I'm Resolving to Magically Become Better

Sorry to make this all about me for a second, but if I publish my New Year's resolutions for the world* to see, maybe I'll feel more obligated to follow them.

*almost literally according to Google Analytics but, you know, 

mostly the US and with some noticeable exceptions 

(what's your problem, Greenland?)

I've broken my resolutions into two parts, since I have so freaking many. My personal resolutions are pretty short and sweet, I think.

1. Be less selfish
I like to think of my self as an unselfish person. I have a sponsor child, I contribute monthly to Greenpeace and Amnesty International, as well as a couple activist organizations. But, if I'm being honest, all that proves is that I work in New York City and have poor resistance to people with clipboards.

It pains me to admit this but, after Hurricane Sandy, when many of my friends were volunteering their time in Staten Island, The Rockaways, and New Jersey, I was just enjoying some peace and quiet. I can't explain why I didn't feel motivated to help. Actually, it might be related to some bad volunteer experiences I had in the past, or it could be that I'm too happy.

Anyway, I think for my personal growth I need to volunteer or maybe just do nice things for my grandparents. Goals should be quantifiable and obtainable, so let's say... volunteer / do something nice (that requires effort) for someone else (Tom doesn't count) 10 times this year.

2. Be nicer to Daddy
Poor old man. You, lovers and friends, know more than anyone how much I complain about him. Not that he doesn't deserve it sometimes.

I'm nice to him most of the time but sometimes I feel the need to snub him when he's babying me too much. Why do I do that? I can't really quantify this one but let's make it my goal to be rude to him as close to zero times as I can.

3. Stick to monthly budget
Ugh, money. I've been kind of bad since moving home, because I think "I'm sacrificing my freedom, so I should be allowed to spend whatever, right?" Not like I'm obsessed with shopping, but I take liberties with buying egg sandwiches, tea, lunch... which adds up in New York, or probably anywhere.

I just need to remind myself that the more money I spend, the longer I have to live at home.


Feedback? What are your resolutions?

Merry Christmas! I'm Getting Fat

Ok, so I'm not getting fat by American standards. I'm probably not even near average for good ol' USA. But I'm slowly and steadily gaining weight, even if I'm the only one that notices.

September

December

Of course, eventually someone is bound to notice. And that someone is Daddy.

Yesterday morning, during Christmas breakfast...

Daddy: Wow, you're really eating a lot, Jilly. You finished your omelette and now you're eating two pieces of French toast? Daddy's never seen you eat like this.

I pause, thinking maybe I shouldn't eat all this.

Jilly: It's not... that much.

Mommy: You'd be surprised. She can eat more than you'd think and stay that small.

Daddy: What do you think? Now that you're married, you can eat as much as you want?

This was met by an "Ohhhhhhh" from the rest of the family, the type usually reserved for "yo mama" jokes on the playground. Daddy quickly laughed it off, assured me he was kidding, and kissed me one too many times on the cheek.

Daddy, we're not friends. When I can curse in front of you, you can make jokes.

Am I The Only One That Still Loves Friendly's?

This ode* to Friendly’s has to do with another story (I swear I’ll get to it), but it turns out I have a lot to say about Friendly’s on its own.

In case you don’t live in the suburbs of the Northeast U.S., Friendly’s is a sit-down diner-esque restaurant chain, that is slightly fancier than Denny’s but less fancy than Ruby Tuesday’s.
...And if you don’t live in the U.S. at all, I’ve made nothing clearer for you - although, side note, we went to a Ruby Tuesday’s in India so that’s apparently universal.

Friendly’s is famous for their ice cream, especially:

The Wattamelon Roll

 sherbet with chocolate chips - you’d think they’d clash but they don’t

And, most of all, the Cone Head sundae.

order it with Black Raspberry (purple!) ice cream

When I was a kid, the Cone Head was the thing. And, it needs to be said, Friendly’s leadership! If you ever stumble on this:

DON’T THINK NOBODY NOTICED THAT YOU TOOK THE EXTRA REESE’S PIECES OUT OF THE BOTTOM OF THE CONE HEAD.

There used to be bonus Reese’s Pieces in the bottom of the sundae and the menu description even said “with a surprise at the bottom” but they stealthily removed that about 15 years ago and I will NEVER forget. Hope you're enjoying all those Reese’s Pieces savings, corporate fat cats. Actually, the company has been struggling in recent years despite improvements made over the last decade, but I digress...

