Gotta Love Lists!

no one tagged me with this directly, but Purl and jennafoo did it, so i want to be in their cool club, too.

because tra la la.

except but sometimes i accidentally make things waaaay personal when i least expect to, so sorry for that and feel free to ignore, okay? (clearly i have added this sentence after reading through my answers below.)

TEN random things you might not know about me.

1. i was a redhead for about four months, two years ago. i loved it, but it was too hard to maintain.
   
   
2. i wasn't much into sports growing up (no surprise there) but i did swim on a team during the summers for five years in a row. i was MVP for my age group for 3 of those years. i was strong and fast.
   
   
3. one person i've e-met through my blog is a very fancy-schmancy man who is sort of like an internationally acclaimed journalist. i have no idea why he reads "she walks" but i think it's super cool that he does. (hi, RS! how 'bout we add Moon River to the repertoire?)
   
   
4. i am, despite my dating trials and tribulations over the last few months, a serial monogomist and ridiculously romantic, starting when i was 11 and with my first boyfriend, david. my/our first kiss was on march 2, 1986. i still remember his phone number.
   
   regardless, i realized when i was in college that even though i'd definitely been in love many times, i'd never had my heart broken -- and i secretly wished i would, so that i'd know that kind of human pain. i got my wish.
   
   
5. i like dogs more than cats. i love, Love, LOVE my cats but i am a dog person through and through.
   
   
6. i am writing a novel.
   
   
7. i started college as a pre-med major because i wanted to be a psychiatrist. but then i decided i didn't want to take chemistry ever again, so i went with what i knew -- music. i was a voice major / music composition minor for a whole semester (i grew up singing and took nine years of piano lessons). then i transferred to UCONN and ended up as an english major.
   
   
8. i absolutely adore jerry springer, and i always have. i am completely serious. i listen to him every morning on Air America Radio.
   
   
9. and speaking of politics, i consider myself patriotic. i believe in the Constitution and those tenets associated with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. i am, as you have probably picked up on, rather left-of-center...even though the current US Democratic Party embarrasses me. i cried all day when GWB was re-elected.
   
   
10. i drink my coffee black. i rarely drink vodka. my favorite martini is a hendricks (gin) with a twist, but i will take a manhattan over a martini on most days.
    

NINE places I’ve visited

1. italy. i was two and we were there for a month. i remember nothing except my hot pink raincoat and chasing pigeons.
   
   
2. disneyworld. it's not maybe glamorous, but it was the only "real" vacation spot my family ever visited. we went there as a family with my best friend, emily's family when i was in 2nd grade, 6th grade, 8th grade -- we went in 10th grade but it was just me and emily and her parents -- and then again in my senior year (with both our families). and then i went there with my boyfriend after he graduated college and he proposed to me. (we were featured on the vacation planning videotape because of it.) we went back there on our honeymoon.
   
   i hadn't been there in six years, until two weekends ago. when i went back to celebrate emily's 30th, as a surprise to her (as planned by her adoring, fabulous husband).
   
   
3. kokomo, indiana. don't ask, don't tell.
   
   
4. lafayette, pennsylvania. for band camp. the worst three days of my entire life from a sheerly torturous standpoint.
   
   
5. USNA. i dated a midshipman at the US naval academy when i was in college. visiting him was cool. going to a valentine's day ball there was outstanding.
   
   
6. carnegie hall, for my very talented sister's graduation. i mean, i'd been there for shows, but to be there for a private event? that was special.
   
   
7. nantucket. so new england. so special a place to visit during my summers as a kid. my dad's parents would get a place every august, before it became the world's most expensive and yuppie thing to do. my mom also masterminded a couple additional trips to the island for thanksgivings, which were incredibly special. i was married on nantucket.
   
   
8. minneapolis. my mom's whole family is from in and around there, dontcha know.
   
   
9. new york city at christmastime.
   
   
10. the motel 6 in belmont, CA. i ended up there accidentally. with a comic.
    

