This 'R' Train is on the Lam

I swear to God this is what the conductor on my 'R' train said the other morning...don't try and tell me I imagined it or misheard because it was early. I'm at my PRIME in the early AM.

Regardless. Back to the point. Not only is THIS 'R' train on the lam...MY 'R' train is on the lam. And by 'R' train, I mean any semblance of sanity, clarity, centeredness (it IS a word. It refers to emotional stability. Wonderful.), organization...the list goes on. Never fear, I am having a blast, but I'm coming unraveled at the same time. I think I once had a life plan, it is long gone. I don't know if it's just New York, or somehow something in me has done a complete 180...'the plan' has derailed. It doesn't exist. It never stood a chance. I'm not going to fret (much) over this. Instead I've come up with a new plan that isn't really a plan so much as a game. To get through the day. And keep myself laughing because damnit, I'm pretty sure if I don't just keep laughing, I'm gonna break down and cry. No thaaaanks!!

The game is called 'Breaking Even' If I was in the picture above (I don't know if I'd be Godzilla or the train, I kind of feel like both depending on who I'm dealing with lately...) this is how it'd go:

Oh no. Godzilla just strong-armed your train. Minus 1.
Now you don't have to go to work because Godzilla DID just strong-arm your train. Plus 1.
People are probably dead in there. Minus 1.
Godzilla is having the time of his life. Plus 1.
Shit. The city is destroyed. Minus 1.
Eh, it needed to be rebuilt anyway. Plus 1.

Now for the math part! -1+1-1+1-1+1=0. Sweet success we've BROKEN EVEN. No tragedy here.

Here's my rundown for today so far:

Woke up at 6:18 on a Saturday. Minus 1.
Didn't stand a chance of being late to my shoot. Plus 1.
Decided to re-hydrate. Plus 1.
Found a HUMONGOUS cockroach (or water bug?) in my sink. Minus 1.
Was so frightened I dropped/tossed my glass. Minus 1.
My glass didn't break. Plus 1.
It hit another glass when I accidentally threw it, now I have broken glass at 7:30 am. Minus 1.
I'm so terrified of this bug I'm shaking and cut myself on said glass. Kinda badly. Minus 1.
No bandages or band aids. Minus 1.
Go to shoot. Show up on time. Plus 1.
Show up in last night's clothes (never taken off), as well as last night's makeup (it was a rough night. Don't judge.) Minus 1.
Get smoothie (despite bloody hand with shitty homemade bandage). Plus 1.
Shoot took 15 minutes. Plus 1.
Get 'proper' bandages on the way home. Plus 1.
Lady at the Duane Reade checkout station makes comment about my bloody hand. Minus 1.
Back in the apartment, phone a friend. Begin to cry hysterically about the roach. Hyperventilate and squeak. He laughs. I laugh. This one ends up being neutral.
Am forced (by aforementioned friend) to check and see if creature from hell is still in my sink. Minus 1.
He is not. Again, neutral.
Decide to take a nice hot shower to 'regroup'. Plus 1.
Do makeup. It's flawless today. Plus 1.
Bandage hand adequately. Plus 1.
It is very difficult to type...or do anything...the way I've had to bandage my hand. Minus 1.
Deposit money in account. Plus 1.
Took out laundry (and apologized for the blood). Plus 1.

See what I mean when I say my 'R' train is on the lam? My game rules. What could have seemed like a really crappy morning magically turned out to be 12 'pluses' and 10 'minuses'...meaning that SO FAR today has been a comedy and not a tragedy. If I hadn't played this game, I totally would have filed it under tragedy.

My hand hurts, man.

Favorite Things

Today was a let down...big disappointment. This too will pass. As a diversion I started thinking about things I like. I started thinking about Oprah and her Favorite Things episodes (and how totally ridiculous car giveaways are...because seriously, if I won a car, what on earth would I do with it?! Obviously not something I need to deal with at this moment, but so much less frustrating to figure out than the answers to my real problems, you follow?)

