insomnia haiku

When life hands you a bad week, make bad-week lemonade

I've had a fantastically shitty week, one of the worst I can remember having (and by shitty I don't mean that I've suffered great tragedy or loss, so I apologize if I sound like I'm being overdramatic ... but really it's been pretty lousy) -- but rather than dwell on the negative, I'm going to try to remember the highest points of the week. Here goes nothing:

1. If I'm counting Sunday, the Mad Men finale was so good. SO. GOOD. I had been a little anxious when the episode approached, not just because the season was ending but also because ... well, what if it wasn't as good as I wanted it to be? But I shouldn't have feared. By the end of the night I had watched some scenes three times, including every scene in which Joan appears. When Roger said, "Let me make a phone call," I squealed. Out loud. Alone in my living room. And I was only embarrassed for about half a second.

2. The Glee interviews I did came in, yay! They didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped -- they cut out the part where the cast members all went, "What? Beyonce?!" and clutched at their chairs -- but still, kind of a thrill, knowing I was the one they were looking at off-camera. The first video's below, and both together are here.

3. I finally had the famed BLT at Char No. 4. And it was excellent.

4. The bouncer at a bar made me smile when he looked at my license and joked that I was 22.

5. This video of Tori Spelling in a Lifetime movie, stripping to Chopin, made me laugh:

6. At midnight tonight, at the end (or near the end) of my fantastically shitty week, I found myself unexpectedly in the tiny basement of Union Hall, watching a band called Boat and throwing confetti at the band members as they rocked out with looks of bliss on their faces. And in that one moment ... I felt lucky.

So, you see, me? That's six good things. There are worse weeks to have.

Despite my chagrin, no one should ever wear a black bra under a white shirt anyway

This evening, I came out of the subway behind a woman in pumps (do they still call them pumps? black suede heels, then), and my first thought was: "Sexy pumps! Nice legs!"

And then I walked behind her a bit, and took a good look at her (well, her back, anyway), and these subsequent thoughts came unbidden into my head: "That skirt is too short. The zipper is weird. I can see her bra through her shirt, and not in a good way. [She was wearing a white shirt with a black bra.] Those heels are kind of unfashionable. She's pigeon-toed."

And then: "Wow, I am a bitch." Really, I am. I don't know what's wrong with me. I am only saying it here as confession. Bless me, blog, for I have had impure thoughts. I have ... um, what's the opposite of "covet"? As penance I will ask strangers what they think of my cheap H&M t-shirts, my burgeoning waistline, and all those years-old pairs of shoes that I continue to wear despite the fact that they're falling apart -- as in, I actually pick bits of tattered leather off and fling them away -- because I fool myself that if the falling-apart part is underneath my foot, no one will actually notice.

For the record, I am also pigeon-toed.

It's been a crappy several weeks at work, mostly because everyone has been on vacation, five weeks in a row, and I'm covering for all and it's fall TV/Emmys season, but whatareyougonnado. (I mean, I worked the DAYTIME EMMYS last Sunday. It's unnatural.) Am in desperate need of a vacation (clearly), and I am happy to say that I have finally booked one.

After the Emmys, I will be going to Water Island in the U.S. Virgin Islands. There is absolutely nothing to do there. There is no public transportation, no shopping, no tourists -- only 150 people live there. And this makes me happy. I will drink rum on the beach and do NOTHING. Aaaaah. And what's keeping me going is the thought that the more stressed-out I am at work, the more hours I put in ... the more blissful that do-nothing vacation is going to be.

Except for all the sit-ups as I try to get ready to put on a bathing suit. Fear is a great motivator.

Addendum: What cracks me up about their tourist website is that the lead photo under "Dining & Nightlife" is of four senior citizens playing dominos. Also, four words: swim up pizza joint. Eeeee!

