Thursday, August 20, 2009

Ode To Funemployment

One day I came to work to find...some vodka on the table.
A meeting had been called to let us know if we were stable.

It turned out, no, yeah...not so much. Our jobs would be no more.
But why not share a cocktail before heading out the door?

At first, oh shit, I had no job. But soon onset enjoyment.
With endless time to bounce around--enter funemployment!

One by one my friends sent texts "my boss just dropped the ax."
Well come on, pal, fear not, ole chap, get ready to relax.

From NYC to Bali with a stint in The OC.
Camping out in Guerneville drinking mudslides, 1, 2, 3.

Shooting guns with Dayle, at her vineyard in the hills.
Living every moment, stirrin' trouble to the gills.

Trader Joes, why not? You bet. Let's meet at 2, OK?
You know there'll never be a line in the middle of the day.

Bikram yoga, Double Dutch...and Bootcamp all the time.
Kinda feel bad for my buddies, workin' 9 to 5.

Famer's markets, Headland hikes, you name it and I did it.
Loved the freedom, read some books, savored every minute.

But no more restaurants, fancy clothes or facials at the spa.
Thankful for my friends who bought me champagne with framboise.

Then out of nowhere came a job. I'm back to workin' life.
So long, dear funemployment. With good times you were rife.

Farewell suntan, goodbye walks for coffee with my crew...
...of buddies outa work like me, how fiercely I'll miss you.

Hello MUNI, good day race to get to work on time.
At least I'll get to step it up with quality red wine.

For those whose time will still be spent chillin' on the porch,*
As the funemployment master, I bow and pass the torch.

* with a New Yorker and a latte. I am already jealous!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Not Just Anyone Can Be a Professional Partier. You Gotta Train, Man.

As you know, I've been a participant in BootcampSF for the past 6 weeks. Yep, a few days a week, I've been up and out the door, beginning an ass-kicking 1-hour outdoor workout by 8:30am--drill sargeant style. The experience has been eye opening for a number of reasons such as learning where you fall on the continuum of fitness in 3 different areas (arm strength, core strength and long distance running ability).

Regarding my personal fitness data, let's just say that if I were in running school, my placement test score would land me in the remedial class...probably with a private tutor paid for by the state. And I'd get to take the running SAT test untimed. But the important thing, I guess, is that I got better, ultimately shaving 2 minutes off my 1.5 mile run time.

That may not sound like a lot (and it probably isn't), but it meant that I ran by Tartin bakery a little faster each time, mortified knowing that the stylish neighborhood patrons were watching our motley crew huff on by in sweaty shorts. It took everything I had to not to stop for a much needed walking break while passing the outdoor tables where the hip parents congregate, casually sipping lattes from oversized porcelain bowls. "Do not trip," I'd repeat to myself for the entire block.

Anyway, what was funny about Bootcamp (other than how people's big happy dogs would sometimes chase us while we suffered through puke-inducing sprints across the park) was that I got a glimpse into the lives of my fellow San Franciscians--at least those who were also signed up for the 8:30am class in Dolores Park. When asked by our instructor on the last day why each of us had joined the class, following were some of the responses. Mind you, I was expecting to hear answers like "I'd like to lose some weight before my wedding" or "I'm training for a marathon."

Responses (delivered 100% deadpan):

Mid-thirties tall guy: "Well, Burning Man is coming up and I'd like to improve how I look with my shirt off."

Mid-forties butch woman: "I play hockey and need to be able to kick more ass on the ice."

Mid-thirties graphic designer: "I want to be able to dance all night without getting tired. As you might imagine, professional partiers need excellent cardio endurance."

God bless San Francisco.

Friday, August 7, 2009

A New York Minute

The following comments probably add up to about 1 minute in terms of how long it took for them to be uttered. However, my memory of these comments shall likely last at least as long as it took me to eat a real bagel with cream cheese accompanied by a spectacular cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. It's always good to go home...

