Luckystott

2004-05-21 - 1:55 p.m.

I spent hours knocking around ideas. I got lots going on -- what to write about?

Okay, let�s just throw it on the wall and see what sticks:

1) I am having issues with the new recycling policies in my apartment building.

Before 9-11, we had 3 separate trash bins downstairs in the corner of the courtyard � one for paper goods, one for glass and aluminum, and one for �normal� garbage.

After 9-11, the recycling program stopped. But we still had a �normal� garbage bin.

Now, NYC is doing its recycling thing again. However, we don�t have a �normal� garbage bin downstairs anymore. The management company wants us to use the incinerator chute inside the building that leads down into the basement.

ALL WELL AND GOOD � except the incinerator chute is a only a square foot hole in the wall. You can�t stuff a whole hefty bag in there at once. Which means I have to root thru my garbage every five days or so and put it into smaller grocery bags to put down the shoot.

I am not happy about it. Basically, Miss Princess doesn�t want to touch the garbage twice. It was yucky the first time I threw it away and nothing�s changed about that. Still yucky. Why can�t we just dump our yucky hefty bags in a big bin downstairs like we used to?

Also, my apartment is really close to the chute. I have to listen to people attempt stuffing hefty bags into it at all hours of the day and night. Not happy.

2) My Summer of Fun activities for this weekend (yay!): this includes a birthday party at Carmine�s tonight and a �sanding� party at mi casa on Sunday. It was supposed to be a �painting� party, but upon close inspection�my walls are in awful shape and I am not going to slap paint over the previous poorly executed paint job. I cancelled the original party, but several friends insisted on helping me�so it will be pizza, beer, and sand paper for all.

I am also having a lovely Spa Weekend on Central Park South. I have a very posh friend who is going on a trip and asked me to babysit her cats. So, while I am making a wreck of my own place, I�ll be living in high style at hers. I love staying at her apartment because it is so quiet and she has cable. Saturday is all about watching �Inside The Actor�s Studio� and playing with the cats.

3) Choir. We have a concert in 2 weeks and we are not ready for it. We lost our 2 best sopranos recently � Susie got married/moved away and Rachel had to pull out of the concert last week because of drama at her jobby-job. I have been rehearsing on my own, but last night we had the WORST. REHEARSAL. EVER. We are supposed to have 8 songs memorized. Ha. People don�t even sing the right notes with the music right in front of them, so I don�t know how we are going to pull this off. I need to rehearse more because I know the music pretty well�but then I stand next to someone who is lost and off-key and I can�t hold my own. That�s a problem.

4) That Secretary! Oh. I am sitting next to one of Those Women this week. Personal phone calls. Calls everybody �Love�. Tries to do both our jobs. And the worst thing: Scrutinizes my food. Gah! I don�t know what it IS about administrative assistants. They all have some sort of diet. And this one is really, really interested in my non-diet. Everytime I eat something, she pokes her head into my cubicle and is all, �WHAT ARE YOU EATING?!�

So I tell her.

�Yogurt with blackberries�

�Edamame and spinach foccacia.�

�Peanut butter with apple�

And then.

THEN!

She snarls her upper lip and is all, �Oh.� as if she was saying �Ew�.

This happens, I�m not kidding, like, EVERY TIME I EAT SOMETHING.

And I am sitting here thinking, �What? What IS that? Woman, I can deal with your curiosity�because, whatever, you obviously have issues. But, if you just gotta play Food Police, could you kindly refrain from JUDGEMENT?�

So I eat almond M&M�s and I am a size 8. Get over it.

Yep that�s about it around here. In six hours, I�ll be all tucked in at a booth at Carmine�s, being beautiful with my beautiful friends. I am focusing on that lovely thought right now. I can�t wait.

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