The other thing that's keeping me going, though -- and the entire reason for this post, really -- is the video below. Watch it. Love it. Bask in its glory. It is the most amazing thing I have seen all week ... scratch that, all year. I'm not even going to spoil it by telling you what is it, except that I came across it while researching the "readers' picks" response to the worst movie accents feature I did last week. (Then check out Farewell, Tatar Woman -- which is my new band name.)

How I Did on My Weekend List

1. Cleaning my apartment - success ... ish. Does anyone ever really "finish" cleaning their apartment? It's a work in progress, but I did finally throw out my old dresser, so I'm going to go ahead and give myself a check mark here.

2. Not working - mostly success. I did a little bit of work Saturday morning and some Sunday night. Considering how things have been going lately, not too bad.

3. Hooking up my DVD player - EPIC FAIL. I spent all Saturday afternoon trying to hook up the DVD player/PS3 my friend Ray sold me for $200. It didn't work. I'm 98 percent positive I hooked everything up right -- there are only two cables, after all, one HDMI cable that goes to the TV, and the power cord. I hooked the HDMI cable up to the DVR to see if it worked (it did), switched input ports (that worked too) ... nothing. Just a black screen and intermittent static. And my friend Ray no longer lives in New York City, so he can't come down to look at the DVD player for several weeks. Therefore, I have to buy a new DVD player. A second new DVD player.

Have I mentioned technology hates me this year? Let me break down the ways:
- Bought iPhone, it got stolen. Had to buy a new one for $200 more.
- Camera broke. Had to buy a new one. Spent a good chunk of change on it.
- Internet service went down for eight days.
- DVD player broke. Bought new (used) one.
- Replacement DVD player isn't working. Have to buy new (new) one.

Also, both my wireless router and my computer (which is at least five years old at this point) are on their last legs. I am caressing and cajoling my computer in the hope that it lasts until next year. Please, baby. Just a few months more. Mommy's wallet and sanity can't take any more technology breakdowns.

4. Laundry - success! And I even folded... most of it.

5. Not working

6. Exercising (finally) - Didn't work out Friday (can't remember why) or Saturday (see failed installation of DVD player, above), but did hit the gym on Sunday. It was a very brief visit (30-odd minutes on the elliptical), but my first in months, so, gotta ease into these things, right?

7. Doing a little bit of work on Saturday but not spending more than 20 minutes on it - see #2

8. Practicing guitar - a litttle bit on Saturday. Eh. Could've done better.

9. Sleeping - don't know that I caught up, but at least I slept. And no naps. Can't figure if that's a success or a failure. (I'm going to say success.) Edited to add: Oh wait, I passed out before dinner for an hour on Friday. Never mind. There was indeed napping.

10. Watching the pilot for Community - success! Also watched the pilots for Modern Family and FlashForward. All three great. Especially Modern Family.

11. Going to the Container Store - fail. Sad. But I didn't go on Friday, and once I hit Brooklyn, I ain't going back.

12. Sleeping
13. Not working

14. Saving money for a possible vacation or a new mattress, or ... - had an un-cheap steak dinner at Prime Meats on Saturday night, and also went out to dinner Friday, so I'm going to go ahead and say "fail."

15. Shopping - none at all. Thought about it on Sunday, but I had just gone to the gym and the sweat was pouring down my beet-red face -- so much so, that I went to buy vegetables and the woman at the counter gave me the evil eye the whole time. I think she thought I was either going to sweat into the green beans, or have a heart attack. Given all that, it was probably best not to try on pretty clothes that other people migiht want to buy.

16. Watching True Blood and Mad Men - yay!
17. Not working

Weekend To-Do List: What I'll be doing from now until Sunday

How pathetic on a scale of 1 to 10? Or, given the week I've had, how amazing?

1. Cleaning my apartment
2. Not working
3. Hooking up my DVD player
4. Laundry
5. Not working
6. Exercising (finally)
7. Doing a little bit of work on Saturday but not spending more than 20 minutes on it
8. Practicing guitar
9. Sleeping
10. Watching the pilot for Community
11. Going to the Container Store
12. Sleeping
13. Not working
14. Saving money for a possible vacation or a new mattress, or ...
15. Shopping
16. Watching True Blood and Mad Men
17. Not working

Check back on Monday and I'll let you know how I did.

