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Thursday, March 30, 2006

overheard yesterday in the sun

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

me: i'm flying out west tomorrow to interview for a company. i don't really think i want the job.
other person: they're flying you out?
me: yes. is that incorrect?
other person: well, grammatically it's not.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006


Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

when i was touring around with "bring in 'da noise...", a friend and i became addicted to crack. how could we not? it was omnipresent - every bar, down every street, everywhere we turned.

it was the early 2000s, and low, low, low cut jeans were in. barely rising above your hip bones, scarcely covering supple buttocks, and, yes, exposing oh-so-many cracks.

why? what did you think i was talking about?

all this ass-crack was a novelty for us. every time we'd spot it, we'd smile and point right into it.

"crack" we'd say, matter-of-factly.

we couldn't get enough.

during the winters i tend to eat a lot and not move so much. my buttocks expand. i recently tried to put them into a pair of already tight-fitting jeans. it was a struggle.

i was at a client site and was putting on my winter boots. i felt a draft, a chill, a slight breeze and looked to my stern to see what was afoot.

i gasped.

my ass!

oh the crack that i was forcing unto credulous governmental eyes!

my best friend's niece, who is about 4 years old, already speaks french and greek. when i saw her this past weekend, she had picked up english as well. it really is amazing to see how these young little minds can learn so much - in two weeks.

she was looking a little frustrated at one point and i asked what was wrong.

"my BALL! it's under the couch."

i commanded her 14 year-old sister to find it. i was watching COPS. i couldn't get up.

"all right," she said. "just don't look at my crack."

she crouched by the couch and searched for the ball.

"i can't find it!"

"reach deeper," i coached.

her 4 year-old sister with her newfound language skills walked over and pointed down the back of her sister's pants, into the gaping chasm.


awesome. that's the kind of family i want.

Friday, March 24, 2006

whenever minutes

cassette stuck in pavement
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

people get mad at me for not having a cell phone. they actually get mad.

i recently sublet an apartment from a yoga couple. the woman pulled out her cell phone, and primed to program, she asked me for my number. she looked stunned and then a bit mad when i told her that i didn't have one.

these are yoga people, i thought. she's can't get mad. she's not allowed to be judgmental.

we had a bit of a stare down until she realized that she was a yoga person.

"oh, that's okay. it's not your fault," she said.

whatever THAT meant.

i HATE talking on the phone. even if i did have a cell phone, you wouldn't be able to get me on it. i'd never answer it.

listen to people on their cell phones. no one is ever saying anything of any import. i wanted to compile a list of lame snippets that i caught, but everyone's conversations bored me so much, that i forgot. you can figure it out: girls complaining about guys, gay guys talking about clothing ("i'm wearing my green hoodie" - okay, that one was too gay to forget), lame office gossip, business people with something to prove with prattle that turns my stomach, and people just stating where they are ("twelfth aisle from the back - can't you see me waving", "third and 21st", "hi - i'm at h&m. where are you?").

i was consignment shopping when another girl in the shop had a full blown fight on her cell.

"what do you mean john's not going? i spoke to him this morning and we decided that he was the one to do it."


"you've got to be kidding me. i'm on the upper east side - i'll never get there in time."


"FINE! i'm leaving right now. you realize how late i'm going to be? this makes us ALL look like idiots!"

she angrily snapped her phone shut and stormed out. there were about 6 other shoppers in the small store. we cleared our throats, coughed, and clinked the hangers on the rack to ease our discomfort induced by her loutish spectacle.

a friend of mine recently decided to become mad at me because we didn't spend enough time together when i was in new york. oddly enough, i was simultaneously wondering why he never invited me to do anything, especially since our last correspondence consisted of me saying, "let me know if you want to get together."

he only called me when i emailed, once again, and informed him that i had landed myself in the hospital and had to get a piece of computer equipment back to him.

he proceeded to re-anger himself when we couldn't arrange the time to meet up. he with a dental appointment and me with a complete new york stranger who was posing as a photographer so that he could bamboozle young ‘uns into exposing their bosom.

actually it was for work, but judging by my (ex) friend's reaction, i may as well have been killing tiny puppies.

i received a message upon my return to the yoga hut renouncing our friendship.

