My legs hurt real bad.

A couple Fridays ago I swallowed my pride and committed my evening to standing in line for the new iPhone. A slave to aesthetic and enticed even more by the incredible demand of it all, I had to have it, but passed by the lines and vowed I would not stand in one. There were better ways to spend my valuable time. But from a raw "needs" perspective, my shit Razr was on its last legs and soon I was to be without phone. Sure I could have selected any number of phones as my next purchase, but don't be ridiculous. I'm a Scorpio and I'm totally stubborn. 

As I walked over to the 5th Avenue Apple store after work, I wondered if I really knew what I was getting myself into. I had a bottle of water. A book. An iPod. Essential things to occupy and hopefully expedite time. I queued up. Estimated wait according to the friendly, apathetic Mac dude: 4 1/2 hours. Here we go.

My iPod had a good run. And the post-work people watching was very enjoyable. But I can't read a book standing up and soon my wandering mind was bored. This was hour 2. Luckily the guys behind me were equally bored. We started talking. We became buddies. I never got their names, but for the next two and a half hours we were the most animated part of the line. There were four of them plus me, all strangers. I gave them advice on the ladies, they traded secrets on dudes. We bitched about the economy. About MTA. About what we'd say to Bloomberg if we ever came across him. How to know what theaters will show Batman in IMAX. How to get the food cart guy to walk over a $2 can of Diet Coke so we don't have to move. Realize that the $2 can smells like garbage. Stuff like that. 

Once I struck up my newfound friendships, the line passed by faster than ever. We never formally introduced ourselves or exchange numbers and make bullshit plans to hang out again soon. No way. We knew we were all using each other in pursuit of a common goal. We were all we needed to get by and I don't think any of us could have been more thankful for the company. 

Brooklyn is neat.

The past weekend opened my eyes to what New York has to offer in the summertime. Each day well above 90 degrees, it was hard to walk out my door and not start to sweat at the first blink of an eye. I really must invest in more dresses. 

On the plus, this weather gave me a glimpse at what people do here to combat the heat. Yes, mostly we sit inside directly in front of an air conditioner, palms out, eyes closed, relinquishing all control to the mighty god that will provide cool and stop stop stop the sweating for five minutes, at least. 

But I did things too. Friday night I snuck into McCarren Park Pool in Brooklyn to see M.I.A. And it was awesome. Awesome because tickets were over $4o and I saw the same show for free. Saturday I met friends in Central Park to watch Euro Cup. Then trekked out on the L train and BBQ'd in Brooklyn. Watched the Belmont. Played frisbee in a Williamsburg park. Got some awesome Cherry Cola italian ice. Arrived back in Manhattan, tired, only to sleep the best I have in quite some time.

My shoulders may be atomic pink, but I've experienced the first glimpse of summer in this sweltering city. And it's fun. So I look forward for what's to come. 

Looks like rain.

During my walk home from the gym tonight a man started walking behind me right around the Bowery. Not caring enough to turn around to look for myself but fully glued to what was going on, I deducted he was having the most amazing conversation with whomever he was speaking to on the phone--he was laughing and joking and I suspect making grandiose hand gestures. It was intense. 

My curiosity piqued. I had had enough. I needed to know what he looks like. He was just that entertaining. Was he a young professional on his way home from work as well? I turned around. He was older. And talking to an umbrella. We made eye contact. He smiled, laughed and continued on with the discussion. I smiled right back at him. 

Hey, whatever works, right?

The first visitor.

My mom came to stay with me this weekend. 

It was her Christmas present. I am kind of an awesome daughter. 

When she first got there, the sight of her stuff clogging up my cozy bathroom and bedroom and closet and floors was unnerving to my inner neat freak. 

Now that it's all packed up and gone, I wish it was still around.

To Lulu.

I got a letter from the place where I used to get my hair did back home today informing me that my stylist passed away unexpectedly a week ago. Ridiculous. Shocking. Untrue. Unfair! Not someone like her. 

I knew within the first five seconds of meeting Lulu that we were going to click. We got along effortlessly. We talked about everything. Swapped unrequited love stories. Shared favorite music. Swore like sailors. She was unbelievably cool and infectiously energetic. She became my friend. And she was only 22. 

This one's for you, Lulu. You are missed. 

Neighbors.

I recently met my new neighbors. This past Tuesday at 1:30 AM, I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of drunk girls screaming. Loud, high-pitched "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO's!!!". The kind of shrieks you left behind at college once that diploma was in your hand. Or rather, the kind you never chose to emit because it's obnoxious and unflattering. 

This wasn't coming from inside my building--from the girls next door who walk around like horses--no. It was coming five stories below my bedroom window.

My friends, allow me to introduce you to Boss Tweed's: http://www.bosstweeds.com/

A sad homage to an even sadder historical figure, this is my unfortunate neighbor. Buffalo wings. Flip cup. Beer garden open 'till 4 AM every day. Beer garden below my bedroom window. 

Please, do not let this dissuade you from your impending visits. All of you. Are visiting. Me. Because that's what friends do and I like visitors who are friends. Maybe we can create a dumbwaiter and get some free beverages out of the whole situation. Just be sure to pack some goddamn ear plugs. 

I'm new.

Not long ago, at my first meeting of my new job with a certain chocolatey candy company, I used the phrase "ride the chocolate train" during our presentation to describe some creative influences for why we came up with what we did. Do not ask me for more context. It just sort of slipped out--I was babbling nervously, like you do as an account person, albeit a new one at that. There was a brief moment where I didn't think anyone noticed. I was safe! But sure enough a hearty guffaw was emitted from my tall, attractive african-american account counterpart, D. The room erupted. Presentation delayed five minutes while they all caught their breath. I had made an impression, at least?  

From that point forward, I vowed to remain conscious of any opportunity where "riding chocolate trains" could word vomit from my lexicon. I was doing very good. Until today. Until I did it again. Right outside D's office. On my way to the magical closet filled with candy and chocolate that he just happens to sit by.    

Sonofabitch.