My Most Fabulous Day

You know how when you read those new year's horoscopes they will give you a list of days throughout the year that are supposed to be "fabulous" or "lucky in love" or "stay at home"? I decided to actually test that this year, so I wrote down all the fabulous days for my sign in my Palm Pilot. (I don't remember what magazine I got this information out of, but it is safe to say it probably had some über-skinny model on the cover with wind blown hair and something about having the best sex of my life on page 64.) The first day was February 20^th. Here's how it went:

• President's Day, so I didn't have to go to work: most fabulous
  
• Did my taxes and am getting back a decent return: most fabulous
  
• Went to Win-Depot (a restaurant supply store) and bought a pizza plate because I'm tired of cooking pizza on a cookie sheet: not really what I'd call fabulous but I do like new kitchen gadgets, so I'll call it very fine
  
• Worked on very belated art project: very fine
  
• Went for a ride in a friend's new car; more fabulous for him, but not so bad for me: fine
  
• Ate a crappy veggie burger and decent fries at a diner: I hate crappy food! This gets a not fabulous
  
• Watched a very good episode of "How I Met Your Mother"...freeze frame high-five...hi-lar-i-ous: very fine
  

Overall, because of the no-work and good tax return, I would say this day was on the low end of fabulous.

Next fabulous day: May 7^th

A Valentine's Day Love Story...

I'm sure Snowman would have some objections to me telling this story, but tell it I must.

He was talking to an ex-girlfriend a week ago (he thought her dad might be able to do some work for his company). He always tells me when he talks to one of them, which is rather infrequent. I asked—fool that I am—if he mentioned me. He—fool that he is—told me this: Ex asked if he or his brother were seeing anyone to which Snowman replied "Neither of us are married."

I'm not mad. And I'm not in any way insecure about his feelings or our relationship. But, seriously, what kind of answer is that?

Lactose Ad Intolerant

Much like the ubiquitous Absolut vodka ads, I think the "Got Milk?" ads have overstayed their welcome. How long until they go all Inside the Actor's Studio and get people like Bo Bice and Bruce Villanch to do spots?

But nevermind that. Is it just me or is the ad featuring the ladies from The View the scariest thing you've ever seen? It's obviously been PhotoShopped like mad because they look like demonic clowns. I know what you're thinking: I thought Joy Behar was a demonic clown. If that's what drinking milk makes you look like, I'll stick to my Cornflakes and chocolate syrup, thank you very much.

Longing for the days of Milk, It Does a Body Good.

Things You Can Do During a Blizzard...

• sleep in late
  
• fall down in the snow
  
• make snow angels on a basketball court
  
• have someone bark like a rabid dog while he chases you in the waist-deep drift
  
• go to a diner and eat warm comfort food
  
• have someone push you around the parking lot at Costco in an abandoned shopping cart
  
• think of ways to break into Socrates Sculpture Garden
  
• make s'mores over the gas stove
  
• play chicken by sliding towards each other and seeing who falls first
  
• offer to help people shovel their cars out of the snow
  
• write your name in the snow
  
• watch old episodes of Star Trek: Next Generation
  

The Open Mind (or Are You a Conservative Liberal?)

I think some people don't actually know what it means to be open-minded—and therefore are also foggy on the details of close-mindedness. Some people think because they have tattoos, listen to Franz Ferdinand, regularly employ various outré sexual positions, and have gay friends that they are open-minded. But should someone come along and question any of those things: Tattoos are immoral. Franz Ferdinand sucks. I only like it missionary. Homosexuality is a sin. this person, who believes he is open-minded, goes ballistic. Rants about crazy conservative Christians who can't accept anything outside the norm. Posts blogs about how fucked up middle America is and stay the fuck out of my life you strait-laced twat.

Now I ask you, is that an open-minded person? Because, technically, the dictionary definition of close-minded is intolerant of the beliefs and opinions of others and I have to think that definition is a two-way street. It goes for the Christians who don't believe in pre-marital sex and it goes for liberals who don't believe in waiting. Some people wave the banner of "Don't judge me and I won't judge you" but that's a heavy banner to carry, and what I suspect they really mean is "Don't judge me because I'm not 'normal' but you're a poser for walking down the middle of the road." Hey, some people like the middle of the road! That little yellow line down the highway is a convenient guide, you know.

You wear the t-shirts. You have a nose ring. You know a guy named Terry who is "fabulous." Is that all it takes to be open-minded? Don't judge me and I won't judge you. So you say. But do you really have the balls to stand behind that or are you too busy telling right-wingers to fuck off?

Q: How many times can Giada de Laurentiis say "gorgonzola balls" without it sounding dirty?

A: Once.

a public service announcement...

I kind of thought all New Yorkers knew the story with the clock in Union Square already. I heard about it years ago (certainly didn't have the wherewithal to figure it out for myself) and you know how when you know something you assume everyone knows it. But two people I was with today had no idea what the numbers meant, I realized there are probably loads of people just as clueless. So here's the deal:

Death of a Door-to-Door Energy Salesman

There are some adjustments to be made moving from a midtown high-rise doorman building to an eight-apartment walk-up in Queens:

• The apartments creak.
• The water temperature is never consistent.
• There are no right angles in my apartment (seriously, everything is like 92° or 88°...hanging blinds are a bitch!).
• Packages are now delivered to work since there is no one to sign for them.

Oh, sure, there are good things too, but that's another post.

What I hate the most about not having a doorman is that people will ring my buzzer all the time, even though I do not know who they are and will not let them in. This happened a few nights ago. We didn't let him in. But someone did.

He knocks on our door. We ignore him. He knocks again. If I were alone, I certainly wouldn't have answered, but Snowman was there. We asked who he was; he mumbled something incoherent about "energy" and "ConEd." This is of course the beginning of a story on the 6 o'clock news about some crazy murderer who poses as a ConEd worker and rapes old ladies. But we opened the door anyway.

It was an 18-year old kid selling energy. I'm not kidding. You know how you can change your energy provider? It doesn't have to be ConEd (if you don't know, go here). This kid is going door-to-door trying to sign people up to his company...Energy Plus or something. He asks to see our ConEd bill, which I can't find for like five minutes. He's giving his spiel, which I can't totally understand because he has a really strong accent, and at 18, I doubt he is highly knowledgeable about his product anyway. So Snowman says, "Okay, leave us your information and we'll look it over." Salesman says, "Oh no, you have to sign up right now." We say, "Sure...we'll give our personal information to a person we don't know working for a company we've never heard of. Wait, I have a better idea. Why don't we just give you all our credit cards? I'll write my social security number on a scrap of paper and I'll also give you my city of birth, because you know how they like to ask that as a 'security' question. You want a beer? I got some in the fridge."

He leaves and proceeds to knock on our neighbor's door. I kind of felt bad for him. That's gotta be a shitty job. Even if he's trying to scam us, that's still gotta be a shitty job.

The next day when I come home from work I hear an upstairs neighbor (I hardly ever see any neighbors) calling me out. He's about my age and he's got a charming Irish accent. He just wants to talk about the crazy energy salesman and wants to make sure I'm not letting random people into the building (which I assure him I am not). He's going on about it all and I'm thinking, "Wow, I have a cute neighbor."

I find the whole thing absurd. What happened to vacuum cleaners and encyclopedias? I don't even get freaking Girl Scouts on my street. But energy providers? Yeah, that I got.