"hey krista. you know what? you can keep that fucking computer adapter, i'm ending this friendship. it's based on nothing but selfishness, and you're completely selfish. so good luck with your life."

he made this call from the street. i could hear him walking and the street noise in the background.

my only hope is that several people got to hear his conversation. with any luck, it could have supplied them with a good laugh, eye roll, or fodder for a blog of their own.

how often do you get to hear a 40 year-old man relinquish a friendship?

probably, nowadays, more often than we'd ever like.

Saturday, March 18, 2006


Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

no sooner did i defame my boyfriend's character than did he totally save my life.

and i'm not even exaggerating.

imagine being woken up at 4am by someone who is fighting for air.

in one of my short, wheezy exhales i managed to get out the words, "i can't breathe."

i didn't want to make him panic, but i felt i had to keep him abreast of my situation: i thought i was going to turn blue, pass out, and perish. and then i would turn gray.

we sat in the loft bed, struggling through nasty coughing fits, trying to find some means to breathe. he poured a bottle of water on my leg.

once i found the shallowest of breaths, i made my way to the couch. "i don't know what this is..." i gasped.

"i'm calling 911."

the emergency guys showed up with two cops (standard practice in hell's kitchen? crack den potential?) and the cops showed up with their trite bravado.

"what is this? a walk-in closet?" chided one.

"did you just walk up those stairs?" said another in reference to the 5-flight walk-up.

hey - nypd. this is new york. you ain't never seen a walk-up before?

i'm GLAD one of them twisted his ankle on the way down.

you know, there are PLENTY of good cops in this city. why must a couple of ass-monkeys try to ruin the reputation of the whole lot?

"what's the problem?" asked the ambulance guy.

"can't breathe. bad flu. asthma attack."

"how do you know?"

"this happened before. the doctor told me it could happen again."

"you don't have asthma unless you're genetically predispositioned to it or if you've been diagnosed with it."

"what is it about 'the doctor told me so' that is not 'diagnosed'?"

"what you have is bronchitis."

i left the hospital after being treated for asthma, and with a prescription for an asthma inhaler.

but before any of that happened, i had to be seen by the triage nurse, who kept falling asleep in between each of her screening questions. and who wouldn't look up to see me nod or shake my head in response to her questions. she just kept asking them over. and over. what is it about "she can't breathe, she can't speak" that a nurse or paramedic cannot understand?

so props to the man who was up from 4am until noon with me at the hospital, waiting for the pharmacy to open and filling my prescriptions at two duanne reades (because the first one didn't have the inhaler...), sustaining a substantially worse attack ONE HOUR after i got back from the hospital, sleeping ON THE FLOOR beside me because i had to be propped up on the futon, and cooking for me for 3 days.

and for pouring water on my leg.


Wednesday, March 15, 2006

speak easy

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

remember sean penn at last year's borecademy awards? when chris rock made a joke about jude law and how he's in a million and three movies all at once and then asked who the hell is this guy anyway. and then sean "buzzkill" penn came out to present an award, but premabled with, "for those of you who aren't aware, jude law is one of the greatest actors of our time... bla bla bla."

i attribute the ability to laugh at oneself with humility. and humility is a characteristic that i find most fascinating in people.

my boyfriend defends sean "yawn" penn's words:

"they're both serious actors, and he just didn't like someone making fun of his craft."

'serious' being the operative word. nothing irks me more than someone who takes him/herself too seriously.

last weekend, my boyfriend and i were having beverages in an old speakeasy in the west village. it was really cute. and after two martinis, my boyfriend says, "why don't you blog about me?"

"because you freak out every time i do."

"i will not. look!"

and he started to write on the paper tablecloth.

i don't care what krista writes about. he scribbled.

"that's so mean!"

"i didn't mean it that way!"

