Oh, Have I got Dish for you!

1) Thursday night, The Fixx Coffee Bar Jami Attenberg and Katie Schwartz (not the other KS's online, this Katie Schwartz will be reading. I'm reading an essay from my book. You must come! I want to see all of your fabulous faces.




2) I went to a corsitorium today for bras to hoist the hooters. Back in New York, they used to have proper corsitoriums for dames with generous racks. Older dames who chose your bras for you. This non-diva was a riot. She was in her 80s, a handsome woman, reminiscent of the days in New York when pickles were purchased in barrels, a very lower east side kinda dame. After throwing me in a room, she told me to take my top off so she could stare at the twins. Five minutes later, in a thick Russian accent, she said, "I be back. You wait." Upon her return with three highly unattractive brazatskies (bras), she placed the bra over each arm, pushed me over, hoisted my girls into the bra, locked that bitch up, straightened me up and proceeded to feel me up. I'm being modest. She pushed the tops of my breasts into the bra, caressed the top, massaged the center of my boobies from front to side and scooped the wire underneath. Four bras later, I said, "Okay, I think I have what I need. I'll take these. "No more bras for you?" She asked curiously, almost as if I'd betrayed her. "No, I think I'm good," I said. "Let me feel one more time," she asked. Why not, I thought. It was hysterical. I haven't been felt up in so long.




3) My Fed Ex man knew I was home today and instead of calling my name or knocking, that rat bastard bailed, fled, with my packages. I was not having it. I got in my car and went after him. I knew what alley he was parked in and I waited for him. Is that stalking?! He showed up. I got out of my car and said, "I know you have my packages." His head dropped in shame, shame, shame. I got the goods, yo.




4) I am leaving for Chicago Thursday for Pilcrow and I'm plotzarella. I will be blogging as much as I can. Are we all coming? Spill. I want names. e-Stalk me or twitter me and we'll exchange cell numbers. Psychos need not apply. Remember, I know Bubbsie! He's my friend.



Have a beautiful night, bubbalahs.

Comments

Fran said…
Such dishy goodness.

Oy. Kvelling!!!

I wish I could come to Chicago and see your shayna punim Kateleh. Please give Bubbsie some love from me.

I love that bra story and it reminds me that I need to blog about the special equipment needed for my strapless wedding gown last year.

Complete Lower East Side - Jewish Daily Forward type material.

Your story was great, mine will be pale in comparison.
4:46 AM
Writeprocrastinator said…
Up in this neck of the woods, we get the occasional UPS coward that flees after a half-hearted ring.

I miss my old driver, he delivers further out in the avenues now. I used to be able to pull up to his truck and he'd hand me my package...wait, that doesn't sound right...
7:18 AM
Joe said…
MizBubs misses having the old ladies do bra fittings at some store on Devon Avenue that's now an INdian restaurant.
12:49 PM
Unknown said…
"After throwing me in a room, she told me to take my top off so she could stare at the twins. Five minutes later, in a thick Russian accent, she said, "I be back. You wait.""

I usually have to pay hard coin for this.

JDC
1:11 PM
Gail said…
your bra shopping story has me laughing sooo hard. As a girl born with a rack I know how hard it is to find the right equipment and the old bra saleswoman feeling you up. Been there... see you soon in Chicago! g
5:50 PM
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