Tunnel. Light. (I hope)
It has been a loooooooooooooong few weeks. I have been traveling a ton; work has been really hectic and stressful; this morning I awoke in my D.C. hotel room (in which I have an exercise bike! I am living large, baby) at 4:45 a.m., completely confused about my whereabouts. I first thought I was at home, and didn't know where the Smelmooo and Tucker were; then I thought I was in Miami (where I spent about 20 hours this weekend for work). By the time I realized where I actually was, I was completely awake. So I'm tired, almost to the point of being delirious.
On the bright side, though, it's almost over. I head home tomorrow night, and then I don't have work travel until next month, and my first big deal gig in my new job will be behind me (I'm two-thirds of the way through it now, and so far, so good). I have to do a quick presentation as part of a panel on Thursday, but I'm so grateful to be going back to NJ that I don't even care that I have to be "on" when all I want is to take a mental health day, spending the whole day in my pink yoga pants, eating ice cream from the carton and watching bad TV. I believe firmly that I'll have some opportunity for that during Thanksgiving weekend.
My parents took a trip to D.C. last month, and my mom became totally obsessed with a restaurant near the Hill, right near where I'm staying this week. She told me about five times how I have to go to this restaurant, since I'm in D.C. so much for my new job. And I went there for dinner last night -- my co-worker even suggested it; I sort of "uh-huh"'d my mom a bunch, but I wasn't actually planning to make an effort to go to this restaurant -- and realized I'd been there at least twice before, and it was a fine place. Good, solid food; good service; nice atmosphere. Nothing earth-shattering, but a fine place. I called my mom when I got back to my hotel room, and started out with a sing-song, "Gueeeessssss where Iiiiiiiiiiiii went to din-ner tonight!?!?!?!?!" and I could hear over the phone how excited she was that I'd taken her recommendation. I didn't admit I'd eaten there before -- some things are better left unsaid.
In Miami this weekend, I was apparently sending out young, hip vibes. I had to go to a black-tie reception and gala in the late afternoon, and all these hotel staff acknowledged me and asked where I was going. And, without exception, they said, "Oh, no! You should be going to South Beach!" In the middle of a seemingly endless awards ceremony at the gala, my boss told me it was fine for me to duck out; another bigwig at our table chimed in, "Yes! Shouldn't you be at South Beach or something?" Clearly, I'm misunderstood, because I would so not fit in with the South Beach scene, and all I wanted was to go home and go to sleep. When I finally got back to my hotel room at the ungodly hour of 11:10 p.m., my room key didn't work, and I nearly cried. I hopped back on the elevator, and a woman from Scotland remarked, "Oh, you look so pretty! Are you going somewhere special?!" Which was lovely of her, and it was lovely of everyone to suggest that I'm fun enough to rock out at South Beach, but really? Just want to go to bed. Really. I'm a big fat lame-o.
Other random thoughts, late at night, partially fueled by two glasses of red wine that seem to have knocked my lightweight ass on its...ass:
-- I can't believe that Tom & Katie invited Brooke Shields but not Oprah to their wedding. Ingrates.
-- I ran into a guy friend from high school a couple of weeks ago, and he looked almost exactly the same, a bit puffier. And he still seems to be dating the exact type of person he dated in high school: always the blondes who look cute from far away, but who up close are a little funny-looking, with a big nose or gaps in their teeth or some weird flaw, despite the blonde hair and the nice body. I had a bit of a crush on this guy my sophomore year, and he clearly had placed me -- decidedly brunette and cute -- firmly in the "like her like an annoying little sister" bucket, so I felt simulaneously vindicated and embarrassed that he's still the same exact guy he was 15 years ago, I think still living in his parents' basement. He wasn't a bad guy, and I'm sure he's still not, but I was sort of struck by my lack of good judgment about boys growing up, because he's kind of a schmo.
-- It's bizarre to walk around the Senate and House buildings and see all of these Dumpsters and moving boxes and office equipment littering the hallways. Big changes are afoot...which is kind of exciting. I'm guardedly hopeful.
