Magenta Catelinet, 1993-2006

I'm saddened to report that Magenta passed away last night at the vet hospital. He had rallied a little in the past few days, but took a turn for the worse yesterday afternoon. The vet called to warn me that he might not live through the night, and that he was prepared to put Magenta to sleep if he was suffering. Thankfully, Magenta died in his sleep, so he wasn't in pain in his final moments. I'm sorry that I couldn't be with him at the end, but I'm glad his struggle is over and that he's in a better place now.

Liz and I first met Magenta in 1999, when we moved to New York. He was seven years old and belonged to our upstairs neighbor, who used to let him out to play in the courtyard of our apartment building. Apparently he'd gotten fat because the other neighbors used to feed him table scraps. He met our cat Vladi right away, and soon Magenta was scratching at our door to be let in to wrestle with Vladi. When our neighbor moved to San Francisco, she asked us to keep Magenta until she got settled. But she never collected him from us, so we kept him. Even when she moved back to New York, she decided he was better off with our cats (we'd gotten Mr. Starlite from the shelter by that time) than with her.

Magenta (AKA Tubby, Fatty, Fat Bastard, Tubby Bitch, Fat Ass, etc. [he didn't seem to mind these nicknames]) was the fat cat in the household, constantly running into the kitchen to feast on whatever was in his bowl or on the floor as a result of my cooking. More than once, he climbed onto the kitchen counter and ate fresh vegetables I'd been saving for dinner. During a party, he ate leftover chicken out of an unsuspecting party guest's bag. Another time, he fought me over a pork chop bone and nearly took it from me. He also loved to attack smelly feet, sweaty socks, or any other dirty clothes we left out for him. Many mornings, we'd wake up to the sound of him yowling with pleasure as he humped a pair of sweatpants around the living room floor. And we had to stop giving him catnip because when he got some, he turned into the feline version of an angry drunk. He wasn't the friendliest cat in the house, but if you had food or smelled like food, he might decide to like you. He had had diabetes and eye problems, but he didn't let those things stop him from enjoying the good life of a cat. I'm really going to miss him. I already miss him when I pour water from my Brita pitcher -- he used to come running into the kitchen when I did that, and I'd pour some into his bowl. But I know he's better off now, free of his pain and suffering. And I still have two cats, Vladi and Starlite, who love me and need lots of attention in return. They're going to miss their fat friend too.

I've uploaded some photos of Magenta taken over the past four or five years. You can see them in
this Flickr set.

Rest in peace, my friend.

Clarification and explanation

Yes, Tuesday was a bad day. Wednesday wasn't any better. However, today has been looking up.

Without giving out too much personal information, on Tuesday I had to deal with two highly serious personal crises at the same time. Both of them continued into Wednesday afternoon. One of them is mostly resolved, or at least my direct involvement in it is finished.

The other crisis is my seriously ill cat, Magenta, who has a history of diabetes, irritable bowels, eye problems, and generally being a fat ass. He's been at the vet for a week (actually two different vets) and until yesterday was near death. When I saw him on Tuesday evening, he was in such poor condition that I was preparing myself for the worst. He's doing better today, although he's still in bad shape, but today's report from the doctor indicates that his health is moving in the right direction. I'm hoping that I can bring him home this weekend. So everyone please think good thoughts about my cat.

Jan. 24 is the most depressing day of the year

Thank God it's almost over. My day sucked. Tomorrow doesn't look much better.

GO STEELERS!!!!!

I still can't believe that the Pittsburgh Steelers are going to the Super Bowl. I've waited ten years to see them go all the way, since they played the Dallas Cowboys in Super Bowl XXX and lost. But ten years ago the NFC was the tougher conference and the Steelers had squeaked by the Indianapolis Colts to get to the championship. This time around, the AFC is the better conference, though that doesn't necessarily mean anything. The Steelers are hot right now, having won seven straight games and beaten the top three seeds in the AFC on the road to get to the Super Bowl. I hope that the two-week layoff and all the hoopla surrounding the Super Bowl doesn't do anything to blunt their effectiveness. They're playing an excellent Seattle team, with a coach who's been to two championships before and won one. But I'm cautiously optimistic about the Steelers' chances in the Super Bowl.

