reason #32654 they say new yorkers are rude

Today when I was walking to work down 8th ave minding my own business, a woman behind me shouted, "Stop taking up the whole sidewalk, bitch!" When I turned around to see if she was talking to me, she was indeed talking to me. "First you were walking on one side, then you started walking on the other-" I cut her mid-rant. Now I am not usually a gal of few words. When attacked I usually say too much or nothing at all. But I have to say, I think I handled this situation beautifully.

"Bitch?"I asked,, emphasizing the "?" as though to say "honestly, whatever concrete criticism you wanted to make is now completely invalid once you sprung the b-word on an innocent stranger for no good reason."

Apparently it worked.

"It's not about you, it's about me," she said. "It's about me." And she walked ahead, ashamed, never to be seen again.

At first this whole exchange left me upset, but now it makes me a little happy realizing this woman owned up to her actions. That bitch (and she's still a bitch) is on to something

Moving on

I'm surrounded by boxes right now as we move out of my house I've lived in for 22 years. I mean (almost) everyone moves out of the home they grew up in, almost everyone's parents eventuallly sell and move on. But the fact that this move is coinciding almost exactly with the end of my childhood sort of has me even more nostalgic than I would be normally. That and I hate packing.

My brother was able to pack up his room in an hour, about as long as it took my dad to gather this things when he moved out 5.5 years ago. It took me days, over the course of weeks, just because I procrastinated and agonized over every decisions. Reading each journal I wrote five pages in- seeing how much changed and how much stayed the same.Deciding if I should be packing the zilllions of pens One of the hardest decisions-i kid you not- were the Real World: Behind the Scenes books. Eventually, I decided as much as reading about who was the laziest person in RW Chicago was not worth the space in a box.

And yesterday these neighbors I never met came by qith their adorable six year old daughter is going to take my 19 year-old furniture. She's one of those naturally happy children who is going to have a good life, barring any external tragedy. She was SO excited about all the pink furniture she is inheritting. As I handed her every pink mirror and picture frame I could find, her eyes lit up. She got just as excited when I told her she now possessed the pink version of DJ and Stephanie's furniture in Full House (before the redecoration). I didn't mention that unlike the Tanners, we didn't have some random relative come in and redecorate, so my room has been pretty much stuck in time for years. But anyway, it made me happy that this delightful child would get so much joy out of my childhood.


And even though I'll be moving on the an nyc apartment tba, and my mom's moving five minutes away and this is a natural, healthy, moving on moment, it's just weird that in less than a week my house won't be my house anymore

The blackberry lifestyle

So my job gave me a cell phone, which I blogged about forever ago (but probably only 4 posts ago since I'm not much of a blogger anymore). But it was a Zack Morris-esque cell phone and I kind of hated it. I also claimed my first week of work I didn't like being reachable at all times.

What a difference three months makes. I'm all blackberry'd up and I LOVE IT. I originally claimed to my friends on my way up to Saratoga, "It's not like I need a blackberry for my lifestyle" for which I was understandably mocked. It turns out I was wrong. The blackberry fits in PERFECTLY with my lifestyle. If I want to know something, instead of having to wait hours to google something, I can do it INSTANTLY on my blackberry. Instead of having 5 unread messages at any given time I always have zero.

However, the need for a blackberry became clear during my 21 hour trip to Alabama (and 18 hours back) for work (the contents of which I WISH I could blog thorougly about but I would never blog about work ever). But during said trip for undisclosed reason my travel companions and I used my blackberry to 1) play Christmas movie trivia, 2) find a Barnes & Nobles in Athens, Georgia, 3) read about hemphiliac brothers with knives 4) learn our astrological profiles, 5) google image "Cynthia Nixon's girlfriend" to prove a point during a rousing game of kill/marry/fuck. EDIT: How did I forget that I also I wikipedia'd Jena 6 after a man in the Waffle House asked me if I heard of them. I hadn't. Now I have.

And the fact that because of this incessant blackberrying I lost all power in my phone and the other van we were caravanning with couldn't tell us to stop since I was the number they were supposed to contact? So insignificant compared to the hours of fun my blackberry provided me and my travel mates.