Drama Be My Name

So, apparently I had a 'moment' there.

I've gotten lotsa comments, mostly from Bret Easton Ellis, who wants his style back. Or Jay McInery. No, don't feel like spell checking that one. Can anyone really tell the difference between those two anyway?

Anyway, enough of all that. The next day was torture. I was all kinds of hungover, and could not feed myself, pick up needles, talk on the phone, or get off the couch. Tho realized the next day that I wasn't merely hungover, though I was, I truly was, but I was also sick. As in my usual changing o' the seasons cold. Loverly.

Next day still felt all stuffed up and yucky, but decided to buck up and go into midtown and pick up the magnetic board that the lovely Miss Claudine graciously lent me, so that I could move beyond row 8 of my intarsia tote bag.

And I'm so glad I did, cause I found a few really lovely things that day. Miss Claudine never told me that her school was next door to Bridge Kitchenware! Where, believe it or not, I had never ever ever been to. I know, you're shocked. Well, so was I when I saw the prices. On a side note, I'm looking at their web site now, and they're having a book signing with Susan Spungen, and does anyone else wonder if that's Nancy Spungen's sister? I read "And I Don't Want to Live This Life..." when I was 16 and living in Sweden and it was one of the books the library had in English and I have to say, it made a huge impact on me. I read a lot. A lot a lot a lot. Like as in being a librarian or working in a bookstore sounds like a very attractive second career option, and that book is one of the ones that stick out in my memory.

Anyhoo, back to my day. Bridge was hella pricey, and though they had covetous things, I ain't working this week, so no spending for me. Tho I was intrigued by the copper pots big enough to boil a shetland pony. My goodness. And at only $2500, a bargain. Think of all the chicken soup I could make.

After that, went to Claudine's, met some of her bosses, one of whom asked me to name the ugliest celeb I've ever worked with. I think I sidestepped that one quite nicely. Then I left, and wandered over towards Grand Central to go back homewards, and found that I could happily eat my way up and down 45th street. All my favorites, including this really cool little rice ball joint, called Oms/b which is so my type of place. Cheapo, and you can order small amounts of food without having tons of leftovers, I had a salmon roe rice ball and a wasabi/scallion one. Yummy!

And no, didn't work on the tote that night. C'est la vie.

Today I was feeling mildly less crappy, and my friend Ro was having some man troubles, which once she laid it all out for me sounded eerily like my man troubles of recent times, so I went to Williamsburg to comfort her over cappucino's and yummy italian pastries. I know, how I suffer for my friends. This wasn't the 'Burg of Bedford and unwashed hair. This is italian everybody knows you and all the kids you went to school with are still in the neighborhood and everybody knows alllllllll about you and your family and say hi to you from passing cars and you get charged less for your coffee than other people Williamsburg. It's nice. Homey.

After that, meandered over to the afore mentioned trendy end of the burg, and up and down Bedford, including a foray to The Yarn Tree where, miracle of miracles, I resisted buying anything . Yay me! I did, however sign up to volunteer on Sunday at the sheep shearing thing in Prospect Park. C'mon, who's with me? I'll bake something yummy and bring it along. Course, I know less than nothing about sheep shearing or spinning, so it should be interesting.

Then, over to the Bedford Cheese Shop, which damn it all, was out of my chocolate chevre. Bastards. And they had these two women working there who had no sense of salesmanship at all, instead of the yummy guy who just plied me with samples of whatever he thought I would enjoy. Well, almost..... ;>
Anyway, they gave me samples of what I asked for, and I bought some stuff, but it just wasn't the same. Sniff.

Came home, and wouldn't you know that the second I get out of the subway my buddy in Williamsburg calls? His sense of timing sucks. Apparently, mine does too, since he was working today. Oh well, nice that someone is working. Bitter, table for one, please.

Tonight I made the macerated strawberries for Susi's fete tomorrow, very much looking forward to that, and reheated some homemade from scratch potato soup over portobello mushrooms and chicken sweet sausage. And if you think that sounded good, you should experience how it tastes. Seriously, I have leftovers. C'mon by.

All in all, a loverly day, with fantastic weather and even some exercise. Yee ha! Now, throw a nice 8 or 10 week gig into the mix, and I'd be happy as the proverbial clam (sorry for the whining, but it's worked before)

Oh, OH! Before I forget! This is such immenent disaster. Apparently, Broadway Panhandler is moving INTO A SPACE UNDERNEATH MY BUILDING. You know, I really can't decide which is worse. Having a kitchen supply place within jumping out of my window distance, or a yarn store doing the same. Or Sephora. It's like a shopper's version of "would you rather...." Either way, that's where all my available cash will be going. I give fair warning.