At least it should be a good party this year: I'm hosting it. The past two years the party has been in Brooklyn at James' place and we've had a great time, but with my new big TV and my team in the game I'm having the party at my place. I'll have to get some Steelers decorations, I might have to track down some Iron City beer, and we toyed with the idea of serving something resembling a Primanti Bros. sandwich. Instead, we'll stick to chili, nachos or dagwoods, and I'll wear the same clothes and follow the same pregame rituals as the past two weeks. I'm not superstitious, but I'm also not messing with success.

Near the end of today's game, I searched in vain for a cassette of Steelers fight songs that my mom sent me the last time the Steelers went to the Super Bowl. When I couldn't find it, I went to the Internet, where I easily found a site where I could get the "Steelers Polka" and a variety of other Steelers songs. The polka's lyrics are from the 1970s, but it's still the best of the many Steeler songs out there. I also like the 2005 version of "Here We Go Steelers," where the writer tries to find rhymes for "Roethlisberger" and work in the names of all the teams offensive and defensive stars. But it's better than the "Super Bowl Shuffle."

The highs and lows of entertainment

On Saturday afternoon, I went to the Metropolitan Opera's season premiere of Mozart's Die Zauberflote, directed by Julie Taymor (who directed The Lion King on Broadway, among other things). The production was amazing -- it had puppets, a revolving stage, and set design the likes of which I've never seen before. Musically the show was equally impressive. Papageno, Sarastro, and the Queen of the Night were all fantastic singers and actors. I've now see five operas at the Met, and this one was by far my favorite. It's also the last one I'm likely to see for a while, as it was the final production in my four-opera subscription and I'm not sure I'll renew it for next season. But it was a fantastic way to go out if it has to be the last one.

Later that evening, I met a group of friends for a showing of Underworld: Evolution. The outing was organized as a way to help one of our friends through a rough time in his life. I figured I'd go along and see if I could pick up any residual support that he didn't need. I hadn't seen the first Underworld, so I watched it on Friday night. It looked cool, but it seemed to be vampires and werewolves mixed with The Matrix. But at least I had some idea what the sequel would be about. The group convened at the theater at the appointed time, but there was no sign of the friend who had proposed this movie in the first place. As none of the rest of us were not Underworld fans, we were particularly concerned that the guest of honor would miss his own event. Sure enough, when we dialed his home number, he was still there, out of touch due to technical issues on his end, and clearly not going to make it to the theater in time. So, stalwart ticket-holders and movie-goers all, we resolved to see the movie anyway in spite of his absence.

I fully understand why the studio didn't screen it for critics. It wasn't a complete mess, but anyone who hadn't seen the first film would have no idea what was going on in the sequel. Fight sequences seemed to have been inserted at random, the love story is completely unbelievable, and the story is barely comprehensible. Derek Jacobi plays some sort of immortal, though whether he was a vampire, a werewolf, or something else entirely was left unexplained. I think he must have needed the money, because I can't understand how or why an actor of his stature was in this thing. Kate Beckinsale was easy on the eyes, and at least she wasn't doing her horrible Transylvanian accent from Van Helsing, but otherwise there's not much she can do to help this movie. It doesn't end with a cliffhanger per se, but the ending narration hints at more Underworld movies to come. I think I'll skip the next one. All I know is that I need to see a good movie now to get this claptrap out of my head.

Steeler heart attack

Folks, I was just kidding about the Steelers giving me a heart attack. As we all know, it's only funny until it happens to you. It's still funny, but slightly less so when it happens to someone else. If there were any play from any football game I've seen in the past five years that could possibly give someone a heart attack, it would have to be Jerome Bettis' fumble at the 2-yard line. I was just lucky I didn't choke on my drink on that play.

The Pittsburgh Steelers play on

I'm now convinced that I'm going to suffer a heart attack and die while watching a Steeler game. Not anytime soon, I hope, as I think I'm in good physical shape, but eventually, this team's going to kill me. During the 4th quarter of Sunday's playoff game against the Indianapolis Colts, when the Steelers had the ball on the Colts' 2-yard line with less than two minutes to go, I turned to James and asked him if next week would be the first AFC championship game under Bill Cowher that the Steelers didn't play at home. A few seconds later, Jerome Bettis fumbled, Nate Harris picked it up, and it looked like a sure victory was about to become defeat. I screamed at the TV, threw my Steelers cap, and nearly choked on my drink. I even wondered if Bettis would come back next season and play again if that fumble ended up as his last play. But the Colts' comeback ended when Mike Vanderjagt missed a field goal that would have tied the game, and the Steelers move on to play the Denver Broncos next week for the conference title and a trip to the Super Bowl. And my heart goes on beating for another week.

