In other news....

1. There's a new MTV idiot-adventure competition show on. Huzzah!
2. There's a big difference between angry and bitter.
3. It's way too warm in my apartment.


In case you were wondering-

It's 830ish in the morning. I'm listening to Crosby Stills & Nash (Marrakesh Express is on now, surprisingly bouncy). I'm drinking a lovely cup of coffee with that silly but tasty vanilla soy creamer. My tonsils feel like they are the size of golf balls and the heat of the coffee seems to tame the wretched soreness a little bit.


East Village FAIL

Saturday I thought I'd have a little solo picnic-in-the-park outing. So I walked over to Tompkins Square, where the breadline is sadly increasing, but the usual array of old bums was fairly chipper. What irritated the fuck out of me - just as it did 15-20 years ago - were the young bums, junkies and posers, wearing leather jackets and pricey tattoos, walking large fluffy dogs. They sat or stood around with large lumpy backpacks, asking for change. How hip! Right about then the weather changed from sunny, clear and dry to cloudy, chilly and damp. I passed a police car, the officers chatting with the bums while the new playground lay locked up and unplayed with. I stood by the Temperance statue, grousing like the neighborhood crank that I am, in search of a free bench. I parked myself next to an inoffensive couple, away from the glaring yet skittish elderly folk, and plugged in my ipod to drown out the blaring of lesbian beat poetry from the park's stage. Vagina, vagina, vagina, and limericks galore. Cranky limericks. Then, my battery died.

Today in the Key Food were three new-in-town models anxiously huddled over the self-checkout with three boxes of Frosted Mini Wheats, looking blankly at the employee trying to help them scan bar codes.

While this isn't a neighborhood FAIL, this made me severely embarrased - I was chatted up by a decent-looking gentleman caught staring at my 'got pierogies' shirt. He was highly complimentary and not at all creepy; however, I knew that I had crummy hair and not a small bit of Neutrogena zit cream left on my face, and I was mortified. More like my Fail.


Proust by way of Costco.

Our secretary bought snacks for the office at Costco (promptly dispatched by the bored, hungry and piggish). They included these gems:

Note that these cookies are not particuarly large, nor particularly chocolatey. They're nice and crumbly though, with a perfectly nonthreatening amount of flavor.

My idea of the perfect lunch, circa 1984 or so:

- one package Lindens cookies (or one Drake's Peanut Butter Wafer bar)
- one bag Andy Capp cheddar fries, or hot fries if I felt daring
- one pint Sun Dew fruit punch or iced tea (which I perversely thought was better for me).

I lost a lot of weight that year.


Notes on The Duel 2 and my crappy legs

First off, my legs. I have been limping for weeks on a shin-splinty right leg, only to completely dislocate my left knee last weekend in Baltimore. My ankles are weirdly swollen, there's a bunch of bruising on my knee (I didn't fall on it), and it's not getting better. I lent my crutches to a friend and I think that I haven't reclaimed them because that would mean I should use them. I wrap them in neoprene, I take illicit Motrin (thinning my blood to the consistency of acetone, no doubt), and I fret.

Oh yeah, I also do improv, run a few standup shows (running back and forth to the stage 20-odd times), take lots of stairs, and generally behave like an idiot, apparently.

But I don't want to be injured.


In the meantime....the Duel 2!

1 - Mark is at least 37 and is kicking ass. I'd do him.
2 - Could Evan be more irritating? And surprisingly doughy?
3 - What's the deal with Katie? Is she sedated? Medicated? Or just menopausal?
4 - Ruthie is cute but a mite creepy.
5 - If someone else uses "myself" improperly again, it's on. It's on.
6 - Evan is a moron.
7 - The 'tribal' opening is bizarre, vaguely offensive in several ways (mostly because half the girls look bored, half the guys lurve being fake warriors.)
8 - Davis's cast picture makes it look like he has boobies.
9 - Yes, I read the cast bios. Shut up.
10 - What the hell kind of a name is Diem?
11 - Ha ha Evan's in the duel!
12 - Shut up.
13 - What the hell kind of a name is Brittni?
14 - Why do they keep letting Eric back on the show? Last time he had freaking arrythmia. Srsly?
15 - Did I just type "Srsly?'
17 - Shut up Evan.
18 - What the hell kind of a name is Landon?
19 - Srsly?
20 - I need some sleep.


