Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Or I Could Stay in New York.

I was just offered a position i really want. Here. I might end up here after all. :-/

Saturday, May 27, 2006


With Stolie and her fabulous friends. I'd write more, but I am just too tired right now. More tomorrow. I leave you with this shot of my former roomie and Internets Superstar Friend at Cannes, supporting her film. Beauty and grace.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Completely self-centered shopping post #654.771

My eyeballs have not stopped ejaculating. This morning it happened in the other eye. I am thoroughly squicked. I have contacted the appropriate authorities and assure you I will be meeting with them tomorrow afternoon in hopes of correcting this, urm, ocular malfunction. Or at least get some little, tiny corks. Speaking of corks... Summer is just around the corner (actually, it seems to be bloody holed up in Jersey, for as long as it's taken for this confounded town to heat up and dry out, but I digress), which means, hooray for all (and by "all" I mean "me"), cork wedges are once again officially acceptable footwear. Generally, I love the look of sky-high cork platforms. Unfortunately, I have rather weak ankles, an outward tread, and an aversion to busting my ass in public, so I have, thus far, avoided wearing them. However. Today, I met these: Cute, no? Neutral colors, yet with an air of danger, thanks to that crazy reptile-esque leather. And they make me so tall! I'm actually normal height in them! Practically 5'6"! This is very exciting. And they are so comfy. The thing is, I also met these: Equally cute, arguably more versatile, infinitely less dangerouss to my ligaments and pride. I love them bofe. Bofe, I say! But two pairs of high strappy sandals is just madness. One pair should really go back to the shoe pound. I can't decide which, though. Help? I have nothing else to contribute, save perhaps the fact that one pair was a very affordable $37.50, and the other pair was...more than twice that. So there. All the cards on the table. Please to help me decide which to keep. Many thanks, Mgmt.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


I just blew my nose so hard something came out of the corner of my eye! Oh, nasty. That's it. I'm hiding for the rest of the day. I can't have my eyeballs ejaculating in public. Oh, naaaaaaaasty. Happy Wednesday.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Pouting and bitchery to commence in T-minus 3...

My allergies are laughing so hard at me right now. And given the propensity of advertising agencies to anthropomorphize every irritant aspect from phlegm to toenail fungus, I hereby present you with "GodmotherfuckingdamnitifIdon'tstopsneezingIwillKILLsomething,Iswear!" A play in three acts: Sid, spring cleaning: Good heavens, but it is dusty in here. I shall tie a hankie over my nose and mouth so as not to breathe in the dust. My, aren't I clever! Ha ha ha! Allergies, mid-stretching and calisthenics, warming up for the big show: Ha ha ha indeed, foolish femme! You underestimate our might. We have been waiting years for this, our big break, training rigorously since that one time you almost had an asthma attack and died on Harvard Yard on your way to work. That was our initial sneak attack, to assess your weaknesses. Oh how we wish you had been felled in that battle, the mighty bulldog slain by limp-wristed Cantab contagion! But no. You walked slowly, took copious OTC drugs, and persevered, defeating us in days. But we are back! Do you think a little silk hankie will stop us? Mais non! Ha ha ha!" End Act I. Sid, later that evening: Oh my heavens! I do feel a touch of a tickle in my throat, a dribble from my nose! Perhaps if I have some nice tea...nay, some nice scotch and Benadryl, these allergies will desist whilst I sleep! Ha ha ha! Allergies: Ha ha ha! The wench stupefies us with her inanity! Let us away to her sinus cavity! End Act II. Time passes, our protagonist sleeps...for four hours. Cue morning light. Sid, awakening, mouth-breathing and staring blearily at alarm clock: What the shit? It's 6 o'clock in the goddamn morning. The hell am I doing...Aaaahblechookkkkkkbrrrr! Ow. Cramps, too. Fucking great. Rummaging in medicine cabinet. Aleve for the cramps, or Claritin for the allergies...don't want to mix them...(Middle beset by horrible stab of pain) Aleve. Sleeps. Time passes. Sid awakened again by the inability to draw breath through her nose, glancing at clock: Are you shitting me? 7:00? I slept for an hour? Stumbles from bed to bathroom, returns with roll of toilet paper. Blows nose vigorously and, sinuses clear, promptly returns to sleep. And again: The hell? Eight-unclefucking-thirty?! Blows honker, dozes. Again: Ah, feck it. Surely it's okay to take a Claritin, now. Allergies: Get ready, chums! We will show her we are made of sterner stuff! Sid, Claritin Reditab melting mintily on tongue: Hm. That should do it. Sneezing. Any minute now... Allergies snicker, and left nostril explodes. I'm sure this should kick in soon, it's been a good half-hour. Hopeful look. Allergies titter. Right nostril collapses in upon itself, throat dries out. Oh my god, it isn't going to work. Weeps. Allergies, laughing uproariously: And you can only take one every 24 hours! Now you must suffer! Or risk mixing it with two more Benadryl and pass out at work, confirming suspicions of all and sundry that you are indeed a drug-addled scatterbrain! Ha ha ha! Sneezing. Dry lip splits. Sid: Damn it! All I get from Claritin is a split lip and cotton mouth? Son of a- Sneeze. Sid: Bitch. Fin. ***** If you wish to enhance the reading of this piece, feel free to fill a spray bottle with salt water and egg whites and shoot the mixture into your face every 74 seconds. Also? My poor abused nose has not been this red since my last make-out session, with a partner who seemed to be averse to shaving on the regular. Except now there is no one to kiss it better. Not that anyone would, given its frequency of eruption. Blast it. For the life of me, I can't remember why I didn't spend this time doing something more useful, like filing my toenails into a more aesthetically pleasing, rounded shape, or looking for a job. Wanders off.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Have you ever seen a lovelier bird? Probably.

