the most bizarre week i've ever had
i'll keep this brief, for there is a disco-nap to be had...
graham norton was a riot squared, what a laugh. the brits finally got something right, i mean, i'm still seething about the metric system and easyjet's crappy schedule to/from ljubljana. (although, diana did have lovely jewelry.) and i believe graham is irish now that i think about it. i'm bad with accents, see below.
and as i was getting ready to go, stepping out of the shower, i hear clomping in my hall, like big man in boots clomping, and see lights flashing in my window. great. grrrrrrrreat. a fire NOW. right inconvenient, say i. most certainly do not approve of random fire before a night out.
so, i pop my head out, see a burly, delish firefighter and ask if there is a fire. 'nah.' um, right. ok. but you're still here. and going up. and like any good new yorker, i decided i'll deal with the to-be-charred remains of the flophouse when i get back. i mean, i had tickets, graham wasn't about to wait for me (imagine.) priorities, you know. heading out, i see a non-burly and non-delish firefighter puffing on a cigarette. 'is there a fire?' 'nah, just a gas leak on four. some moron left her stove on. no big deal.' [there are six flashing, screeching trucks on my street and, as i found out, four more on the cross street. traffic was completely halted.] 'oh, gas leak. cool. so, should you be smoking, you know, like, right here?' 'should i be smoking, should you be living in a building with a gas-leak?'
i had to walk away: didn't quite know what to make of that. i mean, how DOES one retort?
and this evening, on the uncannily-empty subway ride home, i thought i'd plop into a quasi-empty seat. but, some faaaaaaaaaaabulous woman was taking up the space next to her with her (exactly what shade IS that?) green bag.
'excuse me.' [averting eye contact.]
'oh sor-ray. let me move that, won't you. is that e-nough room?'
[british? australian? americanized, whatever it is, and cleeeeearly not from the city.]
'oh it's fine. thank you.'
'sor-ray...'
'yes?'
'might you know where washington square is?'
'yes, get off at west fourth, then'
'oh there is a church there, and it's being used as a holding area for actors for a movie. st. joseph's?'
'oh yeah, 6th and washington place.'
'riiiiiiight. thank you.'
'sor-ray. what stop is west fourth from where we are now.'
'three more.'
'it's on the fourth, or the third?'
'it's the third. 23rd, fourteenth, and then west fourth.'
'riiiiiiight. oh, but what about eighth street?'
'only the broadway local stops on eighth street. this is the sixth avenue local.'
'oh. riiiiiiight. thank you.'
'sor-ray.'
'yeah.' [obvious decrescendo.]
'is my hair straight?'
'sorry?'
'i've just gotten it cut and i'm not confident it's straight.'
'it's fine. it's lovely... [this is where i did myself in.] 'so, you're auditioning?'
'no, i'm in the movie. it's starring' [i tuned out. celebs do nothing for me.] 'called [something something] phoenix.' [not really into the conversation. the hunk holding the pole, yes, the actress, not so much.]
'oh lovely. have fun.' [back to hunk.]
'yes, but it's not my career. i'm a gemologist. i'd love to work for debeers in london someday.'
[not australian. mystery solved.]
'you're a what?'
[proudly] 'gemologist.'
'so am i.'
'g.i.a.?'
'and a.g.s., too.' [trump that, sister.]
'oh, i work for [BIG BROTHER IN THE CALIFORNIA OFFICES.]'
[nicely trumped.]
'um, so do i. here.'
'you do?'
'i do.'
'do you have a card?'
[oh thank god i don't.]
'no, i'm sorry, but i don't. who is your manager?'
'nel...'
[she's not full of crap. this is getting weird.]
'what's your name? and in what department do you work?'
[stupidly told her both.]
'oh so if i call, they'll know how to connect me?'
