When I was a about 4 or 5 years old, I had recurring nightmares about Captain Hook. I would be in my house with some combination of my best friends Claudia and Jared, and my cousin Sheila. Whenever any of us uttered a word, Captain Hook would come into the room and chase us. We would run into another room and be very quiet. But eventually, I couldn’t resist the urge to whisper “Don’t say anything or he’ll come…” And with that whisper, he would appear. It didn’t matter how quietly I whispered.
Hi Lovers & Friends -
I have been dying to update you on exciting things but those exciting things (and other, very annoying things) are getting in the way of my updating you on those things!
I wasn’t going to post project optimism today because, ugh, Monday, you’re killing me. Enough.
But in the end, husband Tom aka Saint Tom comes through with this photo and the text “project optimism?”
Remember that time I got a parking ticket? NYC actually accepted my not-guilty plea. Does that ever happen?
Thank you universe (and NYC Department of Taxation)! I needed a win today.
How was your Monday?
One year ago today, I posted this…
Remember how last week I was complaining about the cold and renewing my vow to get the hell out of New York?
Well then I went and fell in love with Buffalo, of all places. In case you weren’t stalking me on social media this weekend, here’s what you missed.
I always get depressed this time of year. My husband (obnoxiously) loves Fall because of pumpkin-flavored everything and his birthday, or whatever.
I was walking from Triple Crown, one of several bars around the Chelsea/Penn Station junction where the improv kids hang out. I was smiling, reflecting on the fun night I’d had at improv class, followed by the unique feeling of bonding over drinks with new friends.
And I got the feeling: someday I will miss this.
Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll break it to you the way Amanda broke it to me.
“We got the news from the festival… :(”
So, we didn’t get into the TV festival for which we had broken our (bocce*) balls to enter by the deadline.
*hahahaha see, we’re laughing!
I get a lot of spam comments on this blog. I wish I had time to fully explain all the different types of spam and how dumb the comments are but, suffice it to say, there are two basic types that I get:
- Selling knockoff sunglasses/Chanel/Nikes; and
- Seemingly random collections of flattering English words.
The latter is worth giving an example of because the comments are sometimes amusing due to the utter confusion they induce. This comment was from my dear friend, who goes by the name “Lawyers”.
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Don’t you hate those people that say, “I’m always late” like they have no control over the matter? Like it’s a chronic illness with which they are afflicted?
I don’t hate it, actually, because I can relate. But I cringe when I hear my own mouth once again say, casually, “Sorry I’m late!” and then try to jump into the meeting hoping I didn’t miss anything.