Happy New Year!

First, I hope everyone is still enjoying their holiday season. Although waylaid by illness, I was still incredibly happy and inspired by friends & family.

Second, I wish you all nothing but peace, health, happiness and, as always, bouts of incredible laughter.

In a few days, I’ll tell you all a story about dating someone who invites you to an MTV party on NYE: how to chat up Perez Hilton, just how tiny Hayden Panetierre is, and what goes through your mind watching people in sub-zero weather stand around trying to make a 10-second countdown worth a ten hours’ wait.

Have a wonderful, joyous and SAFE New Year’s Eve!

confetti

What We Talk About When We Talk About Christmas

This wonderful quickie is brought to you by fellow Brooklynite Lauren Marchisotto. She is a Christmas miracle, as I am too cough riddled to think of something to post before midnight. With so much crammed into the holidays, sometimes it’s the simplest things that are most amusing. Enjoy, and Lauren (lulu), you rock!

The scene: Mom and daughter sharing holiday banter. Aaaand…ACTION!

Mom: How can Santa be over Vienna when he was just in Rome?

Me: He was in Rome almost an hour ago…

Mom: Why is he going east instead of west?

Me: Look at the map. It’s not that far out of his way.

Me: WHY ARE WE ARGUING OVER THE PATH OF A FICTIONAL CHARACTER?

Aaaaand….scene. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and let’s never forget Festivus for the rest of us!

Christmas decorations

Sleepless in Clinton Hill

despair tired
I haven’t slept properly in four days. Eh, Thanksgiving gluttony, what are you gonna do? My belly is pissed, regardless.

So where was I? Right, weird, jacked-up sleep schedule. Occasional insomnia hits us all–I think? But life as a consultant… I’m either DVR’ing till 3 am, waking up at 11 am, or just laying on my back trying not to scream WHYYYYY? I was relieved to hear that adults need 7-8 hours a night. For those who can live on 5, I salute you.

So what to do about this? Thoughts went immediately to Sominex, which made me feel like I’d taken a good hit of Walt’s blue meth. Next stop? The good ol’ primary doctor, who whispered the magic word: Ambien. Yeah, great remedy. For about six days. And you know that long list of side effects for medications you laugh at on commercials? I did too, until I woke up one morning covered in pretzel crumbs. And when did I devour said snack? Couldn’t tell you, because I was sleep eating. Why couldn’t I be sleep treadmilling? Sleep stomach crunching? Instead, I’m stuck with the image of myself doing the slow Walking Dead slump to my fridge at 4 am to eat cold prosciutto out the pack.

So no more unnatural sleep for me. Rock bottom was that last morning I woke up with a spoon stuck to my face and the remnants of a Haagen-Dazs container in a pool I directly stepped in.

Fine. People sleep normally all the time, I figured. A few days of tossing and turning and then back to 7 hours. Blissful, seductive 7 hours. Not a problem.