"well, usually when you give someone permission in writing to do something, it begins with i hereby...

he then wrote out the note that you see. (if you can make out the second paragraph, please let me know).

so now that i have permission, here goes!

my boyfriend is a tad on the cocky side. that is, he is a bit "sean-pennish" when it comes to laughing at himself.

i remember a horrible rainy day this past winter. the temperature dropped drastically in the evening, causing everything to freeze over. someone had kicked my boyfriend's recycling box over to the other side of the street. as he stepped onto the road to retrieve it, his fine italian footwear lost its grip and he fell flat on his ass: his two legs sticking straight into the air.

i folded over in laughter - i knew he didn't hurt himself. he didn't have far to fall, he's not that tall.

i tried to stop laughing, but the fact that he was taking it so seriously killed me even more. i laughed as he picked himself up ("geesUS"), as we walked upstairs, and as we lay in bed, well into the night.

when i got up to get a drink from the fridge with tears streaming down my face, i looked over and finally saw a smile cross his face.

i bet it felt so much better.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

get a grip

inner city, senegal
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

my first experience with whole foods was somewhere near houston, texas. i was touring with the tony award-winning broadway show "bring in 'da noise, bring in 'da funk".

in what capacity, you ask. you didn't know that i was a tap dancer, did you? i've got quite the pair of fancy feet.

actually, i was working as a nanny for my friend's 13-month old son. i took the job because i was, once again, "in between contracts". i also wanted to travel around the states and stay in hotels.

one morning my employer, myself, the baby, and the gps system set out to find some groceries. we were driving around the urban sprawl that is houston looking for the store that his gps had set its sights on. after about 45 minutes, i asked, "is this the closest grocery store to us?"

"no, but it's the closest "whole foods'".

my friend was a tad gps-happy and enjoyed embarking on voyages within cities that he didn't know to find birkenstock dispensaries and organic food outlets.

"whole what?"

keep in mind this was about 4 years ago, right before their huge global anti-globalization conquest.

imagine my consternation when four oranges and box of granola bars came out to $49.

on the ride back to the hotel, i was relentlessly given a homily on the merits of organic kale.

sure. but what about the three-hour trek it took to get out there. in this huge SUV? how does that fare with your "save the earth" senses?

i've got a free-range bone to pick with whole foods. they purport this organic state of being, which can be good and all, but why not take it all the way?

whole foods has these ugly-ass cupcakes that you can buy singularly. that is ONE ugly ass cupcake. they come encased in a clear plastic case. ONE cupcake in an environmentally-destroying, wasteful, and expensive plastic case. it's the dumbest looking thing in the world. and whoever buys these stupid-ass cupcakes is even dumber.

"but it's recyclable!" someone would inevitably whine.

sure, but WHO in new york recycles? me. that's who. no one else does. every morning i go and dig out the water bottles and pizza boxes out of the garbage and transfer them to the blue can - the one for recycling.

if you buy a piece of fish at whole foods, it also goes into the plastic case. then when you take your basket of plastic cases to the checkout, the cashier will take 8 minutes - no joke - to preciously place each of your items into a plastic bag. each of these items in the plastic bag then goes into a more durable plastic bag - for the carrying home. these durable plastic bags are then double bagged, just in case something decides to implode. and off you go - $37 for a muffin and catfish filet. and 18 pounds of plastic.

i'll work equally as hard as the cashier, removing and consolidating items as she continues to preciously triple wrap. i leave a fluffy pile of bag detritus in my wake. she'll gather them with both her arms, all 319 of them, and place them in the garbage.

whole foods. organic wonders saving the earth.

i bought a quart of milk at the deli the other night. as he was placing it in a bag, i told him that i didn't need it. i lived just 3 feet away.

"take," he thrust the bag at me.

"i have a hundred bags at home. i don't need."

"now you have a hundred and one."

Friday, March 03, 2006

the sleeping gypsy

looking at art.
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

i only learned about stendhal syndrome after the parthenon made me cry.

my boyfriend at the time and i were backpacking across italy and greece. it was the mid-nineties, when athens was a pit (still is, in my opinion). no cabs would pick us up - we tried for an hour. when they did stop and we told them our destination and they brushed us off. knowing how i would react, my boyfriend turned to me and said, "looks like we'll have to walk."

