shiny shiny, shiny boots of leather.

my iPod is slowly trying to kill me.

songs that have appeared on the shuffle mode (of 22 played thus far today):

the blower’s daughter – Damien rice

streets of Philadelphia – bruce springsteen (which is just a fucking depressing song)

i remember – Damien rice

bullet proof…i wish i was – radiohead

kissing you – des’ree (from william shakespeare’s romeo & juliet))

with or without you – u2

i swear, if “the scientist” by coldplay had come on, i would have quietly killed myself.

had a most excellent, relaxing weekend, which of course had to be slightly marred by having to sit in union station for my 45-minute-late train, which then was coupled by sitting in the train, at the station, for an additional 15 minutes (which i should have seen as a giant sign to GET THE FUCK OFF THE TRAIN), then sitting in darkness for another fifteen minutes in penn station in new york for “mechanical difficulties” (because that always reassures a rider).

spent saturday in manhattan enjoying the beautiful weather and the Russia exhibit at the Guggenheim uptown.  the building is going through an extensive refacing which prevents the exterior from being visible, but the interior is as fabulous as ever.  the only unfortunate bit about it, though, is that it takes absolutely no time whatsoever to go through the whole building, even when perusing the annex galleries and the rotunda exhibits.  so we were through it and lunch fairly quickly (and why, oh why, do museum restaurants insist on tarnishing an otherwise delicious grilled portobello, buffla mozzarella and basil sandwich with a black olive tapenade?  it doesn’t need that additional flavor competing with the subtleties of the mushroom and cheese) and made our way downtown to go to some department stores, which ended in time for us to then go home and out for pizza at bar and drinks at hot tomatoes.

and for all of you stiffs out there who refuse to tip generously—it will come back to you.  despite the fact that they were completely slammed, the cadre of staff manning the granite-top bar managed to provide efficient and attentive service, and so they ended up with a 60% tip and I got a free bellini.  the place crawls with upwardly trendy underclassmen and aging fortysomethings out to hit on the nubile staff, and needless to say there were many amusing scenes to watch—the two girls who reminded me of older versions of now-former-roommates, out on the prowl and not getting any attention; the geeky kid next to us holding court with a really cute blonde and frumpier brunette (who looked like she belonged in a library and not a bar) thinking that he was just so great for doing so; the jackass guys going up to the harried bartenders and asking for beer, to which they must ask “what brand?” and said guys have no discernible answer; two british blokes with a lovely birdy companion ordering a ketel one/seven up for the girl and two cosmopolitans for themselves; random girls in cowboy hats; the jackass to my other side constantly hitting on the barkeep (who was not a bartender and told the toad this many times) in order to get her to sleep with him/get his drinks faster.  all in all, a very entertaining evening.

sigh.