2006-07-04 - 2:33 a.m.

It�s funny how when you�re your own boss�events like "four-day holiday weekends" just don�t carry the same thrill as when you�re working for a bitchy boss at a company you hate.

In the past, when the 4th-of-July fell on a Tuesday�it meant leaving work at 1 p.m. on the Friday before (yay)�and not returning until WEDNESDAY�(woo hoo..!!)

For the past nine years I�ve had my own company�so now I am "da MAN(n)"�literally..!! And, since I can come and go whenever I want anyway, the prospect of a four-day-weekend/three-day work-week loses its guilty pleasure. Ironically, in fact, I usually end up working on my �holiday weekends" because it seems like a good time to catch up and get organized without client phone calls and e-mails to answer. And, in the end, you experience the same �re-entry� anxiety either way..!!

But, before I start sounding neurotic and whiny, i.e., �nothing�s ever good enough��why don�t I just tell you how I spent this particular 4th of July weekend.

FRIDAY � My niece Desir�e and I went to see the long-awaited The Devil Wears Prada, which was fun but only mildly fabulous. Meryl was frosty and delicious as Miranda Priestly, the faux Anna Wintour (though I could have done without the weepy �I�m getting divorced� scene, preferring instead the bitchy �That�s all� Miranda all the time.)

Anne Hathaway is just annoying in every movie she�s in (all TWO of them)�and, she�s equally annoying here. AND�I�m sorry, but the girl�s teeth are just too big to be fashionable. Stanley Tucci was tiny and believably gay-ish�but his �nice-guy-art-director-takes-fledgling-#2-assistant-under-wing� would just never happen in real life. Likewise, raiding the fashion/accessories closet at a major fashion magazine on a regular basis would also be highly unlikely. English actress Emily Blunt was perfectly overwrought as Assistant #1�and her line, �I�m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight,� was perfect.

Basically, the movie gave me agita�because I can�t imagine why anyone would want a stress-filled, tear-inducing job like that. AND, except for three or four outfits, the clothes weren�t really that fabulous either, despite Patricia Fields� expertise and a limitless budget. Of course, I�m not exactly an expert on couture, considering I spend most of my days in cut-off capris, tank tops and flip-flops. The closest I�ve come to a �designer purchase� lately was a $20 Marc Jacobs �Give �Em Hell, Al!� tee-shirt. Okay�I also bought the matching $15 tote bag�b/c I�d just seen An Inconvenient Truth and have become completely insane about global warming.

SATURDAY � the perfect �no agenda� day. Well, actually I had a 1 o�clock massage at Body Central with Beth�who weighs about 80 pounds. Seriously, just ONE of my thighs is bigger than her entire body�!! The thought of her perusing my rippling relief-map of a body almost ruined my relaxation, but I got over it soon enough...as the �ocean wave� soundtrack played in the background.

Then I stopped at Virgin Records to pick up Regina Shektor�s new CD, Begin To Hope, which, despite all the hype and feature stories I�ve read about her and this new album, was weird and disappointing. I�ll give it a few more plays, but her phrasing and so-called �inventive song-styling� just gave me a �chalk-on-the-blackboard� wince.

Next�bought a pair of Vans black slip-on sneakers with white skulls all over them. They�re totally cool, but, like my beloved Converse low-tops, they have no arch and basically hurt after 10 blocks of walking. OY!!

Did a quick stop-and-shop at Duane Reade�picking up a few items from the new "Vital Radiance" make-up collection for us over-50 types. Can you STAND it?

Walking back across 14th Street, I passed a bunch of Latina princesses enjoying the 4th of July clearance sales. As they walked past a store that was going out of business, one of them said to the others, �Yo, mira...LIQUIDATION�I love that..!!�

Later on�got a manicure at Bloomie Nails, but the color I picked (�Dune Road� or �South-o-The-Highway� or something) turned out to be iridescent, which I totally didn�t notice until I was outside in broad daylight. DAMN.

Just before sunset, I rode my bike down to the Battery and back�wheeee..!!!...then came back home, read People magazine and watched a TCM documentary on the making of Gone With the Wind. Aahhh...a totally Linda-type evening..!!