Once again, I am forced to consider why I invest so much emotion and energy in football. It's one of those irrational things that I just don't understand, no matter how many times I suffer along with the team. Every season, I say I'm not going to get emotionally involved, but I let it happen every year anyway. If this were a relationship with a woman, I'd break up with her. But the Steelers are different, and I think I'm comfortable with that. One thing is different this season: with so many other larger issues on my mind, whatever happens with my team seems much less consequential than in previous years. I'm just going to continue to enjoy the ride.

my new TV

I got my new TV on Sunday. It's a 27-inch standard definition TV (no HD for me yet), and it fits perfectly in my old Ikea entertainment center. It's not "new" new, but it's new to me. My father got it from his office several years ago, and it languished in a corner of his house during that time. He already had a big CRT at home, so he didn't need a second one. But he wouldn't let my stepmother throw away the spare, which I appreciated, as I had a sudden need for a new TV. James and I went to my dad's house this weekend and brought back the TV along with some other things my father had been storing for me for many years. Once we'd hauled the TV up two flights of stairs and I heaved it into place, at last I was able to enjoy TV as it's supposed to be in that entertainment center and in my living room. My old TV was fine, but it was a 20-inch screen, too small for the room it's in. This TV is the perfect size for the room. The Steelers-Bengals game looked spectacular on it, as have the rest of my usual shows. I watched a few minutes of a Star Wars DVD on it last night, and that looked so good I might have to curtail my practice of watching effects-laden movies on my computer instead of the TV (the PC monitor has better resolution that the TV). My only regret is that I didn't get this TV from him two years ago when I first moved to this apartment. Because I'm planning to replace my entire home entertainment system with HD components in a year or two (probably two). I'm waiting for flat-panel prices to fall even further, below $1000 for a 32-inch TV if possible. I'll also need to get a surround-sound audio system at that point, a HD DVD player (in whichever format wins the coming war), and a new low table or entertainment center to hold everything. I'm also thinking about how I'm going to pay for everything, as even in 2008 I'm looking at spending $2000 or more for everything. Maybe another book project? Or possibly a little white-collar crime, not the kind that would get me thrown into a federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison.

Raise your hand if you're NOT sick

I've got a cold. I might have gotten it from some friends, who were both sick when we toured the American Museum of Natural History on Saturday. Or from any one of dozens of sick, coughing, sneezing kids nipping about my ankles and touching the same exhibits I was touching (the sign "touch here to feel the dinosaur bone" was clearly an invitation to all manner of horrible diseases). Or I might have gotten it from someone at work. Everyone I know is either sick now or has been sick in the past two weeks. People on the subways are coughing and sneezing all over. Some people I know got sick, got better, and are now sick again. I'm feeling better today than I did yesterday, so I think I've seen the worst of this virus. I feel well enough right now that I'm enjoying my first cup of coffee since Monday morning, and for those who know what a coffee freak I am, that's an eternity. But if this round of colds is an indication of what this winter's flu season will look like, I can't wait to see what happens when the bird flu arrives.

Larry David on Brokeback Mountain

The creator of Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm writes in Sunday's New York Times about the gay cowboy movie. The ending made me laugh out loud.

New Year's resolutions

Last night's party turned out to be a better time than I expected, although I was a little tired from spending most of the day at the natural history museum. My peanut butter rice krispie treats with butterscotch topping were a hit, as they were all gone by the time I left. I was trying to recreate a recipe that I lost many years ago. When I left Georgetown, a co-worker gave me some of these rice krispie treats and then the recipe, which I promptly lost. My version came close to his, but I missed something or did something wrong. At least mine were good, and apparently popular, so I've got something to shoot for with the next batch.

