OMGSNOW! I woke up to this scraping sound outside my window, and I was picturing this little kid dragging a two-by-four behind him up and down the sidewalk behind him. I was all ready to open the window and holler at him, but then I opened the window, and, you know. There it all was. Can't wait to go outside and walk around in it, maybe do some shopping, maybe just have a look around.
Sophie made some Indian dish last night that involved coating every surface in the kitchen golden with turmeric. When she was hosing it off with fantastik this morning, we made a fascinating discovery -- fantastik turns turmeric a deep chartreuse color -- something like grapefruit juice, or Emma's Furby: Our Lord The Flayed One.
So the message that girl left about her iPod the other night turned out to be a lot crazier than I'd thought when I was listening to it be recorded. She says something like (I deleted the actual message in a fit of annoyance): "Hi, this is Sam, I took your bag last night, and you took my bag... you took my iPod. Please give me a call, my number is..." Wha? The second message was (I think) from her boyfriend and sounded a lot more... conciliatory, I guess. He says something like, "Hey, uh, my name's Dan, and, uh, I think you might have left that bar last night with my iPod? If you don't mind, could you give me a call? My number is..." Clearly trying to strike a balance between appeasing his histrionic Jew girlfriend and trying to come off like a normal person. So I left her a voicemail wherein I delicately suggest that I know fucking nothing about her stupid iPod.
Two funny dreams: Friday night I dreamed Ted was taking us all to Ikea, and we bought a bookcase or shelves or something that required both screws and wood glue to put together. On the way back in the car, I was fiddling with the packaging for this furniture, and, without thinking, I opened the little tube of glue and squeezed a bunch of it into my mouth and swallowed it. In the dream it had this sort of sugary orange taste, a little like the filling of those little hard candies that come in the white wrapper with a picture of a piece of fruit on it. Anyway, though, once I realized what I'd done I started rifling through the instruction manual that came with the stuff and found an ingredients list for the glue that had a bunch of complicated-sounding chemicals on it and an ominous message like, "Toxic if swallowed." I asked Ted to drop me off at the emergency room, but he said, "No, you'll probably be fine." Last night, I dreamed that Tom (I think) was on a date with this girl who really wanted to go to this one particular restaurant -- in fact, he said she'd be crushed if they couldn't go there -- but it just so happened that said restaurant was closed the evening they were going out. So he enlists me along with the security guard who's patroling the restaurant to open the place up and act as waiters for him and this girl. And we do, but she wants to order a bunch of stuff that we have no idea how to cook. So we have to run out to a bunch of stores / other restaurants to round up the components of the meal. What a riot!
On Sunday The Rase and I and one of her co-workers went to that RUSSIA! show at the Guggenheim. I hadn't been up to that neighborhood in eons, and I'd forgotten how much I like just walking around up there around all those nice old buildings and mean old white folks. The show was pretty interesting -- I tried to pay attention to the historical aspects of the pieces, because that's, you know, how grown-ups look at art, I think. According to the accompanying information, Russian painting in the 15th and 16th centuries was mostly stylized religious iconography (which was actually pretty sweet, especially the wall-hangings made out of silver and gold thread) and then, by a combination of wars and varying travel restrictions / incentives, Russian painters were exposed to a more naturalistic composition in use by Western painters. Notably, all the important artistic reforms were top-down (i.e., coming directly or indirectly by edict of the tsar) -- the exhibit even described the "revolution" in portrait-painting that introduced the use of middle-class subjects as being a result of Alexander II's liberation of the serfs. I think my favorite painting was that famous one of the barge-haulers, because, man, those guys really look like they wanna rape something, but Sophie and I both discovered this other guy that we both liked, a landscape painter named Arkhip Kuindzhi. I also found a little machine in one of the corners of the floors that looked kind of like a cross between a seismograph and food processor, apparently measuring some important thing going on in the museum. That was almost as good as the paintings. Unfortunately, the museum closed before we got to the top of the spiral, so we only got to see until about the beginning of the 20th century. Lotta homeless people on the train.
After that, Sophie wanted to stop off at this fair-trade goods expo that some of her friends were participating in over at a private party in TriBeCa, so we went to that and homphed down like a million little hors'doeuvres sandwiches.
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