EIGHT ways to win my heart

1. be smart, be tuned in, and know what's important.
   
   
2. smile a lot. even if it's just on the inside.
   
   
3. love dogs.
   
   
4. love books and language and words.
   
   
5. appreciate life. i feel grateful for every second i spend on this earth, and enjoy being around others who do, too.
   
   
6. appreciate my family -- those i'm related to by birth and those i'm related to by choice.
   
   
7. make me a drink without asking.
   
   
8. ask me about my mom. (care about my answer.)
   
   
   

SEVEN things I want to do before I die

1. have a book published.
   
   
2. see paris.
   
   
3. raise a child (at least one).
   
   
4. own a home that i love.
   
   
5. have spent more of my life as a size 10 or below than as a size 12 or up.
   
   
6. become a good enough comedian to headline. somewhere.
   
   
7. marry someone i'm completely in love with.
   

SIX things I’m afraid of

1. i am terrified of heights.
   
   
2. i am afraid that people will stop reading my blog because i have become boring, or predictable, or obsolete, or lost my ability to write anything of interest whatsoever.
   
   
3. mediocrity.
   
   
4. my weight.
   
   
5. that any one of the seven things i want to do before i die won't happen.
   
   
6. i am afraid that i will never find The One. that i missed the boat. that it's not meant for me. that i will continue to find amazing men who are, really, great -- but who will end up with someone else...someone better for them than i ever could be. that maybe i'm destined to have a lot of interesting relationships, but.
   
   i am afraid the kind of guy i want -- want to love, want to marry, want to have kids with -- will not want me back in the same way. and that i will end up as Crazy Aunt Kiki, spinster/knitter/cat lady, talking about her latest internet date, for the rest of my life.
   
   

FIVE things I don't like

1. sundays at dusk. it always conjures the sense of the end of weekend, the start of the school (work) week. if i could figure out a way to live my life in such a way as to stop dreading sunday evenings, i'd be a very happy camper.
   
   
2. pickles and olives.
   
   
3. regis philbin.
   
   
4. people who condescend to me.
   
   
5. the way i dressed in middle school. good god almighty, what was i thinking?
   

FOUR ways to turn me off

1. be a bad tipper.
   
   
2. treat me as anything less than beautiful or special. i'm with you because i think you are beautiful and special, and expect the same in return. if you can't do this or don't feel this, leave me alone; i have better things to do with my time.
   
   
3. make fun of something i believe in.
   
   
4. dislike dogs.
   

THREE things I do everyday

1. check email.
   
   
2. wear makeup.
   
   
3. have faith. and often a glass of wine.
   

TWO things that make me happy

1. ignoring that there are only supposed to be two things on this list.
   
   
2. dogs; peppermint stick ice cream; hearing my sister laugh; watching Ish perform; thinking about my mom's smile; Crazy Aunt Purl (hi. blogstalk much?); charlie; ella; my urban family; voicemails from my dad; diamonds (shutup, can't help it); watching bridget jones; french fries; when sherlock plays fetch; memories of the loft i lived in; running 3.5 miles on the elliptical machine last tuesday before work (small physical wins, you know?); finishing a knitting project; sunshine; fog; the girls in my a cappella group; hot tubs; the ocean; fireplaces; unexpected flowers.
   
   

ONE thing on my mind right now

1. how even everyday stuff can seem cool when you're crushing hard on someone. like say, if your boyfriend is on the phone with you RIGHT NOW AS YOU WRITE THIS because he is calling to tell you he has stopped in at walgreens, on the way to your apartment, to pick up TP because you'd forgotten to.

