High & Low

In life, there are high moments and then there are low moments.

I'm not here to discuss all the deep and important issues in the world, but rather some silly little things that have fallen into the life of the little lady this week.

Fallen, ha, you'll get a kick out of that in a bit...

So yes, a silly high moment happened on Friday night while I was out to dinner with my friend. "Oh! I have something for you...", she said as she and handed me a pair of shoes. I could see that they had been worn and she explained that her boyfriend brought them home from a Kohl's commercial shoot. They were too small on her and she, being the sweet friend that she is, knew I'd love them. I instantly kicked off my heels and put them on; it was a total Cinderella moment. I was so excited! Not every night do you get a cute new pair of shoes. I sat back to admire them and jokingly asked, "you think anyone famous wore them?"

If you're not aware, I am a celeb fanatic. I tend to either hyperventilate and freeze up or become uncharacteristically brave when I encounter them. Like the time I shared an elevator with Brad Pitt at the Waldorf? I froze/stared/experienced something that felt similar to a minor stroke. But the time John Mayer approached my bar stool and asked how my night was going? I suddenly conjured up a gut full of confidence, gave him a giant hug(?), and became little miss Chatty Cathy -- until he asked me, "how do you bring home the dough?", while swishing his thumb against his pointer finger. And with that I was instantly zapped back into reality where John Mayer is just a pretentious scumbag. But deep down I still cherish our little conversational rendezvous because he is, of course, a celeb. Because I really do have a thing for them, I suppose.

Back to my story...

My friend texted her boyfriend asking him whose shoes they were and we continued our giggly conversation about life. She later checked her phone and gasped, holding it for me to see.

Whose shoes was I wearing?

................

Jennifer Lopez 

image via

And that is when my friend and I shook our clenched fists in the air, participating in some sort of shared moment of silent cheer similar to the excitement expressed by a small child who has just seen a bunny.

Call me crazy, but that's the analogy that came to mind.

Here are the shoes on my feet:

(it's a shame you can't see the rest of me as my 

hair was blowing in the wind just like J.Lo's...)

I proceeded to walk/skip all the way home, appropriately humming "I'm still Ginny from the block".

My silly low moment?

Just when I thought nothing else could rattle my gag reflex after last week's encounter, I was quickly proven wrong. I was minding my own business and walking up 5th Avenue near Union Square last night, chatting with my mom about The Help (go see it), and all of a sudden a blob of brown/white goo plopped on my face and splattered onto my arm that was holding my phone.

(cue gagging followed by annoying whiny voice)

"Aaaauuuuuuhhhhhh! Ohmygaw, ohmygaw, ohmygaw, MOM, a bird just SHAT on my FACE!"

Really? 

Really?

Really?

Does that happen to normal people? WHAT is going on lately? How did I rack up so much bad karma?

Seriously, though, what are the chances?! Last time I checked, I am not in the forest.

I hung up the phone and cleaned myself up with tissues and antibacterial gel and hurried home to hot water and soap.

It's one thing for a bird to poop on your shoulder or your bag or your foot or idunno on a tree(!), but your cheek? I know people have worse problems, but getting shat on wasn't necessarily at the top of my to-do list this week.

Harumph!

As my mother texted me,

"sometimes you are the pigeon and sometimes you are the statue."

so very true...

until next time,

g