Fröhliche Halloween, Mein Lieblings! (Or, Would You let Your Kids Take Candy From This Woman?L

Last year for Halloween, I wore my wedding dress and went as a bride. Clever, huh? Yeah. The truth is that I wanted to wear my dirndl, but I may have consumed a bit too much candy since I purchased the frock on eBay in 2001; I looked like an overstuffed bratwurst. Halloween can be scary or gross enough without that.

This year, I decided to suck it up, admit that I'll never be that small again, and have the dress altered. I took it to the tailor. When I came out of the fitting room, I thought his eyes might pop out of his head.

"You are going to pay money to fix this?" he asked, showing the type of Eastern European sensitivity that my bubbe usually does rather than his normal tact that makes him money.

Knowing that it would cost me more to ultimately get a whole new dirndl, which would then likely need to altered anyway, I nodded. He shook his head for a moment, mystified, than said, "OK. It's your money."

I picked up on Tuesday and it fits much better. Plenty of room for Halloween treats before I burst through the seams. It shall be perfect for the two Halloween events that I am looking forward to attending this afternoon.

Happy Halloween!

PS - If you want to read about a trick that the health insurance industry plays on women, check out my post on BlogHer about how money pay more than men for the exact same crappy coverage.

Theo Thursday: Last Call with a New Friend

Theo is a plush animal companion to Suzanne. He wishes he could vote on Tuesday, and is hoping that this is the last protest he needs to launch on behalf of his polar bear brothers. Theo also is grateful to Flo for sending him a protest buddy! If Obama is not in office in January, he knows that his new friend will be critical in helping him bring attention to the plight of the polar bears.

GO OBAMA-BIDEN!

Master of the Stairs

The rain in Spain may fall mainly on the plain, but yesterday morning, the sky opened up in New York City and it rained on the Upper West Side like a mad motherfucker. And it was chilly. I looked outside and thought, "Nah."

Still, I needed to get some sort of exercise, so I suited up and hit the stairs. My building has 15 floors. When I reached 15, panting, shaking, and sweating, I heard the rain falling harder than ever. Looking up, I saw a skylight and another flight of stairs that led to the roof. I climbed to the top, triumphant.

On the way down, my left knee reminded me that climbing real stairs is a lot harder on the joints and knobs than the StairMaster. "Shut the fuck up, you whiner," I told it. "We have work to do." It somewhat complied with my demand, and we tromped back up 16 flights once we hit the bottom.

Other than learning what a fabulous workout I can get for free in my building,* I discovered that people use the landings to store a lot of stuff. On the 3rd floor, there is a broken trampoline with a paper taped to it, reading: "This belongs to #3G." Other landings offered bikes for children of various ages, construction materials, and a map of the world (still depicting the USSR) mounted on posterboard. It is nice to know that there are other hoarders in this building.

*I can't move my calves this morning.

Hot (Chocolate) Job!

When I stepped out of the subway station for my job interview yesterday morning, I felt a rush of excitement. The job is located downtown, which is easy to get to, and full of interesting places to grab a bite. One of the things I miss about my last job is being downtown. (OK, this is the only thing that I miss except for the people.)

Hence I already was tingling when I noticed the cafe next door to the potential job's office building. I stopped. "Oh, I can't take this job no matter what," I sighed. A sandwich board announced that hot chocolate made with Leonidas Belgian chocolates is the house specialty. To make it, they pour steamed milk over the chocolates in the "traditional" manner. Several flavors, like chocolate mint, chocolate orange peel, cinnamon, and chocolate raspberry, are on the menu. At $4.50 for a small, and god knows how many calories (as if melted chocolate in whole milk is not unhealthy enough, each purchase comes with a piece of chocolate, perhaps to help people justify the price to themselves), I can't afford to deal with such temptation four or five days per week.

Gathering my resolve, I went upstairs and had what I think was a good interview. As I left, I mentioned that I might treat myself to a hot chocolate downstairs. "Oh, those are amazing," the receptionist swooned. "Expensive, but worth it as a treat." She had tried the plain chocolate, but was curious about the chocolate mint. I said I would try it, and promised to email her with my thoughts. Minutes later, I was $4.88 poorer and burning my tongue on the creamiest, mintiest hot chocolate that I'd ever ingested.

Oh, I so hope that I get this job.

Does Anybody Really KNow What Time It Is?

Does anybody really care? As I was walking down the street one day, a man came up to me and asked me what of day it was... Wait. That's a song. Sorry.

Last night, as I prepared for several hours of restful (ha, if only) slumber, my alarm clock, which receives signals from outer space (via satellite) to keep the most accurate time possible, read Su 11:15. Right before Husband snuffed the light, I noticed that it said Tu 3:14 AM. Hmmmm... time warp or satellite malfunction? I pressed the reboot button.

While the clock decided if I missed a day or if it was telling me the wrong time, I looked at my watch. It's a blue Flik Flak with little pictures of a witch with pink hair and black cat flying on a broom stick on the band. Not only that, but the hands glow in the dark. (Every time I look at the glowing hands, I cannot help but grin.) Unfortunately, it seemed to indicate that it was after 1:00 AM, which I was pretty sure it was not. Then again, I'm not good at reading watches without numbers, and the digits on the watch do not glow.

Now that it is today, Monday, at 8:35 AM according to my computer (but 8:37 as per Flik Flak), I am relieved. I am heading to an interview for a potentially exciting job in 40 minutes. If the cow howls at the moon on the third Thursday and it is 62 degrees and a leap year, everything will work out great, and I shall be in school, writing a second book about New York, blogging for BlogHer, and gainfully employed with a flex schedule. Probably it will be helpful if my clock gives me an extra hour each day.

Old-ness and New-ness

On Saturday, Husband and I journeyed down to Philadelphia to meet up with Steph for a haunted tour of the old part of town. I invited one of my new friends from school - let's call her Jill - to join us. It is very hard to sufficiently prepare people for the hurricane that is Steph. She met up with us about two hours after we arrived at Reading Terminal Market and stuffed our faces silly with Amish and other goodies.

Steph and I proceeded to horrify Jill with our loud discourse on whether it is more insulting to call someone a "snatchface" or a "cuntface." Steph, Husband, and I agreed that cunt was much worse, although Jill said that in the part of the world in which she grew up, "snatch" was a verboten word. My grandmother believes that "cunt" is a perfectly harmless word, but that "fuck" is an awful word that should never be used. Interesting, isn't it?

Today, another new friend from school - let's call her Vicky - and I went to Jill's to help her paint her very dark gray bedroom an off-white. I noticed that the word "fuck" was used on occasion, but not "snatch" or "cunt." Still, much laughter was laughed.

One common thread through this weekend, beside hanging out with friends, is eating. I ate a lot. I am turning into a real Flabby McFlabberstein. Of course, I would rather be a Flabby McFlabberstein than a Cunty McCunterson, but I should go to the gym more often and stop eating pancakes with peanut butter chips for dinner.

Speaking of Cunty McCunterson, the weekend also reminded me that I have far more comrades at school than enemies, so that makes me happy. To old friends and new!

Cum (on a Cookie) Again

Mar sent this cartoon to me almost two years ago (!), and I think it is as hilarious today as it was on November 3, 2006.