The Fountain Of Youth?

Less than a week ago Al Roker was issuing a frost warning for the greater metropolitan area and today the mercury spiked to a toasty 95 degrees, thanks global warming! With the warmer temps comes evenings of cool spring breezes wafting through my windows as I snuggle down for the night and float softly into deep slumber. Wow that does sound lovely however my actual bedtime routine during the warmer weather months is filled with the sounds of gangs of children rampaging below my bedroom window, screeching and crying.

Summer 1998 was my first encounter with the demons that inhabit the run down wreck of a house across the street. It was about 12:30 am and as I laid my head onto my downy soft pillow the slaying of the innocents began. Outside my window I heard children all under the age of 6 whaling as if their entire family was set aflame. I flew to the open window to spy the offending condition but all I discovered below was 3 adults yelling at a pack of diaper clad toddlers and big wheel operators careening down the sidewalk screaming in joy/ horror/ pain….who the hell knows. This exercise in insanity continued for over an hour that evening and continued EVERY night there after – until the first frost. And when I say every night, it has been EVERY warm evening since 1998. I forget about the children of the night once the city heat beats me into submission and the cool fresh breezes are replaced by the white noise of my air conditioner but during these in between times I am haunted by Satan’s spawn who have never AGED! Yes eleven years later these children are still children, it’s like a spiteful Peter Pan lives across street with his pack of lost boys who only come out to play between the hours of 11:30 pm and 1am. Maybe they are vampire babies?

Coo Coo Bananas

I like many other urban dwellers have a visceral hatred for the Columba palumbus, AKA, the pigeon. I hate pigeons on so many levels but I mostly hate pigeons in or on my domicile. In? Yes in..but that's a story for a later time, this blog is about pigeons roosting on my and my neighbor’s window sills.

I live on the top floor of a small apartment building that is conjoined to a sister building next door which creates a sort of alley that the tenets share. For years this alley has been a haven for pigeons; with its eastern exposure it stays toasty warm in the winter and with the addition of window air conditioners in the summer the pigeons snuggle in quite contently building nests in the spaces between the bottoms of the units and the window sills. Nobody appeared to take issue with the birds for I being the tenant at the end of the alley I have a view of everybody’s windows from my couch and there seemed to be no deterrents erected to quell the constant sound of wings flapping and the endless maddening cooing!!! That is until I undertook project pigeon bye bye.

A few years ago Scooter (also a tenacious hatter of the cooing fowl) advised me to hang plastic bags from my window sills to deter the gray beasts from laying claim to my red brick oasis. I didn’t really think it would work but on Scooter's instructions I jammed my white grocery bags between the screens and the outside world then waited to see if there was any effect on the bastards. Moments later a squatter came swooping in at full speed yet when he caught a glimpse of the offending plastic bag bobbing in the wind he quickly turned vertical - like Luke escaping from the death star - and flew off to perch elsewhere. Wholly cow it worked…it really worked, and it never stopped working.

Sure the bags get grimy and gunky and they do look a bit dodgy but it’s better than pigeon poop and fluff all over my screens. However I still had the problem of my neighbors harboring the offensive interlopers, especially my neighbor whose window is positioned a mere 4” away from my living room. Ughhh every summer they would install their AC unit and every summer a family of diseased flying rats would roost, procreate….and cooooooo cooooooo cooooooo….. but not THIS Summer.

Yesterday morning I awoke to a sun drenched sky and with temperatures in the seventies I threw my windows open for the first time since closing them in November to discover not only did I have new neighbors across the alley but they had installed PLASTIC BAGS in their windows, all 3 of them, just like me!!!! I don’t know who these people are (they live in the building next door) but I want to hang a sign in my kitchen widow emblazoned in bold print “Welcome to the hood Pigeon Hater” ! or “Welcome to the hood. I see we have similar interests, if you are a single male we should really date or if you are that guy who sings karaoke followed by making sweet love….I can hear you.”

Hillary…you’re on my list

I find that I am not blogging because 1- I am rather happy, and 2 – nothing bizaro has been happening (much).

I continued my gay-fest last week by tagging along with Jesus to a very festive Gray Gardens house party up in Harlem. Not only did these boys have pitchers of frozen margaritas flowing all afternoon they also served a revolving buffet of delicious delicacies that miraculously appeared within arms reach as Jesus and I sunk further into the leather couch and morphed into the local Big and Little Edie. For about 4 hours Jesus and I sat captivated by both the screening of the documentary and the HBO feature while our emotions ricocheted between hysterics, depression, and disgust. I was not as disturbed as others by the proliferation of feline feces in the home however I did take issue with Big Edie cooking corn on the cob on a hotplate in her BED.
Here are some of my favorite quotes from the documentary:

Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale: If you can't get a man to propose to you, you might as well be dead.

Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale: This is the best thing to wear for today, you understand. Because I don't like women in skirts and the best thing is to wear pantyhose or some pants under a short skirt, I think. Then you have the pants under the skirt and then you can pull the stockings up over the pants underneath the skirt. And you can always take off the skirt and use it as a cape. So I think this is the best costume for today.

Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale: You can't have your cake and eat it, too in life. Edith 'Big Edie' Bouvier Beale: Oh, yes, I did. I did, I had my cake, loved it, masticated it, chewed it and had everything I wanted.

[Little Edie is reading from her astrology book] Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale: "The Libra husband is reasonable. He is a born judge, and no other zodiacal type can order his life with so much wisdom." God! That's all I need: order! That's all I need: an ordered life. You know, a manager. But he's *got* to be a Libran.

Lastly I would like to place Hillary Clinton on notice. Today while I was “regretfully” replying “No” to an invitation to a black tie event at the State Department the SUPER extra thick stationary attacked me. Yes as I gingerly dragged my tongue across the minty adhesive on the reply envelope the edge slit my lip. Nice going federal government. Well I guess it’s a good thing that they are sponsoring 65% of my COBRA payment, I’m gonna need an antiseptic salve.

Oh So Good

Ya see things do work out even when you don’t have a plan. My job (week 2) is terrific. Mr. Lady constantly amazes me with his basic ‘human-ness’ and trumped himself this week when instead of fresh flowers he bought us all cupcakes…oh Mr. Lady he is adorable. Unfortunately 1/3 of the staff (the bookkeeper) is leaving next month because of family commitments and I will miss her, she is rather a riot. The bookkeeper is very active in finding her replacement and with her narrow focus on someone who is “normal” I have good hopes for the new trio. And oh won’t it be fun not to be the newbee…gulp… the new hire will be asking ME questions, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

Last night Swason and I met up with Jesus to celebrate his Birthday at a gay piano bar in midtown. Jesus of course is adorable and charming as per usual and I don’t believe he was even the least bit annoyed when Swanson and I ditched the gaggle of pretty boy partiers in exchange for hijacking the very accommodating pianist in the back room. Thank goodness the piano area was a ghost town because Swason and I had the ferocity of Bukley and Lupone and we didn’t stop until the barkeep forcibly pried our kung foo grip from the mic stand and kicked our fag hag asses out onto the street at 2:30am. It still amazes me that within a few hours at a gay bar my drinks are free, every guy in a 5 person radius has introduced themselves and I leave with my pockets filled with email addresses of my brand new BFFs. How can I NOT transfer these skills into the straight world?!

First Bog from the Fancy

Into day 4 of the new job and it is rather sweet. How can it NOT be sweet considering day one began with Mr. Fancy Lady hand delivering flowers to my co workers and me followed by my discovery of free cookies in the kitchen? Still trying to get a good grasp on all my responsibilities which can be rather difficult since the old assistant left NOTHING behind to help me navigate my daily tasks. She was here for nine years and the only thing she left behind was an Outlook account with 1000+ contacts filed in totally random order. I was at my temp job for less than 3 weeks and I created a fully operational 6 page manual to hand off to my temp replacement.

My 2 co-workers are fantastic and they share my disgust for sweat pants in public and girls who think it’s cute to strut around town sans pants. They are very helpful and have been a god send with filling in the blanks. They too never quite understood what the old assistant did and were constantly frustrated by her lack of transparency. I am lacking a list of all my Lady’s preferred vendors, her travel preferences (not to mention the contact info for her travel agent), oh and a listing of her memberships/ patronships/ subscriptions etc… I know she sits on the boards of many organizations but I have no clue where or the level of privilege that is extended because of her status. However I was able to find a document that was saved in 4 locations with the dimensions of the office mini- fridge…obviously that must be a hot button topic. Of course my Lady loved her old assistant and thought she was a genius… just hope I can figure all this out and get to occupy that level of status sooner rather than later.

How May I Assist You?

In preparation for tomorrow’s big event I’ve stocked my closet full of demure below the knee skirts, fine knit sweaters and sensible flats. My tall black patent leather boots have been returned to the plastic storage bin under my bed and the diffuser on my hair dryer has been replaced by the straight hair attachment (big curly 80’s rocker hair is not appropriate on the UES). I guess I’m ready…right?
My emotions are overflowing. I feel anxious, excited, grateful, scared, and nervous; it’s mind boggling that I’m starting a whole new career – again. 12 months ago I was writing my thesis on the effect of arts instruction on students’ problem solving skills and now look at me; I am just hours away from becoming a personal assistant. Even though I am certain I am not in control of the current that transports me through my universe I’m delighted to be blissfully bobbing over the waves instead of drowning under their weight.