Mmmmm. Warm Guilt.

apparently it is my fault because i do not know how radiators work. but how was i supposed to know how radiators work? i didn't have that class in school. i grew up with like, a thermostat. no one made me fill out a form when i applied for this apartment (or any apartment i've ever lived in) that asked, "do you understand how radiators work?"

so okay. remember how a few weeks ago i woke up to discover that it had rained in my apartment? where by "rained" i mean "super hot steam had blown out of a valve on my radiator and soaked half of my apartment including my entertainment unit"?

well, and then i didn't call my apartment fix-it guy because i am me. and i get weirded out about having a guy come to my apartment when i'm not there. and also i can't have a guy come to my apartment when i'm not there if the apartment isn't at least somewhat clean. and thus, i've had to go a few weeks without heat because i couldn't manage to clean my place. it's really very sad.

but finally i called the guy because man, has it gotten cold! and i called him and he said, basically, that that's what radiators do. and if it spurts water for more than like, 10 minutes, i should be worried. but not otherwise.

so i decided to go home and try and put a wash cloth over the valve for 10 minutes and see if it stopped spurting.

and it did.

which means that ya-huh. because i feared speaking to the man about my radiator in case he'd have to come to my unclean apartment, i went without heat for three weeks despite that the problem was fixable by me in under 5 minutes.

i have issues.

on the other hand, i was feeling pretty stupid about the whole thing until i got home last night and discovered that everyone in the building had been left with a note on their doors.

the note was entitled: RADIATOR DO'S AND DON'TS.

a-HA! i thought. so i'm NOT the only person who missed that day in class!

i mean, obviously this note was delivered for a reason other than my silly phone call to mr. fix-it. and plus, the note had obviously come from someplace special, since it was all typed up and photocopied as opposed to the notes i usually get from my landlady which are always handwritten in phoenetic english and copied through a fax machine on fax paper (high-tech circa 1992).

so the Magical Note from Somewhere was in fact very helpful in explaining Radiator Rules that i had no idea existed.

except i did think the tone was a little...snotty. like, i'm just supposed to KNOW that you can't turn your radiator off while the radiator is warm? i'm just supposed to KNOW that if you DO turn it off while it's still warm that you will force water to collect and spurt and leak and stuff? i'm just supposed to KNOW that the valve has to be all the way open or all the way closed, but not partially on because that will make bad watery things happen, too?

and come ON. who honestly knew that turning your radiator off while it's still warm is why radiators make banging sounds? apparently your radiator does NOT want to be turned off when it's warm and it will yell at you -- BANGBANGBANG -- to tell you so.

so all this time, there was my radiator banging out, "kristy! no! i can't go off now! turn the valve back on! on!!! allll the way!!! or else i will be forced to spit water out at you!"

and yet all i heard was "BANG. BANGBANG. hisssssss. BANG."

which makes me very sad.

because i realized that -- in addition to being oddly scared of my fix-it man, unkempt, unreasonably cold, and just plain radiator-stupid -- i am also a very poor radiator communicator.

******

oh. so guess what i had for breakfast this morning.

a Grande Guilt Latte. with foam.

i thought i could handle it. and i knew i had to try it. because the people i know who have had the eggnog latte have been singing its praises too loud to ignore.

go ahead. ask someone who's tried it. say the words EGGNOG LATTE and see what sort of reaction you get. eyes will glaze over. mouths will hang open. drool will form. "why??? are you going to go get one???" they'll ask, feverishly. "let's go get one! right now!"

and be careful because they are not kidding and will possibly stampede over you on their way to the nearest starbucks or peet's.

anyway, i decided i needed to know. so this morning i headed on over to starbucks and picked up a couple of the eggnog lattes for me and risey.

and? the verdict?

well, pardon my french, but steamy, foamy eggnog mixed with espresso is pretty much hot orgasm in a cup.

