Good morning, Sunshine

Even the fact that last night's Grey's was a REPEAT, despite the fact that I was pretty much positive it was supposed to be a new episode, cannot get me down because it's BEAUTIFUL outside, and there is just so much to be excited about:

• The sun is shining, there isn's a cloud in the sky, and SBK and I might sneak out onto the fire escape this afternoon for some UV rays.
• I picked up some daffodils this morning, and they are the most glorious yellow (which is a nice contrast to the 'vase' I've fashioned for them out of red Solo cups). My trip to London reminded me how much I love this vibrant cup and saucer flowers.
• I had pasta for dinner, oatmeal for breakfast, and am packing PB&J for lunch - all (digestive) systems are go! I am literally a whole new woman on the inside.
• Peter is starting renovations on his apartment this weekend, so I get a chance to don a bandana, grab some spackle and unleash my inner lesbian. [Note: this stereotype-invoking comment was approved by an actual lesbian.]
• Janiac has an Express coupon for me, and what better time to go shopping than after unexpectedly shedding a few lbs.
• In a recycling binge last night I went through all my old magazines and tore out the recipes and ideas I wanted to keep. I've dedicated some time this morning to looking up things of interest on the internet, like these freaky-cool portable paper towels and ready-made meal plans from RealSimple.

And, in the event that a proverbial little grumpy storm cloud threatens to damper my happy-go-lucky mood, I can also try out some of stress-reducing techniques suggested by Beth in one of her new articles (yay Beth!).

Return to the Land of the Living

Sorry for the patchy blogging over here. It’s not for a lack of material – there’s so much to talk about! Heather Mills and former Miss America on Dancing with the Stars, the first signs of Spring in the Northeast, Paul getting evicted from his apartment and finding us a nice 2 bedroom a block from the beach. Unfortunately I’ve been distracted by the demon virus. Since Friday night the ultimate battle between good and evil has been ragging in my GI tract. Sure, the doctor said it’s just some viral gastro enteritis thingie, but I know that when my stomach pains Monday night almost sent me to the hospital it was because Lucifer and Yahweh themselves were going mano e mano in my small intestine.

I forgot how much being sick sucks. I don’t have cable and I don’t like soap operas or day-time court shows, so I’ve been pretty much shit out of luck on the television front during the day. I bought Lucky, but it just pisses me off how insanely expensive everything in there is. Ooh, I can get a Kale handbag for $516 instead of $645 – ‘Lucky Break’ my eye. Instead, I’ve been sipping my Gatorade, vitamin water, ginger ale and other jewel-toned liquids from my bed. I never thought I’d say it, but thank god for Fox. American Idol to the rescue! I’m back on the couch and inspired to blog away, never mind my body’s violent aversion to solids.

First of all, and I cannot believe I’m going to document this statement, I think Paula Abdul was actually sober on Tuesday night. She made rational comments. They actually had substance. I can’t be absolutely sure because I was so distracted by Sanjaya’s faux hawk, but if she was using substances they were fairly benign. Second major observation, the girls on that show have got to get a new nail artist. I loathe chunky, thick squared off acrylic nails. You can get more natural looking results with Lee press-on’s. Third, not crazy about Haley’s version of “True Colors” but I covet the black dress she was wearing (although I’m not sure how that banded hem would work with my behind). I covet it almost as much as I covet Gwen Stefani’s eye liner.

One final thing I couldn’t quite understand. Did the AI wardrobe budget run out before Jordin could pick out her complete ensemble, forcing one of the interns to run down to a local Papa Gino’s, steal a table cloth and fashion it into a short sleeve zip up hoodie? That doesn’t seem believable, but what’s my other option? Am I really to believe that a) enough people in the fashion industry believed that garment was a good enough idea to bring to production, b) the garment then made it to the AI fashion closet, and c) this girl chose to wear it because she thought it looked good? I might be a little weak from not eating, but I'm not delusional people.

And by the look on Ryan's face I'm guessing he's sharing either my virus or my thoughts about her outfit.

Howdy, Neighbor!

You might think a short morning walk to the ATM and cobbler would be boring, but not when you live in my 'hood. It's amazing what types of characters you can encounter on a 15 min errand run.

