tales of a girl in the city

décembre 29, 2004


Dear Mom,

Every time I put on the pajamas you gave me, I feel like Scrooge McDuck in the bedroom scene from "Mickey's Christmas Carol," which--I'm sure--was what you had in mind. I know we both wish there had been a matching flannel nightcap, but we'll just keep our fingers crossed for next year.

Also, thanks for the cat socks. If I had actual cats, I'd want them to be as purple as the ones on the socks you bought me.

Even though I'm glad I wasn't sick this year like last year, a part of me is a teeny bit bummed that you didn't spend the whole weekend tucking me in and reminding me to "Drink Fluids!" Because, on days like today it's nice to know that someone still thinks of me as their little girl.

I love you,



Dear Person Driving Down Greene Street at Approximately 2:15 PM,

It's awesome how loud you keep your music. When you drove past me in your 80's Chevette, with your ghetto blaster booming I thought, "Now that's a man." And I meant it. The way you scorned convention by sinking your money into a super-cool stereo system, rather than doing the obvious thing and having your passenger-side door fixed? Hot. And the duct tape holding that one window together? Raging.

And thanks for whistling. I mean, when you told me you wanted to give me your baby? Well, I've never really told anyone this before, but that's how I always pictured it would be. Some girls want their guy to get down on his knee with flowers and all that stuff. But, me? You hit it on the head. Just drive by me and scream out some form of the word "impregnate," and I'm yours. It'd be an honor to mix our genetic materials. Really.

Anyway, I'm sure all the stuff you said about my pussy was just the kind of sweet talk you use on all the girls. And, with that kind of charm, and such a cool ride, I'm sure you get laid all. The. Time. So you've probably already forgotten about me and our little moment at the crosswalk today. But, I won't forget anytime soon.

Here's to wondering what might have been,


décembre 14, 2004


Late to work this morning, with two hands already full of suitcases and a no coffee.

The homeless man on the subway train asked for spare change, and I thought, meanly, "Why should I?" and then felt so guilty that I gave him two dollars. I wonder if this is how they make most of their money?

When I got to the office just in time to hear my favorite song on the Garden State soundtrack, for a brief moment I wanted to do a run-run-LEAP like we used to do in ballet class. I love that song.

My cell rang. I screened (I always screen) and it was the casting director I met a week ago, asking me to come in "business attire" for a commercial audition. I looked down at my jeans and my Ugg boots and wished I had bothered to wash my hair this morning.

I asked my boss what kind of mood he was in. Turns out, he was in a letting-me-leave-the-office-for-two-hours kind of mood.

Anthony at Banana Republic was very helpful for a salesperson who knew as well as I did that I was borrowing the suit, not buying it.

I felt silly walking into the casting agency carrying a Banana Republic bag full of jeans and Ugg boots.

The girl next to me copied my nervous jiggly foot when the casting director asked us to be agitated on camera. I feel that my nervous jiggly foot was more believable than hers. Bitch.

Right now I feel that I probably should've thrown an Ugg boot at her.

My date last night was A+ in the conversation department. My mind was going so fast after I left him that I dreamt in warp speed.

My date last night was D- in the "will have a future" department. He lives in Los Angeles.

I kept thinking of our conversation all day and biting my lip a little at the things I said that were stupid.

Then I'd feel better, remembering the thing he said about how funny I am.

Then I'd feel stupid again because I'd remember that I did a jumping-jack in the middle of Eighth Avenue.

Right now I'm still feeling stupid about it.

A jumping-jack?


décembre 12, 2004

A Giant Leap

There was some jumping going on in my kitchen just now.

There was a brief cell phone conversation. There was definitely some sassy quipping. A date was made. And afterwards, there was jumping. Much of it.

It has been months since a phone conversation was actually worth defying gravity over.

However, reports that the jumper may also have squealed like a ten year old girl are misleading. A ten year old girl probably would have squealed something other than, "FUCKING finally!!"

Nor would a ten year old have then returned to her couch to finish a bottle of red wine and watch the sex scene in Unfaithful until her roommate came home.


Anyway the important thing is the jumping. And the date.

décembre 04, 2004

Dear New Neighbor

"Jessica" is not a dog name.

décembre 03, 2004

Dirty Pretty Things

There are days when I'm at work, behind my desk, with my naughty little thigh-high secret.

Then there are days when, underneath it all, I'm wearing Kmart underwear and socks like these.

Clearly, the time for The Great Laundry Cleaning of 2004 is upon us.