I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
I spent some of last weekend in Brooklyn with Jeremy and his dog-nephew Ned. I’d been wanting to meet Ned for a few years now, so I was pleased to hit it off with the snorty little guy. He’s much more svelte and spry than Abby was in her later years (or maybe any of them).
My nasal passages are finally done fighting gravity. I feel so much better today. I got more done in the last fifteen hours than I did all last week. Unfortunately, I need to stay on the wagon and do some freelance work tonight.
I got a pet today. Well, a plant, but one about as active as my beloved Abbydog was.
It’s significantly cooler outside than it is inside. I’d open the windows, but two of them have air conditioners perched in them, one is blocked by my desk, and the other in the kitchen might bring in flies.
“So poop or parasite?” That’s what I was asked by a blog-reading friend when we met up Saturday night.
I’m sick again with some kind of gastrointestinal rebellion.
Life Coach thinks I have a parasite. My dad thinks I need to poop.
I’m furiously freelancing until tomorrow night, so I’ma make myself scarce.
In the meantime, check out this judge running for NYC Surrogate Court:
Last night, Junot Diaz said he would look for my blog, so he could read about the crazy lady. He even signed my copy of Drown “To Amanda who met the crazy lady!” The whole thing - and other assorted happinesses - left me so giddy, I couldn’t sleep.
Republican National Convention coverage has really got me apoplectic tonight, but you know, I’m not sorry about that.
Today was the first day of school in NYC. I woke up tingling with a newfound feeling of possibility.
