A Sheldon can do your income taxes, if you need a root canal, Sheldon's your man... but humpin' and pumpin' is not Sheldon's strong suit.

I am boring.

Let me rephrase: My life -- daily life -- is boring.


And this is actually a good thing because it means (drum roll) that I have successfully moved back to New York without feeling the need to Van Gogh my ear.


I'll elaborate: The most awesome thing about my time in Amsterdam was the routine. And my sweet apartment. Now, given that 1/2 that routine is illegal in the U.S., I was a bit underwhelmed at the prospect of re-adapting to This American Life (read: getting my shi*t together), especially in the city that ate small pieces of my soul for two years.


Strangely, I am now a law-abiding citizen (though I still wouldn't make the cut at The Company) and even more strangely, I like it. I'm high on life (most of the time). I have a similarly sweet apartment in Brooklyn -- a two-bedroom bungalow on the BQE -- and live far enough away people who look like this or this, my two biggest fears of living in the boro (can you imagine being pregnant and trying to dress like that? Oh wait, hipsters don't try to do anything. It's all accidental. And ironic. Trying isn't ironic. Does that mean an accidental pregnancy is ironic? All you people out there studying for the LSATS, solve that logic problem for me). Sadly, I have no washer or dryer, but the woman on the corner is really good at folding my t-shirts in perfect golden rectangles.


Cobble Hill: 1 Murray Hill: -5 (Amsterdam is still +6, but it's not a fair comparison...yet...)

Harry? Harry? You do not have time to tango, buddy. You copy?

So often when one basks in the glory that is cable, they forget the joy of the "modified for TV" movie. If it weren't for TV movie replays, would I ever have seen Trading Places as a kid? Or Short Circuit? Or Splash? Or memorized the handshake in Big? Seminal films here, people.

As a person that is currently living (despite my sick new flat screen) in the 1996 equivalent of home technology, a big shout out to the 10/55 Movie at 8. So far, this channel has played some of my all-time favorites (e.g. True Lies, albeit with the scene where Simon pisses himself cut out) as well as the kind of movie trash you hope to see on TV, like bad movies with good actors (e.g. Dustin Hoffman in Sphere).

This channel is great at playing stuff that either a) you don't want to pay for or b) are happy to let play in the background -- like an album you know all the words to, but would never actually choose to put on the stereo...think the Immaculate Collection (remind me one of these days to tell you how I learned the meaning of the word "virgin"...thank you Madonna for speeding up my sexual education). Anyway, it's strengthening my resolve to put the inevitable confrontation with Time Warner on hold (I just Googled "cable internet options brooklyn" and in addition to the Time Warner site found about 2,543 blogs on crappy installation experiences. Sweet).

By the way, I will not apologize for loving "low brow" movies like True Lies and Hudson Hawk. If you haven't seen them, put it on the NetFlix list. Then let me borrow it, because I don't have that yet either...

Don't like her? What's wrong with her? She's beautiful, she's rich, she's got huge...tracts of land.

While living happily in The Land of the Giants (which is a direct English translation of "Nederlands") I was of average height. And it was glorious. And I forgot how glorious it was until I almost stepped on this girl/woman/midget on the Subway. Seriously, I could have eaten this person -- she maybe came up to my belly button. Maybe.

So a few philosophical questions for the week:
Why is New York such a short city?
Am I a heightist?

To answer the later, yes, I am -- not to say that I hate short people (but maybe I fear them...small hands, smells like cabbage), but that I don't uh, proactively surround myself by them (only argument in my favor is Coltrane -- who arguably has his own bedroom in my apartment; that's got to count for at least 3 "Nice to Small People" points). A friend reinforced this for me on Monday: "I felt so short at your party. All your friends are so tall." Really? But she was right -- and a 6'4" chick wasn't even there yet. And, I refuse to date men under 6' (or men under 6' refuse to date me). And I think about sending angry letters of protest every time a mirror is set too short for me to have a full length view (Dear Club Monaco: You sell long pants but have mirrors for people of 5'6" and under. Please get your sh*t together. Love, Stef).


For the former, I have many theories, most of which would involve me ragging on various and sundry shorter ethnicities, including my (1/2) own (lots of short Jews in NY. lots. like, at least 326. in my office building alone). But since that would make me a Nazi of sorts, I'm going to pass.