Saturday, February 07, 2004
you've got a sentimental side as big as kansas

that's what a particularly unsentimental boyfriend once told me. granted, i'm sure at the time he appreciated it, since it was largely directed at him. but i've definitely been taken to task for my soppy hallmark side before.

i know i often show myself to be this urbane, witty, sometimes even callous city girl. but we all know how blogs can be selectively decieving. my real friends will tell you ... i cry at the drop of a hat and always have. in fact, i've only been through one breakup in my entire life where i didn't cry. when i was younger, my father called it "theatrics", which i found the height of insulting and unfeeling, seeing as how not only was i incapable of faking the tears, i couldn't have stopped them if i tried.

when i get really sad, i start to feel the prickle and it's a gradual process to full-out sobbing. but when i'm angry, they simply well up and fall out of my eyes, splashing on my red angry cheeks. i don't sob when i'm furious. i'm too angry yelling or cursing or attacking. incidentally, these baby browns turn a fierce hazel when i'm crying.

but the most common variety of tears these days are the soppily sentimental kind. in order to disprove any whispers that i'm constantly fierce, detached, and slashingly funny, i present:

the top ten things that have made OR will make me cry almost unstobbably

10. international travel customs lines, particularly in third world countries, particularly since i started smoking.

9. charlotte's web. every time.

8. children in pain.

7. almost any dad-and-daughter commercial. really. seriously. i cry like a baby.

6. the time my lifelong companion teddy bear, bow bear, came out of the dryer without his eyes. i screamed until my mother came and pinched the hysteria out of me. his eyes had simply migrated to the back of his head. I WAS SIXTEEN. corrollary incident: when i forgot bow bear at home and had to travel for the first time without him. I WAS TWENTY.

5. when any of my friends cry. when my mom cries.

4. judy collins'
open the door.

3. billy joel's vienna.

2. being thanked for almost anything. getting flowers.

but the number one thing that makes me cry without fail is ...

1. everytime shiv sings her ballad about leaving new york - "right mistake". for those of you who have read His Dark Materials [the pullman trilogy], i can imagine what lyra felt like when pan was separated from her. maybe new york is my daemon.

so ... if you ever think, "perhaps i'm not emotional enough" or "my therapist tells me i should cry more", just remember: somewhere in the world, i'm probably crying enough for the two of us.

love, krissa .... 12:16 AM ... link!

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Thursday, February 05, 2004
smokin' hot money

who says being a consummate smoker doesn't eventually pay off? well, doctors, but let's ignore that for a minute. i just got recruited, outside my building, for a smokers focus group, convening next week. i suppose i'll tell them how i smoke in the face of adversity, how i can no longer legitimately criticize the massive tobacco industry, how i laugh in the face of disease...

all to the charming tune of $150. tell that to my blackening lungs.


love, krissa .... 12:47 AM ... link!

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Wednesday, February 04, 2004


bienvenue, mes chouettes! le bakery is truly living up to its name today, featuring a delightfully lazy gaulic attitude, a penchant for cigarettes and coffee, and every delicious french pastry you can imagine. being unable to fly to paris for the weekend and pass langorous afternoons with a bottle of wine, a baguette, and whichever tomas, richard, or henri is available, i've brought a little france home.

*le ding* so many of you, all at once! come in, rid yourselves of scarves and troublesome coats, my souschef
le biscuit will show you where to put them. we've made absolutely tons of fresh croissants, some avec fromage et some avec chocolat suisse! take your pick, le gopi, the mysterious janna, and le devlyn. sit over there with le tcwh and le D, who's having his with lovers almonds. is that le gordon i see? well, he can have two pain au chocolat, since he came all the way from england.

and yes, mes amis, there's a large pitcher of orangina right here on the counter. we'd never let you eat your delicious homemade croissant-y treats without some artificial orange drink! that's for you, neil, and here's your pralines creole. still shy, eh?

ahh, look here, the real francophiles. le kate, plain refusing pastry, drinks her espresso and smokes her les missiles!cigarettes with the appropriate amount of intellectual disdain on her pretty face. she's chatting up my dear le matthieu, who's a man after my own apple-loving heart, eating a chausson aux pommes, drinking cafe au lait and smoking a cigarette at the same time. who's that sour puss over there? ahhh, le jason, who mocks our moon-language, but nonetheless is more than happy with my delicious chocolat chaud.

