Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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We're All In This Together

Am invigorated! Filled to the brim with pep! Just like my cup of coffee! Am on my fifth coffee! Have been up since 6am! Walked nearly the whole of Manhattan to get to work! Somebody help me! I can't stop typing in exclamations!

Woke up to a braying alarm clock which I promptly slapped into silent submission. Is there anything worse than the shrieking of an alarm clock, I ask you? Maybe nails on chalkboard, maybe a plastic spoon scraping a styrafoam container for that last bit of frozen yogurt, but an alarm clock is a strong contender for worst sound in the world.

I thrust an arm from deep underneath our covers (and Max's sack of potato slumbering form) and groped for the remote. Those every perky news anchors (a little too excited about the transit strike for my tastes) eagerly informed me that yes, the strike is on and yes, it's a cold mamma jamma.

Instead of whining and complaining, as is my usual and natural state of being, I leapt from bed, yanked on my tights, pink striped knee-highs, jeans, thermal top, sweater, ski cap (I use the work ski longingly because ain't no skiing gettin' done in this shit east coast slush they call snow) two scarves and my puffy coat. With no shower (I figured hairy legs and armpits would help keep me warm) I was ready to go in ten minutes flat and struck out for the Northside car service.

I brought along a stuck-in-traffic-survival-kit which included my first coffee of the morning, an orange to avoid cannabalism should we become stranded on the Williamsburg Bridge and a copy of David Sedaris' SANTALAND DIARIES - an annual holiday read of mine. Like watching A CHISTMAS STORY, it's always funny, never gets old. Damn he's a funny fellow I can only aspire to copy.

After she dropped off my fellow commuters (four passengers required to enter Manhattan) I managed to wrangle the driver into taking me as far uptown as 34th street, where she refused to go any further.

And the trek began. By 42nd street I was sweating profusely, peeling off layers like the orange I ate for breakfast. I was jaunty, feeling like a New Yorker I grinned at pedestrians who scowled in response. In an attempt to fit in, I adopted my own angry grimace and strode importantly, finally breaking into a jog for the last ten blocks to work.

So here I sit, awfully pleased with myself yet wondering how I'll make it home in time for the wine and cheese party The Surge and I are hosting in our Christmasified apartment.

Reader Comments (6)

Good luck with the party! :) Glad you made it to work ok!! Proud of ya!
Have a great peppy day!
December 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJen
You just roused me from my slump of a mood. More people should use the word "Christmasified."
December 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterStephanieKlein
Glad to hear you got to work alright today.

I watched Conan last night. It was hilarious. He rented a van and drove people around. He would be one that I'd love to give me a ride somewhere. Except he'd probably make me even later to work though.

Hope the pep lasts through out the day for ya.

And hoping someone will mercifully give The Barber a ride to Chinatown tomorrow, to catch the Chinatown Express bus, so he'll be "home" for Christmas. LOL

Hope the shin-dig at your Christmasfied apartment with The Surge is a hit! I have a feeling it will be.
December 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterFiabug
Hey Monica, just picked up David Sedaris' Naked last night, bought it thinking of you.


December 21, 2005 | Unregistered Commentercchild
Finally! One year after the recommendation.
December 21, 2005 | Registered CommenterMonica
I love your honesty, especially about your legs and armpits. Good luck with your party
December 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterHoopla

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