blargh 4: The Final Countdown

French Vanilla machine coffee, a couple of dark chocolate Dove eggs and a lovely and informative email. I also bought some lingerie.

Things are looking up a bit.

blargh 3: a new beginning

This is the first thing today to make me fucking smile.

Thanks, DC!

blargh 2: The revenge

I mean really, I had about one drink.

So far today:

1. I am at work.
2. I have kindly refrained from killing anyone.
3. I was made awkward by an elevator stare...until I realized it was someone I knew. Then I felt stupid.
4. I have eaten machine cookies and Soy Chips today. A perfectly good (one hopes) chicken salad sandwich is being ignored. I want more Soy Chips. Damn, I love Soy Chips. Soy Chips. Mmmm.
5. My email has been eerily silent today.


I have never felt so hung over on so little booze in my life.

Guess who can't sleep?

More thoughts....

1. WE is the network for women for whom Lifetime is too edgy.
2. You can screw up Lipton Noodle Soup.
3. The 1000 pound man has a girlfriend.
4. I forgot what this one was. Completely. Blotted out by "Wife, Mother, Bounty Hunter" and some salty soup.
5. I can't sleep.

Shut the eff up....yet another in a series

From the Miracle Gro organic fertilizer (how apropos!) ad:

Pregnant Smug Woman:

"For most women it's pickles and ice cream. For me its a Fresh Ripe Tomato from my garden."

Close up on smug vegetables and 100% cotton smug maternity wear-clad smug pregnant woman.

Yeah, right.

PostSecret isn't a snack

I keep thinking Pop Secret.

But that's not the point. I just made a list of all my secrets. At least the ones that I can think of now.

Am I gonna share them? What do you think?

Here's the severely expurgated version:

I’m worried that my secrets aren’t witty enough for postsecret.
I wonder if anyone knows all my secrets
I have sent regrettable emails today.
My therapist is leaving me and I’m angry.
I would not mind being famous.

Things I have contemplated after several unsuccessful conversations and half a glass of Makers

1. Taking a masters degree overseas

2. Adopting a disabled child

3. Digging up old photos and posting them here. (The google for exboyfriends is more amusing than the one for exhusbands).

Of course there's always postsecret (although today's top post was particularly disturbing). I've got a few.

I think I'm just going to change up my Netflix queue.

Like I've said time and again....whatever.


Mike Daisey: The state of the art

This made me laugh and cry; I am stunned by the event and his subsequent grace.

Watch this. If you are an artist, a performer, a goddamn human being.

Mike Daisey

Dear Dumb People on Bikes,*

*and by this I mean 'unintelligent, stupid morons who have chosen to pedal a largish metal contraption through my neighborhood' as I acknowledge that there are lovely, considerate people of normal intelligence and lovable personalities who do ride bicycles and are herein excluded.)

Yeah, ASSHOLES, I'm talking to you.

Here's a few handy tips from those of you inconsiderate jerks who didn't learn (1) road safety or (2) common courtesy when they were, say, SEVEN. Of course, then you're probably too dumb to read this, but I take that back because that insults lovely, considerate people who happen to be learning-disabled or have difficulties with the language.

Anyway, FUCKTARDS, listen up.

Here's some handy RULES of the ROAD that, if followed, will result in me NOT clubbing you, picking you off with a slingshot or tossing gravel in your path:

1. Get off the damn phone.
2. Put out the damn cigarette.
3. No, retard, DON'T TOSS IT AT THE SIDEWALK. Pull over, wipe the smelly drool off your face, and crush it out.
4. Ride WITH TRAFFIC. Not against traffic. That's the law.
5. If you love riding on sidewalks so much, move to Westchester. Or better yet, New Jersey, so you have to pay to come back here and annoy us.
6. The traffic laws DO apply to you. So, cutie with the ponytail and sundress (you're not as pretty as you think, either), barrelling through the crosswalk as I am CROSSING THE STREET WITH THE LIGHT is a dick move on your part.
7. Assholes.

Queen of Pedestrians

I love New York, Part 76574.232323....


So I was in the de facto tranny shoe boutique that is the Chelsea Payless Shoes. I was trying to get summer shoes (I freaking HATE summer shoes, they're all gacky light colors and improbably shaded/patterned/heeled and will get dirty and ugly quick. Except for my pink Dansko gladiator sandals. And my Tevas. Anyway I digress.) Specifically I needed to match a sundress (yes, boys, a sundress - you know who you are) that I'd bought for a sugar-sweet (hooray!) Atlanta wedding in June. I'm still marveling at the fact that it fits.

My color sense is for shit so I asked the nearest person (perched on a footstool in the size 11/12 section, right near my 9.5/10s) whether the dress was best matched to white shoes or beigey ones. The nice six-foot two lady said that "Shoes that are matched to my skin tone can be worn all year round!" Hooray! She surveyed the racks for me and every so often would present me with an appropriate pair, or rate my choices. "Gorgeous and you CAN wear them any time." She also appraised my purchase of summery cheap flats with a critical eye - "Too tight." Thanks, my new tranny friend!

Since my matching skills were so heightened at that point I went to Laila Rowe next door, the quintesenntial ugly-accessories store. I really wanted a long long strand of pearls ala girl props (my old ones broke - don't ask) but they only had farty-lady bead necklaces, and the improbably bright shades that my great grandmother used to wear (Grandma would've loved Laila Rowe.) And their stuff ain't cheap people. That being said I did find a nice shawly-scarf (to cover my farty-lady arms should I choose) that matched the dress and shoes EXACTLY.

