So this was funny-slash-embarrassing:

Having lost all the music I'd bought off iTunes (I'd never backed it all up properly), I contacted AppleCare to see if they'd let me redownload it. Which they did (most of it, like 85%), once we'd determined which account I'd used. It involved them looking up my account, and then asking "Is this you here? The last thing you downloaded was a Billy Ocean song on Thursday?"

Uh, yes. Yes that would be me. They then put a gazillion songs on m download queue. Holy crap, I've spent how much on music since the advent of iTunes? Enough for the person at the helpdesk to write me: "You've truly been a remarkable asset to the iTunes Store Family." Ha.

Since I had half-assed backing up my music, I'm stoked to get so much of it back. And yes, Apple-haters, this company did give me hard drives that die once a year, and they don't sell full access to songs, but it's pretty excellent that it only takes them 2 hours to send me everything I've ever bought from them, for free. Also, the guy on the phone refrained from laughing about Billy Ocean until after he finished the call.

(Also, they sent me a list of things I'd bought that are no longer available/priced the same on iTunes, that they couldn't give me; of course the classical stuff and "Rabbit Fur Coat" were all buried in the middle, while the first thing on the list was ""Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do) [Live]." I could not be less cool if I took classes on it.)

My hard drive crashed again. This happened last year; My entire hard drive just phoop, stopped working, and there's nothing to be done. So, first of all, everyone: Remember to back up your data! I'd backed up a month and a half ago, which isn't bad, considering. Lost a few photos, I'm sure, and a few false starts on writing projects.

But I don't back up my music as regularly. Sigh. And after losing all the years of CD game songs AGAIN, I don't have the energy to dig up the CDs I have left and re-import them one by one. Does anyone in town have them all? Katie? I'd love to just bring over my external hard drive and do a big steal. Pretty please?

I made a bit of scene at the Apple store to get my way this morning. When they told me they wouldn't help me til, like, Wednesday, I commandeered their reservations computer and talked to the over-the-phone AppleCare people until the Genuis Bar took me. Um, it worked.


ETA: I just realized that this last happened almost exactly a year ago, minus 4 days. Mayday indeed!

Someday I'll have to have a birthday without Kat bringing me Hoboken pecan coffee cake, but thankfully that year hasn't arrived yet. I'm overdosing on cupcakes, oatmeal cookies, pecan pie and other sweets, and it's excellent. Thanks, friends.

Tonight we're doing bar hop at Death & Co (433 E 6th between First and A); if you have a yen to celebrate my birth but can't make it today, never fear. There will also be a more relaxed thing on Saturday 11, at a bar, evite to come. Gird your loins, people.

I don't do internet quiz/meme thing, but Marisa's "A look at my workspace" thing has been fun. It took me about a week to remember to bring my camera in, and I had waaaay too much trouble with the words on the photo—especially for someone who, ya know, used to use Photoshop and Quark all day.

Some notes: 1. The "art from Katie" says "your boots may/be made for walking...but mine are/in case i need to kick your ass." 2. Normally there are at least two Diet Cokes on my desk at any given time, but I just cleaned. 3. Almost exactly a year ago, I left my last job and took a picture of my desk on the last day. Aw, old desk, and damn my computer was a lot sweeter back then.

( Which is bigger, my computer screen or Shane Battier's head? )

Okay, people, need some feedback: Anything happening Friday Apr 3 or Saturday Apr 4? I've been phenomenally negligent in setting up anything for my birthday. I'm leaning toward Sat 4, but wanted to check with the huddled masses.

If I don't get my shit together for that Saturday, rest assured that Bar Hop on Wed 1 will have to be extra-special. Maybe a Fancy Dress Bar Hop?

ETA: No one's leaving town for Easter, are they? Weekend of the 11th?

Working in an office sucks sometimes, except for health insurance and the phrase "cupcakes for someone's birthday!" Oh, lovely. Plus tomorrow the art department organized Pies for Pi Day Observed (Pi Day being Saturday, 3/14), which serves to make me curious about what they'll be dishing up on April 20th.

