Take The Train To The Train...To The Train...

This was my commute this morning:

Board F train.
Go 2 stops.
Conductor: "This train will now be running on the G line."
Get off train.
Wait for next F train.
Next F train is PACKED.
Wait for next F train.
Board F train.
Go 1 stop.
Conductor: "This train will now be running on the G line."
Get off train.
No F train transfer available at this station.
Cross platform.
Board waiting A train.
Conductor: "This train will not be going into Manhattan."
Get off train.
Wait for next A train.
Walk 6 blocks to my office ON THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR as opposed to my normal 1.5.
Arrive at work 45 minutes late.

Happy Thursday, y'all!

Dream On, Dreamer

You know when you have that dream that you're getting up and getting ready for work, and then you actually wake up and you get all pissed because you have to do it all over again?

Well, not only did I have that dream last night, in the dream it was also HALLOWEEN.

And then I woke up.

Talk about a disappointing way to start your day.

I almost wore the red feather Mardi Gras mask anyway.

Boo.

Devastatingly, due to lack of funds and insufficient prep time, I had to forgo an elaborate Halloween costume this year. Now if you know anything about me at all, you realize just how devastating a tragedy this is to have befallen me. However, like a phoenix in a wig and fake blood, I shall rise from the ashes of this finery failure and emerge next holiday in victory and even greater splendor! You know, since I have a whole extra year to work on the thing now. LITTLE DEAD RIDING HOOD LIVES!

So anyway...since I had no other plans, I decided to go to the parade in the Village. And even though I would only be watching, I couldn't betray the spirit of my favorite day of the year by just wearing everyday clothes. I had to do something...

Everyone who knows anything about me at all: "So are you getting dressed up?"
Me: "Not really."

"Not really" = sequined top hat with feathers, old prom dress, Mardi Gras beads, striped stockings, leopard print heels; elaborate face paint.

Elderly gentleman on the street: "That's a very striking costume!"
Me: "Oh, this is just what I wear every Sunday..."

The beginning of the parade was AMAZING, but it slowly tapered off into random people simply walking by wearing costumes. Since I consider myself something of an expert on all things Halloween, and because I'm just a judgemental bitch...

Presenting:

THE BeccaGo HALLOWEEN 2010 "I WISH I HAD THOUGHT OF THAT" AWARDS!

Best Group Costume: Zombie Golden Girls
Best Family Costume: Darth Vader (dad), Princess Leia (mom), and Yoda (baby)
Best Couples Costume: Where's Waldo? and Carmen Sandiego
Best Individual Costume: Up (guy in an aviator cap holding a bunch of balloons with a dollhouse tied to the strings)

And, just to prove that the "sexy" costume craze has gone FAR too far:

Top Honors go to...

SEXY BEDBUG!

Trick or treat, bitches! :D

Ouch.

The other night I woke up at 4am, violently ill. There is nothing lonelier or more frightening than being sick in the middle of the night, all by yourself.

Fortunately (I guess), this isn't the first time this has happened to me, so I wasn't quite as panicked. This time, I was past the worst of it and back in bed — shaken, but basically ok — within a few hours.

Last time, I called 911.

I thought my appendix was bursting and I was going to die on my bathroom floor and no one would even know for days and then who was going to feed the cat? It turned out to only be either gastritis or a ruptured ovarian cyst (the doctors' certainty on this issue was really reassuring...), and I was out of the emergency room about 8 hours later. I felt like my stay had been interminably long, but a more seasoned Brooklynite friend of mine was impressed with the turnaround time: "They let you go the same day? How? Did you break out of there with the help of a rogue orderly and a weapon made out of tongue depressors?"

Earlier, though, I had spent most of the ambulance ride crying, from both the sudden, severe pain, and out of sheer self-pity for being all alone. Luckily, in a flash of momentary clarity, I had remembered to grab my cell phone on the way out of the apartment — I forgot my health insurance card, but I remembered my phone — and thankfully, my misery was lessened through an abundance of text message exchanges with my concerned family. Even from far away, they always find ways to remind me how much I love them. This missive from my brother being a prime example:

"Ms. Godan, we have your results, and there seems to be a small family of frogs inhabiting your abdominal cavity. Even stranger, the tests show that one of them is the reincarnation of the late Senator Paul Tsongas."

Just what I needed to hear. :)

Two Things No Woman Should Ever Have To Hear From A Medical Professional (Guys, You've Been Warned...)

1. From an ER physician during a manual vaginal exam: "What is that?"
2. From a comically accented Asian sonographer proffering a probe resembling a very large, lubed-up dildo: "I need you to insert this into your own vagina."

Well, thank God she specified my own and not somebody else's, 'cause that might have been embarrassing...

Scratch That

Rental application denied. :(