I've had a busy week, full of schmoozing with professors. These events are normally a huge ego boost because for the most part my incredible knack for bull honky gives me the illusion of an articulate, intelligent, put together woman. Not so.
Originally, I was planning on telling a nice story about going to a hot dog joint called Lawtons. (or with a French accent Law-tons sur le riviere). But after freaking V out with my sobbing, I thought I should share my thoughts in attempt to emotionally purge myself.
The trigger for this afternoon's outburst of tears was an essay excerpt by Maureen Dowd in the Sunday NY times magazine. Nothing remarkable about the essay, except to say that somehow in the modern era intelligent non sexy women still struggle to find a man. And that idea is what even now 3 hours after reading it is causing my eyes to well up.
My closest friends have always been females, but the majority of my buds have been males. Never understood this phenomena, but even in the second grade I was the only girl invited to Andy C.'s birthday party. I used to be that girl that was allowed to play dodgeball. I guess you could call me a tomboy, but I never felt like it because I was always confident that I was a girl. Perhaps I was a very precocious feminist.
In high school and in college, I somehow adapted the role of matchmaker instead of someone who was matched. Guys would come to me and tell me how they had a crush on my friends and would I please put in a good word.
Now many years later, things have not progressed very far. How often have I heard the phrase "Wow, Evil Twin #1 you are so much fun and cute," only for it to be followed by "I kind of feel like your big brother." To add insult to injury, women seem to feel the same way about me. When my friends' have significant others and somehow I get stuck with a bunch of boys talking about Daunte Culpepper vs. Eli Manning, no girlfriend, whether it be a guy friend's squeeze or one of my female friends, have ever been worried. Its not that I would ever steal someone's boyfriend, but couldn't I at least be thought of as a threat?
I guess my problem is that I am questioning my ability to be an alluring heterosexual female. To the heart of the matter: Will ET#1 ever have a boyfriend? According to Maureen Dowd, Oprah, and all dating guides things are looking pretty bleak. I am sarcastic, I don't play hard to get, I go to Harvard, and I don't wear panty hose (the sound of hose rubbing together gives me the willies). By 29, these traits are hard to change. As much as I joke about dying alone in my house of a million cats, its not really what I want. What I want is someone special, who thinks I am fun, cute, and wants to tear off my clothes.
The temporary solution to my low self esteem and negative outlook is to go out on Friday night. I plan on being half naked with really high heels and will allow anyone to buy me a drink. Shallow I know, but at least if they have only met me for 1 hour, I won't seem like their little sister.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
My Horoscope
"Don't spend so much time getting ready this morning that you make yourself late for work. A slightly disheveled appearance is better than no appearance at all. Swallow your pride. Besides, you already look better than most everyone else."
Considering that I am one of the few women on my floor under the age of 45, I would hope so...
Considering that I am one of the few women on my floor under the age of 45, I would hope so...
Monday, October 24, 2005
Organic foods, vegetarians, and other hippie stuff
For the past two months, I have been getting organic vegetables delivered in to my apartment. Deliveries come every other Thursday in large green reusable plastic bins. When I come home on those Thursday nights, I get all giddy thinking about the endless permutations of produce waiting at my front door. One benefit about this service is it delivers food that are in season so you have no choice in what produce you will be getting. Since I am so indecicive in the grocery store, it is a welcome change to be told what to eat. Ineveitably, there will be one odd item, such as dandelion greens. Included in your delivery is a pleasant note on recycled paper that thanks you for shopping organic and includes a few recipes (normally including your odd item). The whole experience has been like a bimonthly mini-Christmas, green box and all.
On Saturday, K, S, C and I went to the Boston Vegetarian Society Food Festival. It was at the Roxbury Community College Gymnasium. Inside there was a sea of people of all ages fitting into the vegetarian stereotypes. The young couples in North Face fleece vests stalking the Cliff bar station. Older ladies with frizzy graying hair, glasses with chains, and hemp tote bags. Vendors handed out free samples of Vegan soups, breads, chips and much more. Some were tasty, many were not. C could not understand why vegetarians seem to regect the notion of salting their food. Is using salt a carnivore thing?
Samples are about the best advertising in my book. I seem to have a very weak will because I often buy what I taste. (Trader Joe's understands this well.) Anyway at the vegetarian fair of many unsalted foods, I was swayed into buying seaweed noodles. Black and briny, they were delicious cold and according to the salesman a great source of calcium. I had dreams of coming into school with my exotic salad of seaweed noodles and chicken (I'm not completely turned yet), and having every ask me what I was eating.
