving to this incredibly cheap apartment in the middle of an incredibly poor neighborhood, I will be seriously limiting my social options.

Who will chat me up at the grocer's?

What will my neighborhood bar be like?

Who will make the trek for a booty call?

For many years, I bought $10 clothes off the clearance rack at Marshall's. Then a friend in Connecticut gave me a ton of expensive, gently used clothes, and she loaned me a $2,000 suit to interview in.

When you're deprived emotionally and financially over the years, you become inured to it.

Maybe that's not such a great thing.

I realized I'm turning a year older next month.

I have a great long-term temp job, and I am talking with a Canadian company about doing some consulting. My thought was, if those things fall through because of the economy, it would be better to have an $800 rent. But isn't that planning for the worst? I've planned for the worst for so long that so now when crappy things happen I'm not really affected by them.

Like when my massage table is stolen. Or when your kitchen has a roach infestation and your roommate doesn't care. Or when a roommate walks around without pants on.

But in this economy, isn't it wise to plan for the worst?

Monday, December 8, 2008

Just a note to say...

...I'm realizing I really am going to have to move.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

THURSDAY SLICE: What Should I Name My New iPhone?

I got it for cat-sitting for my boss while he was in Japan for 10 days!

Oh, and remember how I was all kinds of worried about that technical writing project? My boss is all up in my sauce over it! Yay for new skillz!

Thursday, December 4, 2008

THURSDAY SLICE: The WTF Edition

Well I don't quite know what to make of this.

So last night, I got the idea to move my room around. You know, like you do when you live in a 9x10 room and you keep trying to find the optimal floor plan. When I moved my bed around, I thought, "Wow, that's bizarrely easy to move, considering the things I have underneath it: guitar, keyboard, hat suitcase, tennis rackets, and massage table."

My massage table is missing. Missing.

WTF? Who steals a massage table?

On the upside, I have way more floor space now in my reconfigured room.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

She's back.

My roommate, that is.

And there's an open box of chocolate doughnuts on the kitchen counter.

And here I was thinking I'd finally conquered the roaches--only saw a handful yesterday.

Sigh.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

"You caught my eye..."

WHEN: Tuesday, 6:25pm
WHERE: The A train from 59th to 181st.
YOU: Asian hipsterine in a beret with ukelele in tow.
ME: White girl in long mohair coat.

Let's meet up so I can stab you in the head for playing "La Isla Bonita" for 122 blocks.

Monday, December 1, 2008

BAGEL SIGHTINGS: Which way, silver fox?

I just did the avoiding-collision side-to-side dance with Matt Lauer at the elevator bank.

A few weeks ago the same thing happened with Lester Holt and me.