Best Presidents Day Ever

Ok, it pains me to be upbeat and uncomplaining but everything has gone strangely right for the past few days. We were able to fly out of NYC to Chicago on Thurs. morning with only minimal delay. I was seated directly behind Mo Rocca (who you might recall, I am no fan of), like his salt-and-pepper head was inches from my face, as evidenced in the photo on the right. I had to try super hard to not say anything inappropriate using references from titles of shows he’s co-hosted like Things I Hate About You (I might not have even remembered this short lived reality bit but a friend edited it and brought the pilot over to my apt. to watch). I was showing James a pointless trend article in the New York Times about people using handheld devices to settle bets (see, in the old days you’d have to wait until you got home to look up the answer and gloat) in bars, at parties, etc. I quietly paraphrased the following paragraph aloud:

"The digital instant answer, it turns out, has been put to all sorts of uses: People say they have relied on it to judge whether a Scrabble player has spelled out a legitimate word or to surreptitiously identify the B-level celebrity seated next to them at dinner."

And Mo turned his head like his ears had been pricked by the phrase B-level and James got all mad at me and I was like, “he’s C-list if he’s lucky.” It’s not my fault if Mo was projecting on my conversation.

Anyway, 48 hours in Chicago was brief, bone-chilling (the admittedly frigid weather here seriously feels balmy by comparison. I had on every layer I could think of and kicked myself for being anti-scarf [I packed one but refused to wear it]. You practically need a face mask if you’re going to be walking around for more than ten minutes. And no one else seemed to care. Thank goodness you’re allowed to smoke indoors) and gut-busting. I had no idea that I would end up devoting 50% of my six meals to Mexican food, especially since I’ve been reaching Latin American food overload since taking on reviewing duties. But Chicago has amazing edibles not found in this part of the country, for good and bad. I could live another hundred years and never bemoan lack of deep dish pizza in NYC. I’ll discuss individual restaurants in further missives. For now, I have some food-centric, uncaptioned photos to be looked at.

I’m an obsessive email checker, and since I don’t have a cell phone my home phone voicemails also get routed to my email. I’m not sure who I think might be writing or calling me but as I’m always in interview mode I half expect that a job offer will eventually trickle my way. I didn’t anticipate freelancing at the New York Post for over five months. It was a stop gap measure between my horrendous foray into PR research and flat out quitting/financial destitution (though last week’s paycheck was $32 less than what you earn sitting on your ass collecting unemployment).

So, even though Blackberries irritate me, I couldn’t help but desperately paw the evil device, scrolling for good news while in the airport shuttle van. And lo and behold, a potential employer was asking me to call them back. Apparently, I’ll be starting a new job next Monday, and with a salary considerably higher than I’d anticipated. Good fortune is shocking to me so I’m still feeling inexplicably uneasy. Being able to quit this afternoon takes away a little of the sting of working the midnight shift on a pseudo-holiday. Plus, I’m seeing Norbit in a few hours. Does it get any better than that?