so good to me.
I survived Valentine's Day without breaking any hearts, Michael doesn't have to know Chris is moving here until I know for sure that's what's really happening. I couldn't stand to spoil breakfast in bed, a movie, a trip to Chinatown to watch the sky cloud with glitter as red dragons danced for The Year of the Tiger to beating drums, or dinner reservations to some place fancy with live music and rose petals softer than silk, so I didn't... He's too good to me, I don't deserve him and I can't say who's heart will break more when it ends.
I am continuing on my quest for things that are okay.
This week Kat and I are competing for something we invented called "Vintage Dress Week." Every day she and I will come to work wearing a different vintage dress, we'll be judged by 3 coworkers daily on our dress, shoes, and total look. Scoring is as follows:
1 = ew gross
2 = try harder
3 = aiight
4 = i'd be seen with you
5 = hot hot shit!
One bonus point is to be given if your accessories are vintage too. Whoever gets the most points by the end of the week wins. We haven't really figured out a prize yet though, as of right now the loser just has to buy the winner a bottle of wine but I'm feeling like I might win and I want more than that. This is incredibly trivial but it's getting me out of bed in the morning and this is very okay.
So, I'm sitting on the train in my vintage dress buttoned up in my big red coat (also vintage) after a long day of work and competition and I'm looking up at an ad for something incredibly ridiculous called "The B1 Patch: The natural defense against hangovers," on the left side of the ad there's some stupid picture of three midriff bearing girls smiling wildly wearing a lame crop top that spells "B1" over their gigantic boobs. I'm about to look away out of contempt for society's idolization of bimbos when on the right side of the ad I spot gold. Something that's even better than okay...this:
This handwritten note has got to be one of the greatest things I've seen on the subway in a really long time. Maybe even better than the crazy homeless lady who shouted repeatedly that her pants broke and she was hungry and let's not forget our Asian friends on their new year because it's gonna be some celebration and that the lady sitting on the other end of the train needs a makeover bad. No, this note is even better than that, not so much for it's content as for what it represents because those scrawled two sentences gave me a glimpse into the lives of 3 different people living in New York and I'm fascinated. First of all, how did this note end up sticking out of a subway ad? Did it fall out of Roxana's bag? Why would Roxana even remove the note from Anne's home? Clearly Roxana is the housekeeper, but I bet she keeps other houses in addition to Anne's. Maybe not though. Is Roxana old or young? What nationality is she? Roxana sounds Russian but that's not the norm for New York City housekeepers. Does she live off the R line too? Where do Anne and Sanford live? Could Roxana have perched the note on the edge of the B1 ad herself? Why would she do that? I don't know much about Roxana except that she's a housekeeper, could possibly live off the R line, and she occasionally takes notes written by employers and sticks them not in the trash, but in her bag, maybe even perched in subway ads. I know a little more about Anne, like that she must be pretty wealthy to have her own stationary and housekeeper and a son she chose to name "Sanford." She writes in caps and she writes fast. She doesn't know how to spell "vacuum" without a spellcheck, and she didn't think about closing the other end of her parenthesis. She wants people to like her so she's polite and isn't afraid to use exclamation points. What's with the scribbles on the bottom? Is that her signature? Maybe she's a doctor? I couldn't believe my luck to be dealt this note which provided me with a first and last name and I had all these unanswered questions so I took the opportunity to google her. Guess what? I'm pretty sure I found her on facebook. Creepy? I don't care. It was fucking creepy that the note she wrote to her housekeeper was sticking out of an ad for a hangover remedy. Anyway, I think this could be her http://www.facebook.com/people/Straton-Anne/543145980 I'm not her friend so I can't see her page but I can see that she's a fan of a restaurant called "Paradiso" which is in New York and that many of her friends live in New York and that in her picture she's wielding a baby boy who looks about nap age, could that be Sanford? I think so. How many Ann Stratons do you think there are with a little boy living in New York City? There can't be too many, this must be her. Oh and Sanford, without even having seen his adorable face on facebook I know from this note that his name is Sanford Straton (I bet he has a killer middle name too, I hope whatever it is doesn't start with an 'S'), his family is loaded, he's on a strict schedule and diet, his parents are hoping for ivy league, and his dad has been known to throw on a tux, okay, I wouldn't have known the tux part without facebook's help but the rest is apparent.
Maybe I should've left this gem of a note perched on it's B1 subway ad to make someone else's day too, but I think it was a gift and I'm not so sure many other people would even notice and I bet that half of the one's who did wouldn't even care, the other half, well, I don't care about them, I got to it first.
I'm grateful for vintage dresses and hot hot shit and Roxana and Anne and Sanford Straton. Thanks for being okay.
