street sweet sweeper
walking to the subway this morning i saw a deck of magic cards strewn about on the sidewalk, spilling into the street and under some parked cars. the scene was so... forlorn. i could almost hear the dorks crying.
then going down the stairs at the centre street entrance i saw my soulmate. it was a guy who was eating a chocolate ice cream cone at 9 in the morning. yes, ice cream for breakfast... my hero.
and finally, walking the last 2 blocks to work in times square i encounter a pair of men quite desperate to look like ryan seacrest... fake tans, bleached hair, and crest white strips smiles. and to seal the deal, disco colored button down shirts buttoned way way down. note: it's about 30 degrees outside. it looked like they came straight from the marcus schenkenberg school of tacky male modeling. either that or crobar. so yeah, i snickered. what, you wouldn't?
you gotta fight...
for your right...
so here's the thing about new york. it's always someone's birthday, whether you know them or know of them. between your roommates, co-workers, roommates' co-workers or co-workers' roommates, there's always an excuse to party. it becomes one giant game of kevin bacon. but with booze.
and on that note, anyone wanna go out on friday? it's someone's birthday.
philadelphia is the city of
cheesesteaks. and brotherly love.
and while we're on that topic, i'd like to share with everyone how talking to my brother always makes me smile. sure, i'm a little jealous that he lives in sunny beachy san diahhhgo and i live in frigid blistery new york, but i still miss him big time. yes, i am a cheeseball. whatev.
and that's my daily sentiment. suck it.
lucky me
the
cute intern is back for another semester. he just said "good morning" to me. i... have no words.
stick a fork in me
and yet again, i'm staying late at work. except this time i had the great assistant's priviledge of ordering food for my bosses and 15 other designers working on some hot project. so begrudgingly, i ordered. i also picked up the 65 pounds of carmine's and hauled it back up to the conference room and layed it all out on the table only to watch the drooling behemoths shove their hands into every single trough of pasta, meat or some pasta/meat combination. gotta feed those creative minds, you know? whatever. i didn't care. i'm walking away with my tiny plate of penne alla vodka so i can eat and study at my desk when one of my newly bestowed upon me bosses (i have 6 now, gracefully awaiting a 7th) says to me, "thanks jade. you always order so well." and then i died, rose from my death, and said, "yeah sure, no prob." i humbly sulk the rest of the 3 feet over to my desk while the invisible me throws her plate at the wall, jumps on the conference table (a la brandon lee in the crow) and proceeds to litter the room with death by meatballs. the walls are covered with marinara and blood. truly, a beautiful scene.
one man's cellar door
is another girl's sea monkey. and on that note, i also love compressed air. not saying "compressed air" (although it is quite nice to say as well), but rather the great feeling when the can gets cold while your keyboard gets clean. chemistry plus type a equals i love compressed air. sssssst... beautiful, isn't it? perhaps i've inhaled a bit too much compressed air. ok, now i just like saying it.
joe, you know, the trader
it's
true and i'm happy.
grey's anatomy
[george] i'm broken. can you fix me?
eddy curry, those tights are wack
went to the knicks game last night with schmatt (courtside baby!) poor knicks, they were smooshed by the pistons from the beginning. but seriously. those guys are frickin huge.
here's lookin at you
to the man with the 7 piece khaki suit (hat, shirt, vest, jacket, pants, bag, and i'm assuming skivvies as well), i know you took one last look in the mirror before you left your tiny studio apartment this morning and said, "damn, i look good." but the sad reality is... you don't. it's not that it's 7 separate pieces of khaki--actually, that's part of it--it's just that the bag is a couple shades darker than the rest of the perfectly coordinated ensemble. i mean, if you're going to go through the effort of getting 6 matching pieces, why not go all the way?
to the woman with the baby cheetah fur hat. here's a story for you:
meow meow meow
meow meow STAB
(silence...)
the end.
to the conductor who announced to the occupants of the n train that the r train across the platform at 34th street would be moving ahead of the n train, causing 75% of the people in the n train to dash across to the r train only to look back and see the n train doors close and drive off first anyway, you suck.
and finally, to the woman in the heinous coach flats (who wears monograms on their feet?) who was obviously racing me up the times square stairs, throwing elbows ain't cool. you not only hurt my arm, but also my feelings.
