And the Emmy goes to...

So, in honor of last night's "excitement" (or blatant lack there-of) in Hollywood, I offer the Emmy's of my last year of life.

Most Exciting but Probably Not Real Celebrity Subway Sighting: I am telling you people, I sat across from Jake Gyllenhaal on the subway. I know that it is highly, highly unlikely that he was taking the A train from JFK airport at 10:30 pm on a Sunday evening, but I know what I saw... Also, a few weeks later I rode the Q train from Brooklyn with a guy who was a dead ringer for Barack Obama. However, I'm willing to believe that it was not really him, mainly because there was no security around him, and because Barack doesn't really seem like a Q train type of guy. B train, maybe...

Most Atrocious but Definitely Legit "Celebrity" Sighting: Newman from Seinfeld outside an adult bookstore on 8th Avenue around 11:30 pm. For the record, all I was doing was walking home from work. I was not loitering on 8th Avenue, as I am neither a hooker nor a tourist.

Most Dramatic Near-Miss: I am walking down the street. Like a true New Yorker, I am texting someone, listening to my Ipod, thinking about what to order for dinner, looking for my Metrocard, and trying to blow the hair out of my eyes. I am also walking in the direct path of a Big Yellow Taxi (tm Joni Mitchell.) Kind, cute young doctor grabs my arm and pulls me back onto the sidewalk. I immediately assume he is attempting to steal my purse and hit him. We share a laugh. Light turns green. I never see kind, cute young doctor again. Life is so tragically unfair.

Store that Inevitably Makes Me Want to Hurt Myself, yet I Continue to Shop There Because I'm Too Lazy to Find Somewhere Better: Toss up between Duane Reade on 34th and 8th and the Kmart Penn Plaza. Duane Reade: Surliest employees in town, $1.79 plus deposit for a 20 oz Diet Coke, worst selection of greeting cards ever, they advertise the Visa Quickpass or whatever it's called where you just touch your card to the reader instead of swipe it and then they yell at you when you try to use it. Kmart: Always full of tourists (seriously, you came all this way to shop at Kmart?) and/or children, have to show your receipt on the way out the door, no matter how inconvenient it is (Do I really look like the type of person who steals from Kmart?), escalators are NEVER working, check-out takes at least 20 minutes, even if I am the only person on line.

First Place I Ever Had a "Usual": Oh, that sounds like a really dirty euphemism. Get your minds out of the gutter people, and get me to the red awninged Halal Pizza place, where $2 buys me a huge slice of greasy cheese pizza, a can of Diet Coke, and a flirtatious wink from the guy behind the counter (Hey, cut me a break... I worked 80 hours a week in an office full of women. Come-ons from the pizza guy were about the extent of my contact with the opposite sex.) About a month before I left my job, they upped the price to $2.25. I raised a stink and they stopped charging me the extra quarter. Considering I ate there at least 2 or 3 times a week, this could have been significant savings, if I hadn't quit my job and gotten the hell out of Midtown.

Biggest "Hell-yeah, I'm a Real Adult" Moment: Signing my own lease, no roommates, no parents. Just me, my landlord, and 3 month's rent upfront. Totally worth it. (Please excuse me while I now hum Beyonce's "Independent Woman" song, complete with illustrative dance moves.)

Biggest "WTF?" Moment: Sitting on A train on my way back to Brooklyn recently next to large, somewhat scary-looking man wearing what I am pretty sure is gang insignia, the kind of person I wouldn't normally sit next to (Good evening, racists and bigots, welcome to the First-class train to hell. My name is Sarah and I'll be your conductor this evening.) Anyway, all stereotyping is quickly proved incorrect when I realize that someone's Ipod is playing "Goodbye Until Tomorrow" from the Off-Broadway production of "The Last Five Years," which is the girliest, whiniest, most (amazingly) ridiculously belt-able ballad ever. Personally, I like to sing it while alone in the car using a Diet Coke bottle for a microphone (it really is amazing that I never get traffic tickets.) Anyway, I'm trying to figure out whose Ipod is treating us all to this lovely sound, when I turn around and realize not only is it the big scary gang member sitting next to me, but he is also mouthing the words along with the kind of emotion that normally causes me to get honked at by the 8 cars behind me because I'm so into chronicling the death of a relationship in ballad form that I haven't realized the light has been green for a full 30 seconds. I stare slack-jawed for a moment before I realize that even a big scary gang member with a penchant for off-Broadway classics is still a big scary gang member who I probably don't want to catch me staring. So I go back to my book and enjoy the music.

Most Common Saturday Afternoon Errand: The library. Too cheap for either cable or Netflix, the public library is this girls best friend. Not only can they entertain me with books, but they can provide me with hours of early 90's TV on DVD. However, Mr. Creepy Old Guy who Works at the Desk and Likes to Comment on my Choice of Entertainment, yes I do like Melrose Place, but no, it is not the "Gossip Girl" of our generation. Gossip Girl is the Gossip Girl of my generation. I don't know what the Gossip Girl of your generation was, but you clearly have a good 17 years on me, so I'm pretty sure we are not in the same generation. I might be slightly too old to enjoy Gossip Girl as much as I do, but you are definitely too old to be hitting on me. As a side note, same goes for Mr. Creepy Old Guy who Rides the Escalators at Target Alot. What part of this face (Just imagine my face here, I am not posting angry face pictures), what part of this face screams "I would be amenable to romantic overtures at the juncture"?