Friendly’s has been a weirdly big part of my life, starting with my childhood. Here’s a preview of my to-be-self-published memoir, titled...

Ice Cream Cone Dreams: My Life in Terms of Friendly’s

When I was a kid, there was a Friendly’s right by our house,which Amy and I used to walk to with our parents. Now that I’m living there again, I’m sad it’s no longer around, and sometimes fantasize about buying the building from Aboff’s and convincing Friendly’s to reopen because the building is still vaguely Friendly’s-shaped.

View Larger Map

My friends and I also used to spend a lot of time at Friendly's in high school. You know, just eating fatty foods, annoying waiters, writing songs and plays, typical trouble-making teenage stuff. The cool kids hanging out at Mill Dam probably had nothing on us.

Many years later, Tom and I bonded over how we both still love Friendly’s and ended up going there on our third date. (Hot!) 

I’m guessing the future includes our taking our kids to Friendly's, and my begging the server to hide some Reese’s Pieces at the bottom of my hypothetical daughter’s sundae until she gets old enough to demand one of their new-fangled sundaes like the Monster Mash or Vol-Cone-O or whatever.

And after that? A Black Raspberry ice cream IV drip in my nursing home? All I know is that my love affair with Friendly’s won’t die until one of us (the restaurant or I) does.

*Disclaimer: I’m fully aware that I should be ashamed of my love for Friendly’s.

Why Are We Still Sending Christmas Cards?

You know what sucks about being a grown up in December? Christmas cards.

In 2012, there are countless reasons not to send Christmas cards. For example, the internet exists. The phone exists. Well, those are pretty much the only two reasons, but do we really need more?

Is it the invention of the internet, or did this chore always suck? I remember my mom dutifully writing cards (usually containing a photo of Amy and me in red dresses) and she seemed fine with it. But how did she have time with two kids and work and going to school? Hmm, given that, I should just stop complaining right now... but I won't.

What about my grandparents' generation? Was sending Christmas cards no biggie because people were just sending letters all the time anyway? (Or was that my great grandparents' generation?)

Given my relative disdain for the process, you might wonder why I'm bothering. Well...

• I already bought Christmas cards on sale after Christmas last year;
• They are pretty and sparkly;
• I sometimes fantasize about being one of those together people that remembers birthdays and sends Christmas cards (oh well).

I gave it a try, anyway. Tonight is my last night writing cards and tomorrow I'm sending out whatever we have done. So if you get a card from Tom and me, you're either very special (grandparents), very lucky (random), or alphabetically superior (sorry, L-thru-Z).

Given that you're probably not one of those people, here's my Christmas Card to you, lovers and friends:

...and don't bother asking about our wedding thank yous. You'll get yours probably on day 364.

Excuses For Not Cleaning

It just occurred to me that anyone reading this blog, who doesn't know me personally, might be under the misconception that I am a clean person, just because I criticize Daddy's cleanliness. Well, I'm not. I try, but I encounter problems, such as:

• It doesn't come naturally to me.
• I didn't learn proper habits until college, and then I only did it begrudgingly under the guidance of the cleaning chart my roommate Peggy made out of a paper plate.
• I'm busy.
• When I'm not busy, I'm lazy.
• I spend a lot of time writing bullet point lists.
• I'm a type B person so I don't really beat myself up for enjoying my weekends.
• I don't hate myself. In fact, I like myself so much that I find my own faults endearing, as if I'm Liz Lemon or Old Christine.

my anti-heroes

Of course, on TV, even slobs have clean houses. I mean, we slovenly viewers don't want to be forced to look at a house that looks just like ours....

Liz Lemon's Ikea furniture

Feel free to lend me your best cleaning excuses.

Daddy's Restaurant Rules

Happy post-Thanksgiving! Enough with the home cooked food; time to get back to eating out. As I draft this, I'm on my way to meet Daddy for dinner. Started me thinking about all his restaurant rules.

Each of these could be an individual Daddyism, as these are all verbatim phrases that have been repeated to Amy and me for countless years.

Daddy's Restaurant Rules

1. (Re: valet) They want me to pay them to park my car five feet away. You know there's a free lot right across the street, right?

2. (Optional) It's too loud in here. Let's go somewhere else.

