Fights with food establishments.

After nearly a week of vacation, I have to go back to work tomorrow. What a bummer. At least planning vacation to end in the middle of a week means only returning to three days of work before another (hopefully work-free) weekend. (Fingers crossed.) So I spent the past five days getting my cider on in Boston with Small Asian Friend et al. and loving every moment of it. I welcomed the glorious game of squash back into my life with open arms (and only had to lie about my address twice in order to gain entry into the prestigious(?) Cambridge Athletic Club's pristine white courts). I walked the snowy sidewalks of Newbury, eagerly listening for "paahk the caah" references and watching small children climb out of car doors atop icy mini mountains of snow. I successfully broke in my new knee high boots (muchas gracias to Pops for waterproofing them last week), downloaded and then lost lots of apps for my newly purchased ipad (whee!), and refrained from firing up a microwave for the entire five-day span (note that this does not mean we cooked; we ordered in, went out, and skipped meals...thanks, Small Asian Friend, for starving me, and thus slimming my waistline). We also spent two hours in Sephora. Smelling perfume, then coffee beans, then a different perfume, then coffee beans...and on and on. Small Asian Friend finally decided on two new scents and then proceeded to talk about how good she smelled for the next day or so. (Oh wait, maybe that was me. Anyway...)

I experienced my first Pats game (using the word "experienced" loosely - as I spent most of the time flagging down our waitress, playing with phones that are smarter than mine, and pointing out sweat stains on the football players' behinds) in a real-life Boston sports bar, with real-life Pats fans booing and cheering in unison. The slightly sketchy older man standing with his back to me, with his hand down the back of his pants while watching the game gave the entire experience a very authentic feel. Oh, and I think the Jets won. Good times, indeed.

So I bought an ipad. And I think it's terrific. Truly terrific. Netflix, faceinhole, seamlessweb, fbook, and all kinds of goodies are just one click away! I've made great use of the streaming Netflix, 3G ghcat, and email "sent from my ipad." But I have yet to use that whole ereader function. Call me old fashioned, but I love books. I love the way they smell; I love the cracking sound they make when you open them for the first time. I even love folding over the top corner of a page to keep my place, or the bottom corner to mark a page I want to go back to and visit again. I hear that ebooks have many features that simulate actual book reading, but I'm skeptical. I guess now that I have this nifty device (which, incidentally, I am using to write this), I should probably give it a try. Who knows with these things? Maybe it'll even be 3D, and my corner folding self will love it. I'll keep you posted.

I believe I have mentioned what Small Asian Friend has termed "Beth Luck" before. This weekend, we decided to shorten it to "Bluck" to make it catchier and sound like something fun and interesting, rather than the quality of finding myself in strange and compromising situations that other people somehow manage to avoid. Anyhoo, allow me the pleasure of relaying a few of these bluck-y experiences I've encountered in the past few weeks. Here we go. A few weeks ago, I was supposed to work late. As I sat at my desk drafting letters (yawn) and rocking out to Pandora, the fire alarm began to sound. Usually, the fire alarm goes off for a few seconds, and then a muffled voice comes over the loudspeaker saying, "Attention. This is the fire marshal. This is just a test. This is just a test." This time, no such voice appeared. The alarm just kept going. And going. And going. After about a minute, I wandered over into my neighbor's office and asked her whether perhaps we should go investigate. We walked down the hall and reached a fairly potent burnt food (or burnt something) smell. There's not much more disconcerting when a fire alarm is going off than smelling something burning. My anxiety (which I like to keep safely suppressed) began to surface. We gathered the few remaining on our floor and walked towards the staircase and fire phone. Someone lifted the fire phone receiver and tried to call down to the front desk for instructions. No one responded. My anxiety level increased once more. We stood near the staircase, smelling the smell, waiting for instructions, when a man who works for the building entered the floor. We asked him whether we should evacuate, and he said he was looking into it. I got the urge to yell at him. What the h!? "Looking into it"!? I want to evacuate! He told us he was trying to find where the smell (slash fire?) was coming from. Meanwhile, the alarm was still going off. I edged closer to the door to the stairwell. I felt whether it was hot (a nod to my Hills East fire safety awareness training), and it was not. Suddenly, a flock of firemen, in full gear, carrying axes, emerged from the elevator bank. I took one look at them (noticed their rugged attractiveness) and made the executive decision that we were evacuating. Twenty floors later, I was safe (and shaking) in the building lobby. I decided working late that night was just not meant to be.

