ch-ch-ch-changes

so.

let's see. what can happen in under 30 days, you ask? well, i'll tell ya:

1. my roommate left. which is fine. it's great actually. she nearly killed stavros, she nearly killed herself, and subsequently i nearly killed her. remember that horrible movie starring mark paul "zack morris" gosselaar - dead man on campus? the one where he tries to find a roommate 'on the verge' of suicide so as to cement an a for the semester? yeah, well, point: my roommate nearly got shoved off the fire escape.

but she left. she and her weird co-dependent boyfriend moved out. which means:

2. stavros is ok. dear people: cats do not drink vodka. cats do not drink vodka nor do they get their own bean and cheese burrito, no matter how small you make it. my poor cat. he'll never be able to see a taco bell or chilis commercial without twitching slightly. seriously, no vodka people. NO VODKA FOR THE KITTIES.

3. i already have a new roommate: the fabulastic kim kennedy. i know! amazing! and fun! and trouble! but what, you may be asking, happened to kim's other living situation? the one in brooklyn? with her super cute roommate? the one who seemed to have a certain special love for kim?

after approximately 8 months of breakfasts in bed and snuggles on the couch, captain romanti-roommate turned into lieutenant douchebag. so my evil roommate did her vodka/stavros routine the same week that kim's roomtard explained to her that while they'd been having a lovely affair for nearly a year - and living together in what seemed to be domestic tranquility - that they were in fact just roommates and he would be bringing home girls whenever he felt like it. the implication being that when he didn't feel like it, he'd expect his side of kim's bed available to him.

so kim moved in. i mean, sure the apartment's a bit smaller than her old one, but she's now kicking it east village style. yay kim! it's very exciting. i now have someone to share my tv watching fully with.

also, she's got almost as many flip flops as i do.

also, she loves the yankees like a junkie loves drugs.

also, she's obsessively clean like i am. for example: i cleaned her room like crazy after crazy-town moved out [the day before kim moved in]. when kim got to the apartment, we moved all her boxes in and then she cleaned the room again! was i offended? nope. she just wanted to clean again. this place is going to be sparkling. this will most likely offend stavros, because he enjoys a good dust ball/toy as much as the next guy. he's going to have to learn to love the balls-with-bells that santa gave him in his stocking.

4. kim switched jobs. so this move is good because now that we're at different companies, we'll still see each other every day as roommates. HOORAY.

i will write about the new season of the bachelor [london calling] and another crop of 25 year old events planners looking for faux love, rock of love: 2, and high school reunion at a later date.

WELCOME KIM!

how clean is your valley?

i've become obsessed with vacuuming.

ok, with cleaning in general.

ok, more obsessed that usual.

because of R2D2 over here. my adorable little wunderkind of a vacuum, the Kenmore Magic Blue.

he was a birthday present from my parents, and i'll admit that when i got him, i didn't open him up right away. my vacuum was doing alright, and i was pretty obsessed with the Swiffer, so i didn't feel a need to introduce myself to little R2 over here.

but last week, the old vacuum cleaner broke in an unholy way. i won't rehash the details, i'll just throw a few words at you: burnt cord, power surge, burnt motor, dust explosion.

i think you get the idea.

well R2 saved the day when Old Faithful [my vacuum cleaner who outlasted 8 boyfriends and their filth] finally went to that big showroom in the sky. and dammit if this thing isn't light and easy to use. my downstairs neighbors must HATE ME. i know stavros does. if there's one thing that cats really can't stand, it's vacuum cleaners. now, many will argue that the one thing cats can't stand is water or dogs or tape on their backs or loud noises or mice or birds or their owners. but believe me when i tell you that a cat would rather cozy up for eternity with any of those things rather than face a vacuum. so when i turned this puppy on this morning, stavros vanished with a rather bleating little noise and i haven't seen him all day.

which is fine, because that means he'll keep his hair contained to one area and not all over the damn place [including the upper corners of the apartment near the ceiling?!?!?!?].

it's amazing what a good vacuum can do for you. my allergies are better. the place feels nicer to come home to. i'm not spending an arm and a leg on swiffer sheets every week to clear up the dust that's all over the place.

riddle me this, new york: why in sam hill are you so dusty? i don't understand. i don't understand how i can dust and vacuum [and when i dust, i use the allergen free spray stuff and i do a for-real vacuum job, not just a once-over] on a sunday and by tuesday everything is covered in a layer of filth.

i grew up on the beach. i grew up with two brothers. we all surfed. we all played school sports. we were all teenagers at the same time. on the beach. in florida. where there is sand, dirt, grass, pine needles, shells, and various pieces of debris. our house was cleaner than my tiny little apartment is and my mom didn't vacuum nearly as much as i do now. it's become the national pastime here at bexhq. in fact, when i go home for visits, i love lying on the floor and playing with the dogs because the house is SO CLEAN.