3. Close the menu so the waitress knows we're ready. Close it! She's looking over here.

4. The waitress is coming. Get ready! Don't let her walk away; it'll be 20 minutes before we see her again.

Note: I was 21 when I found out you could actually say, "We need a few more minutes." and not be sentenced to starvation.

5. Don't fill up on bread (or chips), girls. 
-or- Don't forget, you have a whole meal coming. 
-or- Save room for dinner.

6. You get one soda, so save it until your meal comes.

6a. (Upon waiter refilling drink) Wait! Are those free refills?

7. (Added circa 2009) Do you have cash? (I usually say no.) What a surprise. I'll give you cash and you can put it on your credit card. Sigh, adulthood.

I will say, in Daddy's defense, that he had 8 brothers and sisters so they never got to go to restaurants as kids. Therefore he couldn't have known his rules would eventually drive me insane.

I'm not without my own quirks. Maybe tomorrow I'll give you Ms. PC's restaurant rules.

Back Home Sitcom, Ep. 1

INT. NEWLYWEDS' BEDROOM - MIDDAY (SUNDAY)

Jill and Tom prepare to leave for the day. Jill puts her laptop in her purse as Tom slips on his jacket. There is a knock at the door. Jill opens it to reveal Daddy.

DADDY

Have you two been eating

in here?

JILL

(Guiltily) Um, yes.

DADDY

Daddy would really prefer

if you didn't eat in here.

This isn't college.

Jill glances at the mini fridge in the corner.

JILL

It feels like college.

DADDY

Yeah, I see that... Just 
eat in the kitchen please.

JILL

(Hangs her head) Ok...

Daddy closes the door as he leaves. Jill looks up at her husband.

TOM
(Whispers) I'm still

gonna eat in here.

A Very Special Blog Post

I hate to get serious, ever, but it's hard for me to laugh about the ridiculousness of living with my dad when I'm actually pissed off...

Daddy is nosy. My mom calls him a yenta. I mostly accept him but it's tough sometimes.

credit

He's been known to ask me inappropriate questions about money. I have no idea how much he makes but he thinks it's fine to ask me how much I make. Whatever.

He has repeatedly asked me, although I have told him many, many times, how much my MBA cost, how much I paid up front, and how much I owe. You know what? He paid for 20% of my graduate degree, which was generous and I did not expect, so if he really needs to know how much I owe in student loans, no big deal.

He also asks me how much I owe in credit card debt, which is patently none of his business. But, it's not that big of a deal to me. I've told my friends and it's not like I have a shopping addiction or something. I just have debt from throwing what constitutes a very modest New York wedding. So fine.

He started getting on my nerves a while ago when he told me, very cautiously at first, that, in his opinion, with a CPA and MBA, I should be making more money.

This pisses me off not because it's nosy, but because it proves that he doesn't know me at all.

Yes, if I sold my soul and went back to public accounting, I could be making a few tens of thousands more than I'm making now. But let's look at the costs:

• Dreams of becoming a writer. (No time to write when you're working every night and weekends.)
• Free time to spend with family, friends and husband.
• Mental and physical health.

Maybe he doesn't care about my writing dreams or free time but the mental health part is non-negotiable. I literally had a nervous breakdown and spiraled into depression at my old job. Guess what? If you can't get out of bed in the morning, your income prospects are severely limited.

Sorry, this is getting really personal. Anyway...

And he seems to think Tom's finances are his business too. So the other day, he's talking to me about how I should really be saving money for a house (because that's all a married woman can dream of, right? No chance I might want to have flexibility to travel?) and I'm nodding and he says:

"And Tom is talking about going to the Olympics in Russia, and I'm like 'Dude, you have $XXX in debt.'"

[Silence.]

Seriously, what the fuck? Does he really think I'm going to take his side over my husband's? And yes, our student loan debt is astronomical. Yes, it's terrible and it's going to take forever to pay off, but what are you saying? We're not allowed to travel for the next 30 years? And I don't even want to go to Russia but he's turning me into a rebellious teenager and now I want to go out of spite!

So I'm stewing, and he continues on about how we'd be surprised how much money we can save if we really try [Trust me, living with Daddy IS trying!] and then he says "You know, it seems to me that you should both be making more money." Enough!!!!

So I say "Daddy, you know, you're getting a little nosy."

And he says "Well, you're living rent-free in my house."