Technology hates me.

I have no Internet access at home. It's been down since last Wednesday and won't be back up for another three to five days, when I receive my new modem, which I had to PAY for, though I was given a 50% discount and ten days credit after I yelled at the billing guy. I don't know whether it's living in New York that's turned me into the proverbial squeaky wheel (ie a bitch), or just growing up.

I am typing this on my iPhone (which just tried to turn "I am" into "inamorata," which, cute), and since this method of communication is rather laborious, I will simply say -- while acknowledging how privileged and whiny I know this sounds -- that in addition to my Internet access going down, which has caused me no end of frustration (I waited seven hours at home for the repairman today, then darted to a cafe to get an hour of work done, then back home when the guy showed up, then back to the cafe when he couldn't fix it), I discovered last week that my DVD player is good and dead, so I will have to replace it. This is a mere two months after my camera died and I had to replace that, which was only a month after my iPhone was stolen and I had to replace THAT. Plus, in the last week, 1.5 out of every two subway rides I've taken have resulted in sitting in a tunnel for 15-20 minutes -- oh, and Saturday, since my Internet was out I was forced to look up directions to a wedding (again, on my iPhone) that turned out to be incorrect, so I ended up walking a mile to the hotel in three inch heels. Needless to say, any dancing I undertook that night was not exactly fleet-footed.

So I ask you, what god of technology and transportation have I offended lately? Um... Is there one? I swear, your holiness, I did nothing to break the Internet. That was Michael Jackson.

"You're sitting in a chair ... IN THE SKY."

When I was a kid (hey, I may never reproduce -- may as well get some use out of my "when I was your age" speech), you had to get up to change one of the five channels on your TV, and the picture would go fuzzy unless you stood next to the set with your hand on the antenna.

There was no way to contact anyone you knew unless you both happened to be home at the same time; otherwise, if you were home and the other person wasn't, and you tried to call, you were just shit out of luck and would have to keep trying until they happened to be back. Or you could send a letter.

And there was this semi-mysterious way to interact with other people using computers, only it wasn't called the Internet, it was called Compuserve, and it was only good for playing trivia games with strangers across the country who had handles like 'Thor."

And now? I'm 30,000 feet in the air, half-paying attention to Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares on the TV screen in front of me as I blog on my laptop. Let me reiterate. I am watching TV and using the Internet -- in the sky! Seriously, what??!!

Meanwhile, the woman sitting next to me had a near-total meltdown because her TV wasn't working. In fact, she tried to get a flight attendant to fix it for her while we were taking off. The flight attendant was like, uh, maybe later? And she repeated herself, as though he couldn't possibly have anything better to do right at that moment when we about to lift off into the sky.

It reminds me of this video -- can't remember if I ever posted this before -- in which comedian Louis CK talks about how spoiled everybody is these days. Actually, re-watching it now, I realize that he says everything I just did, except much funnier.

Follow-up: As the plane started to descend, I realized that the woman next to me -- who had spent much of the flight with her head down on the tray table -- was sobbing hysterically (while also texting on her phone, even though she'd already been asked to turn it off). I started to feel guilty, wondering if she was grieving over the loss of someone and perhaps flying home for the funeral. She was talking to the guy in the window seat, a stranger who was not traveling with her. I surreptitiously removed my headphones from the jack ... and overheard these snippets of conversation:

Him: "You don't want to end up with a guy like that. I mean if he's going to be your husband, and the father of your children ..."
Her: "He SAYS he's leaving his wife, but ..."

