You may already know how I like to adopt different personae when I travel, just to pass the time and make things funny and interesting. It’s like that Vegas commercial except I never lie and tell someone I’m a brain doctor or anything. I just carry a big bag, wear heels and hot clothes and sunglasses and walk like you should know who I am. I even had some tourists take my photo in Midway airport last fall.
What you may not know, and I know I’m hardly alone in this, that I like to make up names for myself at Starbucks. Not like McLovin’ or Supergirl or anything like that, but real, plausible names. Like Terri. Or Wanda.
So, last week I went to Starbucks and ordered my usual¹ and gave the barrista a made-up name that made me giggle inside.
Then today I ran in to get my mom a latte, and the girl was marking with her Sharpie on the cup and said, “Kitty, right?”
So, guess that’s my new name at the Starbucks.
Happy New Year.
¹Grande Nonfat Peppermint Mocha, one pump Peppermint, two pumps Chocolate, No Whip, No Sprinkles.
On Xmas eve Jack decided to cut his hair. It was my mother’s fault for leaving the wrapping paper and scissors and tape out, and he could just as easily have decided to disguise himself as a gift, I suppose, but he hacked into his bangs instead. On the cowlick side. So, whatever, I took him to see Vix, who cuts my hair and she gave him the awesomest David Bowie c. 1977 haircut ever.
She also gave me a copy of I Like You: Entertaining Under the Influence by Amy Sedaris. This is a book you should have for the back cover photo alone, not to mention the gobs of info and hilarity inside. Seriously, guys, I want to be invited to a party at Amy’s. I would bring piles of quarters to buy things and also a present for her bunny. I would!
Got up at 3:30 and drove my boys to the airport to visit their dad for a week. Came home SEVEN HOURS LATER and shoveled the sidewalk. Clients have canceled appointments today, so I’m staying in and writing with my spankin’ new Sirius-via-DishNetwork Satellite Radio.
I really dislike the DishNetwork Customer Service people.
I’m not a big fan of the dude who installed my system. I am a big fan of the dude who bought my system.
I was actually more excited about the Amy Sedaris book, though I do like the Sirius channels. Now I am going to listen to them.
Please, let me sleep.
So, with the recent remarks left by commenters about my attitudes regarding Christmas, I felt like just letting you all know, you know, that I don’t hate Christmas. In fact, Christmas makes me sort of gooey and emo inside. I just don’t appreciate when it’s assumed that I am Christian. That’s it, basically.
Also, I really dig the music. I just don’t think it’s necessary for radio stations to start their “all Christmas, all the time” format on October first. The music, though, man.
Last year I linked the video of Bing and Bowie singing The Little Drummer Boy in a post prompted by my choking up while listening to Band Aid’s “Do They Know it’s Christmas?”
So, you know, relax already. And hit play on the next hummayzing thing I’m gonna show you.
Last night the boys and I celebrated by watching the Mary Martin/Cyril Ritchards broadcast version of Peter Pan. On a new TV which doubles as a computer monitor for me, so it’s a space saver and tax-deductible cos I’m a writerly sort who writes writeful things for money.
I hate shopping. But I needed it. But I hate shopping. But can’t someone just bring it over? Ugh, I went to the store at 3PM on a Tuesday to avoid that “going shopping” feeling. It’s pretty, and not hyooge, and it fits in my computer armoire, so I can hide it. Crucial.
I still felt a little ill sticking it into my car yesterday, even though it was way on sale and I even escaped getting sucked into the extended warranty at B*st B*y. The dude who looked like Tracy Morgan from SNL? Totally didn’t get that commission. Because, see, I want you to help me. The worst thing you can do if I walk into your store is leave me alone because I’ll most likely just get overwhelmed and leave. I have questions, dammit! Your job is to be available enough for me to catch your eye when I need advice, and distanced enough to not make me uncomfortable. Like a good waiter. But that guy left me, like, three times and I found someone else to sell me electronics.
I’m feeling a bit better this morning, after setting it up and arranging components.
And now I’ve just figured out how to dim the backlight so my eyes are not accosted by the vast white expanse of Word. Now to work. Latkes tonight.
For all my independence and self-reliance, sometimes I really want to be this girl.