Like That New Show on NBC About the Celebs Being Related to Other Dead Famous People

The snow.

It falls.

Thus I have summed up the last 72 hours of uninterrupted news stories on television, in print, and online for the tri-state area. Consider yourself up to speed.

Now I don't know what it is about the news around here but if I were a foreigner visiting this country for the first time and tuned in to the tv for 5 minutes I'd be all, "Are you serious? (With Indonesian accent, of course)". And then my American friend would say, "Ummm, yeah. The weather is kind of a big deal here. I don't know if you've heard of Al Roker, but he's kind of a god". And then me as an Indonesian tourist would go, "Ahhh-haaaa! Bring me to this Al Roker. He must have the answers which I seek". And you see where this is going. You don't? Well, either do I, don't look at me.

Anywhothere, we're all off to see more apartments today, which is right up there with wanting to jab my longest metal utensil into an electric socket while standing in a puddle of water holding a live grenade, but it is necessary. And necessity is the mother of invention. So that makes me... Related to Albert Einstien I'm pretty sure. Need to check the facts on that one, but I'll get back to you.

Have a great Saturday!

In The Criminal Justice System...

I totally forgot to tell you this weird factoid of the day from Monday. Now, with our current living situation, aka living in bfing Egypt*, I rarely have an urge to take public transit. And considering I have always had a hate-hate relationship with the MTA, remember that totally fun transit strike of 2005?, add to that my 2+ hours of subway ride from our old place in Brooklyn to my job in Washington Heights (read: corner of 168th Street and oh-my-gosh-are-you-serious-with-this-commute?), equals I would rather exercise in a bikini in front of my strictly Hasidic rabbi neighbor than take the bus and subway anywhere not medical-emergency necessary. Enough said.

So! When I do actually partake of ye ol' subway, I have the pleasure of treating it like some sort of mass commune with the people of New York City. Cut to this past Monday when I had to jump the 1/B/C trains from W 72nd St. to 42nd and 8th Ave to pickup my cell phone from my friend Carly (whose house we spent the Super Bowl at and I was totally awesome to leave my cell phone there and in no way willing to turn our car around on the way home to go get it, thus requiring me to retrieve it on Monday {holy run-on sentence}) and I'm somewhat in a hurry. As I swipe my metrocard and begin to walk through the turnstile, this "WOMAN" comes barreling, much like a stampeding hippopotamus, through my turnstile. Oh hell no.

And because all I need at this point in my life is a good subway knifing, I push her backwards through the turnstile. Did you hear that?

I.push.a.completely.strange.crazy.person.backwards.through.the.turnstile.

Yeah. I thought that deserved repeating. And, weirdly enough, she lets me, giving little resistance. But once I'm through, she grabs me, drags me off to the side of the entrance and keeps repeating, "Pull over, pull over!" And then, "I'm a cop. What were you doing?" Yeah. Seriously. And then the ex-barreling hippo turned SVU cop says, "Thanks to you someone just got away. I was following someone. If anyone ever pushes you like that, they're a cop, and get out of their way". And she just walks off as I mumble some sort of apologetic trailed off sentence.

Now, you tell me, was she for real? Because that sounds pretty f-ing made up. And I consider myself somewhat of an expert in the area.

*Wow, two references to Egypt in 1 week. Did a buzzer go off somewhere or something?

Notes to Samantha Brown

(Excerpt from my drunken email to Samantha Brown last night.)

Congratulations on 10 years of amazing travels on the travel channel!...Letmegetstraighttothepoint,Iamnotoneforverbosityorbeatingaroundthebush.Iwouldlovetoanchoranewprojecthighlightingtravelaroundtheglobewithatoddler.MyhusbandandIarecurrentlyNewYorkers,originallyhighschoolsweetheartsfromColumbus,Ohio,onthebrinkofconcuringourgreatestambitions,withourmostimportantaudienceintow,our18montholdson,Griffin.Callmeanytime,IhaveincredibledreamsofhoppingthemetroinCairo,andhikingtheapalachiantrail.

And no, I am not kidding. You may notice a little something off from my regular literary prose, which may or may not be related to the fact that Griffin ripped off my space bar yesterday and in my haste to tell Samantha my ingenious and highly profitable idea, I had no time to fix it. Also? Why I chose riding the Metro in Egypt and hiking the misspelled "Apalachian" Trail as exciting travels to entice Samantha with, I cannot explain at this point in time. Only to say that those would in fact be badass, or children-services-call, things to do with an 18 month old.

Part of me thinks I should leave it as is before sending it to the Travel Channel. And if they aren't open-minded enough to think I am television-worthy, then I don't want to work for them anyway. I mean, if they hired that fat guy to eat the world's most disgusting food, I've got to at least have a shot, right?

If not, I'll just start my own show with Anthony Bourdain... Now there's a guy who would love my show. I'm positive it would make his Tivo.

Don't Tell Me This Means I've Finally Grown Up

Another chapter from our trip home was not-so-fantastic and involved the one where you tell your family that you were just kidding about moving home this summer after 4+ years in a far, far away land called New York City, and that in reality you were going to stay in the far, far away land for another 2-ish years, only nobody likes that kind of story so turns out they are not going to give you the Caldecott Medal for that one...

Unfortunately, thus is the story of Grant, Griffin, and my situation as of late and it's been a roller coaster of emotional breakdowns, awkward silences, and several pig latin cuss words (which incidentally detracts a bit from the point of cuss words). All I can say in a nutshell is that life is not linear, and when curves come you have to either be ready to take the turn or end up lieing in a ditch somewhere bitching about your bad luck while everyone else passes you by.

Though many would see this as a story of compromise, I see it as a story of trust. Trust that your spouse is truly your partner in life, whose goal it is to see to it that you accomplish the most you possibly can in your life, both spiritually and concretely, regardless of his/her personal ambitions, and trusting that you will do the same for him/her, thereby ensuring each of your happiness and fulfillment will always be at the forefront of your relationship together. It's also a story of trust from your family. That the person you chose to spend the rest of your life in partnership with will always do what's best for you, so that they can rest assured you are being loved as much as is humanly possible.

And somehow, this little algorithm of mine makes life's speedbumps seem a bit more manageable.

Here's One for Ortho Tri Cyclen

Call me crazy, but I think my OB is trying to send me subliminal messages. I mean, it's not that crazy considering those people who think they were abducted by ufo's, but you know... If I constantly compared myself to those people I'd end up digging for unicorn caves in the Indian Ocean. (I'm just saying.)

So anyway, I saw my doc this week and she asked tons of questions per usual including the ever-popular "What are you using for birth control?" To which I replied, "Condoms". To which she replied with a blank stare and nervous little cough. Now, maybe I'm being oversensitive, or maybe it's the fact that she delivers, oh maybe 236 babies a day for her living, but I definitely picked up on some negative vibes after this exchange.

Yada, yada, yada and just as she was getting ready to leave she quickly asked, "And what method of birth control are you using?"

....

Now, I have an intensely invigorating and quasi-intellectual position for my hospital and consider myself somewhat medically educated. But all that aside, I think she's debating between telling me that my choice of contraception is not actually considered birth control or if she should just go ahead and schedule my next visit in a month to see how far along I am.

Lady. Understand this. I have an 18 month old cross between the Tasmanian Devil and a fire hose who still routinely wakes up screaming for me at 4:30am. That's the best birth control there is.