question of the day...

written thursday
for three days we shoved drano down our faucet only after trying in vain to use grandma's trusty science class vinegar and baking soda trick. no dice.
last night the plumber stayed until 11:30pm. no dice.
this morning roto rooter came and dredged up all of this nasty brownness. no dice.

prussia's on suicide watch because she refuses to drink water if it does not trickle from the bathtub tap.

we've been told the original plumber will come back on saturday (2 smelly days from now!). because he had such success the first time.

but apparently now they are going to open up the wall to get to some pipe. i swear this is not my fault. same thing going on next door too.

but all this build up to the punch line.
after we were told it wouldn't be resolved until saturday, jade glanced down at the nasty tub and said,

"....so....i can take a shower now?"

quote of the week

me: did you know that my venus is in virgo?

him: kitty joe! it's far too early in the morning to talk dirty.

with all due respect

maria: "what class did you just come from?"

me: "photographic self portrait. wouldn't be my first choice, but at this point, i'm getting near the end of the list of photography offerings. plus, it's a teacher i've had before and love. i'd take his class even if it was only about....(thinking hard to come up with something ridiculously off-putting)....standing around staring at holes in the ground full of shit.

maria: "my dad teaches that class."

me: "oh, right--archeology!"

fun quote of the week

after nearly being run down by a red mustang, while trying to cross nassau avenue:

emre: fucking mustard!!
me: do you mean mustang?
emre: oh yeah, mustang....

how not to impress your boss: tips #48-51

a random sampling courtesy of one loony butler.

#48
set the fork on the right, knife on the left. continue to do this even after three times being corrected. glare at boss remainder of day.

#49
next time you see boss, before even greeting her, launch immediately into 'conversation' about life aspirations, in spanish. don't bother asking if lily white boss speaks spanish, studied spanish, knows the word for graphic designer en espanol, nor if she cares about your aspirations when she has a room of 300 to set in half hour's time. (let me step out for a moment to explain, dear people, that this is not me being unsympathetic to a language barrier. understand that 'loony butler' in question speaks perfect english, without any accent whatsoever.)

#50
follow up, at least this time in english, asking, "you live in williamsburg, right? i've seen you in the neighborhood." when your puzzled boss who doesn't know you at all asks if you are her neighbor, reply, "no, but i want to be".

#51
now that boss realizes she should just avoid any chance of conversation or eye contact with you, save from firing generic orders like, "please pop and drape the hi-tops on the portico", run behind her quick stride, questioning, "what does it mean?" when she rewords the request, "um, please build the tall cocktail tables on the balcony and place linen on them", confuse and creep her out by insisting, "no, i mean your tatoo!"

fun quote of the week

emre: "can we throw this soap away? where did you get it? it's terrible--so cheap! it doesn't even foam!"

me: "um...you gave it to me for christmas in my stocking."

emre: "oh."

watching my iq skyrocket

what i heard: "excuse me? do you know what block sloan catering is on?"

what i thought: that's interesting--of all the people in this crowd, why ask me about catering? do i reek so much of catering even after two months off? and anyway, who is sloan catering? i thought i knew all of our competition.

what the lady next to me said: "turn right--next block down."

what i thought: that's odd--who knows where catering offices are, especially ones i've never heard of?!"

what i immediately passed: sloan--kettering HOSPITAL. the one i've seen every day for ten years.

oh.

fun quote of the week

distressed me: "we need to put these boxes out on the fire escape for three days in the hot sun (don't ask why!), but the forecast says it will thunderstorm every other day until we die...."

cute-foreign-boyfriend: "maybe we could put one of those plastic things over it. what is it called....a turd?"

laughing me: "a turd? do you mean a tarp?!"

cute-foreign-boyfriend: "oh yeah--not a turd--a tarp. what is a turd, again?"