2busy2breathe
dear diary,
this weekend was so so so fun. had some yummy drinks (wheee!) and karaoke on friday and super yummy dinner at judes on saturday. ooh and we played scrabble and totally won with a triple word score on "fatalboned" - which is so a word. then the judes and i went shopping on sunday and i spent all of daddy's $ on a couple fancy dresses. i heart dresses so much! then i went to my cousin's apartment to babysit the baby and we had sooo much fun 2gether making funny faces and coloring. then my friends and i went dancing at marquee but i kept getting lost (it's sooooo crowded in there!) so i went home before 2am. it's ok tho b-cause when i was leaving all these stupid 17 year olds came in and they were seriously, so stupid. then on monday i slept in, ate a lot of junk food, watched ocean's 12 (brad pitt is a total dilf) and took a practice test for this thing called a gmat (i think you pronounce it gahmatt?), which totally made my brain hurt. and now back to work. like totally, ew.
love,
jade
friday the 13th
indeed, it is quite a lucky day...
herr hasselhoff is now herr single. go get'm ladies!
[the hoff] rawrrr...
happy birthday k1
!!!!!!!
i got you something...
[present] a good laptop and a bad puppy.
spew.
i almost threw up today when the department hamburglar (re: poor fashion choices, small and round stature, mischeviously stupid glare) walked by my desk blowing her nose. it was... juicy. ugh. [shudder times a million]
and now i leave you with a lovely
afterthought.
baby muenster
shout out to juliet of
homeo and juliet fame, for not only reviving their fabutastic blog, but also mentioning quite the honorable list of resolutions. good luck to ya, my dearest leeanniepoo. let me know if i can be of any service. you know, if you call between 10:37 and 10:43pm, there's a 75% chance that i'll be free to talk and not suffering under the bondages of media slavery.
and another shout out to
becks who, despite her newfound love of television, posted some new years pics. you rock becks! i hope all is well in rainy seattle and perhaps you can come out to visit us in march. although, if you opt for sunny u-town instead of cold and sucky nyc, i don't blame you one bit.
as soon as kp and kc send me their pictures, i promise to post more. more scandalous, that is. why the face? i know you want it. sucka.
*le sigh*
if holding my breath
was worth any money, i'd
be so fortunate
my name is lucky
but they call me "heycouldya"
s'gonn be a long year
job security
oh, the last of my worries
face death by push pins
the time is now 8:42pm. alas, i am at work. let the pity roll in. now.
*update: the time is now 9:11pm. somewhere, the tiniest violin...
knishes and brisket and tongue, oh my!
apparently 2nd ave. deli is closing for good. i guess i'll have to get my fix of kosher salami and babka elsewhere. did that sound dirty to you?
everyone say the buh bye...
lazy talk, crazy talk
my co-worker likes to punctuate her questions with a trailing "or" at the end. for example, "do you have a website or..." and just stops there. it's not that she's getting cut off with an answer, she just stops talking. to her credit, i don't think she consciously does it. however, i consciously and consistently hear it. every single phone conversation. "is this an internal meeting or..." "will carol be attending the 2 o'clock or..." "is my brain a pile of mush or..." i want to scream at her, "or what!!!!" needless to say, it's driving me totally nutso.
sweet home california
i miss you.
kp - will you send me the pictures? or put them on ofoto? thanks, hon!
crappy new year.
i went to the gym this morning. the guy gave me the "new year's resolution?" look. i wanted to punch him in the face. instead i gave him a half-hearted smile and grabbed a towel to hide my rage.
my actual resolutions...