-- In addition to the curious young-hip vibe, I'm apparently emitting a new "talk to me!" vibe. My seatmate on the train yesterday chatted up a storm with me and gave me her card -- she's an artist in Japan, so not someone who has professional reason to chat me up -- which is super-unusual. My mom is the kind of person who always attracts friends and confidants, but not me. I'm often the person people ask for directions on the subway or whatever, but beyond that, not so much. What's happening to me? Am I morphing into some whole new being?
-- I can't believe that Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I feel like I've lost most of October and November in a whirlwind of activity, and I'm hopeful that the next month will be a little slower and more manageable. All I want right now is to be home with my husband and our dog, and I'm really, really looking forward to settling back into a more normal routine at home starting on Thursday.
-- The Break-Up? Awful. Such a bad movie. I guess I can see that such a terrible project could be a bonding experience for its lead actors: "Can you believe what a suck-ass movie this is?!" "I know, but we're getting paid so much money for it!" "You know what might really help us sell this? If we staged a real-life relationship!" "Awesome!! Let's do it, and sue if anyone accuses us of breaking up before we've been out on DVD for a couple months, at least." I do think that Jen and Vince ultimately fell for each other, but I think it grew out of a ploy to rake in more money. A real-life She's All That, almost.
-- Britney, Britney, Britney. I know your mom pressured you into getting a pre-nup, because you believed it'd last forever, blah blah blah, but come on, sweetie. If you have even a teensy doubt that he's sort of a slimeball and would take you for every penny if given the chance, why would you make a sex tape? Or, if you're really compelled to tape yourselves, why would you not destroy it at the first hint of marital discord? Isn't the Chaotic footage sufficent? Kevin's a disgusting, disgusting person, and I do feel sympathy for you, but you sort of should have known from the get-go that this guy was not to be trusted. I wonder if Justin will take you back; I would actually kind of enjoy that, because I like you and him better than him and Cameron.
-- I really enjoyed the movie Word Play, about the New York Times crossword puzzle. See? Tremendous dork. No South Beach for me. Word puzzles, then off to sleep -- that's a wild night for me. I am so old for my age.
On the bright side, though, it's almost over. I head home tomorrow night, and then I don't have work travel until next month, and my first big deal gig in my new job will be behind me (I'm two-thirds of the way through it now, and so far, so good). I have to do a quick presentation as part of a panel on Thursday, but I'm so grateful to be going back to NJ that I don't even care that I have to be "on" when all I want is to take a mental health day, spending the whole day in my pink yoga pants, eating ice cream from the carton and watching bad TV. I believe firmly that I'll have some opportunity for that during Thanksgiving weekend.
My parents took a trip to D.C. last month, and my mom became totally obsessed with a restaurant near the Hill, right near where I'm staying this week. She told me about five times how I have to go to this restaurant, since I'm in D.C. so much for my new job. And I went there for dinner last night -- my co-worker even suggested it; I sort of "uh-huh"'d my mom a bunch, but I wasn't actually planning to make an effort to go to this restaurant -- and realized I'd been there at least twice before, and it was a fine place. Good, solid food; good service; nice atmosphere. Nothing earth-shattering, but a fine place. I called my mom when I got back to my hotel room, and started out with a sing-song, "Gueeeessssss where Iiiiiiiiiiiii went to din-ner tonight!?!?!?!?!" and I could hear over the phone how excited she was that I'd taken her recommendation. I didn't admit I'd eaten there before -- some things are better left unsaid.