"how far is it?"

"about an hour."

"with all this shit?" i palmiculated at our backpacks.

"it won't be that bad..." he said.

i bet you didn't know athens was a hilly city.

we were walking - uphill - for about 45 minutes when i started to meltdown. how much did i love my boyfriend when he took my backpack and carried it on the front of his body?

we continued to walk up very steep hills to his friend's place. despite our backpack disparity, he was still a good 30 feet ahead of me. i saw him stop, point between two apartment buildings, and say, "you can see the parthenon."

when i finally reached the area and looked between the two big ugly buildings i saw the parthenon looking absolutely huge, grey, lit-up, and non-textbook-like. i burst into tears. it was the first time that ever happened. AND i've been to florence.

yesterday i went to see the munch exhibition at the moma with a friend. it was prolific and beautiful and sad. my friend went home and i went on to visit the permanent collection.

i walked down a flight of stairs and entered the first room i saw. i took a few steps in and became overwhelmed. a weight was placed on my chest and i, again, burst into tears. i was confronted by - of all things - a rousseau.

i know that stendhal syndrome is not about crying, but instead about fainting. and i know it's not about smelly, dirty, grey new york or athens, but instead about pretty little florence. but i still had to walk out into the hallway to collect myself.

and i've been to the moma before.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

i like my own medicine

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

not too long ago, i was having a steam bath with a friend in a slightly opulent hotel. two girls entered and started talking about hilary duff or earrings or something. then one of their cell phones rang. why she had her cell phone in a steam room is beyond my comprehension, but she attempted to answer it. due to the steam, it flew out of her hand and smashed on the floor.

good. it's broken. get out of here, i thought.

"oh my gawd! i wonder who called!" said the girl.

it finally got too hot and they left. my friend and i sat for a few moments, enjoying the silence. eventually i felt the need to confess.

"whenever i'm in a hot tub or sauna or whatever, i really, really hate it when someone else is there. it's like a burning hatred. i feel like the place is mine, that they’re intruding. is that wrong?"

"no. i feel as though they have no business here."

on another occasion, i was sent to some barren wasteland for a job. the only good thing about being sent away and forced to stay in a mariott is the hot tub. when i got in from work, at 9 pm, i'd look into the atrium at our common hot tub.

good. it's empty. i raced down before anyone else got the same idea.

i started to heat up and relax. i closed my eyes. soon enough, i felt the water level rise a few inches. i opened my eyes.

a businessman.

"hi there! you looked a little lonely. thought i'd join you..."

american businessmen view the hot tub as a networking opportunity. i don't know how to educate them that this is not the time for them and their bellies to be talking to me.

"the name's terry. i'm in plastics. how about you?" he attempted.

i half smirk. "computers... wow. it's too hot. i feel like i'm going to pass out. good night."

"fainting, huh? must be that half bottle of champagne you brought down. that's what's making your blood pressure drop..."

last night i was soaking in my gym's hot tub. a woman, not even wearing a bathing suit, but shorts and a top, decided to join me. she positioned herself in such a way so that a jet shot air and water directly into her shorts. they ballooned up to the surface.

ugh. i rolled my eyes.

every time she repositioned herself, i was hoping it was to leave. but it was simply to reballoon herself.

i retreated to the sauna.

the other day i was reading at a starbucks when a slender, slightly insane man approached me.

"are you finished with this table?"

"no, i only just got here." i replied.

"i'd like this table."

"there are plenty of empty tables." i gesticulated around the room.

"this one has the best light, the best view," was his rejoinder.

he was right. it was a pretty good spot. i appreciated the view, and the light, a little more.

"you're welcome to join me." i kicked the other chair out from under the table.

he huffed. "i'll wait 'til you leave... or maybe you won't be here tomorrow."

that's right. i smiled sardonically as i realized the power in being the annoyer.