Lesson of the Weekend
If you go to the beach, be sure to do a thorough job applying sunscreen. If you do a shoddy job, on say your back and the backs of your legs, particularly the upper thigh area, you will regret it greatly. Especially if you spend most of the time on your stomach because it is easier to read that way and the wind isn't as chilly either. Let's just say it really hurts to sit right now. And I might never wear pants again.

The other half of my brian
The bitch is back.

Ways to leave your first job without a good reference
1. Leave without giving any notice whatsoever.
2. Don't tell your bosses in person. Come in over the weekend and leave very vague letters of resignation on their desks.
3. While you're in over the weekend, completely clear off your hard drive.
4. Don't leave notes on any of your upcoming stories.
5. Only finish half of your assignments for the issue that is closing this week.
6. Take all of your files and contact lists, so those of us who get stuck cleaning up your mess have to start from scratch.
7. And just for kicks, don't really be leaving so suddenly for any good reason. Just hang out in the city for two months until your lease is up and then move home to your parents.

All I have to say is, My mama raised me better than that.

Completely unnecessary purchase of the day
Strappy, black-and-white, faux snakeskin heels. I think I'm in love with these shoes. And they were on sale.

Bonus points to the cashier at Steve Madden for asking for photo ID when I handed her my debit card. I appreciate that for obvious reasons.

Spring Fever: What it means to me
Coming home from work with a 100.1 fever. Spending the weekend in bed, reading and drinking ginger ale. Good times.

Especially for Kara
I've kept in touch with one of those Kansas boys I met down in D.C. I shared your thoughts on the Kansas Department of Tourism (because they're hilarious, and he sort of works for the state of Kansas). And he wanted me to show you this. As he put it, "Who says we ain't got no purdy things fer y'all to look at!"

Holy Mother of God
A new ice cream shop, Mary's Dairy, just opened up in the Village. It serves something called Too Much Is Just About Enough. It's three scoops of ice cream served on top of a brownie, a chocolate chip cookie AND a Krispy Kreme doughnut. So who's flying to New York to help me eat it?

Just Call Me Linda
This morning I went to the dentist for the first time in New York City. It felt very urban to be sitting in a dentist chair on a the second floor of an apartment building, looking past a fire escape to see both McDonald's and Krispy Kreme across the street. And my dentist way crazy. He reminded me of my grandfather if he'd been more personable and never had a stroke. He called me by the following names throughout my visit: sister, Annie, darling, princess, and Linda (repeatedly).

Bring on the summer, bring on the free
Summer in New York City means one thing: lots of great free stuff. I checked the Bryant Park movie schedule today, and they're showing All the President's Men one week. Score. And They Might Be Giants is playing a free show at Celebrate Brooklyn at the end of July. And the Saw Doctors are playing a free outdoors show at the Lincoln Center at the end of August. And of course I will be making my annual trek to Shakespare in the Park.

And to kick off the season of free, Yusuf Islam (a.k.a. Cat Stevens) made an appearance at the music magazine upstairs. He didn't perform because he doesn't do that any more. But I did get a free copy of his new DVD, Majikat, Earth Tour 1976.

59th and Lexington, 2 a.m.
-There was a partially deflated male blow-up doll in the middle of the intersection. I think he'd been run over a number of times. He looked a little too much like Burt Reynolds.
-I also saw a subway rat licking a Whatchamacallit wrapper clean. It might have been chewing on it, but I wasn't going to jump down there to investigate.

Random thoughts on The Bachelor
-A fantasy date in Washington D.C.? Come on, are the producers running out of ideas? Not to knock the city, as I have found out it can be kind of romantic. But really Mandy J. didn't stand a chance against tropical islands and ice castles.
-He might be a football star, but Jesse really isn't very attractive with his shirt off.

Quote of the Day
"I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, wait. That's a train."
-our art director

My second-grade sweetheart
I just wrote a letter to my second-grade sweetheart. He was my first "boyfriend" until he broke up with me for my best friend. I don't even think we held hands. He wasn't fresh like that Tony who tried to pick me up in kindergarten by passing messages down the row at naptime to tell me how much he liked me and chasing me around the playground at recess trying to kiss me on the cheek. We didn't talk much in high school, but when we worked together at Farm & Fleet for a few days, he could still make me laugh.

