cooking in my underwear

I roll over, and put my arm around him. I kiss the back of his neck. He reaches behind him, and while scratching his butt, he issues a phlegmy grunt. "That's romantic" I mumble. He crawls out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom singing "That's life... that's what all the people say.." And while I chuckle into my pillow, more grunting and hacking is coming through the bathroom door. He shuffles back to bed and curls up beside me, smelling of Vicks VapoRub, and within seconds, I hear him softly snoring. I put my arm around him. I kiss the back of his neck. That's life.

Happy Bastille Day Aaah, le merguez frite et le petanque et le soleil et le vin

Office messenger : I hope I can make it home before the rain tonight. Office moron #1: It's gonna rain? Oh my God! Me: How is it that you're always surprised when you hear that it's gonna rain? Don't you check the weather forecast in the morning? They said it was gonna rain. Office moron #1: I know they said there would be rain. I just didn't think it would really rain. Me (internal dialog): Yes, of course. Those meteorologists have absolutely no idea what they're talking about, so they just make up some random shit in order to make thousands of people tote around umbrellas that they will never use. In the future, I will be sure to consult you before I leave the house so that I can know what the real weather is going to be.

Sorry for the extended absence. I've been in a bit of a funk lately, and I don't know if this is a cause or a symptom of my writers' block. So in the absence of anything even remotely entertaining to submit, I shall instead put forward a complaint: Toilet paper should be installed with the end hanging from the top of the roll, not the bottom, unless you have a cat, or a small child, or both. Anyone who believes otherwise is a savage.

Here's one of our fun, springtime traditions. Our annual pilgrimage to the Cherry Blossom festival, at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Allergies be damned, I wanted SAKE!!!! Let it be known that I paid for this later on with several days of swollen, watery, itchy eyes, and a great deal of wheezing. It was worth it!

So why exactly am I freezing my butt off on the Coney Island boardwalk once again ? I'll tell you why : my sweetie decided to participate in the oh-so-fun Brooklyn Half Marathon . So, being this good soldier that I am, I followed him out the very edge of our fine borough to serve as head cheerleader, documentarian and general support staff. I do have to say that my discomfort was somewhat mitigated by the sight of the massive turnout for this particular race (close to 6000 lunatics in all). I figured that if all these scantily-clad individuals were willing to brave the chill air, it really wansn't my place to complain about my fingers being a little numb. And so, with the blast of the starter's bullhorn, they were off! I proceeded to follow the crowd, on foot, and by train, to cheer on these athletes at various points in the race. And for those of you who would dare sing high praises of the New York City subway system, I am sorry to inform you that the winner of this race m

I don't think there's a way to describe how tired I was when I stumbled home tonight, sleep-deprived from wheezing my way through another night and half-addled from multiple allergy medications. And there's my sweetie, half-asleep on the sofa. No big deal, I say, now I have the bed all to myself. So after a few kisses and a brief cuddle with my honey, I make my way to the bedroom, and find the bed COVERED IN LAUNDRY! And without missing a beat, I nestle in among the piles of Gain-scented cotton and drift off into a fragrant dreamland for the next three hours. It wasn't the first time I've done this, and sadly, it won't be the last.

One of the most valuable lessons I've learned in life is that I should never be envious of others. The wealthy, the talented and the beautiful all have their problems, some more well hidden than others, and you can never be sure what is concealed behind an oh-so-perfect facade. But I can't help but allow a tinge of green to overtake my countenance at the thought of my dear friends the Perruccis, who have quit their jobs and are about to embark on a year-long trip around the world. No, your eyes do not deceive you. One year! Around the world! No bosses! No business suits! No commuting! And to properly circulate the intense feelings of envy among their friends and family, the Perruccis have launched a fabulous website , where we can track their whereabouts and adventures for the next year. However, in spite of our mounting jealousy, my sweetheart and I would like to wish them both safe and happy travels, and a warm welcome wherever they venture.

A red dress! Dramatic? Exciting? Standing out from the crowd? Not when everybody is wearing one! What the hell was going on at the Oscars? The yawn inducing fashion parade leads me to believe that every woman in the place was given the following directive - your dress must be either red or black, it must be either one-shouldered or strapless, and it must have a mermaid-cut skirt. There were very few exceptions to this uniform, and I applaud the women who wore them, good, bad or ugly. Most notably : Marion Cotillard in an exquisite ivory Gaultier gown, Diablo Cody in a dress (and I use that term loosely) made from curtains apparently salvaged from a bordello, and Tilda Swinton in something that looked like it was retrieved from a box under the kitchen sink. But even the ugly dresses earned my respect on Oscar night, simply because they stood out from the mind-numbing procession of 'safe' choices. I've gained a whole new appreciation for the oddball in all of us, and a deep

So you're up late at night clicking through the channels and you come across a movie you've seen maybe fifty times. And you decide to watch it, one more time, all the way to the end. Even thought it's really late, even though you can just record it and watch it later, even though you probably have it on DVD, you've simply got to watch it just one - more - time. Here's my short list, what's yours? The Matrix Reservoir Dogs The Usual Suspects Fight Club So I Married an Axe Murderer* *What? A girl can't be silly every now and then?

A couple of years ago, my sweetie and I attended a Carnival fete with my best friend and her husband. I remember being blissfully happy at that fete. Happy at the prospect of being outside, at night, in the middle of February, wearing a tank top and capris; happy because I was eating and drinking to my heart's content with the knowledge that I would be able to dance off every calorie before the end of the night; happy because I was in a country where the phrase 'wind-chill' was an entirely alien concept; happy because I was among my friends, and rapidly approaching the two days of unbridled revelry that would become Trinidad Carnival 2006. My best friend wasn't having such a good time. She was cranky, for many reasons, some still unknown to me. She was displeased that the DJ was talking too much (I didn't notice), she was upset that the headline act didn't show up (in hindsight, a reasonable grievance, but in my eyes at the time a non-issue), she was quite riled

Have yourself some blackeyed peas and a glass of champagne. 2008 is going to be a very good year!