So there you have it. I keep most of my hair on my body (except for some facial hair which I pluck), I carry totes to the grocery store, I get organic produce, I went to a vegetarian faire. Now all I need is a flowy skirt, some hemp shoes and an electric bus and hippies here I come!
On Saturday, K, S, C and I went to the Boston Vegetarian Society Food Festival. It was at the Roxbury Community College Gymnasium. Inside there was a sea of people of all ages fitting into the vegetarian stereotypes. The young couples in North Face fleece vests stalking the Cliff bar station. Older ladies with frizzy graying hair, glasses with chains, and hemp tote bags. Vendors handed out free samples of Vegan soups, breads, chips and much more. Some were tasty, many were not. C could not understand why vegetarians seem to regect the notion of salting their food. Is using salt a carnivore thing?
Samples are about the best advertising in my book. I seem to have a very weak will because I often buy what I taste. (Trader Joe's understands this well.) Anyway at the vegetarian fair of many unsalted foods, I was swayed into buying seaweed noodles. Black and briny, they were delicious cold and according to the salesman a great source of calcium. I had dreams of coming into school with my exotic salad of seaweed noodles and chicken (I'm not completely turned yet), and having every ask me what I was eating.
So there you have it. I keep most of my hair on my body (except for some facial hair which I pluck), I carry totes to the grocery store, I get organic produce, I went to a vegetarian faire. Now all I need is a flowy skirt, some hemp shoes and an electric bus and hippies here I come!
Sunday, October 23, 2005
A Break from the Norm
I think I am spoiled. The past two weeks have been only 4 day work weeks courtesy of the High Jewish holidays (Rosh Hashanah & Yom Kippur). I don't know how I'm going to work five days straight without having a day off. It's Day 3 and I can hardly wait for the weekend. Here's a brief roundup of what I did 2 Tuesdays ago and last Thursday.
Happy New Year!
I celebrated the (Jewish) new year by waking up early with BF -- he had a 9:30 am meeting -- and taking the train down to lower Manhattan with him. He walked towards the World Financial Center (as an aside, why does every city seem to have a "world" financial center?) and I headed for what I think of as a poor substitute for the Basement -- Century 21. But, alas, I did not get a chance to root through racks and racks of discounted clothing. Century 21 was also closed for the high holidays.
To compensate, I took the train to Union Square to the 4-story Filene's Basement that is located on every floor BUT the basement. I was thrilled to find a plain white sugar bowl that I am now using to hold Kosher salt. I also stopped at Forever 21 (the American version of H&M or Zara, one step up from Rampage). This was my first time in the store and I'm glad that I went at about 11:00 am -- I can only imagine the chaos that ensues when it is thronged with 16-19 year olds, which is about how old you have to be in order to pull off a lot of what they sell in this store. I did buy a navy stretch velveteen (I was looking for velvet, but this does the job) military style jacket for only $32. I had to buy a large (it was the only size left) and was thankful that it was made out of a stretch fabric. I have pretty narrow shoulders and can't imagine how anyone could fit into the medium, let alone the small, if you were wearing anything other than a tube top.
I was enjoying the happy shopper's feeling when I realized that I was running late for my lunch date with BF. We had reservations for Perry Street - Jean George Vongerichten's latest restaurant in NYC. I had been trying to get a table for dinner for about a month and couldn't get anything other than for 6:00 PM or 10:30 PM midweek. Perry Street is a very cold, clean, modern restaurant in the FAR West Village, pretty much on the West Side Highway. If you are walking from the Christoper Street Subway station, allow yourself at least 15 minutes--it's a really nice walk, so really not so bad. We were seated promptly and our drinks were excellent (they'd better be for $14 each!). While waiting for our appetizers to arrive, I was so excited about my Filene's Basement purchase that I whipped it out right there, unwrapping it from the 2 plastic bags that the sales clerk had wrapped it in since they were out of tissue paper, in the middle of the restaurant, excitedly recounting to BF how "I just got a bargain!" Retail price for the sugar bowl was $30 and I got it for $4.
As we were half way into our entrees, I overheard the conversation from the table that was next to us. It was 2 "ladies who lunch", one of which was carrying an orange Hermes Birkin handbag (which incidentally was on last night's Gilmore Girls -- Rory's was pink ostrich). This handbag has a 2 year waitlist and costs a minimum of $9,000. That's right, that handbag (plus the tax of over $700) costs about as much as my rent for the year. One woman was telling the other about the great Philippe Starck couch she just bought -- on sale -- for a paltry $10,000. I still think that I got the better bargain. Our lunch was the most expensive lunch that either BF or I had ever eaten. The final tally: a little over $60 per person. The food was great, but I don't think it was worth the price. I am glad that we went for lunch because I don't think I would have been able to stomach the dinner prices.
