What is the point of this? Well, my posting last week was pretty feeble, but it was a strange week. On the one hand I am finally enjoying close proximity and flirting with my crush leading to periods of playful high energy and euphoria. On the other hand, there is a nasty stomach virus going around the city right now and I also spent part of the week suffering from sharp bouts of headaches, nausea and fever spikes. On Friday finally it was too much, I couldn't do anything at work except clench my teeth and try not to hurl. I left work early to go home, take some medicine and go to bed. Unfortuantely I woke up at 2am therefore missing a fun night out with the ladies who brunch to celebrate ThatEllen's birthday. Bummer.
The good news is, I'm feeling better now in time for my Saturday night plans: we're having a little Smith reunion in da hood as some Chase House lovelies come to my neck of the woods. It seems like all my college friends in the city never find time to get together unless someone comes in from out of town, so I'm glad Bizzy is coming in with the HappyHobo for the Five Boro Bike Tour. I wish more Chasers could be here, like Emma and Jackie. However I don't wish that weird girl who used to yell at the television and make us all very uncomfortable at Friday afternoon Tea would visit. We will be starting the night at Franny's a restaurant that I consider to be firmly in Prospect Heights, yet is always named in the press as having the best pizza in Park Slope. It's just not ever enough for you, Park Slope, is it? You have to have it all.
Also, I've noticed a trend in the small corner of the blogosphere that I peruse: blogging about Germans. Seems like everyone wants to take a turn mining the blog gold that our Teutonic brothers and sisters bring us. Josh is doing his part. LeBrookski routinely does her part. And now this from You Can't Make it Up:
Which is why I was slightly chagrined to learn that a German Trade company had moved into my office building. Oh, I wouldn't really care, if it wasn't for the fact that every morning in the elevator, I look and feel like Bruce Willis in Die Hard 3. (If you've seen the movie, you'll remember the elevator scene with him in the bank. If you haven't, I feel sorry for you.)
There I'll be, surrounded by beefy looking blonde men, super-stylish (but horribly toothed) women, and an occasional Asian person, which really throws me off. You can spot the Germans in the building from a mile away. They just don't... really... look like we do. (By we, I'm referring of course to my drop dead gorgeous readership.) Their clothes, their strut, their laser-beam vision. It's different.
Have you blogged about Germans lately?
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