Do you remember that TV commercial from 1982? ” I….Love NY”? Well, I do love NY(C).
Today at the Greenwich Hotel, we saw Bryan Cranston from Malcom in the Middle and Breaking Bad (SO WHAT if I thought it was Corbin Bernsen from LA Law – I’m showing my age in this blog, aren’t I?). We went to the see The Book of Mormon (I’ve seen it before) where I saw and heard Marty laugh out loud. Rare, baby, rare.
We started a conversation with some other couple at Serafina before the show who happened to also be staying at The Greenwich. We were comparing “people” we saw. They saw Sharon Osborne at our shared hotel today! Poo. Marty’s mocked me so much for being so star struck that when a waiter went by us tonight at dinner at the hotel he said, “THERE’S A WAITER!” I almost broke my neck whipping it around so fast for nothing – just to a regular waiter.
Back to my idiocy. If I lived here, I would have my dry cleaning and food delivered. I would wear no makeup, no bra, and comfortable shoes. Wait, that’s a sign of depression; those last three – I fight that every damned day! Am I asking for trouble? I get in enough trouble in Elma, NY. Nevertheless, I still want that doorman and him asking me when he’s opened the door for me how my day’s been, whether or not I want a taxi, or a car. This is how I want to live. This is how I need to live. But add room service to it.
. I can only scrape off wrong orders from them so many times before I look more foolish than my usual foolish self. I used to think to myself, “what if that was my kid making that pizza and simply had made an inadvertant mistake? I’d swallow it. But I’ve seen those kids. They are not anything like my own innocent kids. They are kids who don’t give a fiddler’s fart about whether or not they get fired or pink slipped. Little do they know, the pizza they are tossing together could send someone into anaphalactic shock or a migraine for five days simply from their not giving a rat’s ass and tomfoolery. Nor worries. After this happened to me for about the fifth thime, this officious jerk lost her big-girl panties and her patience. Marty kindly offered to take it back to which I said, no, but thank you; I’ll take it tomorrow and throw it up agains the wall. He suggested that we both have to start checking our food as soon as it’s in front of us before paying and walking out the door. (Tim Hortons is the King of screwing up your breakfast burrito w/o cheese that comes laden with cheese, and you don’t realized until after you’re driven five miles past the ever-so-efficient drive-thru.