The moment we landed, she got on her phone and proceeded to have a loud, teary conversation during which she said things like "Please tell me what I did wrong," "How am I trying to harm you? I never said I would harm you!" and "You told me to go to therapy and I did! And now I'm really trying to communicate!" Awkward. Everyone around us shuffled nervously and looked away, including me, even though I had my headphones on and was pretending to listen to my iPod ... but, um, I wasn't.

Poor girl. What a mess.

On the godfather I never knew

I was going to post about how I've had incredibly good luck with walking into popular restaurants recently (Babbo, for one) and getting a seat, and how after scoring an 8 pm walk-in at Minetta Tavern on a Saturday night I have decided that I will never make a restaurant reservation again, and will always engage in audacious, reservation-less behavior on three-day weekends from here on out. And also I was going to write that, like Frank Bruni, I can't stop thinking about Minetta Tavern's côte de boeuf, and can still taste it in my mind's tongue two days later, and will forever regret having forgotten the leftovers on the floor next to the bar at Smith's afterward (though I really, really hope someone found it, realized what it was, and ate it).

But, my uncle passed away tonight. The health care in Peru, outside of the big cities, is terrible, but it sounds as though he died of complications due to lung cancer. And though I don't really talk about personal stuff on this blog, not mentioning this, and just chatting about steak instead, seems trivial and wrong.

And now that I've brought it up, I don't really know what to say. There isn't much I can or want to say, really. He was my godfather, but I only met him a few times, so I didn't know him well at all. He was kind to me. His face crinkled up when he smiled. Mostly I'm thinking of his family -- he had five kids -- and my dad, who's in Peru now. I feel like I wish I could tie up my thoughts and send them overseas strapped to a carrier pigeon.

Anyway. Ack. Downer. I promise to post something first thing in the morning that might make you smile. I just can't today.

Eyes on your iPhone: A cautionary tale

Last night, my iPhone, which I have owned for only two months, was stolen -- right, as they say, out from under my nose.

Barring some kind of thirteenth-hour denouement, this is not one of those hilarious "Patricia thought something was stolen but really it was at home on her nightstand" stories. I only wish it were.

I was at Sweetwater in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, having a drink with a couple friends before going out to a party. They joined me at the bar at around 7:15, and I remember picking up my phone, which had been sitting in front of me on the bar, and starting to put it away. Then I thought, nah -- who knows, someone might call. (God knows who I thought might call,  and why I thought it'd be so important I'd have to answer immediately. Ed McMahon and President Obama do not, so far as I know, have my phone number.) So I left it there on the bar. I may not have had my eye on it at all times, as I was turned to the left talking to my friends, but I never left my seat. The place wasn't crowded. No one bumped up next to me.

At 8 pm I looked at the bar and wondered where my phone was. It wasn't on the bar, or on the floor, or in  my purse or my jacket pocket. The bartender looked for it with a flashlight; I searched through my purse repeatedly; we called my number ten times. Nothing. There was an older gentleman sitting to my right, and I asked him if he'd seen anything, but he said he had only been sitting there for fifteen minutes. I even asked him, half-jokingly, if he'd taken it. (He assured me he hadn't. I believe him.)

And there you have it. It all seemed so impossible and unlikely; even now, I keep expecting to find my iPhone tucked mischievously in some hidden lining of my purse, like Carrie's necklace in the finale of Sex and the City. No such luck. I left my Blackberry number and email address with the bartender and went on to the party, which was for a friend's 'zine (yes, they still make those, apparently), stuck around, distraught and distracted, for an hour or so, then went home. Fortunately, I had a passcode on my phone, so the thief wouldn't easily be able to access my contacts and email ... but still. My brand-new toy. My brand-new expensive toy. All my stuff was on it. I know this sounds trivial, but I was devastated.