look! a couple of tarts! no, really. le tammi is enjoying our special tarte aux fraises while le stephanie wholeheartedly "bahh, ouai!"s my tarte meringue au citron. le daniella, on the other hand, is enjoying a different kind of tarty lad ... some petits financiers. she really can't help but giggle.

but who's that dashing redhead with the pealing laughter? a perfect creme brulee brings the sparkle to our le shivette's eyes. and while the valiant brendan rifles through the pastry cabinet for the ultimate dessert, la femme francaise, i'll sit down right here with le mark and steal a few of his perfect, delicious, sugar-dappled petit madeleines. and a cigarette.

salut!

love, krissa .... 7:40 PM ... link!

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Tuesday, February 03, 2004
zut alors!

the theme for tomorrow's le bakery is toutes les choses francaises [all things french!], thanks to
d's charmingly french post.

mesdames, messieurs, a votre service ... le bakery!

love, krissa .... 11:46 PM ... link!

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Monday, February 02, 2004
letter to the editor

i, like many brave americans, have been recently afflicted with "the worm". the email kind. a dear stranger, "sean", decided to alert me of his own opinion regarding, apparently, this worm. i print his charming missive in full:

THANKS FOR THE VIRUS ATTEMPT JACK ASS. CLEAN YOUR ACT
UP BITCH. YOU BETTER HOPE I DON'T KNOW YOU
PERSONALLY...CAUSE I'D LOVE TO KNOCK YOUR FUCKING HEAD
OFF...AND THEN SHOOT YOUR ASS YOU FICKIN PIECE OF
USELESS SKIN!!!!!!!

dear "sean":

we appreciate your concern that we've somehow transmitted a virus to your computer. since your whereabouts are unknown, we cannot dispatch our "thank you messenger" with the "token bouquet of flowers" and our "sincerest apologies". by "thank you messenger", of course, i mean "joey from brooklyn". the "token bouquet of flowers", of course means "joey taking a pink baseball bat to your kneecaps". and please understand "our sincerest apologies" to imply "please go fuck a chainsaw".

warmest regards for your impending destruction and slow recuperation,
krissa


love, krissa .... 6:47 PM ... link!

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Sunday, February 01, 2004
"we were on a BREAK."

my love of new york is somehow inextricably linked to my love of blogging, it seems. last monday, the naked city and i had a fight.

krissa: "i SWEAR TO GOD, take that sour look off your face and warm up a litte, or we are turning this city around and going to alabama."
city: ... blows more cold air in face.

this week, it seemed nothing i did brought the city around to my side. i pleaded, she gave me cold shoulders. i pouted, she dropped the windchill a couple degrees. i stomped my foot, and slipped ass-first on her ice. finally i yelled, and she dumped about a foot of snow on my head. it was becoming abusive.

and through this, i couldn't blog. i just didn't feel like it. blogging is the intimacy i share with new york, it seems, and i wasn't feeling particularly intimate this week. you could say the city tapped my shoulder and i said, "not now, baby, i have a headache. and frostbite."

so i did what any spurned lover in a healthy relationship would do. i slammed the door and got out of town. came home to rhode island for the weekend, as if to say, "i love you new york, but if we don't get some alone time we're going to kill each other." i spent yesterday and today lounging around in the arms of my other lover, the comfort of home. eating whenever i want to [the fridge is always full], watching movies [my lover has cable] and sleeping late [there are no alarm clocks in this tryst].

hopefully now, i can go back home, back to my one true love, and we can begin the peace talks. i'll say i'm sorry, i'll try to look up at her tall buildings and her magestic urban beauty and whisper all the right things. between you and me, i think she's just pissed that i'm going to brasil without her, but this lover is a temperamental, fickle creature so i won't push any buttons.

so i'll try to love her again. maybe flowers? maybe chocolates? maybe promises i don't intend to keep? how does one win back the affection of the cruelest, most intoxicating woman in the world?


love, krissa .... 7:58 PM ... link!

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