SUNDAY � what a stupid day. I woke up around 8 a.m�much too early for a Sunday�so I opened my front door and retrieved the New York Times and New York Post�and got back into bed to read the Sunday Styles section and Page Six. Within 20 minutes I had conked out again�and didn�t wake up until 12:30�after having a completely maddening dream involving an old boyfriend giving me advice about dating�and scolding me for �always picking the wrong guys� (of which he, of course, was one..!!) So I woke up pissed off�and regretting the fact that I had scheduled a �Match.com� date for that evening. I just wasn�t in the mood for MEN�but it was too late to cancel.

I went to the gym and tried to treadmill that bad dream out of my head. Didn�t work. I breezed uptown to return two ugly belts I had bought last week�hoping that getting a refund and avoiding Elizabeth�s mockery if she ever saw me wearing one of these hideous belts would snap me out of it. That didn�t work either�and the dating hour was looming..!!

So, I pulled myself together and met �Schuyler� at Elmo. He said he was 58, but, alas, I doubt the veracity of that number. Online, he had sounded interesting (Columbia epidemiologist and Alzheimer�s researcher) and geographically acceptable (Chelsea). And his picture had a sort of �elfish-leprechaun� vibe with white hair and twinkly blue eyes.

Well�IN PERSON�he was pale as paper�with that crepey wrinkled skin that Celtic and Nordic types get. His teeth were tiny as a child�s and sort of �tan� colored (Eeeww!!)�and he had an over-all �pinched� quality about him. He was tolerably nice and not UN-interesting, but clearly �damaged� (sexless 28-year marriage, estranged daughter, "disappointing" son) and obsessive (he had written me a pre-date e-mail regarding �nose hair��don�t make me elaborate). Anyway, we chatted over vodka-mint lemonades about this and that�whatever. He suggested getting something to eat, and, as it had started to rain and I had nothing in the fridge, I said okay�and we went to Le Zie just across the street.

Conversation went downhill as he consumed a couple of glasses of Chianti and recounted the sad/sorry tale of his status-conscious daughter�s dismissal of him because he failed to organize a birthday party for her at Mas. To add insult to injury, his former wife called him after a recent brunch to tell him that he �was utterly depressing" and that she never wanted to see or speak to him again. I gotta tell ya, kids�this was NOT cheerful date banter. I don�t care what kinda baggage you have�ya gotta check that shit at the fuckin� door when you�re on a date. A first date should be fresh and fun and flirty�not some goddam Ingmar Bergman-scripted epic.

Well, I wolfed down my rigatoni Bolognese�and got the hell outta there as quickly as possible. I practically skipped all the way home (tra la la)�I was so glad to be free�and alive�and single�and relatively NORMAL..!! I stopped at Starbuck�s for an iced coffee and a couple of dark chocolate-covered graham crackers�so the evening wasn�t a total loss.

MONDAY � a full day of fitness frolics to work off the zillions of calories from Sunday night. Morning push-ups and sit-ups. Gym frenzy�including treadmill, elliptical, jump-rope, circuit training, etc. Home for a healthy protein-rich lunch�then a long bike ride along the Hudson. Gallons of water. Lawn-lounging. People-watching. Back home, did laundry, ate dinner, taped Deadwood for Elizabeth. Wrote this blog entry.

TUESDAY, FOURTH OF JULY � Okay�now I have to do some work. My desk is a complete disaster. I have to pay some bills and get organized. My website copy needs updating. I have to purge my closets of some 90�s fashion memorabilia. And, since I met last week with a promising young "celebrity photographer" who�s looking for PR, I must write an irresistible proposal�but keep it affordable�since he�s not exactly Annie Leibovitz�YET (that�s where I come in..!!). More gym. More bike. And a double-dose of �Dr.House��the only man in my life who really matters. And that�s it, folks. No clam-bakes. No barbecues. No fireworks�unless I get a sudden urge to battle the crowds for the big Macy�s blow-out on the river (never done it�probably never will!!).

And you??? Share your �four-day freedom follies� with me, kids..!!


8 comments so far

previous - next

UNE ESCAPADE BELLE - 2012-04-11
Ooey Gooey Good... - 2010-12-07
Say WHAT..?? - 2009-07-09
THE MENNONITE SCHLEMIEL - 2009-05-30
HARRIET, DAH-LING! - 2008-08-19