HOWEVER. (and of course there has to be a however. remember that part about guilt?) it turns out that even when made all fancy and hot and served in a lidded cup, i cannot avoid the classic eggnog guilt.

you know what i mean. you know the guilt. the guilt that comes from having heard The News (EVERY YEAR since forever because The News LOVES telling you this) that eggnog is the single most fattening substance known to humankind and if you drink it you will immediately gain ten pounds and clog your arteries and go cross-eyed and start limping and heaven forbid you drink eggnog with abandon because then you will simply die a horrible eggnoggity death.

and even though i try and explain to The News (in my head) that it's really okay if i have the occassional eggnog latte because it's only available ONE TIME a year, and it's not like i'm drinking chantico* or something, The News echoes its warnings of eggnog doom and i am left feeling helplessly, hopelessly guilty.

because not only did i DRINK an entire grande-sized cupful of steamed eggnog, i ENJOYED it. and thus feel like i should spend the rest of the day apologizing to The News and my body and God and all that is good and holy and sugarless and fat-free.

and no latte is worth that.




*don't even get me started on the absurdity of this being legal.

Knitting Atrocities, Philosophies, And A Request

maybe "atrocities" is too great a word, but why i continue to pursue knitting projects is somewhat beyond my scope of understanding. i'm not an especially talented knitter. and i have almost no patience for fixing mistakes (a la "i'll bet i can fix that in the next row"). and in the EIGHT MONTHS i've been knitting, i have completed:

• four scarves
• four hats (one that looks ridiculous on me; one that is wonky; one that is a bit large and seal-like; and one that has a reservoir tip and is thusly called The Condom Hat)
• one baby blanket
• one PSP screen cleaner (don't ask)

am i forgetting something? don't think so! how sad is that? sheesh. remember all those projects i've shown you pictures of? the poncho from a hundred years ago? the scarf for Ish? the hat for charlie? the scarf for risey? right. nothing.

and yet because i am me, i have ordered NEW yarn for new projects. uh huh! NEW YARN! and of course, you know what these new project are, right? yes! to make CHRISTMAS presents! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

****
sometimes -- and usually when it seems least fair -- things don't go the way they should. and when un-good things happen, well, what can you do?

we all suffer tragedy and loss and sickness and heartbreak. and it sucks.

so for me, i hang on to hope and humor. i think that's all it boils down to. i mean, if i can find a way to laugh, even when things seem otherwise completely dark, i feel like i'm letting in hope. hope that there will be happiness. hope that things won't always stay dark. acknowledgement that there is always some good to be found in the bad.

i get this sense of humor from my parents, of course.

and i bring this all up now because i do not think that many people would find anything about a colostomy bag funny. but this is why i love my family, and especially my dad.

who, while in the throes of battling cancer, left me the following voicemail from the hospital:

"hey kiki! i think we figured out what you can knit me for
christmas! now, it might be kind of hard to find a pattern..."

so um. if any of you knitters out there also have sense of humor enough to entertain this request, i'd appreciate it. you know, in case ya'll have a pattern for a Colostomy Bag Cozy hanging around. (originally i'd planned to actually start a knit-along, but realized maybe the demand for knitted colostomy bag cozies wouldn't be so great.)

anyway, yes.

i am officially asking that if any one of you is capable, to please send any recommended patterns (i have no idea how you'd go about creating this, by the way) to me at kristysf@gmail.com. or, if you're totally and completely crazy and have no other pressing holiday projects (ha!) and want to maybe MAKE one and mail it to me to give to my dad this Christmas, i could set up a PO box or something.

all in good humor, of course.

The Crazy Is Loose In My Houses

i will admit to feeling ever-so-slightly glamorous when i blog while waiting for a facial mud mask to dry. like, as though i'm doing a very good job of being single and fabulous when i am sitting at my laptop, carrie bradshaw-like, tending to my beauty needs while relying on high-speed internet access.

i should probably fix myself a cosmo and write about boys.

instead, i will tell you some more random stuff.

****
thanksgiving was awesome. my friend did an amazing job of prepping her apartment (including rearranging her furniture) to accommodate the onslaught of about ten of us. and the food was scrumptious and the silly movies were fun to watch and i am, as always, grateful for my urban family.

of course, i miss my family back east as well. and didn't get to spend the day with Ish, either, who had his own family to tend to. holidays are always so tricky like that.

