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.

Whatever.

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.

After this, not a peep out of me.....

From peep research:

Peeps loaf!

Stuck in the middle with you.

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.

xoxoxo

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:

http://www.youtube.com/contest/TheTaxRap?goto=87

Redux

Casual conversation with my grandmother (and neighbor) this morning about my late neighbor:

"Oh there's been about three (jumpers) from this building I think...two from (your aunt's) building...and of course (family friend's) sister..."

Wow. I did not know that.

For those who don't know I live in a 21-story building in a complex of 16-21 story buildings in a neighborhood of four-story tenements. We stand out.

Sad

My neighbor down the hall committed suicide this morning.

Mrs. "A" was a lovely Chinese woman with a sweet husband; I'd say she was over fifty but under seventy if that makes any sense (I'm a terrible judge of age). I'd see her shopping, coming back with stuff in orange bags from Chinatown or big bulk packages from some suburban shopping club. A very sweet lady.

Once, she asked me where my (ex) husband was and I told her that he'd moved out. She nodded, and said, with little hesitation, "Men...they're trouble."

I realized I hadn't seen her for a while; I didn't realize it actually until my next-door neighbor, in his fake-tan glory, grabbed my shoulder and whispered "This is terrible...Mrs. A jumped out the window...her son is here, this is terrible...I just wanted you to know, she was sick, cancer, kidneys" and then rushed into the elevator shaking his head as I stood stunned in our 16th floor hallway.

Poor Mrs. A. Poor Mr. A. and their son.

Our building is a murder weapon; an instrument of death. Our home - her home - was the last place she saw before flying away.

I didn't walk through the backyard where she must have fallen. I may, later.

grumble

headache
cranky
confused
tired
blah
stomachache
bored
lame
uncertain
CRAP
sucks

Here, go play a game. Go!

False!

Smirk is not, to my knowledge, derived from "smile of mockery." But I almost convinced my Esteemed Coworker that it was true. Sounds good, doesn't it?

Humor.

In other news,

European Patent Attorneys - Not Funny Either.

True or False?

"Smirk" is short for "smile of mockery."

Answer to be revealed in a later post!

a few things

there's a certain happiness that comes from seeing others happy. and a certain happiness in anticipation. and in stretching. and in appreciation. and in sweet things. and in pink shorts. and hands. pillows. hair in your face. sleeping embrace. freedom.

No fair!

Why do I have to have something in common with Dick "Dick" Cheney?

I'd never wish blood clots on ANYONE. (Discomfort? Ha!)

Does this mean I'm having sympathy for Dick?

Eww.

I'm so tired.

I've been having terribly vivid dreams lately. Last night I even had an improvisor dream, the first in awhile.

All I remember is being in an elevator (yes) with a bunch of male improvisors. Improv Guy 1 had an incredibly large mouth and was showing it off. Improv Guy 2 (didn't look like a local but more like Bobby Lee of Mad TV) had an incredibly long tongue and was showing it off. Improv Guys 3 and 4 were stroking each other's exposed privates, which were impressive. There were a few neighbors in the elevator, short and indifferent.

After exiting the elevator I was walking across 4th Street with a large backpack. Improv Guy 3 grabbed me by the shoulder, surprising me. He told me he missed me. We looked up at the tall buildings on my block, which were covered in scaffolding and white sheeting, and laughed and laughed.

I don't get it.

Remind me to tell you about the dreams of trains in tunnels.

on a lighter note....

What's the deal with corduroys? Fit fine a little wide in the leg when I put them on but by the end of the night...saggy butt city. What gives?

Distressed

Repeat after me:

"You are not a bad person."

I feel terrible about something that's entirely not my fault. But I can easily figure out how to make it so.

I'm still upset and can't shake it. Not even with some Crown Royal over ice.

Throw me a kiss...that will slam some sense into me

If I were on the Dating Game, I'd have run off with the camera man by now.

For thought (not just for the ladies)

Via Kristina's blog...I found this article on something termed "gray rape," more or less referring to impaired judgment in social/sexual situations and including (but apparently broader than) the concept of acquaintance rape.

Definitely thought-provoking.

