
The fire alarm went off today. We recently re-did our fire alarm system and so now it is ear-piercingly urgent that you leave your suite ASAP. I used to dawdle (or not leave at all), but that is a no-go with the new system with is hardwired into each unit. The funny thing was it went off just as I turned an element on and started chopping an onion. I was like "holy shit that thing's sensitive", but it wasn't me.
The firemen and women came. They are like hockey players. Very large and with much gear. Very good looking. Given that I'm going through "Rescue Me" withdrawal it's really fortunate that I didn't drop trou and announce "the fire is here". Actually, referencing burning genitals probably would not have been the best move, sexually. Though I was getting some once overs from the guy trying to figure out the fire panel. I would be stoked about that, except that I live in a building filled with octogenarians, so I am the most attractive utterly by default.
Started more actively investigating New York hotels and rental-by-owners for our impending trip. This means that Michael has accepted my most recent bout of mental retardation and is still feeling relatively positive about our impending future together.
Which starts in four days.
Also, the movie "Falling in Love"? Terrible. I'm not sure how I ever thought Streep and DeNiro might affect sexy together onscreen, so I will attribute it to... I dunno - the aforementioned mental retardation?
My wasabi peas aren't... a baby could eat them. Who set the alarm off? Good luck in New York.
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