****
on saturday night, i participated in my second open mic (and for the second time, invited no one). it's still awfully terrifying, and i'm still not very good or comfortable. now, okay, sure. no one expects you to be good or comfortable when you start out...but that knowledge does NOT make it any easier to get up on stage. ("oh, it's okay that you're going to suck...")

and oh my goodness. can i just say, for the record, what an interesting bunch of people there are attempting stand-up with me?

watching other newbies can be surreal enough (especially as some of them don't seem to have any sense of why people aren't laughing with them). but getting feedback from them is a whole new dimension in social interaction.

for example.

[context: i ended my 7-minute set with explaining how i'm a mess and telling the mashed potato boob story. (oh yes, i will be using much blog fodder.)]

after the show, a woman i had never seen before came up to me and said, "sweetie, i wanted him to lick the mashed potatoes off you."

um. what?

"i'm sorry?" i asked.

"oh yes. i wanted to hear more. i think your date should try to lick them off you or something. right there in the restaurant. that'd be really funny."

"oh," i said. and then realized that this was to be considered feedback. ohhhh. feedback. ah, yes. duh.

"i'm um, still working this material out," i replied. because what else is there to say without inadvertently launching into a conversation about your breasts with a stranger?

"yeah, i can tell. you'll get there, though." she said. and then she moved in closer to me.

now, before she got to the next part, i was sort of on the fence about this whole feedback thing. i mean, it's nice to hear what people think, right? and also, it's kind of cool that she felt connected to me enough to feel like she knew me. and not only that, but knew me well enough to, i dunno, forgo an actual introduction in favor of telling me that my ex should have licked mashed potatoes off my breasts.

on the other hand, she -- a complete stranger -- thought it perfectly fine to introduce herself by telling me that my ex should have licked mashed potatoes off my breasts.

is that normal in this comedy world? or is that a little bit crazy? i wasn't sure, frankly.

and then there was the next part. wherein she explained with great insistance that astrology explains everything in life. it does! down to the last detail! and you know, it has helped her to understand herself completely. and also the reason i am a mess because neptune is probably running around loose in one of my houses.

fucking neptune.

****
it is my goal to blog every day this week. and to book my plane tickets for christmas. and to order most of my christmas gifts. and to work out three times. and to get my rainforest heater fixed because it is freezing. and order christmas cards. and not fall behind at work.

haha!

My New Favorite Chore

okay. so i have about nine bazillion things to write about and no time and no idea how to get all the thoughts out there without writing 300 pages at a time.

i do like the way Whinger writes her stuff. so taking a page from her book blog, maybe i'll just start throwing things out there till i can spend more time writing things that are um, you know, in some way "constructed."

*************

i have new favorite domestic chore. are you so proud? of course you aren't because you don't know what i'm going to write but you have some idea that whatever it is, it's not going to be a real chore.

and of course, you're right.

because my new favorite "chore" is called "doing laundry." and the way that works is, you gather up all the clothes you've been meaning to wash for five-and-a-half weeks, and then you stuff them in a bag. and then you haul the bag down your three storey walk-up, and then to the corner. and then you cross the street.

now. if you knew where exactly i lived, you'd maybe say here, "but kristy, the laundromat is up the street on the same side as you. where are you going with your laundry bag? are you really THAT directionally impaired?" to which i'd reply, "yes, but that is not why i am crossing the street."

and i would go on to tell you that the dry cleaners across the street has this thing called "wash and fold." and it's really maybe the greatest thing that has ever existed.

because, see, where laundry used to involve spending the better half of a weekend day or an entire week night sorting and lugging and separating and machine-wrangling and quarter-hording and diligent load-watching (to ensure that no one would move your stuff or take your stuff while you're holed up in the world's most depressing building ever constructed), it now involves:

• shoving your clothes into a bag
• walking said bag across the street
• saying to the lovely chinese lady, "wash and fold, please." and also, "sure, wednesday is fine."

and then you hand her your bag and a few days later you return and everything is clean and folded and wrapped in paper and it's completely miraculous.

seriously, i would bring my dishes to a wash and fold if i could.