Oh! Didn't know his offer to live with him came with strings attached! 

This is bullshit. Yes, I'm lucky to have him. But I also have a mom and a mother-in-law and a husband's aunt with an empty apartment in Brooklyn and friends and enough money that I could still live on my own (if I never want to pay off my credit card debt) so, you know? Shit, fuck it.

I am tempted to just move out now but Tom is really sick of moving.

I guess I have to have the talk... you know the one, accompanied by sappy music at the end of any very special episode.

Really, my dad just wants to help me make my life perfect. Too bad I've got my own ideas.

Sorry for getting so real with you guys.  To counterbalance this very special post, tomorrow I will post a list of Ms. PC's personal favorite very special episodes.

The Shower Head Incident

Tom and I moved into Daddy's a few weeks ago and immediately noticed that the shower head was super low-flow, which, as we know from Seinfeld, is not good.

my first homemade gif

We bought a new one about two or three weeks ago but didn't install it right away because we couldn't find a wrench. So we got around to it on Friday.

Oh, and when I was at Home Depot, I called and asked Daddy if he wanted me to buy a new faucet for the bathroom (also an issue). He kind of panicked and said that no, we would go after work one night and pick one out together. 

I just want to say right now that I don't give a shit about picking out the new faucet. I just want one with working knobs. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything about that yet.

Anyway, we changed the shower head without asking. [Dun dun dun!]

#SixSeasonsAndAMovie

Sunday, we got a talking-to:
"Daddy doesn't like unilateral decision making."

Too bad Ms. PC doesn't like low-flow shower heads.

I guess I feel bad because I don't want him to feel like we're taking over his house. But I just don't think he'll do anything if I don't do it myself.

Exhibit A:

my girly stuff juxtaposed with the ultimate bachelor faucet

But anyway, Sunday night I decided to take a nice, long shower in celebration of our new-found water pressure. Unfortunately, the water went completely cold after about 12 minutes.

I told Daddy and he said "That's why Daddy had a regulator in the old one."  Whoops.

6 Things You Forgot About Using The Phone In The 90s

Apologies for not getting my posts out this week but I get a hurricane pass. Daddy got power back yesterday but now the Internet is out. Also went to the library today but their wifi was out too. So I'm typing this on my phone and hoping to upload it in a rare moment of 3G coverage.

So much to talk about. For example...
Crazy gas lines + traffic lights out = full-tilt jungle madness

[Imagine your own Mean Girls gif here. I really can't from my phone.]

Computer edit: try this one.

But my family was very fortunate that we didn't have flooding and none of our persons or property were lost. Daddy's power was out for 4 days and Mommy's has been out for 5 and counting, but we're making the most of it. We've been drinking wine and playing board games at Mommy's every night.

My point is that I have nothing to complain about. However, I am now going to educate you on a little something we call "landlines."

actual phone

We are lucky Mommy kept her old landline from before they got Fios, or we wouldn't even have service. Plus her old corded phone that she dug out of somewhere. And when you can't charge your cell (and then the cell towers go down) it's nice to have a landline. But here are some things you may have forgotten about old school landlines.

1. No caller ID. The phone rings and you have no idea if it's a loved one, a telemarketer, or your stalker. You just pick it up.

1a. Besides not knowing who it is, you also don't know who it's for. At one point we had up to 7 people hunkered down at Mommy's. So you just answer it like "hello?" and then the caller has to, like, say who they are and why they're calling.
Except sometimes they don't. Because they're not used to 90s phones either. So they're just like "Helllloooo having fun???" and you're like "um what?" and eventually figure out it's Aunt Kath's sister in Colorado.

2. Everyone shares one phone. So, if you want to call someone, but someone else is using the phone? You have to... wait.

3. The phone is connected to the wall. So, you can't really walk places. Even if everyone decides to start having a conversation and/or turn up the News Radio 88 right next to you.

4. If you hang up but don't really hang up right... you might hear "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again..." and if you don't hear that you'll almost definitely hear some super loud beeping.

5. Sometimes, after dialing, you might hear... "All circuits are busy. Please try your call again later." or this weird thing called a busy signal. This has actually been happening kind of a lot.

6. There's no browser on your landline. With no internet, you dial 4-1-1 and tell a recording the name of the person or business whose number you need. You are charged extra for this service because they know you must be desperate.