1. take a vitamin every day
2. kick some gmat ass
3. ****************** (totally)
i still love you, matt leinart
watched matthew mccaughnawhatever beat the fonz last night at the rose bowl. it was a really good game. i wouldn't say entirely well played, but a great matchup nonetheless.
[matt] football is dreamy.
i'm sorry you lost matt, there's a hug waiting for you in new york.
run. hide.
the
clowns are coming. it's like doctors without borders, but scarier.
[clown] what you don't see is that the child is currently wetting his pants out of fear.
things i learned while on break
i can live without my ipod. for one week. then i'll die.
i can make a kick ass prime rib.
that's it.
LAX -> EWR
flight 84 (red eye)...
seat 13 A: hot guy, asleep.
seat 13 B: hot guy, asleep.
seat 13 C: hot guy, asleep.
[aisle]
seat 13 D: self-proclaimed "jersey cowgirl", complete with a leather fringed vest, pink cowboy hat and shih-tzu sidekick - incessantly baby talking to her dog. and to top it off, the damn dog kept growling at my food. my mom packed me a yummy in-flight snack and i couldn't even take it out without that squish-faced flea-ridden under-biting beast jealously drooling in my direction. now i'm normally a sucker for all dogs, but this one was undoubtedly part gremlin.
seat 13 E: an older gentleman with shoulder-length white hair - puts on his bose headphones and quietly polishes his pool cues. takes each piece out of his bag, polishes it, and puts it back. takes another one out, and repeats steps 1-3. over. and over. all the while staring at the seat back in front of him. slightly phallic and totally creepy.
seat 13F: me - ipod out of batteries - uncomfortable and unfortunate.
but that's not all!
finally exiting that hell ride of a flight, i get to the baggage claim and try to call the shuttle service. just my luck - it it's not running from newark, which means that i'm relegated to taking the bus into midtown. whatever - at this point i just want to go home and sleep. so i leave my prime spot at carousel b to buy my bus ticket and come back to find that my perfect corner position has been viciously usurped by a foreign family of fourteen, all of whom apparently needed to stand directly in front of the carousel, flush with the edges, taking up the entire short side of the oval. and they had those stupid carts too.
now if you don't know the etiquette of the baggage claim, this is how it goes: if you're in the front row, you stand approximately 3 feet from the edge of the carousel, allowing for people in the 2nd or 3rd row to swoop in and grab their bags if they see it. people in the 2nd and 3rd rows should stand 3 feet from each other, allowing for maneuverability post first bag acquisition. if your load of luggage requires a cart, there are probably at least two people in your party, so one is designated "getter" and the other is "receiver," who should stand with the cart behind the last row of people. and that, my friends, is how you play the game of life.
but this foreign family of fourteen didn't get the memo. or they did and chose to do the exact opposite of the rules. either way, they made the next 30 minutes of my life total hell. two of the kids were on some sort of whine inducing drugs while the third and youngest one was nursing his can of pepsi like it was the nectar of gods. his mom tried to take it away and he immediately became a screaming banshee. then there were the grandmas, who both insisted on pushing the cart until one of the sons broke up the near cat fight experience. and lastly, the sisters, who could not remember which piece of black luggage was theirs, so they picked up almost all of them and peeked inside the front pockets. it's a good thing that my little green bag wasn't the last one to come off the plane. in fact, it was second to last. yeah, good thing.
an hour in and out of consciousness later, i get home only to find that my roommate's non-boyfriend had puked in the bathroom (a step up from puking on the front door, which is what he stellarly managed to do last time), so the apartment was afoul with the smell of regurgitated shellfish sandwich. i proceed to lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep.
january 2nd - worst. day. ever.
happy
shiny and lucky year to all.
kris, you always throw the best parties. thanks for all the memories. let me know if you need help labeling photos. and good luck getting the fetti outta your crack.
becks, you won.
tdo, you lost.
the rest of the u-town crew... i love you all. now will one of you just get married so i can wear my new dress? sheesh.
