stuff I am desperate (OK, not desperate, but wanting very badly) to find the March 3rd issue of New York Magazine, so that I can read the cover story about Lucy Grealy. I saw it when it was on the newsstand, but I was being penny-pinchy at the time and decided instead that I would wait to read it for free at Barnes and Noble or some such other browse-friendly bookstore. Then I had to go back into the hospital for surgery, and by the time I got out, the issue was nowhere to be found. I've looked in doctors' waiting rooms and salons (where old magazines go to die) but still, no dice. I even went to the library. New York Magazine online won't let me read their precious archived articles without buying a subscription. Hello, if I had a subscription, I wouldn't need to read your crappy mag online anymore, now would I? I felt like I needed a little pick-me-up today, so I went and saw "The Pianist." Movies about the Holocaust always give me the jollies. OK, no, but it was an excellent movie, and it really rounds out the little film project that I started earlier this winter (my self-congratulatory way of explaining why I go to the movies by myself half the time, as opposed to waiting for people to come with me). Really, I hadn't been planning on seeing it, despite all the good reviews, because, come on. Another Holocaust movie? Is the world currently not depressing enough as it is, without finding historical things to get depressed about? But then I watched the Oscars, and how cute was Adrian Brody when he won? He was so surprised, he looked like he was going to faint. And then after he finally managed to stand up, he squealed "Oh my gaaaaahd!" just like a little Jersey girl. That was awesome. He is my new movie star boyfriend. Two annoying things about my theater experience, though. One was that every single person sitting in the row behind me had to get up and visit the restoom or concession stand and some point. Every single person. Accompanied by all the jostling and rustling and "excuse me"s and bumping the back of my seat. Hello, the ghetto is being bombed, and you're running to buy more popcorn. If you know it's going to be a two hour movie, why not eat and relieve yourself beforehand? It's not hard. Second thing is that there was this guy in the back of the theater that kept yawning. And not quietly. That would have been fine, people get tired sometimes, and it was a long movie. But it was the kind of yawn where you put a little voice in it, "EEEEEuuuuuh!" like a stage yawn. You could hear it from twenty feet away. It's triumph of the human spirit onscreen, and here's this guy in the audience yawning. Multiple times. Well, at least I wasn't sitting behind some tall guy with a big hat. Damn you, Abe Lincoln! I had my second wedding dress fitting on Tuesday. It actually went OK, because I got skinny on the bottom, but not as much on the top (which was always scrawny), and the top is where the actual fitting part matters. They did have to give me a new bra, though, since my old one was this crappy number from Victoria's Secret that was all bunchy and such--why do I never learn my lesson with them? Victoria's Secret sucks. Yeah, so they gave me this new bra, that they're actually going to sew into the dress itself, so it won't (their words) "fall off." I don't see why the whole thing won't fall off just because the bra is sewn in, but whatever, that's their department. Also, they had to sew a whole mess of padding into the bra as well. I am lacking in the boobal area. I'm no Queen Latifah. The seamstress was all trying to be nice while looking down the front of my bra and nudging my boobs into place, like, "Don't say that! You have something there!" all the while shoving some total 80's shoulder pad into the cups. But we know the truth. I have no boobs. Any boobs you might see in subsequent wedding photos will be at least 80% foam. Did you see that Senator Moynihan died? I memorized his name for some New York History test back in the day. As per his obit, he died after getting an infection status-post emergency appendectomy. Appendixes unite, take back the night! So that news didn't make me feel great, especially since I'm still having abdominal pain three weeks after surgery. When will it end? Joe, in an effort to make me feel better, pointed out, "Yeah, but he was old." It's true. I'm going to heat up, and subsequently eat, some pasta. Yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy, and I feel like a-loving you. xo Michelle Countdown to the wedding: 31 days |
Thursday . March 27 . 2003 . 9:33pm |
stuff I am desperate (OK, not desperate, but wanting very badly) to find the March 3rd issue of New York Magazine, so that I can read the cover story about Lucy Grealy. I saw it when it was on the newsstand, but I was being penny-pinchy at the time and decided instead that I would wait to read it for free at Barnes and Noble or some such other browse-friendly bookstore. Then I had to go back into the hospital for surgery, and by the time I got out, the issue was nowhere to be found. I've looked in doctors' waiting rooms and salons (where old magazines go to die) but still, no dice. I even went to the library. New York Magazine online won't let me read their precious archived articles without buying a subscription. Hello, if I had a subscription, I wouldn't need to read your crappy mag online anymore, now would I? I felt like I needed a little pick-me-up today, so I went and saw "The Pianist." Movies about the Holocaust always give me the jollies. OK, no, but it was an excellent movie, and it really rounds out the little film project that I started earlier this winter (my self-congratulatory way of explaining why I go to the movies by myself half the time, as opposed to waiting for people to come with me). Really, I hadn't been planning on seeing it, despite all the good reviews, because, come on. Another Holocaust movie? Is the world currently not depressing enough as it is, without finding historical things to get depressed about? But then I watched the Oscars, and how cute was Adrian Brody when he won? He was so surprised, he looked like he was going to faint. And then after he finally managed to stand up, he squealed "Oh my gaaaaahd!" just like a little Jersey girl. That was awesome. He is my new movie star boyfriend. Two annoying things about my theater experience, though. One was that every single person sitting in the row behind me had to get up and visit the restoom or concession stand and some point. Every single person. Accompanied by all the jostling and rustling and "excuse me"s and bumping the back of my seat. Hello, the ghetto is being bombed, and you're running to buy more popcorn. If you know it's going to be a two hour movie, why not eat and relieve yourself beforehand? It's not hard. Second thing is that there was this guy in the back of the theater that kept yawning. And not quietly. That would have been fine, people get tired sometimes, and it was a long movie. But it was the kind of yawn where you put a little voice in it, "EEEEEuuuuuh!" like a stage yawn. You could hear it from twenty feet away. It's triumph of the human spirit onscreen, and here's this guy in the audience yawning. Multiple times. Well, at least I wasn't sitting behind some tall guy with a big hat. Damn you, Abe Lincoln! I had my second wedding dress fitting on Tuesday. It actually went OK, because I got skinny on the bottom, but not as much on the top (which was always scrawny), and the top is where the actual fitting part matters. They did have to give me a new bra, though, since my old one was this crappy number from Victoria's Secret that was all bunchy and such--why do I never learn my lesson with them? Victoria's Secret sucks. Yeah, so they gave me this new bra, that they're actually going to sew into the dress itself, so it won't (their words) "fall off." I don't see why the whole thing won't fall off just because the bra is sewn in, but whatever, that's their department. Also, they had to sew a whole mess of padding into the bra as well. I am lacking in the boobal area. I'm no Queen Latifah. The seamstress was all trying to be nice while looking down the front of my bra and nudging my boobs into place, like, "Don't say that! You have something there!" all the while shoving some total 80's shoulder pad into the cups. But we know the truth. I have no boobs. Any boobs you might see in subsequent wedding photos will be at least 80% foam. Did you see that Senator Moynihan died? I memorized his name for some New York History test back in the day. As per his obit, he died after getting an infection status-post emergency appendectomy. Appendixes unite, take back the night! So that news didn't make me feel great, especially since I'm still having abdominal pain three weeks after surgery. When will it end? Joe, in an effort to make me feel better, pointed out, "Yeah, but he was old." It's true. I'm going to heat up, and subsequently eat, some pasta. Yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy, and I feel like a-loving you. xo Michelle Countdown to the wedding: 31 days |