In therapy recently, I was told that I don't share my feelings easily. I've had this confirmed by a personal friend or two.

I'm never really sure what I share, whether they be feelings, thoughts, emotions or behaviours.

I will say, though, something like this has happened to me. Perhaps, in different ways, even more than once.

I'm not sure I feel like discussing it here, though. I did ramble on about it in therapy a bit, recently, which is why I'm bringing it up; with my curious lack of affect that I take to be logic/successful processing of all things like this. Until they explode in some other direction.

I don't like affecting other people with my "feelings," but I don't mind listening to others.

Call me whacky. Or closed-off, or lacking in trust. That's just me, for now.

3.1415....heck, you know the rest

Happy Pi Day!

Speaking of books...

VideoHound 100 Dumbest Movies of All Time


Benchley at the Theater - Dramatic Criticism

...the ones on my coffee table probably give a pretty good idea of my personality overall.

Shopping is Fun!

Stuff I bought this weekend:

2 wig heads
2 tie-on bandannas (1 camo, 1 American flag)
2 pairs cheap stockings
1 pair red satin gloves
4 packs temporary tattoos
1 book about "stupid" funny movies
1 play ("Parallel Lives")
1 book about corsetry
3 cans (1 large, 2 small) of paint and painting accessories
3 boxes light bulbs
1/2 lb sugar-coated peanuts
1/2 lb yogurt-covered pretzels for my work buddy

Yeah, yeah....I should post this

It's awesome! It's just weird to see myself on film!

The Man who Loved Lesbians

I'm fascinated by girls with guns lately...

and apparently, with youtube.



- "gunslinger girl"

There are some prints on my wall, too, by an artist I saw at Union Square whose name I forget. I may have to scan them just to complete the theme. But it's way frickin late right now.

personal project...

This isn't the precise scene I was looking for.

I'd have been asleep sooner, if the last half hour of "sex lies & videotape" hadn't appeared on IFC. One of my favorite films, for so many reasons.

Dear Anonymous*,

Hi,

How are you? I'm fine. Boy, you must be busy. I know the semester's well underway, you've got gigs, and you've got a neat new lady friend, so I guess it's understandable. But I do miss your insightful and knowing commentary!

If it's just a matter of not having the time to make up cute aliases that I always recognize, don't worry! I'll still know it's you. Heck, I can't even keep track of all of them, even the one I gave you! Maybe you can just use a series of numbers from random.org (I'd definitely know that was you!)

Best,
Kendra from the Girls Next Door**

*not all anonymi, just a particular one
** You will totally not get that but another Anonymous Commentator will!

I may buy this t-shirt

Whaddaya think? C'est moi?*

Courtesy of glarkware.




*now that I remember it, that was the name of the card/gift/balloon/tcotchke/tshirt shop I used to work in when I was scuttling my MD/PhD program.

I don't know quite what to make of this, but it's fascinating.

Corset piercing.

Elevator News Highlights!

Arithmophobia: Fear of Math

So, what's new with you?

Sponsor me in AIDS Walk!

I've never actually done a walkathon before. Volunteered, sure. But never walked.

Maybe NOW I'll go to the gym before I look like the idiot who couldn't finish a #@%T@ walkathon.

Donate money!

I'm trying to raise $1000. Go big or go home, baby. Every little bit helps! Send this around!

That's just the way it is.

About twelve years ago, I sat up way too late, alone in my apartment in the Bronx, and watched "Goodfellas." I didn't move. I couldn't sleep, afterwards.

Tonight, I sat up way too late, alone in my apartment in Manhattan, and watched "The Departed." I didn't move. I couldn't sleep, afterwards.

Ideas 3-D: Projects I Will Consider/Commence in the Next Five Minutes in No Particular Order

Buying pillows
Visiting the ladies room
Blowing my nose
Contemplating my cell phone message indicator light
Highly important legal work

Ideas II: Writing Projects Yet to Come, Conceived after a Tumbler of Whiskey

Smoking is Hot, There, I Said It
Dating the Foreigner
Knot Tying: Fiction or Reality?
Cheese is Not Overrated
What can Brown Do for You? A Whiskey Primer
Who Not to Drunk Dial
What your Screen Name Says about You
Eyebrows: A Grooming Imperative
They're Not Just Roommates, and That's OK
I Won't Sleep till I Get New Pillows.
This is Silly.
Road Trip! Tasers and Crabs!

