In preparation for our eastward migration, which may start sooner than we thought*, Alex and I played a little game in our hotel suite at the Venetian in Las Vegas this week… a little game I like to call, “Where Would We Put The Bed?”

Since the company-sponsored suite was definitely larger (and most likely nicer, and probably cheaper) than any apartment we’ll snag in NY, we tried to envision how our existing furniture would fit into a space about that size.

Upon determining that our ever-expanding bookshelves will need their own bedroom, and that we could only dream of owning a sweet shiny gold couch like that, we gave up. I went back to reading Uglies (yeah, see how well that write vs. read decision went for me the other day?), and Alex went back to usability testing the minibar (it passed!).

After four days in the plastic paradise city where getting attacked by the Borg (assimilate or die!) at the Star Trek Experience was our most realistic adventure, we’re finally back in Denver. We miss that sweet gold couch, but no need to despair… there’s lots we can do right here at home to get into that New York state of mind!

Stuff to Do Before the Move:

  • Move all of our furniture into the living room and pretend that it’s our entire apartment
  • Close off the large bathroom and add a few cracked pink and black tiles, South American water bugs, and a loose, unlockable window to the smaller one
  • Lock up the garage and park on the street two neighborhoods over
  • Close off the laundry room and start hauling our dirty clothes in fabric bags to the nearest laundromat
  • No more SUVs for big, semi-monthly grocery trips! It’s back to walking the rickety old lady cart for us!
  • Purge our closets of all brightly colored clothes, leaving only black and, for a change-up, a few gray accessories (hey, gray’s a color!)
  • Break the spokes on our never-used Colorado umbrellas so we can leave them with their black and blue bumbershoot brethren in the 5th Avenue post-storm gutter
  • Practice writing a rent check with an extra 0 at the end
  • Bash up our car with a few door dents and key scratches
  • Throw out all those bottles of sun screen and reinforce our motley collection of gloves and scarves
  • Practice preparing and cooking food in a closet on one stove burner with a dorm-sized fridge and no microwave
  • Ask our maintenance guy to stop fixing broken stuff and to leave that trash in the parking lot right where it was thrown
  • Practice our swift-elbow-to-the-ribs moves for those subway passengers who refuse to “stand clear of the doors” on the 6 platform at Grand Central
  • Take $100 out of the ATM every day and burn it, then erase our memories so we have no recollection whatsoever of where that money went

Hmmm. Did I miss anything?

* It’s, like, super awesome to learn from an online newspaper that your company is about to be acquired!

Friends, Writers, Models, Love.

I somehow caused a minor freak-out among you Coloradoans in an email about my Web site last night when I casually mentioned that I’d stopped sleeping in preparation for our move back to NY (you know, since Denver is such a shiny happy morning person town and NY is full of vampires who never sleep). Everyone – I mean everyone – in the mile-high called or emailed or in one case (*ahem* TRISH) showed up at my cube for a personal lashing.

Let me clarify that we’re not moving tomorrow or the day after that or even in 2007. We’re moving in, like, April. But still… 6 months will go fast (especially when you’re a hallucinating, sleep-deprived zombie). According to the secret little calendar I keep in my desk drawer to mark off the time left in the office, I’ve only got 110 BIC (butt in chair) days to go. You might wanna get in line to start showin’ the love soon.

Enough about morning people. For our New York friends and family, please sign up for your rotation in the Freeloader Support Network (FSN). By donating floor or bed space for just one week to a month (don’t let us limit your generosity!), you, too, can take part in this exciting, ground-breaking experiment whereby Alex and I will live rent-free for an entire year on a rotational, revolving basis until all of our once-cherished friends grow weary from our constant presence. In return for your gracious hospitality, we’ll write your name on a temporary honorary notebook-paper-plaque in permanent, licorice-scented magic marker for prominent, short-term display in each of our lovely host homes. As an added incentive, if you throw in food, we’ll draw hearts in cherry-scented marker around your name!!!


NaNoWriMoI really think I’m on to something here. Anyway, while you’re checking your calendars and your spouses’ tolerance level for uninvited, unemployed, unshowered (but loyal and loveable) guests, please join me in wishing all of this year’s participating NaNoWriMo authors (speaking of unshowered) the best of luck! I wish I could join in, but I’ve been working on book 2 and can’t get off track. Plus… America’s Next Top Model. Oh, don’t tell Alex I said that. It’s this dirty little secret between us. He knows the show makes me feel entirely inadequate as a person, which is why I love it, but whatever. Just because I put on glitter lip gloss and ask him about boob jobs and leg extensions while crying in front of the mirror during commercials does not mean I shouldn’t watch the most intellectually-stimulating show of our time.

Besides, there’s a Web site. Tap tap tap.

“What are you doing, Bims?” (that’s what he calls me)
“Uhm, working on those book two revisions…”
“Oh, okay. I’m glad you turned off that trashy show.”

He pretends he doesn’t know. He pretends he doesn’t want to watch the show himself. He’s very sweet that way.