Seriously not complaining. I actually think its funny to relive my childhood. Makes me grateful for the device on which I wrote this entire post. Oh, and now that I'm done, I found out the internet started working again. But since it's 2am, this is what you're getting.

Feel free to share your most cherished inconveniences of the 90s.

Daddyism #2

Rabbit Rabbit.

"You know, you really should be eating more fruit."

My husband, the chiropractor, enters the kitchen.

Daddy: There's a pear in the fridge if you wanna take it for lunch.

Tom: No thanks, I'm ok.

Daddy: You know, you really should be eating more fruits and vegetables. I mean, I'm not trying to tell you what to do but you really should be eating more fruit.

Happy Friday, Or, May This Infernal Week Crawl Back Into The Pits Of Hell From Which It Sprang

Rough week, dear lovers and friends (just for fun). 

On Monday I discovered a minor data error I had made at work and have been spending the rest of the week trying to undo everything that resulted from it. Funny how something tiny can blow up like that.

honey boo boo knows what I'm talkin' about

Things I've neglected this week:

• Following up with Penn Station lost & found (yes, still);
• Hitting up the pashmina guy (I got a tip that he's at 32nd and 7th);
• Unpacking;
• Various plans / calls with friends;
• Any physical activity whatsoever.

Things I have not neglected this week:

• Work;
• Eating, for the most part;
• Pissing off some girl on the LIRR by tapping her on the shoulder (still learning commuter culture).

Things I haven't even attempted but need to get on top of:

• Daddy's house. 
• That's enough of a to do list.

But my BFF Rachel is visiting this weekend so I guess I'll just drink a bunch of wine instead.

guessing it will look something like this...

Ladybugs and Omens

When my parents first moved into their house in Huntington, Mommy found ladybugs everywhere, and she felt like it was her mother's spirit looking after her.

an especially ugly ladybug gif

Ladybugs have always been a special symbol of good luck in my family. There was a ladybug on my leg the day my team won the xAct (xTREME Accounting) local case competition at Binghamton (full on nerd in the house - TF3 forever!) And other than that... I can't remember a specific time when ladybugs have really brought luck but I've always liked them and I got a ladybug tattoo on my hip on my 21st birthday and no you can't see it.

On Sunday, Tom and I returned to this house, which is now Daddy's house. And we were greeted by a different insect...

Bees.

Now, in Tom's family, bees are considered bad luck. Well, it's not so much a family superstition as Tom just doesn't like them because he was stung multiple times as a kid and, really, who needs a bunch of bees around?

When Tom and Daddy went to move our mattress, there was one on the mattress cover, which seemed to be injured. Daddy vacuumed him up. Later, I found one on the bathroom window, which Daddy shooed out. Then there was a dead one on one of Daddy's several keyboards.

Finally, we found the source: the nest in our bedroom window. 

Bees.

Daddy said he'll knock it down but he didn't say when. Then he said "This house just seems to attract bees." Bees.

As we were leaving, a bee landed on our windshield. We then went to the park to enjoy the weather for a few minutes...

And as soon as we sat down, three bees landed on our bench.

Bees.

If my mom took the ladybugs as a sign that she was supposed to be here, what are the bees trying to tell me?

Bee Afraid!

Tonight will be our first night staying at Daddy's.

Mommy's House

Who can resist a look in someone else's house? I used to live at street level on Mott Street, so trust me: no one. It was like living in a freaking store window...

My mom's house is precious, as we say in my family. In fact, we say precious (adj.), preciousness (noun), or preciousing (verb).  As in: "Mommy is preciousing up her dining room." or, the more general: "How precious." (to be said in a mocking tone).

This is a good example of preciousness...

  

precious dolls and dishes above the precioused out window

Here's the dining room...

And one of several wine racks....

Kitchen...

ok, I bought the gourds so maybe I have a little precious in me

Living room...

my mom's super giant clock

still using the summer pillows - the winter pillows are much scratchier :(

The small but precious backyard...

the grill cover is Cutie's

Plus her house comes with precious cats like this...

Oreo

Or this....

Twinkie

Or these....

ok, so it's the same two cats

Mommy's house is my favorite place to be. It's always clean and organized, and filled with good food and family and girly movies.

But now... we're off to Daddy's, which as we know from the preview is not so precious. To be honest, I don't even fully know what I'm getting into. I'll keep you updated.

