Janeane Garofalo.

Standing on the corner of Houston and Essex at midnight on a Tuesday, waiting for a drunken Erin and ADHD boyfriend to arrive. I watch in disbelief as Janeane Garofalo trudges along in the snow toward me. My mouth hung open; I watch her pass and wait at the lights. I do three double takes. This woman has been my hero since I was 14.

She introduced me to feminism.

She introduced me to cynicism.

She is wearing cat eye glasses.

She is a total badass.

The following conversation transpired:

“Are you Janeane Garofalo?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You, are fucking awesome.” This statement was punctuated with violent nodding.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“Are you Australian?”

“Why yes. I am.”

“Cool, I’m going to Melbourne next week.”

“I’m sorry; I cannot offer you any insight into the place as I have never been there. I am from Sydney.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Emily.”

“Right, well it was nice to meet you.”

She then shakes my hand with her left mittened paw. She is smoking a hand rolled cigarette with the other and juggling bags. The lights change, she continues across Houston to Avenue A. I’m unsure if I believe in omens but if I did, I think this says I can now leave New York City because NOTHING cooler will ever happen to me in this town.

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