speaking of blade runner, this was the view from my office this afternoon. i've always loved dramatic storms, but i love them even more when i'm twenty stories above the street - the corridors between the skyscrapers do such weird and wonderful things to rain and snow. can't beat the bilious, noirish sky, too - i get to pretend i'm a gumshoe rather than someone who's been hunting fashion people with a phone all day (how much is that sweater? how much is that sweater?!).
tom wondered what the cosmic pendulum would do after the stanford football win, and i was ready to say that i took care of the rotten end for all of us with my operatic vomiting the other night. i've got more to give, though, as i've come down with a terrifically sexy case of the flu (which had better be out of the way by the time we take off for chicago on tuesday; i am not at all interested in giving far-flung friends the plague in exchange for their hospitality). it's also looking like the broadway lockout (due to a labor dispute between the stagehands' union and a few owners who control most of the theaters) we've been hearing about all week might actually happen, in which case our plans to see the cyrano premiere tomorrow would be shot. lord knows i sympathize with underpaid drama types (ahem), but it's been a long time since i've seen jennifer garner in disguise; hmm.
12 comments:
Yeah. Waking up in the morning to violent wretching. Happy birthday to you!
That's gotta blow, having your birthday wishes blown on "I wish for the love of God that my stomach would stay quiet for a whole hour!" Jen and I are well prepared to make up for that, though.
happy birthday lau! i'm sorry to hear about you being sick, and i hope the barfy grossness goes away soon.
on another note, you're going to see cyrano? i'm jealous. you know how i feel about j garn.
i heart j garn (thanks, baby jo).
i do not heart barf.
i also do not heart lockouts and strikes, as one has kept me off of the s-bahn here. don't they know it's YOUR BIRTHDAY?
i take the wicked stormy sky as a cosmic warning for new york to stop fucking with your birthday. yar.
happiest of birthdays, dear!
i should clarify, lest you feel too sorry for me - this isn't barf-flu, it's ear-nose-and-throat-flu (i meant "more to give" in terms of general illness) i blame dayquil and claritin for my failure to paint you a representative picture with words.
do noses barf? no, let's not think about that.
actually, i've seen it happen.
happy birthday, lauren! feel better!
i shall now sing "bon anniversaire" the way madame what's-her-name made us do in french class. my coworkers may revolt, but hey - it's friday, it's 2:00 - they'll probably just see it as an excuse to take off early.
happy birthday. and happy storm day. safe travels to the windy city, as well.
[how much *was* the sweater, btw?]
the sweater was $179. and fugly.
bonne an-ni-ver-sair-re
les vous en plus sin-cer-re
la la la la la... (j'oublie les mots...)
Bon anniversaire, nos vœux les plus sincères
Que ces quelques fleurs vous apportent le bonheur
Que l'année entière vous soit douce et légère
Et que l'an fini, nous soyons tous réunis
Pour chanter en chœur: "Bon Anniversaire!"
man, i'd forgotten all about that! who knew mme nick was buried in my subconscious?
showoffs.
seriously, i never understood a damn word of that song past "anniversaire".
[and, thank you. now i can finally stop racking my brain for her last name.]
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