There are a few things I want to tell you:
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- I went to a speakeasy tonight. Yep, a speakeasy, even though it's 2010, so there's no need for that underground bullshiz anymore. Still, because I've got respect for old-timey, hipstery stuff that only exists in big cities, I'm not even gonna tell you where it was. Sorry. What I will tell you is that I sat at a very small table with a very tall boy, & that we couldn't get in without reservations (disclaimer: I might be making this up, but I think it's true). And that I drank something pink topped with foam that turned out to be made of an egg white, which freaked me out more than a little - as in, I had to keep not telling myself ridiculous things like, "There's a chicken fetus in this beverage!" I also drank part of a Georgian mint julep that I couldn't finish because brandy is strong & apparently I'm a wuss. But the fact that I tried is big news because, hey, remember this?
- I have a new scarf, located via CheapChicDaily & snagged for $7.99 on sale from New York & Company. It's faux, so don't get all PETA on me, but it's also sort of absurd, even for me. When I wear it, complete strangers sort of stare me down awkwardly, trying to determine whether I actually have a black squirrel or a skinny terrier draped around my neck. But lemme tell ya - it's warm, guys, & it makes me feel like a doddering old Jewish woman who lives in one of those senior living centers disguised as fancy apartments. (Clevelanders, I'm thinking Menorah Park. You dig?)
- I've been going to bed circa 3:30 a.m. every single night for the past week. I don't know why, & I don't know how to stop. My body hates me, & I spend every morning wishing I were dead rather than awake. I also have to work all weekend - like, overnighters. Bottom line? My life is one big zombie invasion, minus the cool pop culture cred. Please send Ambien.
- I'm eagerly awaiting the posting of photos from last weekend's urban photo shoot in NYC, courtesy of the lovely Wild and Crazy Pearl (who has not blogged since the 18th! AhemI'mwaitingahemmm). She had us do some fun things, like pose with Christmas lights at Cafe Lalo (it's from "You've Got Mail"!) & stop in the middle of crosswalks to capture that fun "Sex & the City" vibe. (Admission: I have never seen "Sex & the City." Ever.) She was kind enough to post a couple previews for me, including this one of me, sitting on strangers' steps & looking more than a little nervous because they'd just come to the door, presumably to inquire why I was sitting on their steps:
You know where this is going don't you? Yeah, it's going there. First, I trust that you, the noble readers of this blog, are people who respect others enough not to leave sick comments like the ones that inspired this post. But here's where this is going: Many of you know me. You know my story, Dave's story. You have stories of your own, maybe. And if so, you know that this means a lot to me, that I daily feel the impact of suicide. I'm just a writer, & not even a "real" one; I'm just a blogger. But if I can make someone, anyone, think before they speak or act, then I'm doing something right.
So here's something cheesy but important: Even if it's just a single minute, take one liiiittle minute out of your day to think before you say something hurtful. And even better, think to say something meaningful & kind before it's too late for that person on a ledge or a Metro platform.
Are you thinking? OK, good.
My sense of humor & I will be back tomorrow.