When someone asked me last night what my New Year's resolution was, I panicked and said "get to work on time." It's not bad, but it's hardly the life-altering resolution I'd want for 2006. Besides, that was my resolution for 2005 and it worked out well. My real resolution for 2006 is to be more optimistic. I could be negative about many things in my life in the coming year, but it's not going to do me much good if I dwell on the bad stuff. There are also many ways to look positively at the same changes, and enjoy what's good about my situation. So that's what I'm going to try to do. 2006 will be a difficult year, no question, but if I try to be optimistic it can also be fun and exciting. I've got a clean slate this year, and that's a good thing.

Back home again

I got back to NYC on Thursday evening after two days in Reading, PA, visiting with my uncle and his family (they live in Boston but go to PA to visit my aunt's parents; it's a long story). Everything was in order at home, as I have a reliable cat sitter who makes sure the cats don't destroy the house. Since I'd missed a night of Hanukkah, I lit the candles for the fourth night and then immediately lit them again for the fifth night. Now I'm back on track.

I had a little adventure on Friday tracking down a UPS package that my friends in Pittsburgh had shipped to me before Christmas. I had tried to get the package re-routed to my office, but due to the strike or incompentence on UPS' part the re-routing never happened. However, the ZIP code in the tracking system did change, because last night the phone operator told me the package was at the UPS depot on West Houston Street. I went down there around lunchtime, but there was no package. The guy behind the counter told me to go to 180 Canal Place, which he said was in Manhattan, and gave me a phone number (with a non-Manhattan 718 area code) to call to confirm the package would be there. I tried the phone number, which of course didn't work, then called the UPS operator again to try to figure out just where the package was. After arguing with her for five minutes, she finally noticed the ZIP code problem and sent a message to the other depot to check for my shipment. While I waited for a call back, I stopped at Barnes Noble, checked a map, and confirmed that in fact the address was in the Bronx. A half-hour later, after UPS actually did call me to confirm they had my package, I was in the south Bronx at another UPS depot. Thankfully, they had the box, which turned out to be small enough they could have just left it next to my mailbox at home in the first place. I share this story with my few readers as a reminder: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send any packages for me to my work address, not my home address. As a working man, I'm never home when FedEx, UPS, or the US Mail try to deliver packages. If you're sending me something you'd actually like me to receive, the office is the best place for me to get your valuables. E-mail me if you need my office address.

The weirdest thing so far about living the bachelor life is that I talk to myself all the time. I'm getting self-conscious about it now. I'd like to think that I'm talking to my cats and that they're listening, but I'm talking when they're not in the room, and even if they were, they're cats and so they're not listening to me anyway. I'll have to find some way to break myself of this habit, because I don't want my neighbors to think I'm the crazy guy who always talks to himself. Although this is New York, and there are plenty of people in this town who mutter, shout, or yammer on when no one is listening, so if I joined them it wouldn't be a problem.

new pictures are up

They're photos of my visit with my friends in Pittsburgh and family in Reading, PA, at the Flickr site. I'll update the link on the right when I get back to NY.

the news at home

I'm on day 3 of my holiday visit to Johnstown. It's been all sorts of fun so far. My parents and my brother were all here on Christmas Day for presents and a Hanukkah dinner of brisket and potato latkes. Yesterday we went to Pittsburgh, where we visited with some of my friends and stopped to see an elderly relative, then we braved a Best Buy for a little after-Christmas shopping. We're just hanging out at home today, then tomorrow we're off to Reading, PA, to see my uncle and his family.

Last night, after Monday Night Football, the late local news came on. My mother warned me that that particular news was horrible, and she wasn't kidding. The anchor flubbed her opening, then she threw to a reporter in the field, reporting that "a crime has been committed in Blair County." Since this reporter didn't have a camera crew, she was on the phone. And she had no idea what was going on, only saying that there might have been a homicide, but the police weren't providing any details. I don't think she even said what part of Blair County she was in. The worst part was that the station didn't have a decent graphic to put on screen while she talked. Usually, when you have a reporter on the phone, you see their picture in one part of the screen and a map of their location in another part. The station's graphic did show the reporter's photo, although it was a terrible photo that looked like it was cropped out of a candid at a happy hour. The rest of the screen said "ON THE PHONE" and showed a picture of a cell phone. I'm not kidding. I guess that was the picture in case you didn't know what a phone was. We had to change the channel after that. The other local news stations here aren't much better, but that was one of the worst I've ever seen.

so much for the strike... now it's time to go home

I'm surprised the strike ended so quickly. After hearing all the rhetoric on the news Wednesday night I was certain the dispute would last through Christmas and into next week. When I arrived at the shuttle van stop on Thursday, one of my colleagues said that he thought it would be over that day, and I disagreed. It's a good thing we didn't make it interesting. Now I don't have to walk to Penn Station tomorrow morning to catch my train; it should be easy to get a cab at 8:30.

