Thursday, August 31, 2006
This is Where I Long to be, La Isla Bonita
Here I am in my new apartment on Central Park West, enjoying a foot rub from my brilliant man-servant Toto and drinking a bottle of my favorite wine, Sutter Home White Zinfandel (I developed a taste for SHWZ during my week-long training at The Olive Garden in Times Square when I was 18, during which we spent the long leisurely afternoons doing food+wine pairing with various delicacies e.g., lasanga, and I would get super smashed), snorting a few lines of some premium cocaine while my other man-servants toss fine Californian grapes into my eager mouth from vantage points in my luxurious penthouse (like snipers, but with fruit not bullets). Though Bed, Bath and Beyond PROMISED my SHWZ-spouting fountain would be arriving today, it's not here!
PSYCH! or, as i spelled it when people still used that word: SIKE!!
I'm at Haviland's. After a delightful morning of packing and packing and sweeping and packing, we hiked up to my new place to find that my room was not only still occupied, but like--not even anywhere near the layer of reality we know as "about to start packing." It was more like "someone is actively living in this room with no intent to vacate any time in the near future." and also "this someone is Messy McMesserson."
So we put all my stuff in another room, and I guess I'll move in on Saturday when this girl will actually be gone.
LUCKILY one amazing thing happened which is that I found a mattress on craigslist and it was only like, two blocks away.
Then I left my cell phone at the apartment where I picked up the mattress (p.s. me and hav guessed she was a lesbian and she totally answered the door in an HRC shirt! HOLLA!). Which I can't get til Saturday....so basically um--
Hey check this out. right now i'm watching the MTV VMAs. yeah, that's right, i'm 14. i'm drinking Clearly Canadian and eating cheez-its, too.
So I wrote this essay to get my nerve internship 1.5 years ago called "Why Shane is the new Jordan Catalano." And right now, I MUST point out that um, apparently I am pretty much a um--seer? future-teller. Whatever, they are TWINS now! And my essay didn't even say they looked the same it was about their 'tudes. (that's cool-lingo for attitudes)
So anyhow. I have no phone and no apartment and still no boyfriend to carry heavy objects, even though I put out a call last week. But at least I have my dear friend Haviland. Who, I might add, actually helped me carry the mattress two blocks (by then the movers, who did everything while we did nothing, had already left), although she needed to stop for Gatorade and motivational encouragement like in the NY marathon. JK about the Gatorade, though I had some last night. It was FIERCE flavor, and I thought it might help my overall disposition.