While staying with Missy in the West Village
Me: was your date with boy X?
Missy: Oh him? He certainly wasn't worth the walk I endured to the heels.

While out with Eric one night
Random boy in a bar: Do you like me?
Me: Huh?
Random boy in a bar: Would you like me more if I told you I was 44th in line for the British throne? Cause I am.

While staying over at Justyn and Kyle's in Queens
Kyle: OK, Lauren. So, you can sleep in that room. Justyn and I will just be down the hall.
Me: OK, thanks. I always love staying here with you guys.
Kyle: Now...if you need anything tonight, just blow this whistle [lifts a whistle out of a bowl on the counter] and Justyn will come check in on you.
Justyn: WTF are you talking about? Where did you get that, Kyle?

After a long day spent snacking our way around Brooklyn (see above pic), walking over the Williamsberg Bridge and checking out the new High Line in the West Village
Rob: Idea--we make a mockumentary about how Michelle and I are both graphic artists who have had a life-long battle over developing the top-selling font on
Me: Oh! I could interview each of you about your style technique, naming strategies and artistic vision...kind of like in Best in Show when the characters are interviewed about their dogs.
Rob: Yeah, and in the end, can Michelle die and I get the last laugh when her tombstone is written in one of my fonts?
Me: Done

Another occurence while out with Eric
Random guy in a gay piano bar [pointing to Eric]: No
Eric: Why did you just say no when you were looking at me?
Random guy: Cause my friend and I are talking about who in this bar has nice feet. And you don't.
Eric: Oh, that's funny. Cause I was just talking to my friend about who in here has a nice face. And you don't.

Oh...summer in the city....

Thursday, August 6, 2009

The Bachelorette

As you know, my partner in crime (literally), Ms. Heather D, is getting married in September...and I'm her Maid of Honor. The more I think about this title, the more I like it. In fact, I kind of want to get my mom a bumper sticker for her car that says, "My Daughter Is A Maid of Honor." It may not carry as much weight around town as a "My Daughter Is An Honor Roll Student" bumper sticker would, but I think it speaks volumes more.

For instance, do Honor Roll students cover for you when you puke on the stairs at a high school party thrown by a seriously cute boy? Probably not. And do they try to deny their own involvement when the two of you get called down to the town police station for incessant crank calling from your house phone? Probably. That's why I take pride in this particular title of honor. I earned it, baby!

As any good Maid of Honor would, I flew home (to NJ) for Heather's bachelorette party and wedding shower. And considering my enduring funemployed status, I was able to stay for two weeks and make a big trip out of it, hangin' at home with my mom and dad and visiting all sorts of fun friends in NYC. More on that later.

A few things of note about this particular bachelorette party (and the rest will remain where it belongs--as conversation among the 4 walls at some really fun bar in Manhattan where no one gets mad when the dj plays the Bangles):
  1. The bachelorette was brought to tears before we even left our pre-party location due to a sappy little poem I wrote about her. Speaking of which, can we add that to the "Things I'm Good At" list? Cause it's true! I'm good at low-quality poetry suitable only for bachelorette parties and other champagne-soaked situations. And in this particular poem, I even managed to rhyme "fire" with "jambalaya." See?
  2. When we arrived at the restaurant we had picked for Heather, we found out that Ross from Friends was having dinner there that night! Maybe if we had focused a little less on ourselves and a little more on him, we could have convinced 'ole Ross to join us in our limo for the night. Instead, we wound up with a crew of Irish lads who may or may not have actually been Irish.
  3. Our friend Jilly sustained a graceful chin injury from a head-turning mechanical bull ride. Yee haw! How's that for a new mother...of three? Answer: awesome.
Unquestionably, the evening was a massive success. Not only did we do it up right for our bride to be, but we also stimulated the economy with our aggressive Alka-Selzer purchases the next morning. Honorable? I say yes.