Riding the Subway

I was on the subway the other day. I don’t make a habit of it, but I had to get to Port Authority to catch a Greyhound because my shady chinatown bus was cancelled. I digress. If you’re a subway rider, do what you can to sit facing another train going in the same direction.

So I was sitting on the A train headed up to 42nd, and we happened to leave at about the same time as the C. As we travelled through the tunnel, we slowly passed the C. It was rather intriguing to watch. It was like five second silent films of the other cars, with frames punctuated by the dark flashes of support beams. One movie was about a woman yelling at her daughter for stealing a pack of gum from the store. Another was a young couple discussing their plans for later that night. A man stood deep in thought about his wife, his affair at work, his kids. The most intriguing film was one where a man in his mid twenties watched me. Do people really do that? Do they sit on the subway and look into other people’s cars, watching them, observing them, judging them while they sit innocently and watch movies?

Rescue Mission

If you want the single most gratifying volunteer experience in your life, rescuing dogs from euthanasia by transporting them to a no-kill shelter is probably not what you’re looking for. However, if you have the inclination to do something nice, and you’re not really looking for that warm feeling inside at the end of the day, and you can deal with the smell, and the noise, and the traffic, by all means don’t let me scare you away. It’s an important service.

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Don’t ever have an emergency in Cobleskill. Just don’t do it. Seriously.

On Friday last I had the misfortune to suffer a sponatneous muscle strain in my upper right thigh. By spontaneous, I mean it came right the fuck out of nowhere. I was walking to Prentice with Bubbey and Amby when my leg started feeling stiff. I figured I’d just walk it off, no big deal. Well, when I tried to walk it off there was a little bit of pain. Then there was a lot of pain. Next was me hopping on one foot trying to get to my damn food. No luck, as before I ever reached the stairs I gave up, and decided to go to the Wellness Center. I sent Amber ahead to get me some crutches. That was a mistake.

Amber came back in about 5 minutes with the news that they sent SMRT. Yes, the fact that they misspelled smart is a bad sign. It was decided that I needed to ride in an ambulance to the emergency room. Brilliant. Lights, sirens, oxygen, stretcher, the works. When I got there they wheeled me in, the whole “1, 2, 3, lift” thing you see when they move people from stretcher to bed, and then not too much for a while. I tried to explain what happened to a number of nurses, but none of them had anything useful to offer.

Probably the most useful part of my visit was that I got a couple x-rays done on my hip to make sure there wasn’t bone or joint damage. It was probably one of the more painful parts of the visit too, because I had to bend my hip to angles that are barely comfortable when I’m healthy. Better to have them done than not though.

After my x-rays were done, Bubbey and Amber came in to see me. Apparently they had been waiting there since I arrived. Had I known, I would have had them brought in earlier! We sat around for an hour and made jokes about stiff legs, and fun was had by all. Eventually they had to leave, because apparently someone had to go get Steve, and it wasn’t going to be me.

After some hours of lying in the ER, a doctor finally decides to grace me with his presence. He sat around for half of an explaination, and ran off again. 45 minutes later he returns, tells me that he has no idea why this would happen, and proceeds to tell me to do exactly what I had intended to do initially: use crutches, don’t put weight on the leg, and take ibuprofen regularly. If they had just given Amber a pair of crutches to bring to me, I would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.

All weekend long Steve was a total dear to me. I was definitely not as nice to him as I should’ve been. I can say that I was grouchy because of my injury, but that doesn’t fully account for it. He was nothing but helpful to me. I love my Steve so much, he’s so brave and strong. He stood up to face a terribly fire-breathing me and survived. My Steve is the greatest.

Oh, and puppies.

Lizz rocks my socks

I’m in NYC right now, on a mac that belongs to Steve’s lesbian friend Lizz. We just got done having an awesome picnic in Central Park, and now my fingers are really cold. Steve’s peeved at me just now, because I should be doing something useful. Oh well. I felt compelled to post from a mac.

Interview Weekend

It’s RA interview time again. Over the course of the weekend I, along with about 80 other students, am being interviewed to become a residant assistant. I was pretty upset last semester when I didn’t get hired, but I suppose it was for the better. I’m absolutely up to my eyeballs in projects this semester, in addition to an insane courseload. None of it is terribly difficult, but the time commitment is pretty intense.

The process involves going through the interview/workshops in groups. Somehow my group ended up with 18 people. Everyone is surprised when we show up, but I think we have a really great dynamic. Most of us met for the first time this weekend, and we are all pretty close. During our first workshop the entire group was in a very tight huddle with me on top, trying to fit 18 people into a 1.5 foot square, with no support outside of it. I think this interview weekend is going a lot better than last semester’s. Hopefully the outcome will be better too.

Pre-valentines madness post-valentines update!

As the weekend approaches, it comes time to write about last weekend’s adventures in romance. Before you leave in disgust though, a big part of it is just marvelling at the city, and all the things you lose track of in all the rush.

On Friday night, after much undue trouble with transportation, I arrived in the city, promptly to be whisked off to the financial district with no explaination whatsoever. Steve was entirely bubbly, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. We ended up taking the PATH to Hoboken, for pizza. This wasn’t just pizza, though. This was a foot of the most perfectly baked pizza ever. If you’re ever in Hoboken and get the chance, pick up a slice from Benny Tudino’s. After pizza we stopped at Panera. It was pretty good, but would’ve been better fresh. I suppose that’s what you get for going just before closing. Next we went out on the pier and talked and looked at the Manhattan skyline. I spend so much time there, but I really don’t get to appreciate how pretty it is from a distance.


On Saturday we went to Central Park to see The Gates. It was opening day, so the place was packed. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Central Park so full before. It’s not as though the place is ever empty, but this was simply ridiculous. I will say that it was absolutely beautiful. I took the opportunity to take obscene amounts of photos, but only a few got posted.

Sunday was the not-too-much day. We did a lot of napping and cuddling. It gave me happies. This was like our valentines day. [insert long mushy section here about how great Steve is.]

I updated the pictures section with the pictures I took. Mom just arrived. Time to get started on the next Weekend Report.


This weekend was pretty typical of a weekend with Steve. We cuddled a lot, slept too much, cooked good food. It was good times. Steve is always good times.</mushyrant>

The only non-standard event this weekend was a visit to a little french establishment called Florent with some friends and former roommates. Incidentally, it is named after the owner. This was one of the first places Steve ever took me to dinner in the city, partially hoping that we would run into Maggie Gyllenhaal. Actually though, the food there is quite remarkable. Steve ordered stuffed chicken and I had a pasta dish with tuna. I could’ve eaten both of them and then some, but he wouldn’t let me. Evidently he ordered it because he wanted to eat it. Imagnie that! After dinner I grabbed a couple of matchbooks. I love the matchbooks there. If you ever want to send me a matchbook or postcard from Florent, please let me know and I’ll give you my address.