Guest guest blogger

Tony Bourdain...a man for whom I would swim through a mile of Cheez Wiz.

Quote of the Day, Kink Division

"I don't know if I'm a bottom because it turns me on...or because I'm lazy....Thos S&M people, they are bossy!"

- Margaret Cho, "Notorious C.H.O."

Is there really a creepy connection between Star Trek, leather sex, and the Renaissance Faire"? Ha!

"I want a woman who looks like John Goodman. Don't Sharon Stone me to death."

- See above

Ideas: Proposed Writing Projects Yet to Come

Dating the Short
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle: A Field Guide to Men
Seinfeld: The Infrastructure of American Humor
The Great Chain of Tom Fontana
Do I Look that That?: Vanity and Mildly Distorted Self-Image
Yogurt, Nachos and Coffee
Stuff on First Avenue

Disturbing

Tonight on the way home from the office (ungodly hour, dial a car home), the driver slowed down all of a sudden going down Second Avenue. There was a young woman standing in the middle of the street, half smiling and looking dazed. Was she drunk? Ill?

All the cars stopped and honked at her to move out of the middle of traffic (heavy traffic, at that, fortunately. It was slower).

Eventually she made it to the other side. I wanted to hang out at the window and yell to her, but there wasn't time before traffic started moving again.

I hope she got home OK.

I got plenty of nothin'

I'm artistically stunted right now. Work and life are kicking my ass at the moment. I'm too tired to wash my socks (although I did get a load of dishes in last night and cultured some sink mold. fun!). Whine, whine, whine. As a result I've got nothing interesting to say at the moment.

To keep all three of you readers busy, here's some fun facts and places to go.

1. Toasters are neat!



My friend Chris got the Toast-o-lator, an appliance from the late 30s that uses a conveyor to march the bread through the toaster in an oh-so-joyous way! (see a similar one above) If this makes you as happy as it made me, check out Toaster Central. And eat toast! Mitch Hedberg loved toast, you should too!

2. Rachael Mason is super cool, and Superfree! Read her blog about growing up a New Yorker.

3. Sudoku is a good way to numb your brain.

4. Chris also brought my attention to this society site, darling. Read about parties you'll never go to! The shopping section is divinely amusing. Personally, it almost made me buy cashmere socks.

5. I am compulsive enough not to end my lists on an even number; I actually prefer multiples of 5. Hmmmm....Oh, here's one. I was craving English snacks (specifically Ham and Mustard Crisps) so I checked the website for local brit grocer Myers of Keswick. Browse the Brit food and giggle immaturely at 'spotted dick,' 'cockaleekie soup' and, (for an English site they have a TON of typos), 'ass. deoderants.'

Enjoy! See you when I'm not artistically dormant!

Do you know me?

Create your own Friend Test here

Stolen from Dunford, who I don't know all that well.

I wanna know...

One of my favorite cheesy/big video/arena rock 80s cliche songs (don't sell it short, really) was Foreigner, "I want to Know what Love Is."

I dug up the lyrics. Does this make sense?

I wanna know.

I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when Im older

Now this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
I through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life theres been heartache and pain
I dont know if I can face it again
Cant stop now, Ive traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

Im gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
Ive got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life theres been heartache and pain
I dont know if I can face it again
I cant stop now, Ive traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
And I wanna feel, I want to feel what love is
And I know, I know you can show me

Lets talk about love
I wanna know what love is, the love that you feel inside
I want you to show me, and Im feeling so much love
I wanna feel what love is, no, you just cannot hide
I know you can show me, yeah

I wanna know what love is, lets talk about love
I want you to show me, I wanna feel it too
I wanna feel what love is, I want to feel it too
And I know and I know, I know you can show me
Show me love is real, yeah
I wanna know what love is...

Vroom!

I love my tats. Do you?

