Hello!

Welcome to Carrie Gravenson's website. It will make you laugh. It will make you cry. It will make you laugh again. You seem emotionally unstable.

Here's your $100, D-man.

DδΨξΘω?


 

This is the first time in my life I've lived in a building with a reliable super.  When he shows up, he gets shit done.  And with a smile.  This is new for me.  Most of my experiences in NYC housing have been pulling teeth with a cheap and mean/rude/abusive landlord.  (One time, I called my former landlord when the electricity went out.  His reply?  "It's night time, what do you need electricity for?  Go to sleep.")  But now, I have a great super.  He's good with elevator chit-chat and he's fast with a drill.  And thus, he deserves to be thanked at end-of-year-holiday-thanking time.

But alas, there's one thing about him that sucks.  I have no idea what his name is.  Well, I can say it, sort of, I just can't spell it.  And without knowing that, it's hard to drop $100 into a personalized card -- it just feels awkward.  It's either Dimitri, Demitri, Demetri, Demetrius, or Demitre.  Or something like that.  And there's no way to find out.  This year I thought we'd found our answer when we got a holiday card from him.  Finally!  It was signed, I swear, "Super and family" -- no names.  He's like a spy or something.

How bad is it to get a greeting card with your name completely misspelled?  Does the $100 soften the blow?  I think I'll just fill out the card, "Roger, happy holidays to you and yours."  That way, I'm so far off that it's funny and he'll think I'm being a kooky kook.  Good plan, right?  Who doesn't love a kooky kook card with cash in it?

The No-Legs Diet.

The 9 to 5.