Today I took the day off work and bought a new one. I hadn't remembered how much the iPhone cost -- I just knew I needed to go get one -- and for some reason, in my head, I had shaved a couple hundred bucks off the price. I was wrong. It was more. A lot more. When the guy told me how much I owed, I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. It was hard enough working myself up to spending that much money the first time ... but twice? I should add that last weekend I spent $1,000 to buy a new dresser, so let's just say that I am not going out this weekend, and may well be eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the next month. Or year? (I realize I didn't have to get another iPhone, but come on, I got to enjoy the last one for only two months! I had to replace it.)

There were, without a doubt, good things about this situation, if I only looked hard enough. For example, there was the fact that I had thought to implement a passcode. Also, the bartender felt so bad for me that she comped my second glass of wine, I won a raffle prize of a tin of jasmine tea at the party (it wasn't as great as the grand prize of a bottle of Maker's Mark, but still it's nice to win something), and I had just that day gotten a new Blackberry to replace my old one, which was busted, so at least I still had a usable cell phone. And there were weird/entertaining things, too, like with the AppleCare guy I talked to on the phone when trying to get a refund on my old service plan. Upon hearing my tale, he launched into a story about walking some woman home when he was wasted, having his iPhone fall out of his pocket -- which thereby ruined his opportunity with the "lovely lady" -- and then researching all his options for replacing his phone until a good samaritan who'd found his phone tracked him down by calling his mom. Thanks, TMI Apple guy!

It's not the end of the world. It's just things. Horror at being broke aside, I can't let myself get that upset about something so superficial. And now I have a new phone, which synced up nicely with all the music and contacts and photos that were still on my computer, so it's almost as if I never lost the old one, except this time I got a metallic red case instead of a black one. And I do feel a little like Kyra Sedgwick in Singles, buying a garage door opener to replace the one that, in essence, broke her heart, and grimly saying, "Thanks. I'll never lose it again."

There are valuable lessons to be learned here. First, I now own something that people will want to steal. I'm not used to this. Certainly it never crossed my mind in regard to my last crappy free phone, which no self-respecting thief would have wanted. So I will never, ever take my eye off my phone again -- and if you have an iPhone or anything remotely fancy, then neither should you.

Second. The AppleCare guy, while being a bit overenthusiastic about sharing details of his love life, had an important piece of advice for me: If you have renters insurance (which I currently do not), you can pay a little bit extra and get something called a personal article policy, which reimburses you if you have to replace stolen items like an iPhone.

So tomorrow: 1. Get renters insurance. 2. Spend no money. 3. Thank my lucky stars that something so unimportant could be the worst thing to happen to me all week (knock on wood).

ADDENDUM 5/2/2009: All right, so I wasn't crazy after all. I checked the receipts, and I did pay $200 less for the iPhone I bought back in March. That first phone cost me $299; the one I bought yesterday cost $499 (hence the sticker shock). I called Apple today, and the sympathetic guy on the phone explained that that $299 price is the incentive price AT&T offers to new customers -- sort of like when other service providers give you a phone for free if you sign a two-year contract. $499 is the replacement price, and $599 is the actual retail price of the phone.

So ... yeah. Ouch. One more lesson learned: If you're going to lose your phone or have it stolen, wait two years first.

Two conversation fragments

1. Take Your Kids to Work Day

Swarms of kids everywhere. Everywhere. They had activities and pizza and group color codes and assigned wranglers. The Naked Brothers played. Apparently they're ... like the Jonas Brothers? But younger? And ... naked? I don't know. Anyway.

Me, in the kitchen: [Making myself coffee, not bothering anyone]
Guy I don't know: So you didn't bring your ... Do you not have anyone you could bring today?

In the brief, not-at-all awkward pause that followed, I considered and discarded the responses "No, I killed my kids and ate them," "Not since the restraining order," and "All my kids all got adopted by Angelina Jolie," and went instead with, "I didn't have to -- I already work with a bunch of children." Which sounded funnier in my head than out loud, I'm sure, but at least it got me out of there.