I'm blogging instead of packing, although I've got all my clothes in the bag already. I'm still thinking about DVDs and my usual assortment of tech gear, and I'm sure I'll forget something I'll want later. I'm only traveling for five days, so it's not like I need to pack for a month. And I finally received all of my gifts today, so I have at least one present for everyone in my family. I'm looking forward to my mother's cooking, seeing old friends back home, and just getting away from New York for a few days. This has been possibly the most difficult holiday season of my life, and in fact I'm looking forward to seeing it end. Many things in my life are going to change in January and I'm anxious to start making those changes. 2006 will be vastly different from 2005, and in a sense I'm ready to tackle that now. But first I've got to get through Christmas and New Year's Eve.

I didn't intend for this to be an end-of-the-year post. I will be online at my mom's house -- I'm taking my D-Link wireless router with me to hook up to her broadband connection so I can surf anywhere in the house. I am a geek. There may be some holiday blogging. If I haven't wished you a happy holiday in person or in your own personal e-mail from me, consider this post to be your holiday message. Have a safe and happy Christmas, Hanukkah, or whatever you're celebrating.

Thursday commute report

Wednesday night's ride home was better than Tuesday. I got into a van at 4:45 and we drove up through SoHo, the East Village, and then took Madison Avenue from the 30s up to 85th St where I got out. It was about an hour, as opposed to the two hours it took on Tuesday night. I was able to stop at the bank, buy another holiday gift, pick up my laundry, and get some much-needed groceries.

This morning was the worst commute so far. I arrived at the shuttle stop at about 8:20 to find six other people already waiting. A few more showed up until there were about 10-12 of us. We all waited over an hour for the shuttle to arrive. Four people bailed out and took a cab around 9:20, so when the shuttle did show up just after 9:30, we had 10 people to squeeze into a 7-passenger SUV. And we did it. We had two people up front (the driver and one passenger), four people in the middle two seats (no bench, just 2 seats, so they were sitting on laps or armrests), three on the bench seat in the back, and me and another guy riding in the trunk space in the rear. It was by far the least comfortable ride, but at least it was much warmer in the car than it had been outside. I've been here almost an hour, and my feet are finally warming up.

Thank God I don't have to work tomorrow -- the conditions are really starting to piss me off. The more I read about my fellow cyclists' commutes on my NY cycling e-mail list, the more I think about riding my bike to work. I'd have to get some new cycling clothes and a warm pair of shoes or boots to wear, and a light for the ride home, but I could do it. If the strike is still going on when I come back to work in January, I think I'll try riding to work. I'll miss out on the social aspect of the shuttle commute (getting to meet fellow Firm employees) but I'd rather spend an hour riding to work and freezing my ass off than standing around waiting for a shuttle van that might not even have enough room for everyone.

the trip home was not so much fun

I spent most of my day wondering how the firm intended to get us wayward Manhattanites home after they got us to the office this morning. Around 4 PM I got the e-mail saying that the first shuttle buses were leaving at 4:30 and the next ones at 7 PM. I got my boss to let me leave at 4:30, promising him that I'd work from home when I got there. I grabbed my stuff and hustled out the door to the designated waiting area on Broadway. But no one told me or the other few commuters that they'd moved the vans around the corner to Liberty St. Luckily I noticed one of the firm's office managers directing people to the vans and found the right one for my neighborhood. I had been chatting with one of my co-workers who also lives near me, and he and I squeezed into the back seat of the SUV, with a few other people already waiting to leave. We sat until 5:15 and then finally pulled away for what turned out to be a two-hour ride home. We took 3rd Avenue all the way north, and it was stop-and-go, but mostly stop, until we passed the Queensborough Bridge at 59th St. After that, it was a breeze, but getting to that point sucked. I was tired, starving, my left leg was cramping up, and all I wanted to do was get home. I walked in the door about 7:20, and we went right back out to Pizzeria Uno for dinner. I hadn't planned to go there for my birthday dinner, but when I saw on my walk home from the van that it was open I figured why the hell not. (In an odd coincidence, Liz and I had had dinner at a Pizzeria Uno in Washington, DC's Union Station exactly 10 years ago on my 22nd birthday.) It was the tastiest suburban restaurant food I'd had in a long time. Finally, I came home for good around 9 PM. I got to open a few birthday cards and presents (Master and Commander on DVD [I know it came out two years ago] and the deluxe edition of Who's Next) and try to get a little work done.