Later that same night, I found myself in Brooklyn. As I left the last location of the evening, in an area of Brooklyn completely foreign to me, I started down the street in search of a cab. (As a sidenote: cabbies need to learn that people in Brooklyn need rides, too. Please! Come pick me up in Brooklyn!) I had just started my walk down the street when a man called out to me, "Miss! Are you walking this way?" (pointing in the direction I had planned to walk). I responded yes, and he said, "Don't cross the street. Walk on this side. There was just a shooting up there." A shooting!? Ok, Beth, hide your insane and desperate fear. Play it cool. "Oh, really?" Nicely done. "Yes, so walk on this side of the street with me. Here, walk on the inside of the sidewalk." Hmm, is this man trying to save my life or make me trust him so he can mug me or otherwise have his way with me? Well, now that I've chosen to walk next to him instead of crossing the street and getting caught in the crossfire (gang war, I decided, was responsible for the supposed shooting I just missed), I guess my future is up to him. "So, how long have you lived in this neighborhood?" he asked. Do I tell him I don't live in the neighborhood and that I'm just trying to find my way home after making a nervous fool of myself at the end of an otherwise enjoyable first date? Or do I lie and make myself sound like a streetsmart lady whose knowledge of the neighborhood and men like him exudes from my every move? Obviously, I lie. "Not too long." We walk in silence. I wonder how fast I can run in my new knee high boots, and whether the ice on the ground will help my flight or slow me down. I scan the road for cabs. I see none. I see one! It passes me. I yell "TAXI!" I have never before yelled "taxi." In fact, I think it's silly when people yell for cabs in movies. No one does that in real life. The cab is stopped at a red light. A mound of snow stands between the cab and me. I begin to climb the mini mountain, and the light turns green. The cab starts to pull away, and I yell for it again. This time, my savior slash creepy companion whistles for the cab to stop. Glory - it stops! He calls "Good luck!" after me, and I have never been more grateful in my life. Sigh. It's good to be alive. (That was very dramatic. My apologies.)

If you've seen me out and about in rainy weather, you may know that I have the best umbrella known to man. Its spongey rubbery handle resembles a stress ball and keeps my hand from cramping up while weilding an umbrella through the windy streets of New York. Unfortunately, someone else noticed my lovely umbrella and its unique physique (ha). That someone stole my umbrella today. Right out from under my eyes. I dined at a midtown eatery, and upon entering (sopping wet yoga mat, umbrella, and shoulder bag in tow), I was greeted by a hostess who said she would take my umbrella. I am generally wary of giving up my umbrella since it is the best thing ever, but I acquiesced to her request and gave it up. I figured, we're in a neighborhood spot, with office dwellers escaping into the rain for a quick bite. They don't look like predatory thieving types. After my meal, I went over to the umbrella holder to collect it, and in its place I found a dinky little black piece of crap from Jones New York. I could have strangled the small woman who made me place my umbrella into the vicious hands of a fellow diner. But I was with company. She told me she remembered my umbrella "with the soft grip." She said she took it and put it in the umbrella holder. I said, "so it's your fault, huh?" And I could see the tears building in her eyes. I felt bad. So I gave her my number and told her to call me if some good samaritan returns my umbrella. I acknowledge this will not happen. I will now be toting around an extremely unfashionable Hogan Lovells umbrella. And I am very sad about it. On our way back from lunch, my lunch date and I saw a man lying on the sidewalk, attempting to retrieve an iphone dropped through the sidewalk grate, using a stick with something sticky at the end (gum?). My lunch date said to me, "well, at least he's having a worse day than you." So, so true. Thank you, lunch date, for such wise words.

I just found out I missed my firm's first soccer game of the season tonight. Whoops. Well, I'm technically still on vacation until tomorrow morning. This is going to be ridiculous. If you've never watched a bunch of lawyers trying to do athletic activity, you should. It's like taking the least athletic population around and weeding out the most athletic few of those. Like when I taught basketball at a performing arts camp. I'm 5'3". And I can't shoot. My basketball skills are lacking. Yet, I was still able to "teach" a bunch of artsy fartsy kids how to play. I'm laughing just thinking about it. I'm going to have to fish out my old diadora sneakers. At least I'll be the best dressed soccer player in the league!

PS - Is this the longest post ever? Possibly. If you've made it this far, you get a prize. Well done.

Christmas Cheer.

I would like to start off by saying that I am presently watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Thus, I am crying. I am crying so much that if I were writing with a pen on paper, the paper would be so soaked through my writing would barely be legible. That was hyperbole. This is, however, the saddest show ever, and if it doesn't make you feel like the most selfish person ever, and make you feel bad for ever complaining about anything in your life, then you are heartless and conscienceless. (Also, I watched "Precious" with Sister last night. Re-read the sentence immediately preceding the open parenthesis and replace "show" with "film.")