Ok, they're fake. From Ricky's. But they're glorious. I'm wearing them to work at the law firm tomorrow, under a smart suit. I wore them to a family party tonight and creeped out my grandmother and stepmom. My other relatives were mildly amused/impressed.

I love them! They don't shower off, either. Fabulous!

Someone must have planted it.

I just found my first gray hair. Sticking at a forty-five degree angle from the very top of my head, like a strange insect antenna. It was weirdly wiry, and had the texture of fishing line.

Upon closer inspection (I pulled it out promptly because it was so fascinating), it turns out not to be gray but white. Bright white.

Why didn't someone tell me

...that Nigella Lawson is ridonkolously hot?

I watched her make Triple Chocolate Brownies on the Food network and almost lost my mind. And I'm not even that crazy about brownies. When she described the sad white chocolate bits as "vanilla," which they are, I fell in love. I can't explain it. I wanted to bite down and taste the oozy hot flowy melty chocolate....with a nice glass of milk.

Oh dear. I'm culinarilly gay.

Culinarilly looks supremely dirty, doesn't it?

Mmmmmm!

More miscellaney

I have disgusting, status-post-nasty-virus, skin. Dry and flaky, especially around my nose and lips. I also have at least one flourishing and one burgeoning cold sore on my face. I am so attractive.

I'm going to try and go back to work today but I'm ridiculously exhausted and have limited voice.

Instead of getting my ass in gear, I'm here typing shit.

I don't even have anything good to wear.

Last night I had the same peculiar recurring exam nightmare. Except it was also combined with a comedy-show nightmare and getting-some-action nightmare. Heck of a trifecta. Guess that happens when you actually turn the TV off before bed.

I can't fathom breakfast right now but it seems inevitable.

Crap.

Should I change my photo?

I'm not a dude.

Update

(in the style of an ancient buried blog)

Number of Claritin taken tonight: 1
Number of hours Claritin should work: 12
Number of hours past proposed bedtime: 1.5
Number of liters of Iced Diet Green Tea with Honey remaining in house: 1
Number of pints of melted frozen dessert in freezer: .8
Number of pillows on bed: 5
Number of adequately stuffed pillows on bed: 2
Desire to sleep: High
Ability to sleep: Low
Amount this is blamed on Claritin: 75%
Number of cans of cat food remaining in house: 0
Time cat will wake up owner for cat food: 630
Condition of throat: Scratchy and swollen
Possibility of taking off work tomorrow: Zero
Level of grouchiness: High
Need to vacuum rugs: High
Bottles of partially drunk whiskey: 3
Countries bottles of whiskey are from: 3
Number of short stories completed tonight: 1
Number of short stories started tonight: 3
Number of poems written tonight: 1
Interest in poetry as an art form: Low

Speaking of compliments....

Here is one of my clients. His stuff is fabulous and his youtube skills are amazing (amusing? Perhaps both!)

We've been working together awhile. He said super nice things about me today.

I decided to enjoy that. (see previous)

And post his video. Enjoy!

An observation about, well, me.

Seriously, I take compliments as well as fine silks take bleach. As well as eggs adhere to a fresh nonstick pan. (Insert a third similie or metaphor here, I can't be expected to do all the work.)

Uh....thanks. But if you're saying something swell about me, I probably will feel weird and undeserving.

Doesn't mean you should stop, though. Cause we all know what egomaniacs* the chronically insecure are.

(*not a show plug but it could be!)

Not quite a rant. I just made a lovely home-made sugar free Chai tea latte (so trendy, with the Trader Joes sugarfree mix) and I'm dangerously mellow at the moment.

It's a helluva town.

Cheesy, yeah, but I love "New York New York." Dancing men in uniform!

Note: there are 6 people in the photo, but only 4 credited names. Hardly seems fair, if you ask me.

Indie-pretty

I don't rely on Yahoo! for my daily Intercrap intake...but these photos from Sundance are completely lovely. Really.

a sweet timewaster for you

Follow up

1. Pretzels don't work. You know, they're not even tasty.

[EDITED again because damn, that's bitchy. But pretzels are still SO NOT WORTH IT.]

Edited to point out the fact that while I am not actually a bitch, I can in fact be bitchy. Enjoy the subtlety!

