FemiKnitMafia

In 1994, I moved to a place just outside NYC, and soon thereafter, into the East Village. This was a big.thing. for a girl from upstate NY. When I moved there, I felt very sassy, very chic, and very alterna-chick, which may have been compounded by my recent charging coming out. I was just a tad insufferable and a smidge self-righteous. But shortly after my arrival, I got the good ol’ NYC-smack-down and realized: I was a hick. Thankfully I didn’t let my hick identity upset me. I had the.best.time.ever. It was an era of critically-important personal-growth, as well as many other things that can be hyphenated. When I left NY, I had every intention of going back within a couple years. Then I chased a girl to Boston, got my heart seriously broken, chased some tail (and I should publicly apologize to those tails - sorry), and met Wifey. The rest is history.

This morning, with plans for Favorite Things Monday dancing around my little brain, I logged on and found an email from a colleague. She tracks Overheard in New York and sends me the really funny ones. Today, I got this one. Seriously, I almost peed in my work pants.

Then I read Nina’s blog, and clicked through her photos of her weekend excursion to NYC. Memory lane. Fun times.

Then I read AfterEllen’s Happy Birthday to Cynthia Nixon post, and with a few clicks, came to this post with photos of Cynthia Nixon and her girlfriend. I know I’m being a mega-beeatch here, but seriously, Cynthia honey … I’m heavy and frumpy and androgynous and politically minded. Why not me?

Only in NY . . .

ETA: Okay, I feel bad.  Cynthia Nixon’s partner is actually kinda cute in this picture.  Nice rosy cheeks. And I’m sure she’s very smart.  And a rockstar in bed.  At least she’d better be.  Damn it Mafia.  Stop that!