Now it's 12:30 AM and I have to decide what I'm doing tomorrow. I would dearly love to work from home, but I think I'll end up taking the shuttle van service again. The good thing is that I only have to do it for two more days, then I start my vacation and I can worry about walking to Penn Station on Saturday to catch my train.

"How'd you get to work today?"

That's the big story here in New York, where the transit union went on strike at 3 AM this morning. Wow! I never thought the union would give me such a great birthday present. Hell, I didn't realize they even knew it was my birthday. Anyway, I took my firm's shuttle van service near my apartment and rode downtown with five co-workers I'd never met before. The driver must have been a livery cab driver under normal circumstances, because he drove that SUV through traffic like it was a 4-door sedan. We all buckled up as soon as we passed the police checkpoint at 96th St. and the driver floored it for about five blocks. The commute took about an hour and 15 minutes; normally, the express train subway ride is about 20-25 minutes. So far I haven't heard how the office intends to get us upper Manhattan dwellers home tonight. I assume it's going to be the same system in reverse, but they could do something else with cabs if they can get enough. Tomorrow I might have to work from our midtown office, and I can just walk there. My holiday vacation starts on Friday, so I only have to worry about getting to work for two more days this week. Then I have to figure out what to pack and plan how I'm getting to Penn Station on Saturday morning for my train ride to Johnstown. Right now I think I'll be walking there and wearing out the wheels on my suitcase.

I took a few pictures of the traffic on Lexington Avenue this morning on my way to the commuter van stop. They're over on my Flickr site.

Could this be the worst birthday ever? 21 would be hard to top

It's December 20, which means that I'm 32 today. Happy birthday to me!

Once again, I'm waiting for word of a transit strike in New York, which would mean that the 7 million people who usually get around in buses and subways would be above ground trying to walk, take cabs, or bike to work. My firm has set up a shuttle van service from about 10 blocks away from my apartment, so I don't actually have to walk halfway to lower Manhattan tomorrow morning if there's a strike. On the other hand, I'm not looking forward to the fistfights and potential rioting at 96th St, where the police will have checkpoints to make sure that any cars going downtown from that point have at least 4 people in them. I have a feeling that it will be like the last chopper out of Saigon over there, with people fighting for cabs and offering huge sums of money to drivers to get them downtown. I'm bringing my camera to get photos of the chaos. At least it will be another uniquely New York experience to share with my family, friends, and this blog. But I'd prefer if the union stayed on the job. I'm a liberal Democrat, but I've been anti-union since high school. After enduring a divisive and disruptive "selective" teachers' strike my senior year (the teachers decided each day whether to strike or not -- we'd have school for a week, then no school, then back in school for a few days, then a strike day, etc.) I decided that unions were no longer necessary. This is the third potential transit strike I've been through in New York, and I'm getting tired of it. These are public employees, and it's against the law for them to strike. They face fines and possible jail time for striking, and I hope the state enforces those fines. If they're going to make the city suffer, I want each and every one of those workers to feel the pain too.

Adding to the troubles tonight was a sudden, late-night leak in our bathroom. I was just settling in to watch "PTI" when Liz hollered about a ceiling leak next to the bathtub. Our superintendent came right over to check it out, and it had already slowed by the time he appeared, but it was more excitement I don't need right now.

And, of course, there's the BIG reason why this might be the worst birthday of my life. If you haven't heard the news yet, e-mail me and I'll fill you in.

Dr. Phil sez "You don't need to go to school to find your inner moron."

More (fake) quotes like this one can be found at this wonderful site. Like

"You don't need gonorrhea to poop on a cracker."
"You don't need a sense of moral decency to watch Spongebob Squarepants."
"You don't need to watch my crappy show to rock me like a hurricane."

Some of them sound real enough that Dr. Phil might have uttered them.