• There's the poor guy being wheeled out of NYSC on a gurney sporting an oxygen mask to compliment his racket-ball whites. Oh, beyond middle-aged man, those little blue pills might make you feel like you're 25 between the sheets, but your knees can't be fooled that easily.
• A trip to the ATM - usually a solitary venture - brings us upon the homeless lady that sleeps in the vestibule. My, Lucy (she looks like a Lucy), those ski goggles really do compliment your Reebok high-tops.
• Then we run into a woman tottering down Broadway with a big, black dog (neither the woman nor the dog look entirely comfortable with their current partner) squealing to no one in particular, "Can you get to Broadway from here? Can you get to Broadway? Does anyone know?" I let her know she's on Broadway; it seems like the right thing, although I'm not sure it helped.
• And finally the Shoe Repair Guy, who persists in asking me if I'm a Russian Jew every time I go into his shop, despite my efforts to tell him my closest link to Eastern Europe is my grandmother, a Catholic Pole. He does a fantastic job with my heels, though, and I'm not particularly wedded to my religious background so being mistaken for a Jewess isn't offensive. It just makes me want a pair of diamond earrings.

Oooh, these are the people in my neighborhood, in my neighborhood, in my neigh-bor-hood...

Houston, we have a problem.

Just back from London and while I'd plan to go on and on about how the British will carpet absolutely anything (bathrooms, kitchens, subway seats - honestly, anything) I had an experience in Trader Joe's this morning that I have to share, if for no other reason than because I refuse to suffer alone.

In line in front of me was a woman, all of 5' nothing, with big, brown curly hair. She was wearing - and I could not make this up if I tried - a black lace cami over a blue, NASA jump suit with red cowboy boots.

!!

So many questions! Was she trying to be ironic? Was she just stocking up on snacks before strapping on her adult diaper and driving 800 miles to mace someone? Was she trying to raise awareness about the dangers of unrequited (imagined) love triangles and the potentially psychosis inducing stress working mothers face in male dominated occupations?

Urban Poetry

Look Right or Die

Greetings from London! I'm nearing the end of my week here, and the phrase "Look Right or Die", uttered by a member of NY sociology delegate that rocked Somerset over the weekend, has saved my life many a time.

I am having a wonderful trip. Starting the conference several hours after landing at Heathrow was a bit taxing, but I managed to push through and impressed both the Americans and the foreigners with my "social stamina." I wouldn't advise drinking until 2:30 am when you haven't slept and have to comment on a paper at 9:30 the next morning, especially since setting an alarm might not seem like as high a priority as rekindling the fire in the hotel pub in the wee hrs of the night and you can't always rely on your friends to knock on your door at 9:20 am, but, in a pinch, it can be done. Since the conference ended Saturday I've been chillin' in Lenny's posh London flat and loving it.

Here are some highlights of the trip so far:

• Des, the mini-coach driver; the hotel/conference center; killer Shepherd's pie; good academic dialogue and a renewed sense of vigor for my own research; making new friends, even ones that live in NYC; discovering "strawberry pencils"; the weather; British wit; finding our about Newt Gingrich's affair; boxed sandwiches; Cadbury chocolate vending machines in the tube stations

And here are a few things I could have done without:

• jet lag; liver damage; the conference sandwiches (O'Whooleheagh reckons they float); the exchange rate (when you change dollars at the airport they punch you in the face for free); certain papers; getting lost in TopShop (although I cannot describe the sense of relief I felt when they finally paged me over the intercom, even if they did have to say I was a lost child); The Last King of Scotland (the acting was truly amazing, but if you're ever contemplating suicide and need that little extra nudge, this will do the trick); prawn, mayo and sweetcorn sandwiches

Right then, yesterday's jaunt around Covent Garden and today's trip to the Victoria & Albert museum have really done me in so I think it's time for a quick kip. Cheers!

The British are Coming!

Okay, slight exaggeration. 1 Brit, but he's a good one. Paul's flight should be leaving San Diego in the next hour. Appropriately, it's absolutely pissing it down with rain this morning. Sitting in the lounge of my department and looking southeast at the grey wet Lower East Side I do feel a bit nostalgic for England. As luck would have it, Paul and I will be traveling to the airport together Wednesday, and when he returns to San Diego I will head 3,000 miles in the other direction for a graduate student conference.