*************

the girl who doesn't own a grocery volunteered to make the sweet potatoes, the broccoli casserole, the cranberry sauce, a flaky pastry and cheese h'ors d'oeuvre, and a dessert. for 12 people.

this is what the holidays do to me.

actually, i live sort of a double life. mostly the other, darker half stays hidden...but occassionally the other half rears her head, often around this time of year.

someday, when we are ready, i will tell you about her. but in the meantime, just know that the other half is rather frightening. she's the type who doesn't just own one glue gun, but several, in varying sizes. and also maybe a creme brulee torch and a set of ramekins. and an embosser, for making professional stamps. and possibly is also the kind of girl who'd MAKE HER OWN CHRISTMAS WRAPPING PAPER. or buy furniture at flea markets for the purpose of antique-ing them. she may also be the kind of girl who'd have a subscription to martha stewart living and wait with bated breath for it to be delivered each month.

she's the half who hand makes all her own christmas cards.

unfortunately, there's that other half of me -- the one who runs the show. the one who orders take-out instead of buying groceries and who will acknowledge that there ARE hand-made cards, but will not manage to find a way to actually mail them. and so the darker half mostly remains overshadowed, and only pokes through every so often.

like now. to go tend to sweet potatoes.

A Note About Deleting Comments

hey everyone -- i'm just returning from a weekend away (details to follow, of course) and wanted to address something that's come up a bunch lately --

since i made the "i'm going to delete negative comments if i feel like it," i have deleted a total of ONE negative comment, and then apologized for that (i had misinterpreted its meaning). i haven't deleted anything else. not about me, and not to or from other posters here.

i'm not sure how to handle negativity towards/among posters, really.

and again, for the record, anytime you see the words, "This post has been removed by the author" it means the author of the comment has deleted it, not me.

in any case, i'm looking forward to sharing details (fun and joyous) of my brief trip (down memory lane)*!

happy sunday!



*and i also thank serre for coming to my defense (she obviously did so with the best of intentions).

You Guys Move Fast!

this is just a quick little note to say that um, hi. no.

no, ish and i are not gettin' hitched.

no, i am not pregnant.

it has been THREE months, kids. that's like, 30 seconds in boy time. seriously!

no, my stupid "grand announcement" is how much weight i've lost this year*, given that that was supposed to be my main goal and the reason i started this blog.

(you should all totally know by now that any "grand announcement" i'll be making will be anything but...)





*like, you know, practically NONE.

Where Has All The Blogging Gone?

what the hell is wrong with me?

i have about a hundred zillion little stories to write. a bazillion and one thoughts on uh, hi, weight loss as we approach the weight-defying Holiday Season, as well as a grand announcement. (gosh, are you so totally excited?)

and yet here is my blog. mostly barren. bereft of new tales. because what have i been doing instead?

i don't know! working? writing? comedy-ing? dating? i have no idea where the time has gone, but it's slipping away and it's starting to freak me the hell out.

also? you should see my apartment. it's utterly terrifying. i honestly have no idea why men don't leave me more often. seriously, we've passed the point of "oh, her mess is endearing" and entered the disheveled realm of "really? you're okay living like this?" not that ish has said this, of course, but there's no way he's not thinking it. and the truth of the matter is, i am NOT okay living like this.

hey -- let me ask you guys a question. did some time-stealing bandit / wizard / dark overlord / beastly creature thing maybe come in and like, steal about three weeks worth of time from you?

because honestly, i'm ready for it to be halloween in another week or so.

okay. for the record, i have entries in the works about the gym and holidays and weight loss and what bad men say and my Fear of Commitment (aka "boyfriend") and family and all sorts of things like my first OPEN MIC (ohmygodthereisnothingonearthmoreterrifying). so yeah. stay tuned, okay?

or not. regardless, i REALLY have to get to cleaning my apartment now.