A heart full of rock salt.

Oooh! Blogging about my feelings! It's rare these days, I'm too busy ignoring them.

So I was having a minor meltdown tonight (complete and inefficient overload in many areas of life, some of which I thought were reasonably under control.) Hosting, a couple of cocktails and some pleasant chat about butt sex kept me going for awhile, until I came home and started shaking uncontrollably like my neighbor's adorable sweatered Chihuahua. Well, I was having an attack of the feelings (source confidential at this time, thank you), and it was a mighty one. And once I had a couple of traumatic/thereapeutic/crushing conversations, I laid on the sofa, watching my legs cramp and my knees twitch under my heavy opaque tights. Tights removed, i flipped on the TV and fell upon Kill Bill part 2 (one of my top five favorite movies of all time, the others being Caddyshack, All that Jazz and a few others that do not include Indiana Jones). Michael Madsen (hot! in that beat-up way I adore) plugs Uma Thurman (hot!) in the chest with a double barrel's worth of shells filled with rock salt.

So that's how I felt.

I enjoyed the rest of the movie. I especially enjoy the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Trick.

I made 2 psychotic-looking lamb-shaped cakes, a large and fragile cheese paschka, several kulichi (except the little ones were burned), and 4/5 of the recipe of Ambrosia Salad (sour cream withheld until the day of service). Now I will nap, then pack for my trip, go back to my office and get my flash drive, and I'm outta here.

A heart full of rock salt.

Christos Voskres, yo.


You're so different! I'm so different!

Hey guys! I have a rare disease. (It's the first one! It must be the BEST one!)

I've known about for quite a while but didn't realize there was a club!


(actually I mostly try not to think about it. Rats! Or rat poison.)


Crap! There really is a club!

Now I'm really depressed about the whole thing.

Bloggity bleah.

Too many things! Too much writing! Writing and crocheting make my carpal tunnel kick in. I'm sooooo old.

Random thoughts for the three remaining readers:

1. Feeling like a squishy slug, I decided to walk like mad all last week, which I did. Sunday night I walked home from a show and had to use the bathroom really badly, so I ran home along 4th street. I can't run. I have a shin splint and already lost one Ace bandage clip. I am a moron. A moron with overly large sneakers.

2. What's the deal with Ace bandage clips? Why don't they sell them in packages for us loose-jointed klutzes?

3. At Whole Foods, I spent $70 on Passover goodies and yeast.

4. Tomorrow! MTV! The Dule II! Whoo!

5. ANTM makes Make me a Supermodel look super edgy.

6. I like dresses.

7. I can't Facebook at work. Huzzah!

8. Want to get inspired to write? Don't read the classics. Read a shitty yet compelling book. This will keep you engaged in it long enough to realize that if this trainwreck can get written AND printed, I can write a book too!

9. Maybe.

10. Happy Springtime Holidaze!


Auntie Maim

I don't know if it was the most appropriate present to get a six year old, but it may have been the best:

Human Anatomy Coloring Book

My nephew just had a tonsillectomy and was kind of fascinated by the process. I was his first post-surgical call to tell me he was OK and loved learning all about science. He was coloring tonsils, arteries and veins.

My brother may or may not remove the 'r-e-p-r-o' pages, but I may have talked him out of that.

Am I a cool aunt or what?



Now I understand why little kids scream. I am FAR too old for an ear infection, and even post-surgery it is making me completely miserable. More miserable than the surgery. Crap!


If food were christmas packages

I would be unwrapping the following tasty treats:

- a crispy potato latke
- an order of sashimi or chirashi (white rice, PLEASE)
- a white Russian
- spaghetti carbonara
- some kind of cheese. Just because. As long as it's not fontina or muenster, the tofu of cheeses (in a negative sense). Is there any cheese that sucks worse than muenster? I'd rather eat Laughing Cow or, heaven help us, Velveeta (which if applied to white bread and toasted to high heaven, creates magic. I defy you to refuse that sandwich.)