NYLON is just a pretentious labeling of an excuse for students from NYU and LSE to get together and talk culture. Historically, the group used to be a bit of an old boy's club, but in my role as the rambunctious little sister of the group I've been doing my best to mix it up over the last few years. The pink shirts have been replacing the blue shirts. This year we're being whisked away to the English countryside and are staying at what looks to be a fairly posh estate house. Sure beats the macro hostel we stayed at in London 2 years ago with approximately 70% of all Spanish school children aged 12-16.

Lest you think sociology conferences are all tea and crumpets, the price of admission to this otherwise free trip is having to read some 17 papers and the ensuing discussions. There's an underlying divide between us and them - European sociology tends to be much more theoretical while its American counterpart is more empirical - but once we get past that some of the discussions can be quite interesting. Sadly the engaging and relevant bits usually account for only a fraction of the discussion. Then it just becomes an epistemological pissing contest:

• "How do you relate this to Habermas' interpretation of the Kantian aesthetic?"
• "What does this case tell us about the practice of craft?"
• "The real problem with this paper stems from your fundamental misunderstanding of urbanism."
• "Isn't this really just a case of double hermeneutics?"
• "Where are you in this paper? More importantly, where am I?"

Translation into plain English: "I'm going to ignore everything you wrote about, in fact I haven't even read past page 3, and talk about what I'm interested in so I can show Dr. Famous von Social Theorist how brilliantly clever I am."

Somewhere about half-way through the second day of the conference we usually start to get a little loopy (the aftereffects of the previous night's social event combined with jet lag taking hold) and make efforts to spice things up a bit (as much as is possible in this situation). For example, Tey had to comment on a paper two years ago which pretended to be about the ethical implications of intimate involvement with one's research subjects. Basically, the author of said paper just wanted us to know he was banging a Swede. Tey was able to work in the phrase "the fuck-er/fuck-ee relationship" - which made things a whole lot more interesting. Last year Noah rose to the challenge of using the word "mayonnaise" in the discussion during the final panel.

I have to be careful not to maximize my fun potential at the conference, however, because after all the glamour and excitement of Sociologists do Sommerset has subsided I'm hanging out for a few days with Lenny the Great (DJ name: Preacher's Daughter) in London proper, and hope to sneak in a cheeky pint with Dr. Jessica Lamb (DJ name: Aunty J or Lammo) as well. Hopefully I'll have lots of exciting tales to tell! Back in the states 3/14. Keep cool, my babies!

Cheers!!

Teaching is both fun and funny

When I'm not stalking shoes online or treating my body like a human garbage disposal I do spend a fair amount of time engaging in the craft of pedagogy. Currently I T.A. a statistics lab recitation once a week, teach an adult ed research methods class, and have been going to a series of workshops sponsored by NYU's Center for Teaching Excellence (add that to the list of NYU's redeeming qualities as a corporation - N=4). It's fun. I like it. You're not supposed to admit this (especially in my department where empirical elitism is currently in vogue), but teaching can be fun. It can also be funny.

In that vein, my colleagues and I have been sharing our experiencces. We currently have a contest for best excuse for late paper/missing class/ reason why you can't take the exam. I, of course, am a front runner with the "Inspirational Speaker". SBK got an e-mail that said, "I opened the door to let my cat out this morning and two squirrels ran in." That's it. That was the whole excuse.

Then there are those incidents that would be funny if, that is, they weren't also a little scary. Take, for example the following exchange. My friend holds his weekly recitation at a local fair trade coffee shop. It's very hip and cool and right-on. They also have good coffee.

----- Original Message -----
From - TA
Date - Tue, 27 Feb 2007 21:08:12 -0500
To - ENTIRE CLASS
Subject - on getting a table
...hi folks, i have a meeting tomorrow morning before
recitation. i will be ON TIME, like all of you, but i won't be able to get
there early and stake out our table ... if anyone arrives early (or can arrive
early) and claim us that table, that'd be great. i'll buy you
coffee.thanks, and see you at 930

And then he got this reply from a student:

----- Original Message -----
From - STUDENT
Date - Tue, 27 Feb 2007 21:24:44 -0500
To - TA
Subject - Re: on
getting a table ...

hm. that sounds almost like a date. isn't that against the rules?

Um, WHAT?!? She sounds like a potential bunny-boiler to me.