“Happy anniversary of the night you got punched, baby.” WITH UPDATE!

I hate nature. That’s just a fact. Add to that that I’m sort of scared of Central Park and I can successfully avoid trees for weeks at a time.

Partly because the only time I’d hear about Central Park was in conjuction with “tourist mugged” or “jogger raped,” I generally refuse to step inside the park after dark.

But last night the weather was nice, the sun was just setting and I could hear a concert going on, which means there’d be lots of people around, so I decided to stop being a paranoid wimp and cross the park.

Three minutes later I was talking to a 911 operator while a young couple from Spain mopped up their blood. Apparently the guy got punched in a robbery attempt and the youths ran off into the dark. The couple started running and met up with a jogger who also didn’t have a cell phone. The trio found me a few minutes later. And if you think three frantic people running at you – one dripping with blood – isn’t jarring, well then you are braver than me. P.S. You’re definitely braver than me.

After a few minutes of trying to stop the flow of blood, about eight cop cars appeared, which is an oddly powerful feeling. I summoned an assembled fleet with a single phone call! Feel my power. Basically, I’m the world’s biggest hero is what I’m trying to tell you.

Oh, and the young couple? They got engaged about 10 minutes before the assault. Please come and spend your Euros with us, people of Europe.

UPDATE: I had to give the cops my number when I called, and a detective just called me to say they caught the guys "because of (my) quick actions." Woot! Key to the city, please!

Oh really, Denise Richards, is your life complicated? IS IT?!?!?!

So, uh, how was your week last week?

That sounds nice.

Me? Weeeeeeeell, not the best. I like to keep things happy here at Postcards, but last week was truly the week Jesus himself took a crap on me.

It started off with a total and complete betrayal from one of my oldest friends, which ensures we'll never speak again. There was also a small matter with a crane nearly killing me in my sleep.

My sister pointed out that bad things come in threes. I was kinda hoping that the Sex and the City movie being sold out could be my third thing, but no.

My computer, my beloved little refurbished laptop, went to that Genius Bar in the sky.

Steve at the Apple store: Uh...hmmmm...uh-huh.

Me: Oh no! Talk to me Steve; you're just making sounds.

Steve at the Apple store: Um, it's your logic board.

Me: That does not sound promising.

Steve at the Apple store: It's what we like to call a "vintage computer," which means Apple doesn't make the part anymore. So what you'll have to do is go online and research getting the proper logic board for this model, then find a repuitable person to install it prop -

Me: I'm gonna stop you right there, Steve. I'm not going to be doing any of that.

I've never been so happy to see Monday morning come so I could put last week behind me. I usually go by the rule of thumb that the worse you feel the better you should try to look. (I guess so people can say, "What a cute skirt!" instead of, "Why are your eyes all puffed shut?") I looked in my closet and didn't have anything fancy enough to fix my bleak mood.

If I did, I'd be blogging in a prom dress right now.

Don't taunt the cranes

Anyone remember this post o' mine?

I was joking because hahaha there's just no way this could happen twice. HAHA! Uh, yeah, turn on MSNBC. It crashed into the luxury building next door to me. 50 feet from my front door! 50 feet! My mom in Kentucky saw my apartment from News Chopper 4.

The whole building shook with such an epic force I thought there was no way it could be anything man-made. To be every clichéd witness ever: It sounded like an earthquake. The rumbling went on for maybe 15 seconds. The sirens started almost immediately after. I wondered what the hell fault line I lived on and where my nearest emergency shelter was. Do I own gauze? Should I flee with my own canned goods? Would I be asked to give blood? I DON'T LIKE GIVING BLOOD! IT MAKES ME QUEASY! DON'T TAKE MY BLOOD!

The front of the building is sheared off. The whole street is filled with ambulances now.

And yes, I’m sort of disgusted with myself that my first response was, “I’m so filled with angst I just gotta blog about it!”

P.S. There were two cranes and it was the white one, not the red that collapsed. They better fucking take that red one down. I'll try to post pictures when I'm allowed back in my building.

Memo to the crane across the street

Look, I don't like you and you don't like me, but you're outside my apartment for the foreseeable future so we have to get along. I have my eye on you, bro. No falling-over-and-crushing-me-in-my-sleep funny business.