Memory is a Bitch

In 1990, I was a senior in highschool and had just moved to San Francisco. My father had a furnished businessman's apartment on Nob Hill (Snob Hill) and I stayed with him until our house in Marin County was ready.

During the day, I'd walk up and down the hills of the San Francisco financial district. One day, I bought a used paperback book and read it. The only thing I remembered about the book was that the main character ends up walking into a river at the end. I wrote about it in my diary and likened myself to the character.

All these years, I'd think about that book--the title and author of which I couldn't remember. It killed me I couldn't remember. Then, yesterday, while leaving the Astor Place Six station on my way to work, I thought, "Danny Deck." That was what I thought the main character's name was.

Sure enough, I just googled it and it was a book by Larry McMurtry titled All My Friends Will Be Strangers. But what frightens me is that I knew that name for all these many years but didn't know I knew it.

Like a necklace lost in the folds of a purse, it had been with me the whole time.

What is better than a rainstorm?

I love rain storms. When I lived in San Francisco, it was very rare to get any thunder and lightning. I missed the big, house-shaking storms of my youth in Illinois. Now I'm in New York and there's nothing better than being inside during one of these. I love when the temperature drops about ten or fifteen degrees and the wind picks up. Newspapers start blowing around. Grit gets in the eye. Then there are the first initial drops and a crack of thunder. If I'm lucky I get to watch this from a window. If not, it's time to run to the deli and beg for a couple plastic bags to wrap my purse in as I walk home from the subway train.

Sorry no joke. I really do love rain storms.

Baking Cookies

Sorry I've been such a bad blogger. I've had this freelance gig where I'm on site. My project is like someone gave me a batch of cookies to bake: once the cookies are made, the job is over. If the boss walked in and saw me smoking cigarettes while watching The Tyra Banks Show, I'd be fired.

So if the boss walks in and sees me blogging that means one of two things: the job is over or I'm goofing off. I gotta shuck and jive for the man. I can't wait until I get a real job; I gotta catch up on all those hair and make up tips.

Glad I'm Not Flying Today

No ipod and no in-flight shampoo make Maulleigh go something something.

Crazy?

Don't Mind if I do!!

Oprah A-Ha Moment

I came home last night and found two complete strangers camped out on the living room floor. The 15-year-old girl introduced herself as the little sister of my roommate; she then introduced me to her 19-year-old husband who was SMOKIN HOT in a young dumb jarhead kind of way. They were cavorting and laughing and cute as hell in their "we're in love and from the South!" kind of way. (I give them a year).

I excused myself to go to my room with my tatting, my book of common prayer and my cold cold spinster bed.

When I went to brush my teeth, one of them had taken my pump soap from the shower and had evidently been using it.

It was then that I knew what I'd always suspected: I hate to share.

***Update: came home from CT and my New York Times had been broken into and was on the floor of my room. Behind my closed door. A door with a sticky note on it saying "Please just leave my New York times for me. Thank you!" I want to read the New York Times now about as much as I want to be guy 26 in a gang bang.

I talked to my sister and she said to "let it go" so I will; but I won't enjoy it. On the other hand, I just saw a low-flying chevron of Canadian Geese right outside my window.

What would you rather do?

For a whole year, you can either:

eat whatever food the Duane Reade offers (no take out, no restaurant meals, no grocery shopping) or

read whatever books the Duane Reade offers (does not include magazines and newspapers. Only the pulp bestsellers or diet and vitamin books near the pharmacy).

How to Be an Asshole

Use your car horn as a doorbell.

Wanna be a bigger asshole? Do it before six a.m.

Wanna be the biggest asshole on the block? Do it every day.

Train a Dog to Bark

Every time the dog barks, pet it and shush it to get it to be quiet. Then, sit back and enjoy years and years and years of incessant noise.

Only One On The Train

Someday, when I get to Heaven, St. Peter will show me a movie of my life. He'll show me my favorite day on Earth; it will be when I got the air-conditioned subway car all to myself.

Followed in quick succession by:

my wedding day

the birth of my children and

the final day of my divorce.

Living in Nevada is Easier

One of the best things about living in California was when I filled out online address forms, all I had to do was hit the letter C when I got to the state selection. California (CA) was the first state that popped up.

Now that I live in New York--and I get to the state selection--I hit the N key and the first state that pops up is Nevada. I have to take my right hand off the keyboard and place it on the mouse where I have to scroll down and select NY.

I'm calling Hillary.

Update: Nebraska is actually the first in the pull down menu. The whole state is full of lazy sacks of sh*t.

Unkink the Hose

I hate it when I have a soda and then when it comes time for my subway stop, I stand up and burp so powerfully and unexpectedly that it burns my nose and makes my eyes water.

Super Friendly People

I live with the two friendliest people on the planet Earth. You might say, "But Maulleigh, I know that Delta flight attendant who drove me from one terminal to another...and then there was that woman...Mother Theresa..."

