Remembrance of things past: Feb 2-Feb 8

Friday, February 2
No temp assignment so I'm stuck at home with the house guest from hell! She's really not that terrible. I mean, she hasn't sparked a crack pipe or invited neighborhood thugs over for a gangbang. Still, I am counting the seconds until our guest leaves and I know my pets are too. She's been treating my cats like left handed, redhead stepchildren--locking them out of the living room, putting their liter box in the kitchen (!), and complaining about them touching the stuff she leaves hanging around. Doesn't she realise this is their apartment and not hers? If you don't like cats why would you ever think of entering a one-bedroom apartment ruled by four of them? I'm tempted to get WWF on her ass and dump her out onto the mean streets of Brooklyn (Nobody puts kitty in a corner!), but instead I did that stupid girl thing and just pretended she didn't exist.

As an escape the emotional turmoil caused by seeing my little ones mistreated and to continue my adventures in deep frying (see Thursday, Feb 1), I make a zepole-donut hybrid I like to call "Zeponuts", following the Cop Shop Special donut recipe from Please Don't Feed the Bears. I diverge from the recipe by adding [in retrospect, copious amounts of] vanilla and almond extract, which makes my apartment smell like cheap men's cologne, but also gives the zeponuts that somethin' special. I cover half with powder sugar and the other half with a powdered sugar/cinnamon combo. [I'll post my altered recipe here later so you guys can make it.] The entire process took less than 30 minutes! The zeponuts are great except I pass out on the couch after eating only 3 due to the high fat content.

Later that evening, I go to this superfancy club in Chelsea to celebrate Anne's birthday. My hipster, err..blipster, homohobo chic doesn't really fit in with all the black and sparkly outfits and the $12 drinks definitely don't fit into my budget, so I can't say I'm having the time of my life but it's good to get out and see friends. I give Anne a bunch of Zeponuts and she writes me the next day to tell me she ate one even after it fell on the floor of her lobby! I don't think a chef could receive a higher compliment.

Saturday, February 3
Today is the first meeting of my Intro to Women Studies class. Suddenly the world makes sense! I'm hip to The Man, man!

After class I have the most wonderful Spinach and Pesto tofu omelet at Caravan of Dreams . I love dining alone since I can read and take forever to eat so this brunch should have been perfect, except it wasn't. Because I'm by myself and the place is super busy they put me at a crappy aisle table where my table is constantly knocked about by a portly waitress each time one of the bourgeois May-December couples eating at the coveted bench seats needs a napkin or water refill.

My spirits are lifted when I spot Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping protesting the Astor Place Starbucks...err, make that one of the Astor Place Starbucks. It is such a fun and creative spectacle, I can't help but be jealous. (Why are so many AR protests complete bores?). Unfortunately, Rev. Billy was taken away by the police after he and his congregation entered the coffee shop singing, clapping, and waving anti-Starbucks signs.



There was also a congregationless, Pro-Starbucks preacher in a dirty white suit, let's call him Rev. Silly. I felt sorry for him not getting any attention, so I took his picture too.



This event immediately followed the protest to save Whole Earth Bakery from losing its lease, which Rev. Billy also lent his support to. Personally, I think the cookies and cakes at WEB are the stuff nightmares about vegan desserts are made of. I'd like to see the place shut down immediately and I bet a lot of chickens and cows share my sentiment. (Good riddance, hippies!) My girlfriend, however, feels differently--something about jobs, livelihood, gentrification, blah, blah, blah, boring. Gimme some sugar!

Sunday, February 4
My house guest leaves and I am so overjoyed that it doesn't even bother me that she left her dirty dishes in the sink. The cats are liberated!

Monday, February 5
Binge drinking and jello wrestling with Barack Obama in hopes of getting the promise of a seat on his cabinet.

I somehow find time to finish reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.

Tuesday, February 6
I begin the temp job from hell except I don't know it yet. I spend most of the day laughing and gossiping with my new co-workers and occasionally stapling some papers. I'm a $13/hr cog in a wheel that is going to make this bank like a gazillion dollars. Apparently, they're selling a bunch of mortgages, some of which date back to 1870 and they need the files disassembled, scanned, copied, and reassembled. This needs to be done carefully since each documents we handle is "like touching several million dollars". The weird thing is each page feels like a few cents being painfully extracted from my lifeblood and spirit to me, but why split hairs.

After a day of working as an office drone, I need to do something creative. I bake ginger snaps to bring with me to Booklyn Open Salon. The event was kind of boring because people weren't that outgoing or friendly and since Susie flaked on me (sort of, I guess our plans were a bit ambiguous) which left me without a friend to be anti-social and cooler-than-thou with.

Wednesday, February 7
The supervisor at my temp job catches on that I didn't really do much yesterday and moves me from the rebinding team to the copy team. The copy room is hell on earth. It's windowless, loud, and stinks of chemicals. To make matters worse, I have to stand for the entire day! My only respite is a 45-minute lunch at The Green's. The Kosher Vegan Chinese food is great so I eat there every day of the assignment, but the service--Oi Vay! I think all the waitresses are dancing with Tina.

Thursday, February 8: Where where you when Anna Nicole Smith died?
The fumes from the copy room make me light headed and kill at least 20% of my brain cells. I get lost on the way home from work so that what should have been an easy 20 minute commute turns into 1 hour of anxiety--no kidding!