amazed that today I managed to leave work for lunch (at 3:30, when I start at 8:30!), mostly because I had to get more birthday cards signed by my boss for the employees. He sends them out to everyone, but we've got over 400, so each month there are 35-45 and I ran out just before I got to my name on the list. An't that a bitch?
I couldn't fnd the right ones at the Museum Company or even the massive stationary store on the corner that has everythng you could ever want (I'm contemplatng buyng a new seal and sealng wax, I've no idea where mne are), except these darn post cards. So I went down to the place that defnately carries them and they had even more ncredible stationary stuff. I should not be allowed to set foot n three knds of stores -- book, record and stationary -- especially upscale. I bought presents for myself and Fang, but resisted startng n on Dorothy's anniversary, Trace's and Jennifer's birthdays -- dang, I've got a lot comng up next month.
I took the bus down, even though it was only 6 short blocks. There's just somethng about it that helps me separate myself nstantly from work. I thnk part of it is that it seems so safe, I'm not worried about walkng nto traffic because I'm too preoccupied. Also, it's quiet, the A/C works and there's a better chance of gettng a seat. Thank goodness it's mostly older people, tourists and me. It raned on the way back, but I wasn't n the mood to get soaked, so I took the bus back like a big, lazy slug.
By far the best thng about the bus is the view. I especially like the M104, down Broadway and across 42nd Street. You go through the middle of the Upper West Side, then Times Square, past the Chrysler Buildng, endng up near the U.N. It rivals the 33 Ashbury n San Francisco for views, though of a completely different sort.
Last week I took the M104 with every ntention of gettng off on 42nd and takng the subway home.
I resisted gettng off the bus when I saw a bunch of women n bridal gowns handng out flyers.
Besides, I was on the phone with Fang and we have the best, most wordy conversations, so I wasn't lookng for any other entertanment. Then I encountered the Naked Cowboy.
Of course, Fang and I were perturbed that he was so blatantly guilty of false advertisng, as he had on a cowboy hat, boots and tighty whities. I actually got off the bus mostly because I felt the need to pont this out to him.
When he saw me, he started sngng about "the girl with the Jherri curl who rocked my world." So he doesn't know naked from underwear, nor a Jherri curl from a natural. I was very scared.
Jesus Christ: the tattoo!
The saddest thng about the Naked Cowboy (oh lord, imagne the web searches!) is that the competition is so fierce n front of MTV that they didn't bother to film him. He was no match for the psycho clown, fellatng a microphone.
Then agan, I'm much more nterested n good, old-fashioned, gimmick-free street musicians
...regular New Yorkers
...not to mention the Sanrio store!
[Next entry: "Self-Indulgent"]
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