first: a big FUCK YOU to the transit workers (and for that matter, the MTA. we never liked you much anyway) seriously. this isn't helping anybody. the sad thing is, i really don't think it'll get them what they want in the end.
here, i'm actually blessed to not have a job (or anywhere else) that i had to get to today. as a consequence, my school postponed all our finals this week (thankfully, for me, i only had one left) but now i have to negotiate with my professor about yet another date to take it (the date it was rescheduled for is the day i'm flying back into New York). sigh. and now i have to actually study on my vacation time instead of getting it all done before i leave.
just. fucking. irritating.
it's strange being cut off from Manhattan. HOW WILL I GET TO A STARBUCKS!?!
second: BIG Bob Saget crush this week; there are two amusing articles on him this week, one in Rolling Stone and one in Esquire (the ONLY good thing to come of my job at Nerve: free magazine subscriptions, which, conveniently arrive the day i'm sitting around island-locked Brooklyn) ok. Marie, you were worth most of the turmoil of that job as well ;)
from Esquire: "I love watching people get hit in the crotch." also, "I'm going to be fifty this year. Soon I'm going to meet somebody around my own age, and she's going to be smart and beautiful, and I'm going to date her daughter."
there's also a gem of a pic of Saget in Rolling Stone. Bob Saget, anal lube, a condom wrapper, and a pair of Plushies. priceless. it's going on my wall. probably next to the Swan Lake poster.
and it's drool over 1980's Andrew McCarthy week here as well. i have to go watch St. Elmo's Fire. look...i'm depressed, okay?
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