In Miami this weekend, I was apparently sending out young, hip vibes. I had to go to a black-tie reception and gala in the late afternoon, and all these hotel staff acknowledged me and asked where I was going. And, without exception, they said, "Oh, no! You should be going to South Beach!" In the middle of a seemingly endless awards ceremony at the gala, my boss told me it was fine for me to duck out; another bigwig at our table chimed in, "Yes! Shouldn't you be at South Beach or something?" Clearly, I'm misunderstood, because I would so not fit in with the South Beach scene, and all I wanted was to go home and go to sleep. When I finally got back to my hotel room at the ungodly hour of 11:10 p.m., my room key didn't work, and I nearly cried. I hopped back on the elevator, and a woman from Scotland remarked, "Oh, you look so pretty! Are you going somewhere special?!" Which was lovely of her, and it was lovely of everyone to suggest that I'm fun enough to rock out at South Beach, but really? Just want to go to bed. Really. I'm a big fat lame-o.
Other random thoughts, late at night, partially fueled by two glasses of red wine that seem to have knocked my lightweight ass on its...ass:
-- I can't believe that Tom & Katie invited Brooke Shields but not Oprah to their wedding. Ingrates.
-- I ran into a guy friend from high school a couple of weeks ago, and he looked almost exactly the same, a bit puffier. And he still seems to be dating the exact type of person he dated in high school: always the blondes who look cute from far away, but who up close are a little funny-looking, with a big nose or gaps in their teeth or some weird flaw, despite the blonde hair and the nice body. I had a bit of a crush on this guy my sophomore year, and he clearly had placed me -- decidedly brunette and cute -- firmly in the "like her like an annoying little sister" bucket, so I felt simulaneously vindicated and embarrassed that he's still the same exact guy he was 15 years ago, I think still living in his parents' basement. He wasn't a bad guy, and I'm sure he's still not, but I was sort of struck by my lack of good judgment about boys growing up, because he's kind of a schmo.
-- It's bizarre to walk around the Senate and House buildings and see all of these Dumpsters and moving boxes and office equipment littering the hallways. Big changes are afoot...which is kind of exciting. I'm guardedly hopeful.
-- In addition to the curious young-hip vibe, I'm apparently emitting a new "talk to me!" vibe. My seatmate on the train yesterday chatted up a storm with me and gave me her card -- she's an artist in Japan, so not someone who has professional reason to chat me up -- which is super-unusual. My mom is the kind of person who always attracts friends and confidants, but not me. I'm often the person people ask for directions on the subway or whatever, but beyond that, not so much. What's happening to me? Am I morphing into some whole new being?
-- I can't believe that Thanksgiving is right around the corner. I feel like I've lost most of October and November in a whirlwind of activity, and I'm hopeful that the next month will be a little slower and more manageable. All I want right now is to be home with my husband and our dog, and I'm really, really looking forward to settling back into a more normal routine at home starting on Thursday.
-- The Break-Up? Awful. Such a bad movie. I guess I can see that such a terrible project could be a bonding experience for its lead actors: "Can you believe what a suck-ass movie this is?!" "I know, but we're getting paid so much money for it!" "You know what might really help us sell this? If we staged a real-life relationship!" "Awesome!! Let's do it, and sue if anyone accuses us of breaking up before we've been out on DVD for a couple months, at least." I do think that Jen and Vince ultimately fell for each other, but I think it grew out of a ploy to rake in more money. A real-life She's All That, almost.
-- Britney, Britney, Britney. I know your mom pressured you into getting a pre-nup, because you believed it'd last forever, blah blah blah, but come on, sweetie. If you have even a teensy doubt that he's sort of a slimeball and would take you for every penny if given the chance, why would you make a sex tape? Or, if you're really compelled to tape yourselves, why would you not destroy it at the first hint of marital discord? Isn't the Chaotic footage sufficent? Kevin's a disgusting, disgusting person, and I do feel sympathy for you, but you sort of should have known from the get-go that this guy was not to be trusted. I wonder if Justin will take you back; I would actually kind of enjoy that, because I like you and him better than him and Cameron.
-- I really enjoyed the movie Word Play, about the New York Times crossword puzzle. See? Tremendous dork. No South Beach for me. Word puzzles, then off to sleep -- that's a wild night for me. I am so old for my age.
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