Happy New Year

This is on the side of the Macy's Store:

I found it rather inspiring, even though I believe one should avoid Macy's shopping experience at all costs.

I believe in New York.

And for a laugh:
Huffington Posts 25 Funniest Sketches Of The 2000's (VIDEO)

See you in 2010!

Christmas Poem - NY

Twas the night after Christmas, and in Ada's house,
The creatures were stirring, cockroaches and a mouse.
The exterminator was closed, I told friends with a frown,
Tis common - pest problems, in this old New York Town.

Groundhog Day

When you live with someone with severe dementia, it often feels like you’re living in the movie Groundhog day. Or perhaps you’re trapped inside a long-running repetitious play.

 

One scene I don’t mind re-living day in day out is this one:

Ada: “How old I am?”

Nurse: “87”

Ada: “What?”

Nurse: “87!”

Ada: “EIGHTY-SEVEN?”

Nurse: “yes. 87.”

Ada: “EIGHTY-SEVEN!??”

Silence for a few moments, then...

Ada: “I though maybe forty or fifty, but EIGHTY-SEVEN?!!”

She shakes her head in disbelief.

A few minutes later, they have the exact same conversation again. Pause, repeat throughout the day. J

Office Tid-bit

The office I work at shares it’s space with an online company that interviews fascinating people, like a smaller version of TED: http://www.ted.com.

This is supper cool because I get to meet and greet these people at the door. It would be even cooler if I knew who on earth they were, but I rarely find out until after the fact.

Unbeknownst to me, I’ve met the editor of The Onion, several famous novelists, a former NY mayor, an astronaut and even – The Satorilist.

(What!! What was I wearing that day?)

Luckily one of the staff members and I are becoming fast friends, and she’s letting me in on some of the guests before they arrive. She even lets me know who has humility and who is full of self importance. Not that there’s anything wrong with either, but it is rather fascinating.

I heart NY.

Silly Season Indeed!

If you’re an Aussie on the ‘tight-ass’ side of life, which we mostly are, then I suggest you stay the hell away from New York around Christmas.

Holiday tipping – is customary, and it’s way way out of control.

In my apartment building alone, just this week, I must tip: the security guard who sleeps at his desk as I struggle to unlock the door to the building, the guy who mops the elevator, the super intendant, the super’s kid who does the gardening and the maintenance man. But how much? A couple of bucks each? Maybe five because you’re feeling generous? No.  Try a minimum of $20 and preference towards $100.

Think about how much you resent paying your hairdresser for a normal cut and dye. Now move to New York and add a 10% tax then a 20% tip on an already pricey service. Now, because ‘tis the season’ you add an extra big Holiday-bonus tip! God knows how much this is, but you can bet it’s around $50 plus.

Needless to say I am ignoring my shabby split ends for another few weeks until the silliness is over.

Also – how do I even do this tipping thing? The men in my building are starting to stare at me expectantly when I see them, and I’m totally unprepared (do they take credit card?). How do you go about slipping strange men loads of money on your way through. I guess I should embrace this New York moment, and make it look as shady as possible. Maybe pull it out of my bra, and give them a wink. Or hand it over, and ask them to please release one hostage. 

Actually, if I can wear dark glasses a hat and very red lipstick, and live out my fantasy - making it look like I’m bribing them to make someone disappear from my life, then the tip will have just paid for itself.

You Don’t Win Friends With Salad

Today I lost half my salad on the floor of a busy shoe store.What does one do when they see their precious lettuce, olive and fetta scattered across the carpet, like a Ken Done creation? They smile graciously, and gently gather it up in their bare hands. Then they go in search of a suitable bin to give it a dignified ending. Finally they subtly lick the salad dressing off their greasy hands and take comfort in the fact that the rest of their salad is still intact, as long as one doesn’t mind eating it out of the plastic bag it has just spilt into.

On Dating the Wrong Guy

Eliza Skinner says it perfectly in her blog post:

“Sometimes you meet someone who fits together with you perfectly, who makes you want to tell secrets and eat popcorn and be a better person. And sometimes you meet someone who makes you feel like you’re slamming your head in a car door, on purpose. You can just feel how self-destructive the relationship is. It feels like the difference between ordering a glass of wine and grabbing a bottle of jager - you just want to get fucked up.”

For the rest go here:   http://www.elizaskinner.net/2008/09/26/the-deal

Relate much? I heart this woman!