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Saturday, September 30, 2006
TV OD, 5005th Edition
Who's watching America's Next Top Model? Ok, who will admit to watching it? Anyone? Is it only me? I love this show although it's formula is starting show a bit early this time. Yes, there is another wannabe model on who is a bitch. Yes, there is a girl who hates her new hairdo. Yes, there is the requisite girl looks like a dude. So it's a little boring and predictable. But yes, I'm still watching it.
Saw the latest Project Runway too. Is it me or are the designers kinda yucky this season? I already peeked at the collections (the wonder of the internet) and have to say that I was seriously underwhelmed. America's next best designer? Gosh, I hope not.
The most tragic and sadly hypnotic show I've seen recently is Deal or Not a Deal. Or whatever it's called. It's hosted by ex-comedian Howie Mandel, or maybe he still is a comedian, I dunno. He's not very funny on the show. Anyway, it's a "show" that is stretched out between 4,099 commercials. Basically a contestant comes on and picks a suitcase. In the suitcase could be a dollar amount from $1 to $3 million bucks. It's a silly premise - pick out suitcases and reveal what is in them ($50, $750, $500,000, etc.) and as the numbers decrease, odds go up and down on whether you have a high $ suitcase on your personal podium. Then, there's 4,099 more commercials again. And so on and so on and so on. The episode I watched had this overweight man on who sweated a lot. He has a thick New York accent and every time he called out a suitcase number (held onto by "models"), he'd say "make it good" in a really thick Long Island-ese. "I got the 3 mil right here," he kept saying. He sweated and picked suitcases all while his twin daughters, wife and brother egged him on. "NO DEAL," they'd shout every time the fake phone rang to tell the contestant if they'd stop now, they'd get X amount of dollars. Finally, when he got down to about 6 suitcases left, the phone rang and offered him $675,000 to stop. "NO DEAL," said his kids, as his wife urged him to take the money. He gave in and you literally see the man deflate. Howie then went on to play the game "just to see" what would have happened. And of course, the man had the $3 million dollar suitcase all along. It was so depressing. You could see the blood drain out of his face. He knew he had the money but he gave in. I watched his face droop and imagined the fight he'd have with his wife for the REST OF HIS LIFE about this.
Fine TV. Fine TV indeed.
Monday, September 11, 2006
9/11
I left for work early that day, around 8:45. I was working at PEOPLE and it was closing day, so I wanted to get in early so I'd have some time to read the paper and drink my coffee before the day got too busy. When I got to work my office mate Susan met me. Her face was white as she told me that an airplane hit one of the World Trade Center towers. She had her TV tuned in to the news and we watched with lumps in our stomachs. People filtered in, all freaked out and ashen. Lots of other people didn't show up, too frozen to leave their houses. There were special meetings being called and that's when the other tower got hit. I immediately went to the phone to call Doug, my mother, my sister, but the phone circuits were all busy. I checked my voicemail and heard a message from Doug soon after the first airplane hit.
When the tower collapsed at 10:29, we all tensed up a bit more. People were frantically putting together new ideas for stories as the issue slated to run was scrapped for an issue totally devoted to what was happening today in New York. Me? I just wanted the hell out of there. Our offices were on the 31st floor of the Time-Life building and there were still rumors at this time that there were more planes out there, ready to hit big buildings.
I went to my boss and asked him, then told him, that I was leaving. He informed me that they needed me, but I didn't want to be there. It felt wrong, even to be putting together some feel-good information-packed magazine. I found out later that the building was supposed to be evacuated but our editor-in-chief at the time felt it was more important to stay and tell the story. But I left and I didn't care if there wasn't a job waiting for me when I got back.
I walked home, about 50 or blocks. You've heard the stories of how beautiful the weather was that day, how there were no clouds in the sky? Well, that was true. The streets were full of people trudging a heavy gait. It took me a long time to get home that day as the sidewalks were like a traffic jam. No one was talking. I had my walkman with me but it felt wrong to be listening to music so I shut it off but kept the earphones on, like a robot.