I have not written much of late, and I am sad to admit it is because I have been working a lot. "What's a lot?" you may ask. Well, I got home from work at 430am last Thursday morning, and then returned to work at 915am. I think that's a lot. I slept for almost 14 hours Thursday night. I think that's also a lot. You might recall my mentioning the Four Point Plan in my recent posts. The more time I've spent at work, the more time I've spent thinking about Point One. I am working on cover letters, talking to contacts, and re-working my resume. I am too superstitious to actually tell you about the move I'm hoping to make until my applications are out (Yes, I awoke yesterday morning and said, "rabbit," and I even contemplated saying it more than once since it was not just the first of the month, but the first of the year, too!), but I will keep you posted once I start making moves. Be excited. I am.

Moving on to Point Two: unfortunately, I was not selected in the NYC Half Marathon lottery. Rumors spread like wildfire that there was some kind of conspiracy against those living in NYC, so as to improve tourism and make New Yorkers sign up for other, less desirable half marathons in the area. I know about ten people who entered the lottery, and only one of them was accepted. He lives in New York City. But he's from Indiana. So maybe they felt bad. (Oh, come on, I'm joking.) Nevertheless, I am still committed to my fitness goals. Who are you, New York City, to tell me I can't run a half marathon!? No one, that's who. Hmm, I'm sure I'll sign up for another one someday. In the meantime, I'm just running for fun. Oh, and focusing on sculpting. To that end, I bought the Jillian Michaels 6-week abs DVD at Target today. Watch out.

Point Three is a bit different. Point Three involves doing fun things in the city so as to meet new fun people (and potentially find fun people to date). I started doing this (running the pool table at a local bar (and exaggerating) and concert-going, for starters), but there's more to be done. I'm thinking of joining a softball league in the spring (college throwbacks are always fantastic) and going to visit my Brooklyn friends (because who can resist making friends with/dating plaid-wearing hipsters (aka Brooklynites)?) So, yes, all is in order, and it's only day 2 of 2011. Am I a rock star, or what? Oh, that reminds me... happy new year!

By the way, remember last week's blizzard? I think New York City did a fabulous job cleaning the streets. I did not fall once, and that is certainly a feat. Kudos to you, Mr. Mayor, for saving hips left and right. Also, it was 50 degrees today. I think it's time to start talking about global warming again.

In other news, I finally finished reading "David Copperfield." What a fantastic piece of literature. Finishing a book you've been reading for months is a truly bittersweet moment. It's like cooking (or having someone else cook for you, in my case) something totally delicious, and having leftovers for days, and finally finishing them. It's so sad that something so great has come to an end, but you feel such a sense of accomplishment. (By the way, Sister, I threw out our leftovers from last week today - sorry!)

Sister came and visited me in the city for Christmas. It was super fun - we went to Small Asian Friend's parents' place for Christmas Eve (our presents were even under the tree!) and partook in quite a feast. We watched "Easy A, " which I recommend when you're up for a lighthearted outsider-in-high-school movie, with a raspy-voiced redheaded lead who is not Lindsay Lohan. Sister and I made the dreadful mistake of going up to see the tree at Rockefeller on Christmas Day. If you ever have the urge to do this, stop. You should probably go the day or two after Christmas, on a weekday where other people are at work. Christmas was like being at Disney World during public school vacation (without a friend/family member in a wheel chair who provided access to the front of lines). And at the end, you don't even get to ride anything. You just get to take a photo in front of the tree, with an inevitable head or two chopped off and fat face. We did, however, feel the Christmas spirit. While waiting in an enormous line at Starbucks for some peppermint hot chocolate and chai, we saw a homeless man walk into the store, go directly to the refrigerated area, take an orange smoothie, and leave. He did say "excuse me" to the people in front of us. However, he neglected to pay (he was, after all, homeless). The people in line, including Sister and I, ooohed and aaahed and noted how wrong that was, but not one of us told anyone working there what had just happened. I guess none of us wanted to be the guy who did that - on Christmas. Then we came home and watched hours of Veronica Mars. It was lovely.

Yesterday I joined the rest of the B Family for our New Years Day jaunt up to Woodbury Commons to seek out the sales and score lots of new stuff. Success! If you live in New York, and you buy things retail here in the city, I urge you to hop in the zipcar and take a day trip up to Central Valley to do it up right. Isn't one of your New Year's resolutions saving money? Well, there you go. And here's to a great start to 2011. Bring it on.