I love the fact that all these stores are within 20 feet of eachother. And the fact that one hundred years ago, here on "Ladies Mile" (6th avenue 14th-23rd and thereabouts), chicks in bustles were doing the same darn thing.

It was a day fraught with buy-one-get-one-half-off and spend-too-much-as-a-result offers (both Payless and LR caught me in that web) but I did get free sunglasses at Laila Rowe. They're framed with rhinestones. They will only appear on a stage. (I will try to take a photo at some point but laundry is calling.)


I'm a grand-lawyer!

Welcome Alice Mary Jean Kelleman!

(video is pretty and free of icky birth stuff and full of happy parents and baby, one of whom happens to be a friend and client now known as "Dad.")


La di dah, la di dah, la la......

It was great seeing Annie again and I realized what a terrific person she was and how much fun it was just knowing her and I thought of that old joke, you know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken,' and uh, the doctor says, 'well why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but uh, I guess we keep going through it...because...most of us need the eggs.

Happy 30th Anniversary "Annie Hall."


random links assortment - good stuff!

Smart and funny writings from a TV writer! (Courtesy of Anonymous Argyros)

Delightfully fashiony light reading! (Courtesy of multiple links removed from Gawker)

And Saturday is Spring Tasting in Chinatown!


a little too much information?

1. I have had wet towels in my gym bag since early this morning. Virtuous but probably stinky.

2. I also washed my hair with shower gel and applied leave in conditioner. Now my hair is especially stringy.

3. I had a doc's appointment, and this has never happened to me: Nothing serious, just icky and weirdly fascinating. The nurse somehow let the butterfly needle slip out of my vein and when it fell, venous blood came gushing - gushing - out of my arm. It wasn't an artery, I know that. But boy, can I bleed fast. Damn. I just stared as it splashed all over my suit pants and the nurse frantically tried to stanch the bleeding and clean me up. It should've bothered me more - although I've never been bothered particularly by the sight of blood. But usually when you cut yourself or something, unless you've severed an artery, the blood kind of oozes out as it tries to stop itself. I don't know if it was because the needle was directly in a vein or because I'm on ridic amounts of blood thinner, but blood poured out like water spilling from a glass.

Fascinating, huh?


Disturbing yet merely annoying, really.

Today I came to work in a ten-year-old (at least) black V neck sweater and huge red marks on my neck. I don't know why no one noticed, or no one said anything. I felt a little scratchiness last night but paid it no mind. Today I've been itching like mad and when I checked in the ladies room, there was a giant red blotch and smaller red marks across the front of my neck. (From the best I can determine, it's a result of my scaredy cat kitty latching onto my neck and shoulders during the storm yesterday; I didn't think anything of it, just wore her around the house like a scarf with claws. And I think I'm developing a cat allergy much to my dismay.)

But then again, what would people say, really?

I feel the need to explain it somehow but that just probably makes it worse.


quote of the night

"I've been coming here for years. I know too much about the subconscious now."

- Tony Soprano to Dr. Melfi

Rainy days.

I love rainy days. I love listening to rain, watching, going outside. It's peaceful.

It would be nice to have someone to curl up on the sofa with, although my cat enjoyed a nap on my head on said sofa for a while.


cryptic self analysis

1. Learning the art of personal restraint probably has its rewards.
2. Personal restraint on the other hand can be f@#(%ing boring.
3. Sometimes it is not possible so when it is, do exercise it. Limit the arenas in which you feel completely f@#%ed.


crap! technology!

1. Once and Future Ex* borrowed my computer. Guess who forgot to sign out of gmail? Why do I torture myself? I did send him an email from his own account, though. That's as assholish as I got.

2. My laptop ate three partially-started stories. Fuck!

3. My iMac is dying a slow painful death.

I'm gonna start using a goddamn quill pen and password locking shit.

*For those who are confused, OFEx is the legally bound one. Does this clarify?


Work Out

(No not the show....although I do have a girl crush on Jackie.)

Does this ever happen to you or am I a total freak?

Whenever I work out harder than usual I get super emotional. This has happened in the past but it's happening more frequently now. The Once and Future Ex reminded me, as I was on the phone with him tonight, that a couple weeks ago after a 20 minute stretch on the bike following weights that I had a total panic attack (which hasn't happened, fortunately, in quite some time). Tonight I went swimming - hard - for the first time in a long time. (New bathing suit fits just about right, thank you). I then went out and about for a while without benefit of food and came home in abject tears. Oh yeah, I left out the one drink, an acoustic open mike, one annoying phone call, one decent phone call and one weeping phone call to try to keep it together. No avail.

I need some iced tea and a hug. In no particular order.

Did I mention I got a new swimsuit? Lands End basic tank suit can do no wrong.

I also own this suit. Not a good lap swimming suit.

Oh yeah before I forget....

Good night, all. Sweet dreams. Have a nice snack and get in your jammies and ignore the searing pain in your abdominal wall....and for fuck's sake, stop crying.



New day! New stuff!

This is the most entertaining blog you haven't read yet:

(So all 5 of you reading this should read this too!)

JenMac's new thing a day

Tax rap - Vote for Mordy

Check it, yo: