Saturday, November 25, 2006

A guilty confession

I hate tourists. Most New Yorkers disdain the appliqued-sweater-clad masses that invade our city from the flyover states but I truly hate them. I actually HIT one on purpose the other day who had done absolutely nothing.

I was super crabby. I spent three hours with Iseult on a Circle Line cruise that was cool but filled to the brim with tourists who had both fat children and a complete lack of knowledge about the city that wasn't in the typical tourist grid that travels between 8th and Park on the blocks between 40th and 50th street. Then we went to Top of the Rock, which was beautiful but had Empire State Bldg-like queues and general lack of organization, complete with screaming children. We did get some beautiful pictures, and I have to say that I really thought it was better than the Empire.

Still, though, no one will ever be able to drag me there again. So a super crabby Meg ensued and hit a fat and obnoxious person blocking her way on 49th & 5th. She called me a bitch and I got a feeling of satisfaction at elbowing her for no good reason other than that she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the crowd's way. I had to apologize to Iseult rather than the lady that I had been such a bitch for at least two hours....

And then we went into a store and I was cheered by shopping and realizing that I wasn't a large at Zara but a medium.

And then we proceeded to get very drunk for Iseult's bday with a guy from Illinois that I would have hit on had I not had Pough and a bunch of Brits that didn't seem to care that Iseult and I have boyfriends. All good fun, I swear!

So now we've become popular---tea with Sharon at the Tea Lounge and then I get to see Pough, and perhaps even my favorite couple, Mikey & Mishy.

AND I have Monday off! So absolutely no complaints from this girl---especially since we'll be in Bklyn all day and nowhere near the dreaded tourist grid.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Lekker! Iseult ben in mijn huis!


Yep. That's about as much Dutch as I remember. I probably conjugated the verb wrong too... but what it means is: YAY! Iseult is in my house!


My friend Iseult and I met when I lived down the hall from her boyfriend Ru in the fall of 2002, in Leiden, the Netherlands---a city of about 100,000.Iseult and I hung out often, and I loved going to visit Iseult's fam in Breda, a town in the southern part of the Netherlands, and kept in pretty good touch with her over the past four years.

So now the time has come for Iseult to be an exchange student---in Madison, Wisconsin! She's been there since August/September and is coming to Christmas at my house... but first she's making a pit stop here in the Big Apple.

It's so funny that I'm spending all of the fall American holidays with a Dutch girl. I'm nervous about seeing her because I only knew her for a few months and I know I've changed tremendously since then. I just have no idea what to expect, and for that I'm excited.

Plus, I can't wait for her to meet Darren and his roommates, my friends, and see her eyes light up when CHICAGO starts on Monday night.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Newness

Last night, Pough and I nearly broke up. But, as I tend to do, I told him the whole story. Everything about the guy back home (GBH), and how that wasn't going to happen. How I felt about GBH and how I felt about him (Pough). Then, as I do, I came to a conclusion.

"Maybe we've been too comfortable," I said, "perhaps we should remember that this is new." He agreed and we drunkenly walked back along President St in Brooklyn to his room. Then we undressed each other, something we only did once before. And then, something happened. The magic that wasn't there----was.

I'll leave something to the imagination, but today, on the train back to Manhattan Island (him going home to see Mom and me going to the apartment) we were cute. I called him "baby", we talked about his Mom (She's getting over a stroke and really wants to walk with his sister through her graduation in May) and I realized something when I got home tonight: I missed him.

Kelly & I went to BB King's tonight to see our author and I realized that I knew which jokes he would have laughed at, when he would have held my hand, and I knew.

This is my boyfriend. I ran into Ex From Work last night at a happy hour, and it was cooly distant. I found out from the grapevine that he made out with someone else. I just laughed. Everything is in focus: I've moved on.

I'm finally ready for something new---someone new, someone fabulous. Someone I like going to brunch with (Swiss cheese omelette for him, denver with cheddar for me) and someone I like talking to. I find his OCD tendancies funny, and I woke up this morning wanting to hold him a bit closer.

It's funny.... I was so ready to break up with him last week, and I'm really glad I gave him the chance both of us deserved. Because I needed this more than I thought. So as I quasi-drunkenly write this at 2am on Sunday morning, there's something I never thought I'd admit: I'm happy again.

And though I still feel the same way for GBH, and wish we could be together, and still love Todd, I like Pough. I like the way he smells in the morning, I like that I know his idiosyncracys and what he likes to drink (G&Ts, once in a while a rum and coke) and that his roommate gives me the nod. I'm settled.

And I'm happy. And whatever comes, I'm ready. It's startling.

Perhaps I've found someone as crazy as me. And perhaps not. But I'm once again willing to make a mistake.

That's fucking brilliant.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Flyover States

My best friends primarily live in what is deemed by some New Yorkers as "the flyover states". Often, I find myself defending the middle part of the country to my colleagues and friends. So when I finally succumbed to watching Studio 360 on Monday night, I cheered out loud when John Goodman, playing a small town judge in Nevada on the show, said:

"Please stop thinking that everyone that lives between Fifth Avenue and the Hollywood Bowl stepped out of the cast of Hee Haw."

