Wheel of Misfortune

I had a really long day and was like, ugh, I just want to go home and watch old people television with my wife, and so David and I made dinner and sat down to watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. Somehow ALL THREE PEOPLE on Wheel of Fortune managed to get "Regis Phil_in and Kell_ Ripa" wrong, including by guessing "Regis Philmin" and getting EVERY LETTER before managing to mispronounce Kelly Ripa's last name. And then we were like, ugh, old people are so stressful and so we watched Sex and the City reruns because David has never seen it before and Emma lent us Season Two.

I realized that the easiest way to explain the show was to tell David that Carrie is the Dorothy, Miranda is the Sophia, Charlotte is the Rose, and Samantha is the Blanche. During a particularly racy scene, David was like, "...this is like Golden Girls Gone Wild," which I think would be a pretty awesome Before and After.

Happy New Year's!

"Oh, it's just like you're a family. I mean a pretend family, under the laws of the state of New York."
- Brady

Limping Into 2010

So because I'm theoretically on vacation this week, I decided that I would only do work from 10-2 and 5-6 and that in between, I could totally chill out enough to go ice skating in Central Park with David. Two things: David is a better ice skater than I am, even though I grew up on the prairie and am theoretically bred for excellence where flatness and subzero temperatures are concerned. Also, my skates ended up slicing into the back of my ankles, and now I have a bloody hole on one leg that had better not get infected because I have no idea whether I have health insurance and will probably just end up amputating it myself. Or I will make Joe Lieberman do it. But it did feel nice to leave the apartment and settle down for a little bit, especially because the north side of Central Park is beautiful in the winter. It kind of made me want to try running around the perimeter of the park in the spring - I already easily run from 59th to 80th and back again, so with enough practice, I feel like that is not an unreasonable goal. Or it is an unreasonable goal, but that is what New Year's Resolutions are all about.

Speaking of which, my resolutions for 2010:

1) I'm going to keep up the vegetarianism, which I am going to overlay with a greater emphasis on whole foods and fewer baked goods and artificial ingredients. The exception is Luna Bars, because I have about two dozen of them stashed in a drawer and my men's vitamins don't give me the estrogen I need to live my daily life.
2) I'm also going to try to be less self-centered - I'm going to be less self-promoting, do things where I receive absolutely no credit, and be more thoughtful towards others. This seems vague, but there are specific, actionable ways that I want to do this. (Joining Twitter last month seems counterproductive in this respect, but whatever.)
3) Try running around Central Park, because I'll either be proud of myself or learn an important lesson about not making impulsive, potentially grueling resolutions, and I basically win either way.

Silent Night

Nothing kills Christmas like when your grandmother causally asks how your job is going and you misinterpret this as an invitation to talk about genocide and homophobia in Uganda for a full five minutes. Merry Christmas, folks.

Quote of the Day

Somehow, I only do quotes of the day when I'm home in Fargo:

"You should try this juice. It's awesome."
"I don't believe juice can be awesome."
"Okay, fine. The major drawback is having to cover up your erection afterwards."

The Fall of Man

I'm having a terrible day, and spent my morning laundering, vacuuming, bagging, and sterilizing everything in my apartment while trying to set up two events for work and then dragging everything across two boroughs only to get stuck in a bus door and yelled at by the driver. This is one of those days where every part of my life is kind of going badly.

Now, I'm at LaGuardia, where every flight so far has been overbooked and it sounds like we're being delayed for an hour, which will almost certainly make me miss my flight at O'Hare and probably spend the night in the airport. There is like no food in this terminal because LaGuardia was designed by M.C. Escher and the TSA, the airline employees are yelling at passengers and each other, a very loud and uncomfortable racial episode just broke out at Gate C11, the bathroom is so gross that I went in the disabled stall and justified it because I am emotionally disabled, and my 20 min. of free internet courtesy of Lufthansa are about to run out. If this is the last you hear from me as this devolves into presocial anarchy, know that it's been fun.

Why My Partner is Not a Rapper

My humps, my humps /
My humps are on fire /
Get into my trunk!

- Yesterday, on the subway platform on 59th and 5th.