When I called Doug, he told me to come over. He had seen the towers being hit and even falling from his window in the east village. I hurried to get to his apartment yet when I arrived there was nothing to do but shake our heads and watch CNN. He and a friend had already gone out for canned food, not that we were hungry, or didn't have access to every takeout in a 5 mile radius.
We watched so much TV, too much TV. It went from news on the towers, to filming people asking if anyone has seen their loved ones, holding pictures up of them. My head hurt from crying, thinking, not being able to sleep although we were emotionally exhausted. It was a nightmare, we recognized our neighborhood on the local news show. It was a terrible, terrible feeling. I called my editor up at 10PM to see how she was doing and she said that it looked like there were going to be there all night (and they were, until 6AM the next morning). She told me not to come in the next day.
Doug and I rode our bikes to Times Square the next morning to try and find a newspaper. The square was totally empty -- I have never seen it that way in the 20 years I've lived here --- and no newspapers were to be found. We rode home down 2nd Avenue alongside Army tanks. Apocalypse Now in New York. I took a bath when I got home and as I left the tub, it was gray. My whole body was covered in ash. That night was the beginning of the smell that permeated the city for months afterward. I thought about going back to Doug's but thought that I need to be in my place. My apartment. My New York.
The next morning I went back to work. On the subway people were polite, spoke to one another, gave each other seats. It was weird. Nice, but weird. Work was gentle, I wasn't yelled at, and even though the people who stayed felt a sense of real accomplishment, I was glad to not have been a part of it.
I temped in The World Trade Center years ago. It was right after the bomb scare they had there. I remember asking my new co-workers what happened that day and they were all non-plussed. I didn't like working there. You had to take two elevators to get to the floor I worked on, which was in the 70s, I believe. Or 80s. The elevators took a long time to get to your floor and there was a lot of dead time where it wasn't on any floor at all, just going up, up, up. I was always relieved when the doors opened, then slightly overwhelmed if I looked out of any window from that high up. Maybe it's me, but I don't think people should be that high up.
I don't remember the name of the company I worked for and I only remember two of the people from that job. A girl named Stacy and a guy named Curtis. I am watching the 9/11 Memorial right now on TV, looking for them. They are on the M's now and nothing. Maybe they left their jobs. I hope they did.
There's nothing else to say. It's one of those days where everyone remembers where they were the time the towers were hit. This is a terrible feeling, one that is not going to go away ever, I think.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Monday Morning Update
My computer broke. My less than 2 year old iBook, that is. Dead. Luckily I got off all the data before it decided to never, ever work again. Also quite luckily I bought the extended warranty so the new hard drive that I need won't cost me anything other than inconvenience and having to type this on Doug's computer for now.
I don't get it though. When did Macs become so shitty? This is the second or maybe even the third Mac I've had that's decided to crap out on me for no reason and with virtually no warning. Yeah they're great because they are immune to viruses but this breaking down sucks. I'm typing on Doug's iMac now, with a real keyboard and it feels weird. And slow. And man, it's noisy. Can I complain more? Ok then, one more thing. Am I the only one who thinks that iBooks are heavy? 10 pounds is not a little bit! Not for this scrawny girl anyway.
In other news:
1. No, no word on the rings yet. I know! They continue to fade and break up though. It is still weird but I try not to look at them anymore.
2. I am now officially, offically old. See, I met this woman at the playground last week and she told me that her husband is a character actor. When I asked her who he played she inquired if I ever watched Noggin (duh). Then she asked me if we watched Oobi (duh again). Then she told me that her husband plays Keiko. Then I freaked out. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, congratulations, you have a life!
3. Some fun stuff now. Mamie is 20 months old, which means that we have to start applying for a 3's program for her THIS YEAR. A 3's program is a place at a school for Mamie, probably only a few days a week for a few hours a day. Sounds easy, but this is New York, which means competition, which means getting your December birthday kid in a 3's program when she is 2 years, 9 months old (next September) because after that it is too late. And we have to do that NOW. Am I giving you a headache? More to come on that. She gets to be "interviewed" and has to attend something called a Juice Party. Oh, just wait for the posts.
Great. The keyboard sticks on this thing. I can't wait to get my iBook back. I think.
Copyright 2007
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