Interesting Consumer Item Part I: Grand Street

Some of you might have noticed the blogging here has been sparse and erratic of late. There are several reasons for this:

A. This “on-again-off-again” love affair April is having with winter is wreaking havoc on my person.
B. Sometimes I need a break:

1. from the “Brooklyn blogosphere”
2. from bloggers in general (nothing personal)
3. from my own blogging so as to…
4. enjoy my life by indulging my own artistic inclinations and
5. savoring the work of others.

Which brings me to this…

in my “downtime” I devoured this book.* It is (and on occasion all at once) poignant, smutty and very funny. I recommend it highly. It also had a wonderful passage which I will endeavor to paraphrase here:

The way to get a man is to be perfect until you can reveal yourself for being big asshole you really are.

Jen’s probably right. But I never mastered Duplicity 101. It was not out lack of ability or training. I learned feminine wiles from the best: my tiny and insanely cute southern grandmother (who was, in fact, one of the most terrifying women I have ever met). Rather, it was my sense of honesty, abject laziness and most importantly feminism that did me in. After spending 30 years of dealing with assholes less intelligent, creative, and charismatic than myself I wanted to break the (gl)ass ceiling:

Dicks be damned…

I said to myself.

I am going to be the biggest asshole I can be!

This exercise in self-realization did wonders for my self-esteem. The same cannot be said for my dating life. Honesty is something New Yorkers (and Americans in general)  find disquieting— what’s more, they don’t want it. In the metaphorical dating pool that is New York City I was a Baby Ruth bar mistaken for a turd.

Thankfully I met my Carl. His name is Mister Heather. When I told him about a special art project I was cooking up Thursday night he took interest. What’s more, we argued about how to do it. After acquiring the most crucial components Friday I needed we still needed one vital component to pull it all together.

We’re going to Grand Street.

I said. And they did. Have what we we looking for. Along with this:

Too bad “FuXing” doesn’t make feminine hygiene products. I’d love nothing more than to shout at my husband in my, most delicate, female time of need:

GET ME SOME FUXING PADS!

Oh, wait. I do that already.

Miss Heather

*Jen will be part of a panel discussion today starting at 2:00 p.m.:

NY Center for Independent Publishing
NY Round Table Writers’ Conference
20 West 44th Street
New York, New York 10036