The Day of Atonement
Last Thursday was Yom Kippur, a day of seeking forgiveness. I started off by going to yoga (hadn't gone in about a year and I was sore for the next 3 days) and then doing all the things I never seem to have time for -- washing dishes, doing laundry, picking up dry cleaning. After all that, I was feeling quite domesticated and wanted to cook dinner for BF. BF is a fine cook and as a result, I never get to cook anything when he is around. Instead, I am relegated to dishwasher. Because he was at work and I could get a head start, I decided to take my chance while I had it and planned a fine meal starting with a salad of arugula, pear and toasted hazelnuts with a citrus dressing, followed by mustard dill baked chicken. I was very excited to cook for BF. He seems to think that I don't know how to cook -- but I think that I can hold my own in the kitchen.
I spoke to him at 6:00 to let him in on my plan to have dinner and to break open the bottle of Bordeaux that I bought about a month ago. He tried to change the entree -- suggesting that he cook something instead. But I stood firm, I was going to cook and he would have to eat whatever I made. While at Whole Foods shopping for ingredients, I wasn't sure if I had garlic left for the vinaigrette, so I called BF to see if he remembered. He had said that he would leave the office at around 6:30 -- it was already 7:00 and he was still at his desk. No problem, I'd just take my time preparing dinner. I was at my apartment by 7:30 and was merrily preparing all the food.
8:00 rolled around, then 9:00, then 10:00. Where was BF? And why was he not answering his phone? I was starting to go through disasterous scenarios in my head -- maybe there was an incident on the subway, or he got hit by a cab on his way to the train station, or maybe he decided to grab a drink with friends not caring that I was slaving over a hot stove. He rang my buzzer at 10:10 and strolled into the apartment saying "What's up?" I was not amused. It would take 35 minutes to bake the chicken -- I had prepped it but didn't bake it because I wasn't sure what time he would show. I didn't realize how upset I was until he walked into my apartment. When I saw how un-phased he was by his tardiness, not offering an apology for being so late, I lost my appetite. I didn't want anything to do with him and was so angry that I locked myself in the bathroom. Why this reaction? I am not really sure. Maybe it's because that was the sort of thing that my ex would do and having BF do the same thing really pissed me off. Was I in another destructive relationship? I don't think so, but things have been a little "off" lately.
Anyway, after I freaked out and BF saw how upset I was, he was super apologetic. That didn't really help things, though. Too little too late in my book. He really should have called to let me know that he was going to be late. He admitted that he thought about calling me, but then didn't. This upset me even more. Why? I don't know.
And then it happened -- I hate blaming it on this, but it's the only explanation for my extreme reaction to BF's tardiness (a chronic problem) -- as ET#1 likes to put it, my uterine lining started sloughing off. Ahh. Hormones. I guess things aren't as bad as I thought. So, if BF is reading this (I doubt it), sorry for over-reacting, and I accept your apology.
Happy New Year!
I celebrated the (Jewish) new year by waking up early with BF -- he had a 9:30 am meeting -- and taking the train down to lower Manhattan with him. He walked towards the World Financial Center (as an aside, why does every city seem to have a "world" financial center?) and I headed for what I think of as a poor substitute for the Basement -- Century 21. But, alas, I did not get a chance to root through racks and racks of discounted clothing. Century 21 was also closed for the high holidays.
To compensate, I took the train to Union Square to the 4-story Filene's Basement that is located on every floor BUT the basement. I was thrilled to find a plain white sugar bowl that I am now using to hold Kosher salt. I also stopped at Forever 21 (the American version of H&M or Zara, one step up from Rampage). This was my first time in the store and I'm glad that I went at about 11:00 am -- I can only imagine the chaos that ensues when it is thronged with 16-19 year olds, which is about how old you have to be in order to pull off a lot of what they sell in this store. I did buy a navy stretch velveteen (I was looking for velvet, but this does the job) military style jacket for only $32. I had to buy a large (it was the only size left) and was thankful that it was made out of a stretch fabric. I have pretty narrow shoulders and can't imagine how anyone could fit into the medium, let alone the small, if you were wearing anything other than a tube top.