He joined the army right after high school graduation and went to Korea for two years. The last time I saw him was right after he got back. We went out for coffee at Belvidere's only late night diner with my friend Katie. They used to work together at the movie theater and had a running joke about meeting in the ushers closet. He seemed disillusioned that night. Even in peace time, the reality of guns and fighting weren't what he had imagined back in elementary school when he used to spend so much time drawing tanks and bombs and explosions.

He must have joined the reserves, though, because he got sent to Iraq back in the beginning of all this. He was scheduled to come home at the beginning of April and had been in Iraq for 14 months. And that's when all the uprisings started to flare up, and things started to get really bad. I was so afraid they'd make him stay. I hadn't seen this boy in three years, and I was still scared every time the evening news mentioned more deaths in Iraq.

But he's home. I've never been happier to hear one of my mom's guess-who-I-saw-in-church-on-Sunday stories. So I wrote him to say welcome home. This ended up sounding more like a eulogy than I intended, but I guess I'm still scared. My mom also told me he will probably have to go back in three or four months.

Pet Pigeon
Today I ate my lunch in Union Square because it was lovely out. As I was sitting on my bench and eating my tuna sandwich, a somewhat elderly sat down on the bench across from me. She had a cat carrier with a pigeon inside. A pet pigeon? I really hope that it was some sort of expensive homing pigeon and not just a wild pigeon she had just captured in the park because that would be gross. Pigeons are basically rats with wings. Has she not read the signs in various public parks telling you not to feed the pigeons because they spread disease? True, she was not feeding the pigeons, but I think a logical step from that would be not to adopt a pigeon. But then again, she was wearing a Cubs hat, so you know she's crazy.

Have you ever felt like a drug-store employee had snuck into your bathroom?
How else would they know everything I was out of and what brand I use and have it on sale today? Contact solution, check. Shave gel, check. Shampoo? Not quite out yet, but it's buy one get one free, and I've been meaning to try the conditioner. So, check. Total savings? $7.55. My grandmother would be proud. She would also tell me to use triple coupons next time. If only Duane Reade had them. Sigh.

Punked
Last night I went dancing at Bar None. I had just purchased a fun silver clutch for $5 at a flea market that afternoon, and I was very excited about using it. It's small, so I just brought my id, cell phone, lip stick, house keys and money. I was short on cash so I also brought my debit card and stopped at the ATM for $20 on my way to the subway. We sat in a booth for a while, and all left our stuff piled in the corner when we went to dance. I left my new silver purse buried under all the coats. I know that was a stupid move, but we've done it a million times before at this bar without a problem. Silly Anne.

So after dealing with the usual suspects on the dance floor (creepy dudes and college kids who look about 17), I was ready to go. I opened my purse to check my phone or something and I notice that my money was gone. It was only $12, but that still meant that someone had been in my purse. Shit! After closer inspection, I noticed that my ATM card was missing. Fuck! I can't believe this. What am I going to do? At least they didn't take my driver's license, so they're not trying to steal my identity. (My cousin who lives here had her identity stolen a few years back, so it made me paranoid.) At least I didn't have my whole wallet.

Tina and her date had already taken off, so that left me with his two drunk friends. One gallantly offered to come home with me to help get things sorted out. I told him that was sweet, but he should know that that's all that would happen. I would go home and call the credit card company; he would sleep on the futon. He suddenly decided he should probably not let his buddy go all the way back to the Bronx alone. Gee, I wonder why.

So I trooped off to the subway, pissed as hell. At the joker who robbed me, at myself for not being smarter. I must have looked as upset as I felt, because on the subway platform a man carrying three Little Caesars boxes asked if I was OK. No, as a matter fact, I'm not. I told him what happened. Now what you gotta do, he said as he reached into a pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a packet of tobacco. You buy some of this and empty out the tobacco and keep your money and all that in there, just put a little tobacco back on top. And when people see that you smoke this brand, they'll assume you been Upstate and they ain't gonna mess with you. (I assume by Upstate he did not mean a trip to the Catskills, but something more like a trip to Sing Sing.) Hey, you hungry? he asked, offering me some of his pizza. Um, no thanks. And luckily that's when the train arrived.