If I had a talk show (oh boy) and subsequently a 'Favorite Things' episode, here are 25 things you'd all get (in no particular order), whether or not I could feasibly give them:

1. Leggings. Lots and lots of leggings. A year's supply each.
2. Bond No. 9-The Scent of Peace.
3. Note cards. 3x5"...the best size for making lists.
4. OPI Nail Polish in Midnight in Moscow and Light My Sapphire.
5. Headbands. Sparkly ones, flowery ones, bandanna's you wear "Tupac style"...
6. A Tokyo Bay 'Tram' watch.
7. Whole grain flatbread and hummus. Preferably homemade.
8. Tofu Pad Thai to last a lifetime. (Apparently I just got hungry?)
9. Multi-vitamins. Or better yet, prenatal vitamins.
10. Water. Lots and lots of water. Because you know you're not getting enough.
11. Chai tea. Not Starbucks. Real.
12. The Greenhouse Bar in Nashville. Maybe I'd just have to send everyone there?
13. On the bar note...TnT's. As in Tanqueray and Tonics.
14. A bird necklace...or 40.
15. A Pentax K1000, a red 25 filter and Kodak High Speed Infrared (HIE) film. Worthwhile ideas not included (sorry).
16. A cockatiel. One just like mine (Pippin).
17. Black and pink Marc Jacobs rain boots.
18. Ammonium dichromate, gum arabic and some water color pigments. Again: fabulous ideas not included.
19. Ok fine, a darkroom. Each and every person would get a darkroom.
20. Rosebud salve.
21. The pink Kitchenaid mixer.
22. The ability to pull an incredible shot of espresso...
23. A gym membership.
24. M.A.C. Fibre Rich Lash in All Black.
25. A pair of Nike Dunk Low Premium Carmine Zest White shoesies.

Alright. I feel better. And today (since I suppose it's technically Wednesday), I WILL be happier than a bird with a french fry.

Post-Punk Goth Metal

I was in a funk for some days. It was lousy. Being horrendously ill followed by totally crappy weather yields bad results. I felt like a post-punk goth-metal song. More specifically, (because there are always specifics when you run with me...), 'Marian' by the Sisters of Mercy. Please note: Andrew Eldritch frightens me. Understatement. Every time I hear Andrew Eldritch's voice I'm pretty sure he's going to drain me of life, much like a vampire would. A vampire somewhere in between 'The Lost Boys' and 'True Blood'...I've obviously had a lot of time to think about this. I hadn't even seen the featured visual when I came up with the vision. I'm pretty impressed with it's accuracy.

But I digress.

I was in this funk. The first thing I did this morning was craft the most pitiful text message I could, designed to pull at my father's heart strings just right and get me back to my family and my bird. The last time I asked my dad for money ($5 for a show...oh god, how post-punk goth of me...I may have actually been wearing fishnets on my arms, they doubled as a nice shelf bra too don't hate) he looked at me like I was crazy. Needless to say I'm pretty sure I'm not going for an impromptu "baby is sad" visit to my parent's house. Which, now that my post-punk goth metal funk is over, I'm good with (though I do miss my family). Goodbye post-punk goth metal song mood...you don't suit me anyway. The fever broke...now it's 3am (thanks daylight savings, not) and I've been off work for three hours and there's no stopping me. I've made the transition from Sisters of Mercy to GirlTalk. I have arranged a road trip next weekend, been the liaison between two friends in states other than mine (who happen to be stepbrothers, mind you) and threatened to both borrow and bedazzle someone's dogs.

My bossy, aggressive self is back. ThankYouJesus.

Some Catch...and Some Release.

Well this has been an eventful week. Some positive, some negative. Oh who am I kidding? There is always something positive. I can find a way to laugh at anything. Anyway, here it is, chronological order.

