2002-01-07 - 4:08 p.m.
I had another interview this afternoon, and on the way back I rode the train with a cop. Well, a little kid dressed like a cop, more like it. He still had his police academy windbreaker on, so I'm not sure if he was an official cop yet or not, but he had a gun. And a nightstick. He was about as big as me (which is puny) with a blonde crewcut and nonexistent eyebrows and lashes, and fair skin, with what looked like a perpetual blush. He looked kind of like a plucked chicken. A terrified plucked chicken. Seriously, the guy was a poster boy of HOW to get mugged in NYC. If I were a criminal, he'd surely be my target, and the weapons and badge I'd get would just be icing on the cake. Heh.It's snowing today, cold wet flakes that are immediately turning to water when they hit the ground, and I'm home now, getting ready to make homemade soup. I shopped for the ingredients at Jefferson Market, where I examined the radicchio with M@rio B@tali. I'm always tempted to ask famous people really stupid questions, which leaves me a)never speaking to celebrities and b)giggling to myself like a maniac. Anyway, I didn't get any soup tips so looks like I'm on my own.
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last five entries:
done - 2005-09-16
playgroup, my ass - 2005-09-15
late, but heartfelt - 2005-09-13
she lives - 2005-08-18
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