Preview: Daddy's House

Remember 3 weeks ago when we were going to stay at my mom's for a week and then move into my dad's?

Here's an update: we're still at my mom's. The end.

Not really the end. But that would legit be enough of an explanation for anyone that knows my dad. Assuming you don't, however, here's the rest...

Daddy is still working on his cleaning and plumbing problems. The latest is that we should be moving in this week. (We'll see.)

As a preview of what's to come, here's what it looked like when we first moved our furniture into Daddy's:

that's the front door. and all our stuff.

He wasn't quite ready for us, so he just had the movers leave all our stuff in the foyer. 

peeking inside

It's cool because it'll be totally easy for us to move our solid wood furniture upstairs later. (I emphasize "solid wood" because I'm proud we've upgraded most of our Ikea furniture. I'm like totally grown up.)

In case you had been wondering why I started this blog... do you get it now? No, really. Ms. PC values feedback.

On Commuting

Some thoughts on commuting...

Ok, so... I'm going to commute for a few months... possibly longer (eek!) and it's going to suck. But then I'm either going to move back into the city or, failing that, get a job on Long Island. I don't understand people for whom this is the life plan. Like, you're ok with never having a life or seeing your kids and shit?

Alice: Yeah, no. I can't. I'll just get a job curating the Hecksher Park Museum.

Aunt Kath had to commute into the city last week for training but she works on Long Island...

Aunt Kath: I don't understand it! Who are these people? Who would choose to do this everyday?
Cutie (realizing I'm right there): Yeah, it's for the young.
Aunt Kath: It's for the stupid!

Well said, Aunt Kath. Well said.

But my new blogfriend from blurtblog made me realize I should just be grateful for the option of alcohol during the commute.

Alice got fancy wine (and fancy wine glasses) for Monday's ride home

credit: Alice

So, explain it to me! What makes you ok with commuting 1.5+ hours indefinitely? Do you just love your job but can't move? Do you love where you live so much that you would never think of moving? Or, if you don't commute, feel free to rub it in my face.

I need answers, people.

The Cast

In case you don't think like me for some reason (weird), you should know that I think of my life as a sitcom. Before I get any further into the story arc of this season, allow me to present the characters.

Main Characters

Jill (me) - Typical 20-something professional. I lost my burning desire to climb the corporate ladder a couple years ago but I work in a semi-important job to pay the bills. Like most people of my generation, I spend most of my time at work fantasizing about going back to college.

Tom (my husband) - A disillusioned chiropractor that actually is going back to college. But not in the fun way. Before he goes to PA school, he has to retake some of his prereqs from college because his credits expired (already? seriously?) so he's the "old" freshman on campus. He goes to school 4 days a week and works 3 days so I should just stop complaining right now. But I won't.

Daddy (my dad) - There is no need to give my dad a name other than Daddy because that is what he calls himself. Confused? You know the way a young father might talk to his two year old? "Daddy doesn't like it when you bite me." That's how my dad still talks to me. "You know Daddy's not big on birthdays." But you gotta love a guy that loves his little girls that much. 

His house is a mess but he's working on getting it cleaned up for us (at the last minute - wonder where I get it from).

Secondary Characters

Amy (my sister) - Amy has lived with us for the last 2 years in the city. She's renting a room from a girl in Queens for the time being. I'm going to miss having her around but Tom will not miss her cat Frosty and her constant shedding.

How could anyone be mad at this face?

credit: Rae

Gail (my mom) - Pretty awesome mom. Retired, lives about one mile from my dad. It's no secret that I wish we could live with her, but her house is smaller and fuller than my dad's.

Cutie (my stepdad-to-be) - Ok, his real name is Ron but my mom calls him Cutie and then my sister and I started calling him Cutie too because, I don't know, it's cute. He and my dad kind of have an Ashton-Bruce-8-years-ago thing going on, in that they get along and both cook (occasionally together) for family dinners. As a divorced kid, this is the most one can hope for.

Recurring Characters

I don't really know yet... my sister's boyfriend Ben? My mom's friend Aunt Kath that lives with her half the time? Maybe.

My friend Alice, who is also stuck living with her dad in Huntington? Definitely.

My in-laws, various Long Island friends of both Tom and me, my desperate alter-ego that attempts to manipulate a move back into the city? Probably.