I was in tears by the time I made it home. Life just sucks sometimes. I dug out my bank records and called the 800 number and reported my card stolen. So I got it taken care of pretty quickly, but not quickly enough. I went to the bank this morning to get a new card (way to be open on Sundays Commerce) and see if there had been any activity. The operator the night before hadn't been able to tell me. Turns out whoever took my card (I like to call them "those punk kids", but that makes me sound about 85.) spent $54 at Stuyvesant Convenience Store. So the way I see it, some drunk college kids took my $12 and my card, bought $54 worth of alcohol or cigarettes or cigarettes and alcohol, got even more drunk and passed out. They'll probably try to use the card again today, but the joke will be on them.

I filled out some fraud paperwork at the bank and should get credited for the $54. Really I guess I'm lucky because it could have been a lot worse; they could have spent more, gotten my whole wallet if I had it. If I don't get the credit from my bank, the most I'll be out is $66, and that's small change for credit fraud. And I'm going to be so much more careful from now on. I'll keep my money and id in my bra, and I'm definitely never bringing anything more than that. If I bring a purse, it will just have lipstick and my keys. That's it.

Sometimes your bartender can seem incredibly wise
"Aye, the Irish in Queens are just like that."

And somehow that makes it a little bit better.

Stereotypical New York or I don't remember a funeral parlor being there
I was walking to the subway after work the other day and saw a large group of soberly dressed people crowding a sidewalk ahead of me. There must be a funeral or something, I thought. But I don't remember there being a funeral parlor on this block. Hmm. As I got closer I realized that they were standing outside pop, a sleek and trendy lounge, and they were all outside smoking. So apparently New Yorkers really do wear that much black. Some of the women were wearing patterned black, but still all black.

Why my life resembles The Gilmore Girls or at least this week's episode
1. The cat in the beginning looked exactly like my parents' cat, just without the white feet.
2. The blanket they slept on in the zucchini patch was the same one I had all through high school and is still in my parents' guest room.
3. I have a friend from high school who would try to set me up with the free range chicken guy if she had the chance.

OK, so maybe the episode was more like what my life would be like if I still lived in Belvidere.

I bet my office building is cooler than your office building ...
I was setting up an interview for a people brief for our next issue, and the guy used to managed the building I work in. He told me the best story about it. Back in 1912, the building was called the Wanamaker Building, and it was the tallest building in New York City (at a whooping 15 stories). Old Mr. Wanamaker was good friends with the guy who invented the radio crystal, so the building had one of the world's first radio towers on the roof. But wait, it gets better. That radio tower received the first distress signals from the Titanic! The Titanic! So, I think I win this one hands down.

Yes, Clare, there is a Delaware
I drove through it twice last weekend. Or maybe I'm just part of the conspiracy.

Before the March
I went to a barbeque in Capitol Hill. I met some boys from Kansas who work for senators. One of them looked eerily similar to Rob. (You're not related to any Jayhawks are you?) I also discovered that I'm pretty good at a game called flip cup.

Later in the evening, I found out that Capitol is pretty all lit up at night. I also found out that my friends had left me stranded in DC at 3 in the morning. Cabs to Virginia are $50! Good thing one of the Kansas boys had a car and was going back to Virginia.

The March
I'm somewhere between not having words and being able to ramble on and on. There were 800,000 people here, the largest march on Washington (according to CNN, I believe). It was just so powerful, and I felt so lucky to be a part of it. And the diversity was amazing. Men, women, whole families, young, old, grandmothers, great-grandfathers (one had a sign), women who had protested back in the 70s, students who weren't alive back in the 70s, black, white, gay, straight, Catholic, Jewish, even some Republicans, people in wheelchairs, on crutches, pushing strollers, carrying signs and banners. I kept getting choked up. It was a crazy weekend, but I'm so glad I made the trip. Even when I was exhausted and waiting for the subway in New York at 11:30 on my way home, I kept meeting fellow marchers and people asking me about it (that might have had something to do with the large hot pink sign I was still carrying.

Random New York City Sights
-People making out in Burger King. Apparently they never learned that's what dimly lit bars are for.
-The refridgerator that's been sitting on the fourth floor landing of my building for the past four days.
-A man doing chin-ups from a walk light for an extended period of time.

And for the record
Boys suck.