However, the birthday cupcakes reminded me that my own birthday is (ugh) approaching. I want to do something, I like celebrating, I think celebrating is an important part of life. After all, I am a staunch tradition-maker (BMABC, bar hop, anyone?), and birthdays are built-in traditions. But the thought of organizing something is exhausting me, so I dunno.

Tonight, ER! I've become a refan of this show of late, plus tonight is a big reunion episode. I have a distinct 1996-ish memory of putting away my violin case in the Olympia High School music room, chatting with a girl named Amber about how someone died in a fire on ER the previous night. Things that don't exist anymore: My association with Amber (don't even remember her last name); the OHS music room; my ability to play the violin; Must-see TV. Things that do still exist: E-freaking-R.

Also, Heathers: The Musical! I was going to link to the TONY blog posts I did today on Heathers and ER, but then remembered how our web team goes through all the ingoing links to the TONY blog, and that doesn't need to happen. So, if you're curious, go to the Time Out New York website and check the Own This City and Upstaged blogs for your bloggy amusement.

An update:

I just spent two days in Washington, having gone home to attend the memorial service for my friend Ethan. He's a high school friend who married a girl I've known since childhood—just two months ago I spent New Year's Eve at their place. He got so sick so quickly, and all weekend it never quite made sense that he wasn't there. I can't really think of an elegant way to describe it; I'm just sad.

I've got a bunch of memories of Ethan, including the the Myers-Briggs personality test in senior year psych class, when we both came up "INTP"—I was stoked to be like him (and realized that my perfect match is a male version of Stacey). And the time we taught ourselves to play Texas Hold 'Em from watching Rounders. And then there's the last year, when he kept a blog of his and Stacey's pregnancy; highlights included a sonogram he drew on a Post-It and the line "The other day Stacey wanted to eat some Scotch tape. Then asked me not to tell anyone. How am I going to keep that a secret?" And, of course, last Christmas when I saw their day-old baby, Chloe; he was immediately and almost preternaturally adept at fatherhood.

So the whole weekend was horribly surreal. I got to see a whole passel of old friends, who were equal parts happy to finally see each other and horribly sad for the reason we were gathering. The rest of the time I spent with my parents, which was calming. On the way home, I went straight from the airport to Matt & Anne's for the Duke-Carolina game, because if the weekend reminded me of anything, it was that being with friends is a good thing, even when Tyler Hansborough has to be involved.

It just took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to double-space something in Word. I...had to google it.

Now I haven't written in Word in years; Word formats text, which fucks with most publishing platforms, so I got very used to doing my writing in bare-bones programs. These days I can't really let my mind work right unless I'm using something like NewsEditPro or TextEdit (at the office I have it set to Plain Text, so it won't even italicize; if TextEdit would just add a wordcount feature I'd use it til I die).

But wow, it really took me back to be putting something in Word. Except for the realizing I don't know how to double-space. For someone who, you know, writes and edits pieces of writing for a living, that was a bit weird.

Hello, world. I've spent most of the past two days on the couch, recovering from what I first thought was a touch of hangover (for a cruddy Saturday), which then turned out to be flu (there goes Sunday!) and now, just to be mean, has migrated to a sore throat (fuck off, Monday!). I planned to stay home to recover and do the laundry that never got done this weekend, but now I'm just hoping to be mobile at some point today.

I'm very glad that this didn't happen next weekend, though. That would have sucked.

Happier thoughts: Next weekend is February Sucks! Cossar is about to have a birthday! (Which means that somewhere, Scotty is too, and which means I forgot Rami's birthday, dangit, happy birthday Rami! February is so crammed with birthdays.) Let's get well, it's almost party time!

So I was sooooo proud of myself, for going to Mt. Snow up in Vermont and kicking its ass on skis. I wasn't tired! I wasn't sore! I got up at 7am the second day to hit the slopes! Then I tried snowboarding on Sunday afternoon, and even with a lesson I managed to fall squarely on my ass in a spectacular lift-exiting flail. My arms, my knees, my bum—oh so very, very sore.

But! I'm slowly progressing on the snowboard and I'm ready—nay, eager—to go it alone with a snowboard on some real runs. Um, once I heal.

