The Rain Hurts

Because it's frozen and feels like tiny clumps of cold cement hitting my face. The snow that fell overnight has already turned to brown slush but more is on the way. And, as is the case in New York whenever anything falls from the sky, be it rain, sleet or snow, the city is thrown into commuter chaos. My trek was relatively painless compared to my colleagues who complained of being stuck on the bus for more than two hours this morning. No one is in a good mood today. Today sucks. OH! What a coincidence, it's Valentine's Day.

I'm not going to go off on how much I despise this Hallmark-sponsored holiday because there's nothing I can add to the legions of haters who have already established why it's a conspiracy by the retail industry to suck money from us in an otherwise slow sales period. That and the marrieds who want to make us singletons feel bad the one day of the year they're having more fun (or pretending to). I guess I did just kind of pop off. Sorry.

No, I'm not expending any energy on V.D. My boss came in and asked us to guess how many layers of clothing she was wearing. I sprang up out of my cubicle and ran over to her office, intrigued by the idea of a guessing game first thing in the morning. Larry noted how peculiar my excitement was. "I think she's thinking about switching teams," he told my boss. By the way, she was wearing five layers including her coat which wasn't nearly as impressive as I had hoped.

Speaking of deflated expectations, let's talk about DSG. We are quickly becoming "buds"! Yay! I always wanted an intellectually challenging man to scoop me up and plant me firmly in the friend zone. No, but seriously, I love hanging out with him and talking to him. The only part that bothers me.. actually there are a couple of things that bother me. One is that fact that he's always reminding me that my jokes are dumb. This would be more offensive if it wasn't true. For instance, I get immeasurable joy from following the lead of one of my equally-corny cameramen who likes to write a tip on the part of the credit card receipt marked "tip." Last night when I met DSG and a few of his friends out for dinner, I took the customer copy of his receipt and next to tip wrote: don't eat yellow snow. He was in mid-conversation and when he glanced down at it, he rolled his eyes clearly put off by my insistence that this was in fact funny. "Would you stop? It's dumb."

Exhibit B: telling me I'm boring. I know I'm not boring even though my last entry was called that. And he wouldn't be calling if I was as boring as he claims. Why am I even composing a defense for this ludicrous accusation? Anyway, the crush has morphed into mutual fondness, no sparks. I told him we should explore the chemistry and he resisted telling me that it doesn't matter how hot I or he thinks I am, it's really the chemical reaction between two people that dictates the direction any relationship is bound to take. In our case, no combustion unless you count the bickering that pervades every encounter we have. In any case, I have definitely accomplished my goal of securing Daily Show Tickets. A date- not so much but tickets- score!