I was enjoying the happy shopper's feeling when I realized that I was running late for my lunch date with BF. We had reservations for Perry Street - Jean George Vongerichten's latest restaurant in NYC. I had been trying to get a table for dinner for about a month and couldn't get anything other than for 6:00 PM or 10:30 PM midweek. Perry Street is a very cold, clean, modern restaurant in the FAR West Village, pretty much on the West Side Highway. If you are walking from the Christoper Street Subway station, allow yourself at least 15 minutes--it's a really nice walk, so really not so bad. We were seated promptly and our drinks were excellent (they'd better be for $14 each!). While waiting for our appetizers to arrive, I was so excited about my Filene's Basement purchase that I whipped it out right there, unwrapping it from the 2 plastic bags that the sales clerk had wrapped it in since they were out of tissue paper, in the middle of the restaurant, excitedly recounting to BF how "I just got a bargain!" Retail price for the sugar bowl was $30 and I got it for $4.
As we were half way into our entrees, I overheard the conversation from the table that was next to us. It was 2 "ladies who lunch", one of which was carrying an orange Hermes Birkin handbag (which incidentally was on last night's Gilmore Girls -- Rory's was pink ostrich). This handbag has a 2 year waitlist and costs a minimum of $9,000. That's right, that handbag (plus the tax of over $700) costs about as much as my rent for the year. One woman was telling the other about the great Philippe Starck couch she just bought -- on sale -- for a paltry $10,000. I still think that I got the better bargain. Our lunch was the most expensive lunch that either BF or I had ever eaten. The final tally: a little over $60 per person. The food was great, but I don't think it was worth the price. I am glad that we went for lunch because I don't think I would have been able to stomach the dinner prices.
The Day of Atonement
Last Thursday was Yom Kippur, a day of seeking forgiveness. I started off by going to yoga (hadn't gone in about a year and I was sore for the next 3 days) and then doing all the things I never seem to have time for -- washing dishes, doing laundry, picking up dry cleaning. After all that, I was feeling quite domesticated and wanted to cook dinner for BF. BF is a fine cook and as a result, I never get to cook anything when he is around. Instead, I am relegated to dishwasher. Because he was at work and I could get a head start, I decided to take my chance while I had it and planned a fine meal starting with a salad of arugula, pear and toasted hazelnuts with a citrus dressing, followed by mustard dill baked chicken. I was very excited to cook for BF. He seems to think that I don't know how to cook -- but I think that I can hold my own in the kitchen.
I spoke to him at 6:00 to let him in on my plan to have dinner and to break open the bottle of Bordeaux that I bought about a month ago. He tried to change the entree -- suggesting that he cook something instead. But I stood firm, I was going to cook and he would have to eat whatever I made. While at Whole Foods shopping for ingredients, I wasn't sure if I had garlic left for the vinaigrette, so I called BF to see if he remembered. He had said that he would leave the office at around 6:30 -- it was already 7:00 and he was still at his desk. No problem, I'd just take my time preparing dinner. I was at my apartment by 7:30 and was merrily preparing all the food.
8:00 rolled around, then 9:00, then 10:00. Where was BF? And why was he not answering his phone? I was starting to go through disasterous scenarios in my head -- maybe there was an incident on the subway, or he got hit by a cab on his way to the train station, or maybe he decided to grab a drink with friends not caring that I was slaving over a hot stove. He rang my buzzer at 10:10 and strolled into the apartment saying "What's up?" I was not amused. It would take 35 minutes to bake the chicken -- I had prepped it but didn't bake it because I wasn't sure what time he would show. I didn't realize how upset I was until he walked into my apartment. When I saw how un-phased he was by his tardiness, not offering an apology for being so late, I lost my appetite. I didn't want anything to do with him and was so angry that I locked myself in the bathroom. Why this reaction? I am not really sure. Maybe it's because that was the sort of thing that my ex would do and having BF do the same thing really pissed me off. Was I in another destructive relationship? I don't think so, but things have been a little "off" lately.
Anyway, after I freaked out and BF saw how upset I was, he was super apologetic. That didn't really help things, though. Too little too late in my book. He really should have called to let me know that he was going to be late. He admitted that he thought about calling me, but then didn't. This upset me even more. Why? I don't know.
And then it happened -- I hate blaming it on this, but it's the only explanation for my extreme reaction to BF's tardiness (a chronic problem) -- as ET#1 likes to put it, my uterine lining started sloughing off. Ahh. Hormones. I guess things aren't as bad as I thought. So, if BF is reading this (I doubt it), sorry for over-reacting, and I accept your apology.
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