Also, Mt. Snow was great, because it was sunny AND there was a Waffle Hut right next to the lifts, serving hot chocolate and waffles. Vermont is pretty, I'm a fan. The skiing—hmm. Well, I was lucky to ski where I did as a kid, snowmaking still irks me, and I still haven't seen skiing out here that can rival the west's. But I can appreciate the efficiency and loveliness of right-coast skiing, really—Mt. Snow had some excellent cruising runs, and I dig that. Still: If you can groom it, it's not a black diamond, people.

Short week full of bar hop and a Jay Clifford concert and Oscars in Jersey. I will probably also spend the week regretting my decision to not shoplift the New York Times Magazine from a rest stop on the Thruway. Dangit, I could use the big ol' picture of Shane Battier on my wall right about now, but I'll have to wait til my parents send me their copy.

"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies features the original text of Jane Austen's beloved novel with all-new scenes of bone-crunching zombie action. ... What ensues is a delightful comedy of manners with plenty of civilized sparring between the two young lovers—and even more violent sparring on the blood-soaked battlefield as Elizabeth wages war against hordes of flesh-eating undead.

Complete with 20 illustrations in the style of C. E. Brock (the original illustrator of Pride and Prejudice)..."

April! I'm starting my birthday wish list now.

Hey guess what! I managed to talk for seven minutes on the radio without saying "fuck" once! Go me.

Hey also! Our company announced 5% paycuts all around yesterday, go us! What's not on Gawker is that in exchange for a 5% pay cut, we get to work 5% less; the cut comes in the form of unpaid vacation, one day for every 20. I mean, of course it's still a cut and it totally blows—plus we're not hourly workers, it's not like we can clock out and just, uh, make less magazine—but I will give my company credit for trying to compensate us. And since I was already considering the idea of unpaid leave this summer to get out of the city, well...decision just got easier.

This weekend, see Coraline! I incoherently babble about why in the radio clip above, but more succinctly: It's cool. It reminded me of the moodier bits of Labyrinth, of all things, what with the jazzy music and totally-on-crack visuals. I wish I had been 10 when I saw it, because I was a dreamy little sucker and would have been absolutely transfixed.

But the 3D gave me a headache that hasn't gone away for three effing days.

Duke lost to Clemson, and that also sucks, but the Carolina game is next week. Saving it for the one that really counts? I hope?

Tomorrow: ComicCon! This is going to be interesting, y'all. For work I'm talking to the Fringe, Life on Mars and Dollhouse people (Joss Whedon! What should I ask? "Why can't I get into Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so many friends just adore it?" I need something better). For fun I'm going to wander the craziness with Kat and Moira until I see all the weird there is to see.

Updates, kids:

1. Boo, Duke losing to Wake. Well that was a fun few days at No. 1.

2. Other than the above, nice Bar Hop this week, guys. Except for a certain someone's blatant Duke-baiting, it was a good showing all around. I  like how for most of the night there wasn't a single woman in the bar who wasn't part of our crowd. There are gay bars in Chelsea with more ladies. Bleecker Heights Tavern: For beer, basketball, burgers, and, apparently, boys.

3. I'm trying to rush through my close today so I can attend a charity event tonight, a Human Rights thing (for, not against). I totally blew off a swank event with Flight of the Conchords on Monday to, no lie, go to the gym and watch the back half of an episode of American Idol on the elliptical, but now I'm completely rearranging my schedule to head to the UES to support a downer charity, which I'm not actually supporting because I'm using free tickets, so really I'm just ripping them off. I'm not so good at this rock-n-roll lifestyle.

4. I spent much of yesterday with the song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" stuck in my head. This sounds like a complaint; it isn't. I actually really enjoyed the constant Meatloaf in my head. And that sentence is gross, isn't it.

5. Grosser and yet more awesome: Why can't I have a "massive torpedo-shaped amalgamation of two pounds of bacon woven through and around two pounds of sausage and slathered in barbecue sauce"? Please. Also, the part where the guy looks at the pile of raw bacon and goes "Hmm, I could weave this into a mat" is basically akin to the moment an apple fell on Newton's head. Brilliant.