Have you ever seen a lovelier bird? Probably.
Originally uploaded by Siddity.
Eating well while out makes me want to raise the bar a bit at home. I went for high-class eating when I seasoned this bird with garlic, salt, chocolate and honey. It was good. Very good--moist, tender, with a well-seasoned, crisp skin (that's cocoa darkening it there, not burned bird. Yes, I am vain, even about my cooking. Thx, Mgmt.). Not exceptional, though.

Next up: Veal roast. Sigh.

You know I had to try it.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

You know I did it.

So I settled on the New York Culinary Festival. It was $50, give or take, well-spent. As this was a three day festival with an apparently rotating assortment of restaurants and caterers, I did not get to sample any exceptional cuisine--nothing approaching the glory of now-benchmark dining trysts at Bouley and Alinea. Nothing, save Ureña. Now, please keep in mind, I was often eating standing up, food shoveled from catering troughs into plastic dishes, which were then precariously perched atop my Bass in one hand, plastic cutlery in the other, wandering through crowds, being forced to listen either to a Staten Island country band on one stage or dueling adult-contemporary pianists on another. Anything but fine dining. Ureña made it all worthwhile. Or, more precisely, the little braised veal cheeks and green gazpacho dishes doled out by the Ureña contingent made it all worthwhile. I know veal is tender, but should you be able to cut it with a plastic spoon? Anyone? Because that veal was buttah. Gorgeous, gorgeous food. Sigh. Clearly I'm going to have to find a reason to spend more time in that whole Flatiron area. I'm not going to bother describing anything else. Nothing else even approached the perfection of those little baby cow bits. Well...there was a fine raviolo with truffled butter and parmesan from San Domenico, actually, that was delectably rich and worth the tiny wait I endured to procure it. Are you wondering why I am declaring a single veal medallion and one big raviolo worth the $50 I spent to discover these gems? Yes? Well I will tell you, because you would never come close to guessing, because it has absolutely nothing to do with the food festival. After the nosh, I decided to do a bit of Internets sleuthing about Mr. Alex Ureña, obviously the head know, Ureña. What I came across first was this NYT review by Frank Bruni. Go ahead, read it. It is silly, frivolous, and over-the-top goofy. Is it a poorly-conceived comedy routine? No. No, Mr. Bruni, apparently, is totally serious. Despite this review's chronological proximity to April Fool's Day, that is indeed the way he writes. Like, all the time. I ignore his review, and move on to do more sleuthing, but I end up The Bruni Digest. It's a blog devoted entirely to spanking Mr. Bruni's reviews, every blessed week. And man, does he get spanked. I laughed until I cried at some of the posts. And then I laughed until I couldn't breathe. And then I laughed until I almost blacked out, which is when I stopped reading, and laughing, because, you see, anymore would have killed me. The Bruni Digest. Totally worth $50. Oh. And Ureña. Absolutely my soon-to-be favorite.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Eat like it's a job.

There's no reason to be. The city is full of deals on eats this weekend.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Some people should not be allowed anywhere near the Internets.

Others? Well, we should all be thankful someone is providing this kind of service, especially in light of the growing need for clear communication in our ever-shrinking world. Long live the global community! (I know, so 1997.) (Though, next time, they should probably get some native English speakers for the demonstrations, as opposed to eastern European... escorts.)

Nothing to see here.

