fleeing (to) the cleve

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so, all of you 30 Rock fans out there- which should be all of you- must have loved the season finale, “Cleveland.”  it was typically hilarious and ridiculous and, as usual, has creepy parallels to rather specific things in my life.

like liz’s cell phone ring is wagner.  the cell goes off.  the english avian bone chick says “oh, you like vagner?”  and liz says “no, i like elmer fudd.”  and so, dawn turns to me and says “damn.  she is you.”  which i like, because I like to pretend i’m as successful, smart or funny as tina fey or liz lemon.  we do have a lot in common, though I do have the better name and am not pretending to vote for Barack Obama.

so then, the episode goes on to be all about cleveland and the excellence of ‘the cleve’ in relation to nyc.  and where would i be traveling to eight (EIGHT!) times in the next three weeks?  you get the gold star, kids!  the cleve. 

several of these fantastic trips filled with cash and prizes (read: marathon meetings and getting lost at HQ) involve the 6:30 am flight out of laguardia and coming back later that night.  next week, i’m actually coming home for 20 or so hours on wednesday, just to remind myself what my bed is like, and get my body a little un-twisted at the doc’s. 

yesterday’s first taste bodes well for the merry, merry month of may, as i sat on the runway at cleveland hopkins airport for hours because of thunderstorms.  not the ones that were actually happening in cleveland (as we were getting on the plane, i was watching lightning hit the runways), but the ones that might be happening in new york later.  might. be. happening.

the upside is that i do get to see a game at the jake (weather permitting), but as yet see no lunch with little richard at the r&r hall of fame on my itinerary.

also, there’s no alec baldwin involved.  i know, i know.  but he makes me laugh and has the best voice on the planet.  and trust me, my dad’s said way worse.  so get off my back.

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