I'm either having the best or worst Monday ever. Slept til 11am, ate a leisurely breakfast before coming to work, have my cowboy boots up on my desk, and am listening to a Single Ladies/Andy Griffith Show mashup song over my computer's speakers. And I haven't gotten that much work done and am considering taking a break to read a book for a little while.

But the office is surprisingly empty. There were a lot more people planning to come in as of Friday, don't blame 'em for changing their minds, but I need other worker bees to convince me not to bag it and head home. And I really, really want to take an extended Inauguration break tomorrow.

Ok, I have 1067 emails in my inbox (unread: 0! This is good). If I can get it down to 500 and get my desk in reasonable working order—very possible, as my desk at work is 500% cleaner than my room at home—then I can blow this popsicle stand. Deal?

Oh it's snowing! Good thing the hero pilot wasn't trying to land in the Hudson today, that sucker looks icy.

My 2009 calendar is bleak, y'all. Right now the only upcoming non-work things on it are a brief visit from Reimer and February Sucks. We must fix.

•NY ComicCon is Feb 6-8. Now, I've never been to one of these. But if you were planning to go, let me know; I will go on Sat 7 and see me some spectacle. I'm kind of an imposter because I couldn't care less about comics themselves, but I do like geekery, nerdery, fantasy (kinda), science fiction (some), costumes (on other people), enthusiasm, and the Javits Center (total lie).

•Jay Clifford at Joe's Pub on Feb 21. Probably only one person actually knows who he is, so ... Annie, wanna go? Tickets are like $15.

For anyone who's thinking they might be up for a cute singer-songwriter evening, consider: I like Jay Clifford (and hey, you like me!). He's from the south (and hey, you like grits and collard greens!). Zach Braff likes Jay Clifford, so much so that he made a video for him (and hey, you like Zach Braff, or even once had an uncomfortable desire to live inside his romantic relationship, right Katie?).

That said, Clifford's solo stuff may be an acquired taste, and the video is kinda stupid (sorry Zach Braff). I'm crossing my fingers that he'll play "Cathedrals" all acoustic-like and solo, though.

•This weekend: Wendy and Lucy, anyone? Or Last Chance Harvey, either one.

Finally: Are you single? Have I not hit you up for "Date our Friends" yet? That means I don't consider you a friend, probably. But we're doing a giant Valentine's Day singles thing in the magazine, with like 100 singles. You can be one, if you want. Let me know.

I try to explain to my parents, non-New Yorkers, etc. just how bad the economic downturn has hit the media world. But to get an idea, I just had my tenth friend get laid off from a newspaper/magazine editorial job. And I do have lots of friends, but not that many. Counting folding publications, that number goes up to almost 20 (although that goes back a couple years).

Suuuuuucks.

But on a happier note, everyone seems to want to go skiing of late. Yay skiing! Everyone should!

First of all, thank you, darling friends, for soothing my bruised ego. While I was whining Friday about accidentally saying "fuck" on public radio, you were taking the time to listen to my segment and telling me I sound halfway professional. Y'all rock.

Second, that story had worked its way to "hilarious anecdote" by early evening. But then lo and behold, during the NPH Saturday Night Live—which I discussed in that infamous radio spot, natch—Will Forte sang a song, a little ditty that was 80% about how the BCS is like Robert Mugabe and 20% about whether he could say "f*ck" on TV.

And then during the Golden Globe awards, f-bombs were dropped during Mickey Rourke's (discussed!) and Slumdog Millionaire's (discussed!) acceptance speeches. Which means either, (a) I gravitate toward profane artists and programs, or (b) I was, for a brief moment, the ultimate nexus of pop culture this weekend. It's all related! Butterfly effect!

Anyway. This year was the third annual Go See Bullriding at MSG trip, and it was pretty much as awesome as ever. The floor-to-ceiling American flag was missing, but the event was brought to us by the U.S. Border Patrol. And there were at least three riders named Cody/Kody, two named Clayton and a couple Dustins. It was fully ridiculous.

