Okay. Baby is napping. Time to write something. Something about New York.
Internet is down. Oh well. No point in writing something if I can't just go ahead and publish...
Oh. Back up. Okay.
Have a headache.
I could write about how I overslept on Thursday and missed the first two trains I meant to take and then got on another train that stopped at every damn stop in Jersey and oh my God how irritating that was to know I was going to be late for the graduation because there was a slight chance somebody in Metuchen needed to go to New York, but then you KNOW somebody will leave a comment like, "Hey! I'm from Metuchen! We're titans of industry! We're the puppy and kitten heart transplant capital of the world!" and then I'll feel like an ass. Plus, what is WITH me and the trains? I've already written about me and the trains. The trains hate me and I hate them. The end.
I could write about the graduation and how I got there late but there were all these people milling around the lobby so I assumed we were all still waiting to get inside, so I just stood there for awhile, clutching my ticket and probably letting my mouth hang open the way I do sometimes, the way that makes me look really stupid in the background of people's Flickr photos, but then it turns out I was standing in line with the freaking BOARD OF TRUSTEES of my niece's school who were about to march down the aisle and I was all, "SHIT." And then they almost didn't let me in even though I was all, "Pew 35! I'm supposed to be in Pew 35! Please let me in! I missed two trains for this!"
Nah. That's really boring, because in the end they let me in and I got to watch my niece graduate and hot damn, I am old. Also weepy.
Okay, there's the story about meeting Janice from The Sopranos at the post-graduation luncheon! That's a good story! Except that it was really my sister who talked to her while I stood behind her and grinned like an idiot all, "SONICETOMEETYOU HEH HEH," although it was really funny when my sister asked me which person at the table was the actress, completely oblivious to the fact that it was the woman she'd just spent 10 minutes detailing our entire life story to, and then how my brother-in-law overheard Aida bitching to someone that she was fucking sick of people asking her what fucking happened in the last three minutes, because she doesn't fucking know, so stop fucking asking her.
Hmm. On second thought, there really isn't too much to that story, since I was the social equivalent to a life-size cardboard cutout the entire luncheon. A cutout dipped in white wine and served with rubbery hotel chicken.
I could write about the rest of the trip...which was...a lot of pizza. And shopping. Then more pizza.
Man, but I have a headache.
Oh! Baby is awake! Must get him. God, I missed that little bugger.
So I guess there's nothing to write about after all. Oh well.