No, not as friendly. I'm living with two of the nicest, most outgoing women. They make an effort to say good morning to me in the morning, and say goodnight to me before they go to bed. They offer me their food. The roommate who works at Starbucks is allotted one bag of beans a week and is giving me the beans. When I was hot in my room, she set up an elaborate fan system to cool me off. The other just gave me her business card in the kitchen and told me to forward documents to her at work so she could print them out at work for me.

Friendly people make me nervous: mainly, because I'm one of them. I know what and how they think. They give everyone the benefit of the doubt right up front, but anything any little thing and they'll turn on you. There's only one direction from here and it's down. I wonder how I'll fuck up.

Because I will fuck it up. And we'll all go to silent nods, whispers and nasty notes left in the kitchen.

Kinda Depressed Today

I'm now in the Bronx on the last stop on the 6 train. Last night, it took me 76 minutes (turnstile to turnstile) to get home. I really took the tunaville trolley. Why do trains seemingly go slower at night? I noticed that. At six o'clock, we just zipped a long.

So that's bumming me out. I'm living in an old house with few electrical outlets and no basic cable television. I feel like I'm living with Patty and Selma and their tongue sandwiches.

Here's what's good about the place:

1. Starbucks beans (one of the roommates works at Starbucks)
   
2. A bevy of unsecured wireless connections in the neighborhood. I'd be lost without them. Lost.
   
3. A great showerhead that I can take off the thinger and get everything clean. At the old place, it just stood over me and whined.

I know that I'm bummed out just because of the change of scenery. People get depressed when their surroundings and routine changes. It's a fact.

I have to go into Manhattan today and now I have to plan everything well in advance. There's no going back and forth. That shit ain't happening.

Mad Interviewing Skillz

I posted this in 2006. I have no idea what company it was with.

Just got back from a meeting with HR woman at X company. Evidently, this will be a LOOOOONNNNNNGGGGGGGG drawn-out process--if I even do get the job. If I go to the next level, I'll probably meet with more people: one at a time so I have to keep going back wearing different outfits.

Then, it will be put on hold for awhile.

The HR woman just kept stressing how bad it was that I'd moved around so much. I was more confident with my answers this time than I was on the phone. At the end, I think I "moved" her a bit so I hope she goes to bat for me with the higher ups.

I was honest without being brutally honest: I told her about my one-two punch of the dot-com bust and then 9/11 where I lost two jobs within a year of each other. I told her I basically temped outside my field the whole time I was in California (for "family" reasons).

Well, it's God's plan not mine. All I can do is row: he's the one steering.

Unemployment

I'm unemployed and it sucks. It sucks because I've had a lot of job turnover. I can see employers' eyes shut down as I try to shuck and jive my way into his or her good graces.

I want to go back to bed. I want my friend to buy me muffins and pat my back while I cry into my coffee.

I'm sure they're sick of listening to me.

Your Trip To Thailand

Don't try to fool me with your love for the cuisine and sights.

David Blaine Wants You To Read A Book

David Blaine, the d-bag, d-list "celebrity", wants you to read a book this summer.

There was no one else that the New York Public Library could get to help endorse this cause? No Norman Mailer? Not even a James Frey?

Somewhere, Kaavya Viswanathan is crying softly into her hands.

Why I Love New York City Reason #062306

Tonight, while walking back to the West 4th street station, I asked the friend I was with, "How much do you want to get back home?"

"Not too much? Why?"

I asked him if he'd like to take a walk around the village and he said sure. So we walked down West 3rd street until we got to the Comedy Village (nee Boston Comedy Club).

An old comedy buddy of mine was standing out front. After saying our hellos, he snuck me and my friend in to the club for free.

Who should be up next? Dave Atell.

I love New York City so much.

I Hate This Blog

It's like a whiney little baby. "What are you going to write about today?"

NOTHING MUTHERF*CKER!!

Computers Make Me Mental

My itunes has stopped recognizing my ipod about 50% of the time. I now have to re-start my computer if I want to to recognize it and then it's iffy. Thanks to the new Microsoft operating system, it's not supposed to crash anymore. I never have to re-start my computer.

I've re-started my computer at least five times in the last two days. I hate this shit. It all happens at once.

Here's some other bothersome things:

My avant browser will not accept a new homepage other than the dumb Hewlett Packard one. No matter how many times I re-program it in options and preferences, it thinks for a second and then says, "Um...no." So I programmed it to just go to a blank page: which is bothersome but not as much.

When I go to adjust time/date it doesn't find the New York Eastern time zone. I've clicked everything in the vicinity: no dice. I have to manually do it. I hate manually doing things. I should just be able to click on the time zone and have it take care of everything. No, I'm not just a dumb girl: something is wrong and no one will help me with this!

My screensaver will not turn on. I have a lot of photographs and my photo screensaver in XP won't start. My computer just sits there like a mentally challenged youth; churning away and happy as can be. Doesn't get bored; doesn't shut off. I've changed the desktop preferences thousands of times. Once again, no dice.