One. After dragging my family members along for quite a ride, I've found a dress to wear to my cousin's wedding. It is not black! It is not strapless! Apparently, an inside source has informed me, I had people pretty worried that I wouldn't come through (finding a dress...they stopped even caring about the black and strapless issues a long time ago). I always come through. I always finish the deal. I will make anything a competition and damnit I will win. Thus...the dress, shoes and clutch have all been found. Jewelry...not so much. I have til the end of April, I'm going to give myself a little time. Side note: said dress: GREEN...matches the arm (because that's how I pick my clothes now)...has pockets (big enough to carry a flask? Hmmm? Griiiiin). It was obviously made for this girl.

Two. I have been humbled by illness this week. Humbled, brought to my knees (literally), and amused. I went to work in New Jersey on Tuesday, feeling fine. By the time I returned to the lovely Port Authority Bus Terminal around 6:30 pm I had vomited close to 22 times. Until Tuesday I hadn't thrown up legitimately since my freshman year of college. Let alone while working a 10 hour day, an hour and a half away the Walnut (codename for my apartment). In case you were wondering...I didn't puke on the bus ride home (60 minutes), nor did I hurl in the cab that took me to my door. God obviously felt bad for me and wanted to spare me more humiliation. The amusing part of all of this: my vomit is just as loud and obnoxious as I am...all 22 hits were hot pink (about the color of the pink brownstone you'll find in the upper left hand corner, found on the Gothamist website). There is ALWAYS a silver lining. Oh, the other silver lining...I'm gonna be one skinny bitch by the time I start eating again.

Three. I have just reconnected with my long lost great aunt who I happen to have very similar sentiments about formality, weddings, social constructs etc etc to. I have just confessed my sins loudly, both of the ink and drink variety, to her while walking to the grocery store (9pm toothpaste emergency, anyone?). I haven't laughed that hard in quite awhile. I love reconnecting with my family. I love that no matter what nut job, batshit crazy antics I insist upon, they will still love me. Ahhhhh. That being said, I'm still bracing myself for the 'great reveal' in April. Enough on that. It's time to run. And by run I really mean drag my pitifully weakened body to my bed so I can indulge in another few episodes of Law and Order: SVU before I doze off.

Not My Baby.

I've been doing this nannying gig for quite awhile now...four year, four different states, same old crazy. I'm not mother material, just a rather successful 'non-mom mom.' I am also, for the time being, apparently not the kind of material that uses my college degree. In light of two ridiculous comments directed towards me as I toted a tiny 3-month-old Indian baby around New Jersey, I feel the need to dispel a few seemingly 'popular' ideas concerning 'me' and 'motherhood' in the same sentence.

"Are you totally devastated that your baby looks NOTHING LIKE YOU?!"

I actually had a woman look at my charge and say this to me on Wednesday while we were in the grocery store. The WTF factor here goes through the roof. For one thing, who on earth says this to a 'mother'?! Furthermore, my charge has jet black hair, big dark eyes and gorgeous dark skin. I have red hair, green eyes and am ghost-white. Obviously, this is not my baby, lady. I wish I hadn't been so caught off guard. I would have responded with a) tears. Lots of big fat tears and wailing...b) a pitch for my baby smuggling company. Instead I was boring and less than shocking in my "yeah, I know, right? Different eyes, different nose, different mouth...she doesn't look like me at all." Boooooring. But seriously, really?!

I have a 'bangin post-baby body'

On Thursday, I had a group of lascivious, Spanish-speaking, older New Jersey men chat about me as I walked down the block. Among the topics of conversation were my 'bangin post-baby bod.' Two thoughts here: Thanks guys! Contrary to popular belief, this 'bangin post-baby bod' was actually brought on by the consumption of copious amounts of gin (TnT for the win) and a plethora of cupcakes!! Stealth abs. Makes it less hot, eh? Also...I understand everything you say.

I wonder what next week will be like...