Just like catwoman

Last month, I caught a cold. A day later, Queen Jaffa caught a cold.

I remember I had looked at Delta, horrified. "Do you think the cat could have caught the cold from me??!!"
"Don't be silly! Cat's can't catch colds from humans, it doesn't work like that!" And we'd both laughed it off as a silly faux pas.

Until this week - suddenly, I caught a cold again (which I think is highly unfair, but apparently we don't always get what we demand from life).
But get this - Queen Jaffa caught a cold a day later, again.

All my googling suggests that QJ can't catch a cold from me. Now I'm a person of science. And I realise I couldn't have given the cat a human cold. So there can be only one conclusion from this:

I have blatantly somehow acquired the ability to catch cat-colds. Akin to cats, just like CatWoman (but in a rather less glamourous way).

Or, of course, it could just be that QJ has taken to immitating me mockingly, rascal that she is.

Or, I could just be turning into Cat Woman.

Games for a rainy day

This weekend, being as the rain was coming down with aplomb and showing no signs of relenting, we had to concoct new and innovative indoor activities for ourselves. So I sent out an email to the gang.
Anyone fancy going bowling?
Lahsiv, as always, was the first to answer, lout that he is. I'm almost convinced he does no work.
I'll be there. And I'll be laughing at your score, hahaha.
What! That's it. He'd thrown the gauntlet down. There was nought to be done but to rise to the challenge and (try to) put him in his place.

And so we all found ourselves at Bowlmor on that inclement Saturday evening.
Delta, who had up until that point claimed that he'd never gone bowling before, suddenly started hurling the ball down the lane with perfect form and posture. So I assume he must have been lying.

The group all claimed I had a funny dance-like shuffle in my run-up to the lane. I assume they were all collusively lying.

After Ilajna had her second beer, she bowled about 10 gutter balls in a row. Infact with the last couple, I believe she might have even rolled them directly down the gutter right from the start. I'm not lying.

Nevertheless, fun and games aside, it must be conceded that Lahsiv did kick some butt in the first game. And I might have lost all my pride to him on that one evening, except by some odd miracle I managed to pull one from under him in the second game, and eked a squeak of a victory. Mostly because right at the end, at his moment of grand finale, he bowled a couple of gutters and my score scuttled past his by a hair.

The best kind of victories, I say. The gratuitous kind where they fall in your lap through no effort or credit of your own.

An altrec moment

Altrec has started sending me daily "Deal of the Day" emails highlighting discounted items.

Let me rephrase that incase it came off as though altrec is spamming me. I actively signed up to receive altrec's daily "Deal of the day" email.

Yes. My appetite for punishment can only be described as gluttony.

So each morning, I log into my email and go through the agonising decision of:
- Ooh. Today it's knee-length striped yellow-and-red wool socks! Do I need those?
- Erm. No. Says the grinch in my head.
- But they're 40% off!!!
- They're ridiculous.

And each morning, I delete the email, sulking periodically at myself for not being able to buy the socks, until the following morning when I am distracted again by "a fur ski mask at 29% off". For some unfathomable reason, I feel the urge to go through this adventure every single day.

Yes. I'm loathe to admit it, but altrec holds sway over the emotional rollercoaster which is my life.

Move your money

Move your money. Go on. Give it a try.

I moved my money from Citibank to the much smaller, much more personal, TD Bank. I'm done with "too big to fail" banks that fall apart and need to be bailed out. I'm tired of the annual fee that they suddenly started on my credit card. I'm appalled that they gave me the option of "going paperless", and then continue to send marketing spam in the mail every week anyway. And if I get one more of their spam emails about balance transfers again, I might just pull all my hair out.

So in the interests of preventing my premature balding, I decided to switch banks. TD bank isn't quite the tiny credit union I would have aspired to in the ideal world. But it has absolutely everything I want. It's committed to being carbon neutral. It donates significant amounts of money annually to charity. And of course, it hands out those free pens all over the city.

For several months now, I have secretly coveted a TD Bank pen. I'm not quite sure why - surely, it's just a pen - but it has suddenly become so ubiquitous in the city, it seems like everywhere I turn, there's someone with a TD Bank pen. And then suddenly I had to have one too. Probably the same sound reasoning behind why I had to open a facebook account. No need to snicker, I never claimed my aspirations were lofty ones.

So finally, I'd had enough and I moved my money. To a bank that's environmentally conscious. That's socially active. To a bank that, much to my excitement, has given me my coveted pen.

All growns up

This weekend, Delta and I head to Miami (I mean, if the NYC snowstorm gawds allow flights to take off) for Milo's wedding.

This is the same Milo that once said to Doobie, "on a scale of one to ten, I rate your ass a six and mine at least an eight."

Yes, apparently even scoundrels like that can sometimes find someone in life who's willing to take them in. And now here he is, all growns up and ready to say "I do".

The dress code is "formal", which of course has me in a tizzy as anything does which requires me to change out of my customary jeans and sneakers. And maybe it's Milo's wedding and all, but of course, this is all about me.

I was mentioning all of this to Metro the other day, and he filled me in that this weekend is one of the biggest gay party weekends in the country, and it's taking place in Miami.
"You're going to see a lot of goodlooking men" he sagely advised.
Hardly anything to complain about, infact quite the contrary. Besides, this time I'm wholly prepared, after my weekend at the biker conention in Provincetown.

Yet another snowstorm

Last weekend, my Cos from Chicago was going to come visit with her two little nubbins. I cannot even begin to tell you enough how cute her daughters are. She also has a little son whom I haven't met yet, but judging by the other two, I'm reasonably sure he's perfection as well.

If all kids were like hers, I think I might just want kids of our own. But I know the sad truth. Any spawn of mine would be quite the obstreperous terror, and if there's anything I've learnt from life, it's that I'm not going to put myself in the position of having to deal with the consequences of my own genetic inaptitudes.

So back to my point. My Cos was due to visit us last weekend, her little cherubs in tow. Unfortunately however, as has been typical of this winter past, snowstorms descended upon us like hell hath no fury (or, well, at least as bad as the previous snowstorms anyway), and all flights into the city were cancelled.

Typical. Just typical. We had a whole plan around painting pottery and trying sushi and having brunch, and -

Now this. Nothingness instead. I was crushed.

Delta and I were both feeling rather bereft by this untoward turn of events, and decided to seek consolation in the Park.

Of course, nothing will make up for not being able to spend time with my Cos and her fam.

But there is something rather fantastical about Central Park in the snow. Something that, to put it colourfully, rather just blows the mind. Something that makes you pause, just when you're overwrought with winter anguish, and rejoice, for just a moment, in the beauty of it all.

Note to the Invisible Office Cleaner

Dear sir,

Every evening, when everyone has long gone home, you come by and tidy the hurricane we have left in our wake.

When you come by to clean the office, you sometimes can't help yourself, and just have to eat some of the fruit I keep on my desk.

Perhaps you've wondered whether I notice. Perhaps you've wondered whether it's wrong. Perhaps, sometimes, you feel guilty for pilfering a bit of fruit.

Please don't. When I buy my fruit each week, I always get a little extra, with you in mind.

It's the least I can do really, for everything you do for me.