the underwear drawer

call girl

I'm on call for cardiology tonight. I'm actually writing this while sitting in the Team Room on the 6th floor of the hospital. Things are quiet right now. Stay well, little heart transplant children! Also, can I tell you how much I love the fact that the one EKG machine on the floor is broken? The EKG machine on the cardiology ward? Ha! Oh, this life. How jolly and yet how terrifying.

So Friday night was fun. I'm always surprised by how close Williamsburg is to our house--who would have thought we lived a 2 stop train ride from Brooklyn? Every time I go to Williamsburg, I think how cool and edgy it is, and how cool and edgy I would be if I lived there. You can just see it, everyone getting on or off the train at Bedford Street is all, "We're not gonna paaaaa-ay, LAST YEAR'S REEEEENT!" And they have all those cute restaurants and shops and Ye Olde Brooklyn Pharmacy storefront that now sells used books or Tibetian artifacts or something equally bohemian. Also, there are internet cafes, like, every block. I passed by a big laundromat that actually had two pool tables, a cafe, a bank of old-school 80's videogames with two internet kiosks and thought, wow, that's a really awesome money-making scheme. Plus, trendy. But then you walk, like, 2 blocks over and it's like this totally cased out warehouse zone with trash billowing like tumbleweeks and scary bodegas selling crack pipes and then suddenly it doesn't seem like it would be so much fun to live there anymore.

Anyway, we had a fun night. I think the restaurant was overrated (clearly a Zagat's 27 rating in Williamsburg is not the same as a Zagat's 27 in Manhattan) but it was fun, and we got drunky but funky on some overpriced sangria. It was a tapas place, and I ordered a really good appetizer and a really bad entree. (Does it count as an entree if everything on the menu is tapas? It was expensive like an entree, but it came in a really tiny dish.) As promised, Brendan and Narges were there, as were Guillem and Jenny. We talked and laughed and ate and laughed and drank and laughed and when we looked at the clock, it was suddenly quarter to one. Props to the restaurant for not pointedly bringing our check as we were lingering over desert or having them bring us basket after basket of bread to soak up every last drop of sauce from our various dishes. And props to Williamsburg for having restaurants that stay open that late.

I'm sad that Brendan and Narges are moving away. I want them to stay. Who lives in Phoenix anyway? Old people. And cactuses. But mainly old people. Maybe you have to get those special wraparound glaucoma sunglasses when you move there.