Well, you did me proud, my friends. I now have a list as long as my arm of places to get good grub in New York. Granted, I sort of forgot that one can’t spit without hitting a restaurant in New York, so I realize the question was kind of overkill, but still. I appreciate it, and although I won’t be able to hit them all (I only have one stomach and so much time after all), I shall be prepared, much like a culinary boy scout.
Here’s what’s going on with me.
1. I went to another roller derby match. What was notable about this was that after the match (game? match? round?), it was raining, and my friends wanted to go out, and I didn’t go, because it was cold and raining. I have become that person who just wants to go home when it rains, which is the kiss of death if you live in Seattle. I want it on the record (you keep a record, don’t you?) that I went home, but didn’t say it was because of the rain. My streak of not being whiny about weather stands and I want full credit for that.
2. I went to the Nordstrom hosiery department (ha ha, hosiery) and there was a long line at the register. Apparently Sunday was Buy Some Legtubes Day. In front of me was a girl about 14 years old. She was buying Spanx. The Nordstrom worker was a lady, probably about 70, with big hair and Liberace rings on her fingers. This is the conversation I heard.
Liberace: Oh, HONEY. Is this your very first pair of Spanx?
Girl: (quietly) Yes.
Liberace: Let me tell you, you will LOVE THEM. I love mine. They feel like someone is just HOLDING YOU TIGHT. You know what I mean? Ha ha.
Girl: (slowly evaporating into thin air)
Liberace: I think they work best if you just don’t WEAR UNDERWEAR. That’s the best. They feel better on your bottom. Nothing gets BUNCHED UP, you know?
Girl: (bursting into flame)
Liberace: If you DO have to wear underwear though, make sure it’s the silky kind. You may be too young- are you wearing silky ones yet? Or still cottony?
Girl: (shriveling up like a prune)
Liberace: You don’t have to tell me. Just don’t wear underwear. No one will know, honey! I’m not wearing any right now, and you can’t tell, right?
It went on forever. It was like Rowan Atkinson in Love, Actually merged with the grandma in Sixteen Candles.
3. I realized that the last three times I got my haircut, my stylist did not listen to me, and I walked out of there with boring hair each and every time. Thricely. I think three times is enough chances, don’t you? This weekend, I went to a new person, in a fancier salon, and I sat in the chair and for the first 5 minutes, I straight up bossed her. I may or may not have acted like a crazy person. However, I got a good haircut. I think I may have gotten it from instilling fear, but I got it. I am hoping my bossy voice was at least nice-ish, like a certain someone I know.