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JUL
31

If You End up at Costco When You Need to Buy Ink

If you end up at Costco when you need to buy ink, you may not be able to remember what cartridge your printer takes.

If you stare long enough at the aisle of options, the number 61 will feel right.

If you get the 61 home, you'll realize you've actually bought a 61XL.

If you put the 61XL in your printer, you'll learn that a 61XL is not the same as a 61.

If this strikes you as ridiculous, you might let out an expression that rivals the tri-color cartridge now sitting useless in the drawer of your writing desk.

If you go back to Costco to buy a regular 61, you'll find out that Costco apparently no longer carries the 61.

If you track down a 61 at Staples, you'll be bugged at how much more you have to pay per cartridge.

And if you know anyone whose printer can take 61XL, you can count yourself ahead of the game for already having a stocking stuffer at this point in the year.

(Clearly this is destined to be picked up as a beloved children's book, at which point I will no longer care how much money I have to spend on ink cartridges.)

 

JAN
08

Epic Battle

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It is ON. And I’m not talking about Oregon vs. Ohio State. (Although oh my GOSH, Oregon vs. Ohio State!!) No, I’m talking about Me vs. The Woman Downstairs. She is by far the worst thing about New York so far, and all because she takes personal issue with the fact that I have a cat. A cat!! Not a rock band, not a blaring late-night TV habit, not a crying child, not a live-in boyfriend whom I cannot stop (loudly) loving, not 300 lbs. of mass that accompany my every step. Let me break it down for you.

Phase 1: She began brooming her ceiling whenever my cat ran across the floor. For the record, my cat is 6 pounds. And sleeps all day.

Phase 2: When my cat didn’t get the message (shocker), the woman began yelling—hysterical, possessed yelling. From inside her apartment. Up at me. It usually sounds something like this: “BLAH BLAH @#^&* BLAH @&*#% THAT CAT $%*@# BLAH BLAH $%&*@ CAT!!”

Phase 3: When it proved that my cat could not be trained by the sounds of a deranged lunatic one floor below, this woman came to my door and presented her case, which was that my cat (who runs around for at most 30 seconds a day…and that’s on her feistiest of days) is exacerbating her many ailments. Now, look, I’m a nice person, even to lunatics at my door, so I sympathized with this woman over how horrifying it must be to have a 6-pound jungle tiger cat leaping around above her. I also explained to the woman that I had recently had additional rugs and mufflers put down (true story) and that I wasn’t sure what else I could do.

To really make you feel as if you were there (although to really get the full effect, throw on scrubs and a ratty t-shirt, no bra, and have some pasta boiling on the stove), here’s an excerpt of the conversation that went down at my door.

Woman: “DON’T YOU TELL ME THERE’S NOTHING ELSE YOU CAN DO. I’VE BEEN HERE FOR 30 YEARS AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THERE’S MORE THAT YOU COULD DO.”

Me: “Are you suggesting I keep the cat locked in the bathroom? I mean, besides the rugs, what else can I do?”

Woman: “YOU CAN GET THE F*** OUT.”        

Me: “Oh, okay. I think this conversation is over.”

Woman: “WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD MOVE IN HERE? WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD LIVE ABOVE ME? GET THE F***OUTTA HERE.”

By this time my landlord had heard the commotion and come out into the hall.

Landlord, to the Woman: “What are you doing?”

Woman, now in a calm voice: “I just thought a face to face conversation would be the best way to handle this.”

Me: “By telling me to get the f*** out? That’s the best way to handle this?”

Woman: “I REFUSE TO HAVE A CAT BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY LIFE. IT’S UNACCEPTABLE. I SURVIVED THE NAZIS AND I WILL NOT LET THIS HAPPEN.”

In case you missed it, my cat is now being compared to the evil, doom, and overall world devastation stemming from the Nazi party.

I am not making this up, nor can I believe that someone who has been in NYC for so long would think they have any right to make such a stink over hearing a 6-pound cat for 30 seconds a day. I mean, you hear positively everything in these thin-walled apartments (and I do mean everything).

Me, in my fantasy dream world where I say all the snarky things that come to my mind: “Well at least my cat doesn’t climax.”

Phase 4: This is yet to be implemented and will involve strapping on a pair of stilettos (thanks for the suggestion MWW) and walking around the apartment for an hour at a time. To be fair, I’m too nice to actually do this, not to mention, who has this kind of time?

In any case, I’m sure I haven’t heard the last of the woman downstairs. “She’s ruining my New York experience,” I complained recently, to which came the response, “Or she’s giving you a really authentic one.” Ding ding ding!

APR
19

Potty Mouth

It's a little entertaining to me that the topic that has many of my early readers all abuzz is the swearing contained in the book. In truth, I don't really swear much (read: at all) in real life. But as a writer I find some sentences just beg for those words. Inserting them effectively into pivotal moments then is either a gift, or it's simply justification at its finest.

My favorite college English professor is reading the book this week, and he sent me a note saying that he--get this--admires the way I use swear words in my writing. "How did you learn to swear so well?" he asked. Since I grew up never actually using these words, I guess you could say it came to me naturally. Like chess to Josh Waitzkin. He further told me that I have great comic timing, use [swear words] intelligently, and that they don't seem gratuitous. Let's just say that compliments on my ability to swear are not among those I ever thought I would be getting.

Another amusing story came from a girl who grew up with me in a neighboring Oregon town. She loved the book, even read bits of the b-school chapters to her husband as he was packing for--get this--the final trip of his MBA degree. She told me she recommended the book to her siblings, but did warn them about the swearing in case that swayed them one way or the other. Not to be deterred, one of her sisters responded, "I want to read Tali Nay's swearing book!" Which is about the most hilarious thing I've ever heard.

True that the book does contain some adult-ish content, so just be prepared. Or maybe read it first if you're the parent of teenagers who want to read it. But I can promise you this: they hear a lot worse in the halls at school. See what I mean? Justification at its finest.

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