Edited to point out that I haven't gotten very much sleep lately. And I can't afford to lose any of my three readers. I get the feeling that Reader #2 has been keeping up...!

grumble grumble

Warning to all three of you readers....CRANK ALERT

I have had a splitting headache for 14 hours. I don't care if my blood turns into water, I'm digging up some fucking aspirin.

Of course, it would be fine if I'd made it to the drugstore to get eyedrops Bufferin and my antidepressants.

Or even better, if I wasn't carrying around giant waterballooons on my chest that hurt like a bastard and I wasn't eating chocolate covered salt licks...I'd be dandy.

Or stopped contemplating my 'personal' life. You know, I realized a couple of things. First of all, my ideal man is probably a mashup of two, two and a half guys I know, sprinkled with whiskey and prescribed mild anxiolytics. So much for science. And second, I don't think that I actually know how to properly fall in love with the right person. I know a lot of stuff, people, I'm hella smart (smarter than to use words like 'hella'), but this may be something I can't think my way out of.

Fuck.

Will a pretzel cure all this? And should I find out?

Peyton!

Follow up to yesterday's post.

That was the Best Football Game Ever.

And that Brady guy's no slouch, either. Alas.

Bill Belichek, is kinda creepy.

'Nuff said. I'm sorely in danger of developing yet another guy-like devotion. Looking around, there's a half-full bottle of Makers and a package of Fruit of the Looms lying about.

Who's inviting me to their Super Bowl party? I'll bring the cheeselog rolled in nuts and the cigars.

Yeah...I made plans to hit a cigar bar with a friendly coworker after this project ends. Maybe we'll go trolling for chicks.

Aaaaauuuugh!

Da Bearsssss

Superfans!

Tonight the Bears won the NFC and soon will be the AFC Pats-Colts game.

I'm not a huge football fan - more of a baseball fan, really. I don't know all the arcana, the stats, the penalties. There aren't enough games, the point scoring is weird.

But I can't resist a championship game. Nearly any sport - football, basketball, Final 4, baseball - if it's the end of the road, I'll watch it. The excitement is crazy. Even in this money-hungry, steroidal, badly-behaved era of sports...you can't tell me these guys aren't into it for real. They wouldn't be there if they didn't want to win - cliche? Maybe. But it restores my faith in all kinds of stuff, to see a vat of Gatorade get dumped enthusiastically and lovingly over a coach's head.

The owners, coaches, players, fans...so excited. Until they start flipping cars - well, that sucks. And sorry, but golf will continue to suck.

But for now....Go Team!

Mounds of Fries

Why is it always "Mounds of Fries?"

It makes me think of hot, salty boobs.

Mounds. of Fries.

Inspired by the Tater Mitts, as seen on TV.

They may be too new to have made it to today's Best Site Possible, As Seen on TV. I would be closer to bankrupt if I didn't close it immediately. It's unbelievably awesome. Besides the 'famous' products like the Magic Bullet (the blender shaped like a vibrator!), the self-draining pasta pot and the food dehydrators, it's got shmantastic goodies like chocolate-melting kits, cake decorating packages, stick on lights, herbal 'supplements' and the Onion Blossom maker! On sale! Note the fun juxtapositions, like the "Betty Crocker 100 piece Cake Decorating Set" right next to "Billy Blank's Boot Camp."

I love American style consumerism made overseas and infomercialized/commercialized by the good old USA!

Go amuse yourself. Seriously consider the s'mores maker. and book mark it for the eventual appearance of the Tater Mitts!

Lesser-Known White-Guy TV Supporting Players- Yet Another in the Series

Oh, Q. So pretty, so smug, so pale! Sigh....

Bayliss!

A neat interview with Kyle Secor on the bisexual Bayliss.

Mom got me Seasons 1 & 2 of "Homicide" on DVD. Hooray!

yummy! rub a steak on it...

"Romance to me is fatty and sensual."
- Cliff, "Top Chef"

Tom Colicchio can really be a dick. What a sourpuss! That looked like a lovely dinner. See my new favorite timewaster for great 'cheftestant' nicknames and judge hatin'.

Uh oh....controversy alert! Gotta go.

Tag!