is my mother that much better a cleaner than i am? i dunno, she taught me all i know plus she doesn't clean as often.

are there less people in her house, you ask? not really; between her and my dad and the two dogs, plus their random friends and the fact that they live ON THE BEACH, i don't see how that's less dirt than me, my roommate and her boyfriend [who are never here] and stavros, who hasn't left the house since february when i took him forcibly to the vet [my arm has just stopped looking like a prop from hellraiser 9].

so my only conclusion is: this city is DIRTY.

fact: after 1 full day of wandering around in my flip flops in new york, the soles of my feet are black. compare this to 1 full day of wandering around in my flip flops in new smyrna beach [my hometown] where the soles of my feet look like the soles of my feet. sort of khaki colored.

fact: the oscillating fan in my apartment has to be dusted once a week, otherwise the cage and the fan parts are covered in black furry dust. compare this to the oscillating fan in my apartment in college [same fan, same brand] that i never dusted. because it didn't need it.

fact: when my friend came to new york and rode around in the back of a truck for 8 hours [it was for work, don't ask] he blew his nose and his snot was BLACK. compare this to when he was in colorado and blowing his nose and his snot was, well, snotty colored.

is it the condensed nature of the city? all this exhaust, soot, fumes, dirt and grit has a finite amount of space to expand to, thus it expands onto us and then into our homes? is the same amount of exhaust, soot, fumes, dirt and grit in every city in the country but because those cities have more geographical room we don't notice the dirt as much?

it's something to think about. honestly, when you sit down and make a list of all the grody things about new york, all the things that make it a not-so-great-place-to-live, the list gets a little long and depressing. so why do we do it? why do millions of people cram themselves onto this tiny island so desperately?

it's not for our health, i'll tell you that. i don't care what the ratio of good doctors to patients here is: black snot ain't good for you. plus with the cost of health care and the amount of uninsured people...

oh i'm not getting up on my soap box. i'm going to go vacuum the crevice between the stove and the wall. at the very least i'll retrieve the knife my roommate dropped back there last night.

postcard #5

so you might, and rightly so, wonder "bex, if you love going home so much, why don't you just stay home?" because, dear mysterious reader [and little voice in my head], then it wouldn't be so fun to go home.

granted, my frequent flier miles are building up, and granted, since x and i broke up i've been heading home much more frequently, but i think that there's no other place like nsb to lick one's wounds.

have i been licking my wounds too much?

eh. maybe.

but you know what? i was with the man for 4 f'ing years. 4 f'ing years and he hasn't had the decency to email me back [i emailed and snail mailed him a birthday card] and let me remind you - it was his idea to break up. so it's not like he hates me because i'm evil and all sorts of terrible and i've ruined his manhood or anything. no, he still looks like the big bad boy who ditched the girl who was "holding him back" and oh...lord. i really am having a problem letting this go.

and i think i'm not supposed to be so open with the fact that i was pretty much dumped.

audrey and i ate way too much fried seafood because that's what we do and my grandmother took us to bells because that's what she does and then audrey and i went to the mall because it was literally 4000 degrees outside.

if you've never been to the volusia county mall, i can only tell you that you're missing out on some serious insight into the psyche of today's american teenager. granted, part of audrey and my love of going to the mall is the fact that we go by the speedway and the reason the speedway is so meaningful is because when audrey was 12 she swore that she would be married there during the daytona 500.

she did. i don't really remember when her love of the daytona 500 started, but it probably began as abruptly as it ended, so that i only remember that one day when she told me that my bridesmaid gown would have racing stripes on it and that the reception would feature slushees [cherry] and popcorn [cheddar flavored] and it all seemed very logical to me at the time and now that we look back on that neither one of us can remember what in god's name she was thinking.

because she's neither a fan of cherry slushees or cheddar flavored popcorn. i, though, am still a fan of a bridesmaid dress with racing stripes. though at audrey's elegant wedding, i wore a navy blue strapless gown and these beautiful earrings i bought myself at the union square holiday market the christmas before and she looked stunning and we all danced for about 4 hours to a wonderful wonderful band. that's the only wedding i've ever cried at.

anyway, i had a wonderful time at home but it's wonderful to be back here though stavros is acting like i'm the worst cat parent ever [i am] and has been shunning me for approximately 3 hours now. which might be disturbing were it not so funny.

now that my cubicle has been moved [well, the cubicle wasn't moved, i was moved to a new cubicle] and i am no longer in a direct foot traffic path, i think i'll be able to blog more effectively from the office. i'm also trying to teach myself html, remembering that w once told me that html was handy to have, especially since i've got a lovely 'eye' for design [oh what men will tell you when they're trying to get your pants off], and i think perhaps he was right.