Speaking of Darwin

sometimes i think it's as simple as this: i cannot believe in creationism because there is no way i can believe that we have evolved to where we are on purpose and that God's plan actually meant to include such stellar human achievements as the show Trading Spouses: Meet Your New Mommy.

God: oh yeah, totally. i totally created man and woman so that like, you could discover fire and build yourself some civilization and create art and learn science and eventually, with lots of guidance from Me, grow to provide all humankind with silly string and microwave popcorn. yes, that is most definitely My Plan.

sure.

whereas the theory of evolution allows for the idea that nature is messy and not always super efficient and thus has built-in explanations for things that are clearly evolutionarily awry, such as (in particular) the people i have to ride the bus with.

Noodly Appendages

it may or may not come as any sort of shock to you that i'm not so much pro- "intelligent design" because ohmygodpeople.

and when i am feeling especially despondent over our country's "progress" i return to this site, and my faith is restored just a little bit. because if you don't know about Spaghetti Monsterism, you ought to*. it is proven to be as accurate -- if not more so -- than intelligent design, but involves more noodles.

and charts about pirates:



(click for larger)


which makes it practically infallable, you know?


okay. i return now to our regularly scheduled blogging.





*there. i'm telling you what you ought to do. do i sound like a proper zealot yet?

ssssssssssssssssSteam Heat!

for the next two-and-a-half weeks, i have to get myself to work via public transportation (because my darling friend, RiseyP, who usually drives me will be on a fantabulous vacation in japan!).

but this means i have to take the bus (Muni) to the subway (BART) to the shuttle that takes me to my office park.

and THAT, therefore, makes THREE different ways, every morning AND every evening, that i can totally fuck up getting to and from work.

add having to get to the gym before-hand (which i will attempt tomorrow), which will necessitate a FOURTH leg of public transportation, and it's entirely possible you will never see me again. because i am not a savvy public transportation taker.

"hey, where'd kristy go?"

"you know, i have no idea. last i saw her she was getting on the F Market."

"the F Market? but that's nowhere near her apartment OR office..."

and plus public transportation lies. like, just because you are called the 1 California does NOT guarantee that you actually travel on California street. i mean, sure. some of the time you do, but some of the time you don't. and when and why this happens is never clear. (remember this situation?) (scroll down to see it because of weird formatting).

and also? just because you travel on one street in one direction does not mean you will travel on the same street when you're going in the opposite direction.

and ohmygod, please do not even get me started on how you're supposed to know which escalator to take up OR down when travelling underground.

ex: i get off the subway at an underground stop. i need to go up to "Market Street." i look to my right and there is a sign that says, "TO MARKET STREET" and that sign is in front of stairs and so i figure i am going the right way. but then as i head to those stairs, i happen to notice ANOTHER sign, waaaaaaay over in THAT direction, that says, "TO MARKET STREET" and it is ALSO in front of a stairwell.

now i don't know what sort of super humans just KNOW which "TO MARKET STREET" stairs they should take, but i am no such creature. i will think, long and hard about what side of the street i am on (and please. i do not EVER know east or west or north or south; i know "this" side, which means the one i'm on and "that" side, which means the side i am not on but probably need to be). and i will decide and take those stairs and be wrong.

anyway. so without any more exaggeration, here is the hardest part about my commute:

i have absolutely no idea where the Civic Center BART station is.

but kristy, you wonder, surely you have been there before on the other mornings you used public transit to commute. what do you mean you don't know where it is?

well, what i mean is that despite exiting from it on several evenings and even finding my way to it on several mornings including this morning, i really, genuinely have no idea where it is.

i just don't conceptually GET where the station is located. see, it's at this part of the city where like, 900 streets converge and there are all these alleys and statues and diagonal streets and a farmer's market and big buildings.