[SHIT]
'they should.'
with that we got to west fourth, i told her to go out the other exit, and realize i need to wear all sorts of rainbow crap whenever i leave the house 'going forward' as we say at big brother.
i think i've had quite enough for one week. but my new smurf-blue adidas running sneaks arrived. i'm convinced smurf-blue makes me run faster. i'll look into this and get back to you.
brief post my foot.
graham norton was a riot squared, what a laugh. the brits finally got something right, i mean, i'm still seething about the metric system and easyjet's crappy schedule to/from ljubljana. (although, diana did have lovely jewelry.) and i believe graham is irish now that i think about it. i'm bad with accents, see below.
and as i was getting ready to go, stepping out of the shower, i hear clomping in my hall, like big man in boots clomping, and see lights flashing in my window. great. grrrrrrrreat. a fire NOW. right inconvenient, say i. most certainly do not approve of random fire before a night out.
so, i pop my head out, see a burly, delish firefighter and ask if there is a fire. 'nah.' um, right. ok. but you're still here. and going up. and like any good new yorker, i decided i'll deal with the to-be-charred remains of the flophouse when i get back. i mean, i had tickets, graham wasn't about to wait for me (imagine.) priorities, you know. heading out, i see a non-burly and non-delish firefighter puffing on a cigarette. 'is there a fire?' 'nah, just a gas leak on four. some moron left her stove on. no big deal.' [there are six flashing, screeching trucks on my street and, as i found out, four more on the cross street. traffic was completely halted.] 'oh, gas leak. cool. so, should you be smoking, you know, like, right here?' 'should i be smoking, should you be living in a building with a gas-leak?'
i had to walk away: didn't quite know what to make of that. i mean, how DOES one retort?
and this evening, on the uncannily-empty subway ride home, i thought i'd plop into a quasi-empty seat. but, some faaaaaaaaaaabulous woman was taking up the space next to her with her (exactly what shade IS that?) green bag.
'excuse me.' [averting eye contact.]
'oh sor-ray. let me move that, won't you. is that e-nough room?'
[british? australian? americanized, whatever it is, and cleeeeearly not from the city.]
'oh it's fine. thank you.'
'sor-ray...'
'yes?'
'might you know where washington square is?'
'yes, get off at west fourth, then'
'oh there is a church there, and it's being used as a holding area for actors for a movie. st. joseph's?'
'oh yeah, 6th and washington place.'
'riiiiiiight. thank you.'
'sor-ray. what stop is west fourth from where we are now.'
'three more.'
'it's on the fourth, or the third?'
'it's the third. 23rd, fourteenth, and then west fourth.'
'riiiiiiight. oh, but what about eighth street?'
'only the broadway local stops on eighth street. this is the sixth avenue local.'
'oh. riiiiiiight. thank you.'
'sor-ray.'
'yeah.' [obvious decrescendo.]
'is my hair straight?'
'sorry?'
'i've just gotten it cut and i'm not confident it's straight.'
'it's fine. it's lovely... [this is where i did myself in.] 'so, you're auditioning?'
'no, i'm in the movie. it's starring' [i tuned out. celebs do nothing for me.] 'called [something something] phoenix.' [not really into the conversation. the hunk holding the pole, yes, the actress, not so much.]
'oh lovely. have fun.' [back to hunk.]
'yes, but it's not my career. i'm a gemologist. i'd love to work for debeers in london someday.'
[not australian. mystery solved.]
'you're a what?'
[proudly] 'gemologist.'
'so am i.'
'g.i.a.?'
'and a.g.s., too.' [trump that, sister.]
'oh, i work for [BIG BROTHER IN THE CALIFORNIA OFFICES.]'
[nicely trumped.]
'um, so do i. here.'
'you do?'
'i do.'
'do you have a card?'
[oh thank god i don't.]
'no, i'm sorry, but i don't. who is your manager?'
'nel...'
[she's not full of crap. this is getting weird.]
'what's your name? and in what department do you work?'
[stupidly told her both.]
'oh so if i call, they'll know how to connect me?'
[SHIT]
'they should.'
with that we got to west fourth, i told her to go out the other exit, and realize i need to wear all sorts of rainbow crap whenever i leave the house 'going forward' as we say at big brother.
i think i've had quite enough for one week. but my new smurf-blue adidas running sneaks arrived. i'm convinced smurf-blue makes me run faster. i'll look into this and get back to you.
brief post my foot.
posted by tom at 7:00 PM
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