sadly, though, kim and i no longer sit near each other, and she can't im me because her new manager is over-the-top-controlling and we have to meet in the bathroom for tryst-like gossip sessions.

honestly, when you think about it, the workplace in all its modern wonder and facist tendencies is forcing us to act like we're back in high school.

at least where i work. but i bet it's no different where you work.

death cold

alright. apparently, i am terrible at timely and frequent blogging. but, in my defense, i am recovering from:

THE DEATH COLD

do you know what sucks more than having a cold? having a cold when the weather is finally nice enough to be outside and enjoying the sunshine. i lay out on the fire escape one day, propped up against the wall with our central park blanket and a box of kleenex and a hefty dose of dayquil. which, by the way, makes me unable to focus my eyes. the office culture for the job is such that they're pretty adamant about germs NOT being in the office, so it's really frowned upon for me to come in with a cold spewing germs around. which is nice. it's actually one of the only nice things about that place. so i managed to stay home and be ill. i'll probably make it back in tomorrow.

my roommate, bless her soul, is such a train wreck usually, but was super sweet and mothering. i think she just needs someone to need her. granted, some have suggested getting her her own pet, but i fear for the poor thing's life. she can barely remember that i have a cat.

but she brought me matzo ball soup, and there was always juice in the house, and the one night she came home drunk with some dude from some bar, she did come in and check on me while i was deliriously watching grosse point on my laptop. [you need to check out that show. the show, not the movie with john cusack. seriously. it's got some delightful moments. now, i'm not saying it's a freaks and geeks or even undeclared sort of situation, but do check it out. you'll thank me for it. unless you're my brother. and you moan the entire time and then hit me with a pillow until i have marks on my face.]

she's sweet, honestly. but i worry for her. granted, i'm 8 years older than she is, so much of the idiotic stuff she does makes me cringe for reasons beyond that it's idiotic cringe-worthy stuff. reasons like 'dear lord. was i like that when i was her age?' and 'jesus, mary and joseph. please tell me this is vastly different than when i was so drunk i fell down.'

we've all done stupid stuff, am i right? we've all gotten blind drunk, made out with someone we shouldn't have, or slept with someone we normally wouldn't have, or yelled things at a cop when we should know better...but somehow, i feel the danger more in her actions. the fact that she brings home these guys that she's met, into our apartment. maybe i've watched too much law and order and csi. maybe times have changed. maybe i wasn't as out-of-control as she seems to be. but i feel like i need to have a talk with her. not an intervention, because, really, she is young and she's allowed to get a little crazy, but a sort of 'i feel uncomfortable that you bring random men home to our house. they could rob us or kill us or something. and if you're ok with those odds, great, but i'm not and i pay the rent too so if you wouldn't mind not doing this until you live alone, i'd really appreciate it.' it's an awkward situation, when it shouldn't be. i'm under the impression that standing up for myself shouldn't be a bad thing. especially when it's not out of line.

oh. tea's ready. and i'm trying out actifed today, and it's time for another dose.

in this age of 'my life is my life' and exertion of our rights, when and where do we draw the compromise line in the sand?

postcard #4

could the clinton street bakery be not-so-crowded for one weekend so that i can finally eat there? i can't really get out of bed prior to 10 am on the weekends, so i guess i should really get used to waits but i hate waiting. so kim and i hit this weird place on avenue b which had one dude doing, i think, every job in the place. i was a waitress all through college, so i get it. i GET IT. it's brunch, so just bring the coffee with the menus. it's not hard. there were only 4 tables filled, though the one was filled with 10 20-something guys who looked to be indeterminate european vacationers.

point: after breakfast kim and i decided to wander the neighborhood so that i could get inspiration for liz's second bridal shower gift [there will be an entire post, eventually, devoted to bridal showers and why i'm eloping if i should ever manage to have a relationship long enough to form a formal commitment] and on 4th street there was a turtle. yes, a turtle. 40 pounds, or so. just hanging out in the doorway of this little restaurant. he fell in love with my feet [my toenails are painted bright green, so i'm guessing he thought 'damn, this lettuce delivery service is absolutely fantastic'] and followed me no matter which direction i moved. i'm not up on my turtle behavior, so i didn't know if he was going to bite my toes and if he did, how badly it would hurt, so i sort of shied away from him. but he lives on 4th street. there appears to be an exotic pet rescue place there and he lives there with some iguanas and other odd reptilians and he was out enjoying the weather along with everyone else. the folks on the street seem to know him and nobody thought it that odd.

the more people i tell this story to [and you're the 8th], the less weird it seems. that's why you will have to pry my apartment here out of my cold dead hands: the east village truly lives and lets live. aside from bludgeoning people with canoe paddles, i'm pretty sure nothing phases anyone here. i like that.

stavros the cat is drooling like a banshee on the kitchen table - apparently he's od'd on catnip again.

go outside and notice the turtles. they're out there.