How Does One Afford A Gym Membership?

Actually, the question is, how does one afford a gym membership AND an apartment AND a car payment AND car insurance AND two cats AND credit card payments AND two school loan payments AND my measley $10-a-month cable AND groceries AND my phone bill AND my payment for my glasses AND my electric bill AND everything else I need to pay to live?

That, my friends, is the question.

Rest in Peace

. . . Hunter Thompson, 67, death by suicide.

I Want Jennifer Gonnerman's Career

Listening to a debut EP from a local guy and sipping my coffee, resenting that I have to work at the restaurant tonight. The DC conference was really inspiring. I am halfway through a book whose author conducted a seminar about "Giving a Voice to the Voiceless." Her name is Jennifer Gonnerman and I am just so intrigued by her dedication to her work. She works for the Village Voice and she's written for the New York Times Magazine and other distinguished publications. The book is called Life on the Outside--it tells the story of Elaine Bartlett, who served 16 years for a first-time offense under the stifling Rockefeller drug laws. It's an interesting read, and I can't imagine the amount of research that went into it. I am in awe.

Off to Washington, D.C.

. . . where they have great mojitos, trendy bars, and a certain man called Dubya. Some of the paper's staff (including me) are off tomorrow morning to attend the AAN (Association of Alternative Newsweeklies) East conference. Lots of lectures, workshops, schmoozing and drinking to be had. Fun!

There is a Man . . .

There is a man outside my window. He's been there every day for about a week. I see his reflection in my computer moniter and I am repeatedly startled. He stands on the scaffolding he built for himself (my office is on the second floor) and chips and drills and picks and prods at the brickwork of the old police building that houses our little paper. Every day. For a week.

Lyric of the Day

From "Nothing Better"

I feel I must interject here; you're getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself with these revisions and gaps in history.
So let me help you remember--I've made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear . . . I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave.

--the Postal Service

Flowers from a Republican

Happy Valentine's Day to all. . . . This year I am a valentine to someone, and he is a valentine to me. And my valentine sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers at work. I usually despise the holiday (too much pressure all around), but flowers are a fantastic gift, and if the reason that I have them is because it happens to be Valentine's Day, then so be it. And . . . if my valentine happens to be a Republican, then so be it.

What my coworker John R. said upon spying my flowers:
“It smells a little flowery in here. But there’s something else. . . something. . . what does the GOP smell like?”

Lyric of the Day

from "Handle With Care"
If I knew there was one more chance to win your heart again, I would do things differently, but what's the use to pretend?
--Traveling Wilburys

Meltdown at KeyBank

Why oh why did I stick with KeyBank all these years? Yes, I admit, it's the closest bank to my house . . . but that is no excuse!! I finally stood up for myself, went down to the bank and screamed "stop charging my account all these crazy $30 fees!" And they did! So I closed out my KeyBank accounts and opened a checking account at SEFCU (our credit union) where they are very nice. They gave me a car loan two years ago when KeyBank laughed in my face at my meager $3000 request. Moral of the story: hooray for me, hooray for SEFCU, down with KeyBank.

Taking Back My Thursday Nights

I have cut my Thursday night shift at the restaurant at which I work for supplemental money. I have worked at a restaurant (this one and another) almost every single Thursday night since I started working at the newspaper three years ago (and of course, for years before). (I've also worked Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights as I've worked at the paper, but in various spurts.) Now I work at the restaurant on Monday nights only. I am thrilled that I don't have to work Thursday nights anymore! I don't even know what to do with myself! I'm sure I'll figure out something. . .

Lyric of the Day

From "Sucker"

You're dirty, lowdown and full of tricks, like a used-car salesman in politics. . . . No one could be better at selling a lemon.
--John Brodeur of the Suggestions

Very Sweet Song

I carried the world on my back
to your front door
but darling you weren't home.
And Amelie
was baking her plum cake
she wakes from her dream state.
Love is pain,
pain is weakness leaving.
Love is weakness
leaving me.
It used to hurt my heart
to breathe your name
but darling
I'd say it anyway.
Cause love is pain,
pain is weakness leaving.
Love is weakness
leaving me.
And whether it's a dance, or a realization
my imagination
or a serenade. . .
between the devil and the deep blue sea,
I'm daydreaming
in Albany.
Love is pain
pain is weakness leaving.
Love is weakness,
leaving me.
--the lovely Laura Boggs

Lyric of the Day

This lyric comes from a song on a new yet-to-be-released album from my friends Jeb and Clayton.

"It takes money to make money; it takes love to make love, honey."
--Hector on Stilts

The Conversation Taking Place in My Office

Rick: A lot of people like the movie Willow.
John R: Real people, Rick?

Creatures of Habit

My morning routine usually includes getting a call at approximately 9:15 from my best gal Miss Kristie (who works at my office). She yells at me that I'm running late and I give her an estimated time of arrival. She waits while I gulp down my tea, drag my ass out of my apartment and have an internal battle whether to drive or walk to work. (This morning I walked.) When I finally arrive, she gives me a dirty look, and we go for a coffee at the corner, and I watch her inhale a cigarette as we chat on the front stoop at our office. Then we yell at each other while we toast bagels in the kitchen. Love that crazy girl.

I Heart the Nice Woman at City Hall

I've been thinking about starting a blog for a while, wondering if I'd keep it up, or if I'd grow weary of a blog's navel-gazing implications. But then, there are some things that happen to you that should simply be shared. For example, today I went for a jaunt down to the much-dreaded traffic office of City Hall to pay for a couple parking tickets (one from last year--$85--and one from two weeks ago when I was double-parked outside my bank--$90) . . . and they reduced both of my tickets to 50 bucks a piece. This act of benevolence makes me very happy. And so begins my blog.