After the whirlwind cavorting of Tuesday night, which included the train trip home at midnight...and this conversation:
Guy on train with dredlocks and white cane: I DO NOT BLAME GOD FOR MAKING ME BLIND. I AM THANKFUL TO GOD FOR MY SECTION 8 HOUSING AND MY FOOD STAMPS AND THE FOOD PANTRY! I STILL NEED HELP! ANY ONE CAN GET HELP IN THIS CI....
at this point, the guy next to me dressed in all black with Yankee's logos on his clothes said,
"Fuck off dude, can't you see I'm on the phone?"
I'm not sure what was funnier... the breaking in on the rant, or the "...can't you see" part. Either way, I got the giggles.
White Cane man moved down a few seats....
"....TY ISN'T TRYING. I AM STILL ASKING FOR HELP..." his voice trailed off as he deftly moved between cars, something I've yet to try.
Since the terrier had a sleep over at her best friend's house, I sprawled over the bed with no one to hinder me all night long. (What? You were hoping for something different? Again, wrong journal... as if I'd say otherwise even if....kids, don't read this part of Mom's journal), and was wide awake at 7A to gather my things to trek downtown for my holiday in Tribeca.
With all organised here, it really is pretty much a holiday. I've had a couple of errands, the rest of my scripty notes to send to the Film Editor...it's a struggle on some, since I wrote in the dark...and I've played the Lady of the Manor, with food from the streets, a take out and three dogs to keep me company and who fight over who gets to sleep on me at night. Sadly, the pit bull usually wins, so, once I'm settled, I'm pinned down with his head on my shoulder all night long, snoring away.
My friend, C, came over from Brooklyn yesterday, we did the Century 21 thing, and then decided to get Vietnamese food. I did at least, she went for the Noodle Shop. Thankfully, I stuck with my decision for some unpronounceable item with spring rolls and fish sauce. This is said with a smug look for one reason; as she dug to the bottom of her bowl, she found a free garnish... a fried cockroach.
This was not as ewwww as the owner's reaction....a bland look and an offer to make up a fresh meal. Sure, I'll have another try for Noodles and Cockroach, thankyouverymuch. Can you toss in some silverfish, too? Or, is that extra? We aren't talking an itty bitty cockroach either, we are talking something from Men In Black.... and I don't mean it looked like Vincent d'Onofrio. If it had, well... C could have gone back to Brooklyn, and I'd have dealt with the issue alone. *cough*
Today's wanderings brought me back to the bar area, a possible new job working as a P.A. for the shop owner where I had to return things for The Boss, and a Chipolte burrito for my meal. I thought life was almost perfect, when the manager threw in chips and guacamole.
We'd been chatting away, as I'm prone to do with strangers... I'm inept with people I know, strangers I can talk to for hours... and slap bang, free chips and guac.
Home again, dogs thrilled to see me, it's cool inside, I've fruit for dessert, a film to watch, cable on demand, a play to see this weekend, WeatherMan will call later on, an email from someone I admire and respect complimenting me on one of my six sentences.... and I'm blathering away on my journal about me.
After re-reading it, I've realised I'm a boring bit of shite.
Live with it, I do.