I know he didn't mean anything by it. Still, it touched a nerve for the very briefest of moments. It doesn't have anything to do with whether or not I want kids; it's more that ... well, he wouldn't have made the same assumption about a guy, right? Or maybe I'm just not used to looking old enough to be a mom. More on that another time, I guess. I don't feel like writing a downer post today.

2. Outside my bedroom window, 1:30 am last night

A couple decided to get into a heated argument on the sidewalk directly in front of my window last night. Rather than being irritated by this, I was fascinated. It's not often you get to be a fly on the wall during an argument in which you have no stake -- unlike the time I was trapped in the back seat of an SUV as my two friends in the front fought all the way from Maine to Boston. That was a fun time.

At any rate, last night's argument went something like this:

Him: I can't believe, after two years, you would say that! I can't believe you would ask if I'm on your side!
Her: [indeterminate pleading]
[same stuff ad nauseum]
Her: Don't walk away! You're insulting me!
Him: YOU'RE INSULTING ME!!

And then there was total silence -- a good two minutes of silence, at least. I held my breath. Had they continued their argument down the street, and I just couldn't hear it anymore? Or had they gone their separate ways? How could he just walk off like that? But I guess she stayed put, and he walked a little way away, brooded, and came back, because in a little while I heard them talking again.

Lower voices this time. She was crying. She said "I'm sorry" a lot, and he didn't seem to be having it. But eventually their voices faded away, which I guess means they started to head home, and presumably had begun on the long slow path to reconciliation.

I'm thinking of them right now, hoping their OK. But if they're not OK, I sort of hope they come back to my street corner and have it out again. Because all of that was WAY more interesting than Days of Our Lives.

So a commercial about an uncashed check walked into a bar ...

Things that have flitted through my mind recently but have not made it to the blog include, but are not limited to:

* You know that wireless network commercial (no idea which one it's for -- see, branding doesn't work on me if I don't actually care) where the father, who if he isn't Doug on Flight of the Conchords certainly looks a lot like him, gets quizzed by his daughters on his Internet dating? Isn't it just a tad strange that what finally sparks his interest is the fact that his daughter's friend's grandmother wants to know if he's available -- and thinks he's "super delicious"? Every time I see this commercial, I wonder what it is that I'm possibly missing. Is he into older women? Is that why his marriage broke up? Or did he marry a much older woman, and then she died?

* Speaking of commercials, I still love the Filet of Fish one. "Give me back that Filet of Fish! Give me that fish!" Whoever wrote that little ditty, I hope he got a bonus.

* But I hate the free credit report one. Especially the one where he's wearing a pirate's outfit. The whole thing makes me happy that guy's stuck waiting tables in a pirate's costume -- he deserves it. And you know, at least he has a job. Ass. (And when I say "ass" I am referring to the character as written by the ad agency, not the actor who ... oh, whatever.)

* No one really tells jokes anymore. Have you noticed? I used to know a ton of 'em, and now I remember, like, one. (It's kind of racist, so I'm not going to say it here. I did make a bunch of people laugh with it on Saturday, though.) I wonder whether it's a sign of our changing culture, or a sign of our growing older as people. There was a nice article in the Times about why jokes are hard to remember, but that's not really my point. I just feel like we all used to tell a lot more jokes, you know, the kinds with punchlines, and now we don't. Am I wrong?

* I still don't get Twitter. I just ... don't.

* There were many other things. I've forgotten them all. This is why it's helpful to write things down. Or have an iPhone with a Typepad application that was created for blogging on the run, but ... tools are not so useful if you don't actually use them, apparently.

But here's the one issue that I've really wanted to share -- or question I've wanted to ask, really. And if anybody's still out there, please do answer, because I want to know. So recently I was clearing stacks of old papers and stuff off my desk, and I found an uncashed freelance check made out to me from 2007. Oops. In fact, I remember at some point last year wondering what had happened to that money. It's a check for $120, which a friend of a friend of mine paid me for editing the first few chapters of his novel, and obviously I just forgot it was there (or forgot where it was). And my question is: Would you deposit it?