Yet another reason to love Aaron Sorkin (Sports Night being #1 and West Wing being #2), but take in context: that day, in a particularly dead day at work, I saw not only a video about a DNR guy in Wisconsin claiming to have seen a Bigfoot but also one of a deer accidentally entering a Target store. Terrific job reporting the hard-hitting news courtesy of CNN (just click on "more offbeat video" to see these vids.

And when I called Poof to celebrate the Sorkin line (he's in the flyover state of WI) he was skinning a deer for his new side job as a taxidermist. Yep, a taxidermist.

So as much as I love to defend my home state of Wisconsin (we're more than just cheese, cows and the Packers after all), sometimes it does need some help.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Oh So Social

It's Friday morning, and I'm tuckered out. This week, I went to a Barenaked Ladies concert, a reading at a porn store, got hit on at the laundromat while doing twenty pounds of laundry, and attended a book launch party with an open bar and meat on skewers.

I'm staying in tonight. And then tomorrow I start my "Three Broadway Shows in Three Weeks" campaign with Evil Dead: The Musical. And then Monday there's a National Book Award event and then Tuesday there's Broadway show #2, Grey Gardens.....

Hopefully I didn't book myself up every weekday next week as well. And I thought dating Pough made me busy....

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Meg's New York City Traditions


In the past two years, I've come up with a few New York annual traditions. The first, is of course, NOT to go to Times Square on New Years Eve. The second is to spend at least one, if not more, Summer Friday at a dark, dim and air conditioned-to-be-winter bar getting drunk at 2pm in the afternoon when it's brilliantly sunny and warm outside. And I always get wasted the night before Thanksgiving and then eat mail-ordered turkey the next day (that's one tradition).

And, no matter what, I'm a cheering spectator at the New York City Marathon. If you look at the post from last year, you know that the Marathon is significant because Todd has run it the past two years. A year ago today, I abandoned Chris and hunted Todd down. Today, I didn't see him.


I thought about Todd the entire time I was there (and this year, I was alone). I wasn't sure how I'd handle seeing him, if I would cheer or just watch him go by--would he smile, or--God forbid--stop? But I didn't have to answer those questions. I saw my co-worker run by, but not him. I watched for nearly two hours on Cat Hill in the park---but I also didn't see Mr. Lance Armstrong (who I actually did kind of want to see.)

But, all in all, it was a good experience to watch the race. As it always is, it's a sheer mass of humanity (see below) and I love getting behind random people, shouting out "Good Job Katie!" to women I don't know who are running past me.


I think the marathon means more to me than it does to most people. Maybe I'm wrong, but to me it's an example of normal people doing impossible things just by thinking they can. And one day, I'm going to attempt to run it, even though four blocks makes me huff and puff now. I've never really been a runner, but I've spent my entire life proving people wrong, whether I knew it or not. And I'd like to have a goal, like moving to New York was, that I can fantasize and work toward at the very same time.

Doctors told my parents that because of low postural tone, I'd never have good balance or coordination, soI would never be able to ride a bike, snap my fingers, or have normal athletic ability. But at 25 (partially because my parents never told me about this until I was in junior high), I can not only ride a bike but I can rollerblade twenty miles, walk six or seven miles in less than two hours, and am in the best shape of my friends. Mind you, I can't snap my fingers but I think that quirk, among others, makes me unique.

So, to make a long winded, tangent-filled blog entry a bit shorter, the marathon reminds me to look back at everything I've accomplished. All I wanted to do today was go to the race, maybe see Todd, definitely yell for Clancy and walk out of the park, not stop to look for T, and get on the train home. I accomplished that today.

It took a long time, but I have separated Todd from every other guy in my heart. Although I still love Todd and think of him everyday, he's in a portion deep down that I imagine is like a locked box. On Marathon Day, I open that box and take a peek and allow myself to wonder "what if". And then I get back on the train, and go back to reality.

Clapping alongside the runners on Marathon Day represents all the gratitude and pride I feel for what I've accomplished and signifies what challenges I (or anyone) can take on and make happen in the future. All it takes to make it is faith and determination. I have faith, I have determination. And one day, that will be me running, with random people yelling "Go Meg" as I stumble by.

Besides, where else can you feel like the Pied Piper, leading a bunch of Gucci-clad women who are arguing about whether or not to follow you through the twisty, turny paths of The Ramble (taking longer, of course, to get out of Central Park than it would to watch the entire marathon on TV). This is why I love New York.

Postscript: While I was waiting for this post to upload, I went online to see what Clancy and Todd' s times were. It appears that Todd didn't run the marathon at all. I'm not really sure what to think about that. Maybe it's a sign that I will never see him again--but does it matter? Probably not. I'll leave my questions in that box.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

I'd whore out my mother...


For some great floral arrangements.

I got these from Pough last night on our weekly Wednesday date (it's always the night we are both free usually. I don't think it's coincidentially the dead middle of the week.)

But now, I wonder if he's doomed. The Friday-Flowers guy (Chris) was doomed, my English boy who got me flowers to console me when T dumped me is married (fine by me, but still) and T himself is in that group of those men who were brave enough to give me flowers. But this, like Chris and unlike T, was just for being me. And I think he really loved the look of shock on my face when I looked up from texting Mishy and was like, "holy shit?! are those for me?"

And I didn't even notice that there were twelve until I got home. Now that's a boy worth cleaning out the cat box for before he spends the night.