On Monday, I had an appointment with another recruiter. M was a perky brunette who sported a perfect lavender manicure and bright white teeth. I looked at the job description we’d discussed on the telephone last week, we talked some more, and then she said she’d like to talk to her account manager about whether or not we’d go forward. At 10:30 in the morning, it felt like my work for the day was done — because being unemployed is a great deal of work, believe it or not — and I felt entitled to take the rest of the day off.
I picked a good day to do it. The sun was out, and I was on the corner of Halsted and Chicago, facing east. Though I was wearing my beloved Coach flats that have holes in the sole, I walked from that intersection, east to Michigan Avenue, then north towards Oak Street beach. I had stopped along the way at the Wow Bao in Water Tower Place for a snack, so I enjoyed a late morning snack of barbecue pork buns. Standing on the concrete bit of the lakefront, sand and water seeping into my shoes and making my tights all sludgy. I took off my coat and draped it over one of the orange ladders that descends into the lake.
I wandered up the trail to North Avenue Beach. I took pictures of that funny building that looks like a steam boat. And as much as I enjoyed the feeling of sand and gravel underneath my thin-soled shoes (I really didn’t) I tore myself away from the pale blue lake and stumbled into the park. I stopped for a break near the Lincoln Memorial (huge bench, south of La Salle, behind the history museum) when I got a text from Nite asking if I wanted to join him and Thom to do some hanging out.
Which is how I ended up at The Counter, a burger place on Diversey, 45 minutes later. We ordered burgers by checking boxes on a form — turkey! multi-grain roll! brie! sauce on the side! We talked about how genius The Joy Luck Club is, and how Thom just bought the movie on DVD. Movie party alert!
We discussed Tyra Banks’s recent matriculation at Harvard Business School, where she’s even gone so far as moving into the dorms (so we hear) and wondering what kind of work she’s doing. Is Tyra working on a gender studies paper called “SMIZE: Towards The Emergence Of An Unchallenged Female Gaze”? Oh god, I hope so. Most importantly, though, we decided we were going to Nite’s so he could feed us cake and let us watch “Twin Peaks”. Instead of Twin Peaks, we watched multiple episodes of “The Cosby Show” (which is now available on Netflix Instant Streaming, thank goodness).
When I got home Monday night, I watched “The Real Housewives of Miami” and “Watch What Happens Live”. I have a few questions about RHoM.
- What’s up with all the cooking parties? Is this going to be the gimmick for the Miami wives for every season, or will they move onto something like golf in future seasons?
- Why is it that Lea always complains about not having the time to take two to three hours in the middle of a day for a mere luncheon, but then she always turns up anyway?
- I know Cristy got a lot of shit about how Chef Pepin cooked his stuff in a crock pot, but who gives a shit, it looked GOOD.
- Mojitos mojitos mojitos. Does this show have a rum sponsor? Because it probably should.
- Elsa Patton’s face.
- Elsa Patton is a witch.
- I love Elsa Patton.
- So apart from Cristy, who else are the mean girls here? Is Larsa really mean or just blunt?
- Should Lea have invoiced Cristy for those tickets to her very important ball?
- Was it just me, or did Marysol’s makeup for her mountaintop wedding to Phillippe just look awful?
I think the less said about Tuesday, the better. I got a definite rejection from the employer who gave me all the groovy tests. After the weird? awkward? run-in with two of my interviewers last week during dinner with Danita, I didn’t have high hopes, but it still sucked. And then I got some feedback, and at first it made me feel sad and then it made me feel angry and now it makes me feel like whatever.
Wednesday was better, even if it did begin with some awful news. Elizabeth Taylor died. She was not one of my favorite actresses, though Suddenly, Last Summer is one of my favorite movies. Also, she had those eyes and those fabulous men and all those perfumes. And the jewelry. Oh my. When Nite and I were joked about an “Asian Shoulders” perfume last year, we were totally inspired by her.
I had a snack with Khloé in the afternoon, then went home to think about what to wear to Leah’s birthday party. I wore my uniform of black shift dress and tights, replacing the afternoon’s loafers (which gave a blister on my left ankle, blech) with Hunter boots because of course it snowed.
Matilda was cozy and warm and what’s this about $5 wine? Exactly. Being broke, I bought one can of wine. Yes, a can of sparkly wine that came with a color coordinated bendy straw. It went well with the cheese plate that John ordered for the table, and the wings Adrienne split with me. There was a speech, some of which I managed to get on video, though it’s a bit dark and of course there is the problem of the sound of me laughing like a hyena over the audio:
I was delighted to catch up with Jacqui, mainly so I could admire her Louboutins. Well, not mainly that, but I do so love fancy shoes so.
Then I found myself listening to a young man describing the logistical issues that may or may not plague a family trip to Mexico. That doesn’t happen until December. And he hasn’t yet gotten his passport. Why this took 30 minutes to share with me may or may not have had something to do with the fact that he’d been drinking a little. I became aware of Jacqui slipping away, and then I thought “Well, I guess I’d better hunker down.” Yes, I know I could have extricated myself from this one-way conversation but at some point I wanted to see how long he could last before it was my turn to talk. I never got a turn, it turns out, and then when Jacqui sent Leah to rescue me (read: drag him away) all I could do was slide down the banquette and collapse into a fit of laughter.