You know, I used to have a problem taking my vitamins. No matter where I put them--near breakfast foods, in bathroom medicine cabinet next to my toothbrush, next to my internets--I just couldn't remember to take them. At one point, I really needed them. I mean, I abstained from delicious meat products save the flesh of fishies for a solid five years. If only I'd discovered these sooner. Oh well. No time like the present to do something good for my health!

Sunday, May 14, 2006


News stories, in full WTF-inducing splendor: 1. Let's see...shit pay, long hours, homicidal maniacs, beat-downs. And you wonder there's a shortage of long-term, quality prospects. 2. Camp checklist: sleeping bag, swim trunks, buggery repellant. 3. What would Jesus do? Not-fucking-this, I'm pretty certain. 4. Well, there's a decent chance they're going to die, anyway, right? Send 'em back in. 5. Run, Fraudist, run! 6. The least they could have done was make the family a nice gator-skin armchair. Oh, that was wrong, wasn't it?

Friday, May 12, 2006


Nothing to see here, either. Snort. You know it's time to move on when your superior checks in to see how you're feeling, and what you hear is, "We know you've been ill, but will you put in 12+ hours tomorrow? Thanks." And be fully confident that your assumption has nothing to do with cynicism. Fuck me. Oh, also, thanks for the well-wishes. :)

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Hello, there.

"Allergies, meet flu. Flu, allergies. Let's all settle in for a while and get to know each other, shall we?" **** Back next week. I hope. *sniff*

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Oh my gawd, y'all, I had another whole real, live weekend!

Sort of. Actually, I did work Saturday and Sunday, but only for a few hours each day. Which means I had the evenings free for actual fun things! Saturday I tagged along with the lovely and talented Girlhattan to a rockstar karaoke party. The Girlhattan can sang, damnit. I cannot. I don't sing. Certainly not in public. Hell, I only dance in the shower, and there's usually nobody in there with me to hear how poorly I sing if I did. So. Yeah, no Britney-belting for me. Later I slipped out to see BFF briefly, for she was in town for the weekend to see her sister. Sunday I...lessee...worked at the asscrack of dawn. Then I took a very long nap, got up in the late afternoon, made a brief, failed foray into shopping for various loved ones' birthdays and upcoming Hallmark holidays, and then said balls to all that in favor of seeing The Lieutenant of Inishmore. If I regret anything when I leave New York, it will be not having seen more theater. I love theater. I used to work as an usher just so I could watch the performances for free. (Okay, and to pay for books, but really, you can't buy all that many books on $6.70 an hour.) I believe Inishmore may be the first live production I've seen since I moved here almost two years ago. Unacceptable. Anyway, Inishmore. It just opened last Wednesday, and stars my favorite fuck-up from Intermission. It is hilarious. Gory, but absolutely hilarious, clever, well-acted and marvelously produced. I'd see it again if it wouldn't set me back another $50. And then I ended the evening with some middling-quality pad thai and a fizzy drink. Yay, me. Happy times. Oh, except for this: I have been to three Duane Reads today and there was nary a box of Claritin to be found. Seriously. Not one. I got lucky and found a single box of DR generic left on the shelf of the last one I visited. People in this town allergic, much? Jeebus.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006


Stick It is the funniest film I've seen in...weeks! Must add it to the list of DVDs I wish to own but never actually get around to buying. That Jessica Whatevsendinger has really done a fine job satirizing the world of female competitive sports. I cannot wait for her film about swimmers. I'm not saying it's already in the works, but you know it's coming. (Oh. well then her next film.) Or maybe the next one will be about ice skating. Hold the phone! That's been done, innit? What's left? I mean it would have to be commonly perceived as a fluffy or girly sport, be good for 90 minutes of sustainable laughs, and feature enough scantily-clad twenty-something women who look like teens to bring in the male demographic, too. Huh. I got nothin'. Anyway, Stick It. Good times. You should go. (Aside: Finally saw a preview for Tokyo Drift. Looks like crap. But can I just say: Wow. He filled out alright, didn't he? He's quite legal, but somehow I can't shake the image of him as that thick 'bama-accented skinny kid in Sling Blade and "American Gothic," so I still feel kinda dirty for finding him attractive now.)

Monday, May 01, 2006

Breaking News! Additional Shitty Physiological Developments!

Guess who woke up with hay fever? Goddamn it. I thought I would escape my family curse. I figured if I hadn't developed it by my twenties, I probably never would. I really hate being wrong. If the symptoms aren't gone in a week, I'm fucked. (Sometimes I have a brief episode at the start of allergy season, and then my immune system just gives up and stops fighting. No histamines! No problem!)