so from where the buses (any of three lines that i can get on from my apartment) drops me off nearish to the station, i have to figure out how to go from the bus stop to the BART station. and because you can go any of about forty hundred ways to get from BUS STOP A to BART STATION B, i never really know if i'm going the right way. i just basically meander in the direction of "left."

but i do so at a very good clip, because even though i am clueless i am also from the new york area and thus MUST walk as though of COURSE i know where i'm going and don't get in my way because i am very busy and important and sureashell know where the BART station is, duh.

and so sure enough, this morning's adventure left me wandering (faux assuredly) "left" through the farmer's market. and i was completely convinced i was going in the wrongest direction possible because nothing looked familiar -- as, for example, i'd never walked through the farmer's market before (and also? is it a farmer's market if you're selling heating pads and magic scarves? doesn't that just make it a flea market? god, i don't understand anything).

but then i saw a CLUE!

all of a sudden, there was a mass of people walking past me with briefcases and the same sense of assuredness i had (except theirs probably wasn't faked), so i figured a-ha! they must have all just ascended from the BART station! i must be going in the right direction!

you know, like being stranded at sea and suddenly spotting seagulls and realizing you must be getting close to shore.

and lo! there it was. the BA sign. in a place i would have sworn to you was totally NOT the same place i've ever seen it before. but whatever. i got to work on time.

but now that this entry has taken all of my lunch hour, i cannot get into why i titled this post as i did. except i will tell you that i was rather shocked this morning when, on my way out the door, i grabbed my coat and it was all wet.

so was my TV.

so was my entire entertainment unit.

SOAKED.

and i didn't have time to dry it off because i couldn't miss the last shuttle (see how these things are now related?).

but i really had to wonder what on god's green earth had happened in the corner of my livingroom since as far as i could recall, there had not been a thunderstorm in my apartment the night before.

in fact, to my knowledge there has never been so much as a sunshower inside my apartment.

and that is probably because my apartment is, you know, INSIDE.

so i looked up. and no, nothing was coming from the ceiling. no water damaged ceiling or walls.

and then i saw that my heater was not just hissing its usual heat-hiss, but it was actually blowing out steam. and must have been doing so for quite a long time. and apparently The Entire Realm of Science has heard me talking about it because it conspired against me to form an entirely unnecessary demonstration of Water's Various Properties, from evaporation to condensation to precipitation ALL OVER MY LIVING ROOM.

all i could do in the time i had before dashing out the door was turn off the heat, turn off the surge protector/outlet, and hang my soaked netflix envelopes in the bathroom to dry.

did i mention i got to work on time?

I Am (Almost) A Pawn!

so no, not quite. but really almost!

what? you want context?

well fine. for those of you just joining us (all both of you), i have recently-ish* begun dating a comedian. and this has, perhaps ironically, caused me to think way more seriously about a lot of things.

like being funny.

so i ventured to take an intro class in stand-up. (something i'd ALWAYS wanted to do and NEVER come close to having the chutzpah to try.)

and tonight, for our final assignment in this class, we had to perform a 3-4 minute set. on stage. with a mic. for our class/audience.

and oh. my. holy. god.

do you have any idea how terrifying that is? i mean, i knew it was coming. eventually, i was going to have to write material, and perform material, and like, actually go from being in the audience (making snarky comments about how funny everyone isn't) to being on stage myself. because that's what i signed up for. that's what i wanted to see if i could do.

and so i sat there tonight, waiting to go. and it was excrutiating. every doubt i've ever had ran through my head at a rapid pace, and i totally envisioned myself walking out.

but i didn't.

i went.

i got up on stage, and i talked to the audience and i made them laugh (a little) and i didn't trip or throw up or collapse or suck.

i wasn't great, of course. but i did it. and i guess that means i know i can do it again.

so the next step is to sign up for an open mic night. (well, and sure, actually show up for it and go ON when i'm supposed to, but whatever. technicalities.) and then when i have done that?

THEN i can consider myself an official "pawn**."

yay!


*ha.

**"Before there can be Kings or Queens of Comedy, there must be Pawns."