I'm doing pretty well with my "only eat food from my kitchen" goal for January, by which I mean of course I'm desperate for February to arrive. I'm liking my daily ham-cheese-lettuce-and-pickle sandwiches, but I really miss leaving the office at lunch. And nights when I work past 8 or 9, my hunger goes freaking beserk. And I've cheated with a chorizo tapas, egg & cheese, Crif dog and MSG hotdog thus far, but I wasn't expecting perfection.

Overall, it's a good resolution to make; my hopes were to improve both my health and my financial situation, but I'm prone to failed willpower. By only limiting where I get my food—the grocery store yes, other eateries no—I'm definitely eating better and cheaper, but by not limiting the nutritional content or cost themselves, I don't feel too restricted. Oh, and beverages are exempt, because I've met myself, hello. Limiting myself to Diet Coke and alcohol from my personal kitchen would necessitate a portable cooler.

Tomorrow I go back to The Takeaway, a morning news show on WNYC (that's the radio). I was on the show on Boxing Day, giving my book, music, and TV picks (Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack, Sesame Street book, Kennedy Center Honors, etc.). I made the mistake of showing my mother the link at home, and now half of Olympia has received an e-mail from her about it.

Anywho, tomorrow I'm on around 6:30am, I think. The table read is at 5:30am which GOOD GOD is way too early to do anything but start going to bed. But since this time they're recording me live, I guess I better be ready. Listen at 6:30am if you have an actual radio and really want to hear my know-it-all-ness, or wait for it online if you're normal like that.

ETA: Oooh! Bumped back an hour. 7:20 is so many lightyears better.

Etiquette question:

I get a decent amount of incorrectly directed e-mail on my Gmail account. Not spam, but legitimate e-mails meant for another Allison Williams. (I totally bonded with Vanessa Williams, the "Save the Best for Last" one, over this issue.) My name is full of dastardly Ls, which makes it easy to misread/mistype, so I end up with e-mails, say, inviting me to judge a pageant in West Virginia. (One other AW out there is an ex-Miss West Virginia. Yes, another one is a sex tape phenom, and if I get her e-mails my spam filter thankfully blocks them. Still another one is married to a Foo Fighter.)

I'd like to be polite and let people know, but the e-mail senders that flub addresses tend to be the not-so-Internet-bright type. They don't get that I'm not the AW they're looking for. "Wrong e-mail" or "you didn't mean to send this to me" responses are met with a "What do you mean, Allison?"

Does anyone else have this problem? Do you delete e-mails that aren't for you? Or do you look at the attached baby pictures/pageant-judging details, then toss? Let the sender know? And why can't people understand that there is more than one AW in the world?? And why do I totally open Christmas cards addressed to previous occupants of our apartment with no guilt, but feel compelled to reply to misdirected e-mails?

Happy almost Christmas, everyone!

I'm at work, but, well, this ain't the workingest day we've ever worked here. I closed an issue last night, and we were given a choice between working today or Jan 2, with a week off in between. My flight's at 4:20, so by "working today" I mean, oh, three hours or so. And we have a big holiday lunch planned for the handful of editorial staffers that showed up. (In the hour and a half that I've been here, I've heard Ethan say "I made sausage balls!" like fifteen times. Keeps getting funnier.)

Hopefully will get to SeaTac tonight (knocking on wood, hard). Well, I'm sure I'll get there, but I can't imagine it'll be fun, what with the snow everywhere and the aiport fuckups in Seattle specifically. But the beer we're adding to our lunch feast can only help airport shenanigans, right? If my flight gets delayed I plan on delving into either Season 1 of The Wire or an episode of The Real World: Brooklyn on my laptop. I hope you can guess which one of those is for work.

Oh, yeah, work; I got a promotion(ish), taking over the TV (and gaming) coverage. Which will be fun and a new challenge, but it's kind of why I'm trying to get into The Wire over my break. I feel like no self-respecting TV editor hasn't seen The Wire.

Well, it's been a really, really rough year for so many of my friends, so I'm not sorry to see it wind down. But aside from those very sad passings, I've had a really lucky and lovely year, and I'm trying to be thankful for that. I continue to have the best effing friends in New York City, and now I get my sister living an hour away. I have high hopes for you, 2009. Don't let us down.