I was tagged! By Maddy, who was tagged by Amanda, who I just delightfully saw today at lunch!

Okay. Here's the swell bloggy game: Write down five things you probably don't know about me.

What about me...don't you know...that I'm willing to put into print...indeed!

Okay, maybe these are mundane but they're TRUE.

1. Even though I'm Jewish by birth (I'm a halfsie), I sometimes if I'm anxious will cross myself, in the Russian Orthodox style. Just in case, and sometimes it's weirdly reassuring.

2. I enjoy tripe, tofu, and tempeh...but not together.

3. I started wearing glasses when I was seven. Possibly related, I have horrible judgment when it comes to colors. I have to ask people in the store "Are these pants black, blue or brown?"

4. I secretly love wearing high heels but don't do it often because of pain and klutziness.

5. My first time on stage was in first grade, when I played the title role in "The Selfish Giant." What a meanie!

Who did I tag?

Stuart
Margaret
Chris
Christina
Dan

Go!

My mood right now can best be described by an episode title from "Mr Show"

Oh, you men.

"Chuch" is a Russian word for "aunt"

Dear Chuch,

Today when I told Nana* about the dress I got at Syms, a stunning Marilyn Monroe-esque cocktail dress, for all of $5, I smiled and said, "Yeah, Chuch was with me yesterday." She said you and she would shop at Syms. Yes, and Marshalls, and anywhere there were good sales.

I remember your CB handle used to be the "Bargain Hunter," and I remember hearing you rattle off CB slang on trips home from the city like it was your second language. "Frankie Louie" was one of the exits on the expressway, Francis Lewis Boulevard, and there was always congestion.

I was talking to a good friend yesterday about weddings, and saying if/when he got married, "I would be there with a hat on." You (and by association, Donna) were the only ones who wore hats to my wedding, where I wore a grand and inspired one myself. I've a picture of us, both in our grand and inspired hats, you with a wig at that time because of the chemo. I loved you with the hat and wig, and I loved you later without the wig, with snappy shortish brownish hair. (? Who knew! Weren't you a 'natural' redhead like Lucille Ball? Indeed!)

I have my $5 dress and countless other bargains, also in a wide range of sizes to account for chaotic weight swings. I have a smallish cabined filled with spare gifts, picked up from discount houses and all over, 'just in case' someone needs a present, or someone extra shows up for Christmas. You were a great and giving hostess, and master of that kitchen with two stoves that always astounded me; two stoves, indeed! You always had the kitchen and basement and fridge stocked, and you could probably live for years, and give Christmas presents, without ever entering a store.

I remember when I was a kid and my parents were fighting - a bad one - and I was scared to go in the house, and you met me outside, big and commanding in your mink coat, and let me hide warmly inside the great dimensions of the coat, and walked me inside to my room yourself, holding me close. That was safety, and love, cause nothing bad could happen if you were protecting me.

I remember going to your house to watch the Islanders-Rangers game with my dad, your house fiercely divided along team lines, and cheering on 'your Islanders' at my peril. So much fun!

I remember you and Uncle Walter coming to my college graduation, so proud. I remember you and Uncle Walter bickering but still being loving. I remember you yelling when you needed to yell, and hugging when you needed to hug. I remember you speaking your mind.

I remember barbecues. I remember playing your piano, shyly. I remember the Real Christmas tree (not at all like our fakey one), the best smell in the world.

I remember you, and I miss you.

Love you, wherever you are,
Mish

*footnotes are a pain...but for those two readers who don't know me, Nana is my grandmother, 89 and kicking, and Chuch was her sister, my late great aunt who died of cancer.

Random New York observations

1. Tonight as I dashed out to the Duane Reade for the umpteenth time today, I looked up and saw the sky; it was that winter blue, finally, that heartbreaking, deep, velvety starless royal-blue that only chilly city winter twilight can achieve. I missed the light, on purpose.

2. When you're down and out, and not a vegetarian, Hale & Hearty Soup's Black Lentil with Double-Smoked Bacon and Red Onions may very well be a life saver. However, dumping on oyster crackers before putting it in the refrigerator (you can't possibly eat the whole large soup) is a bit of a textural mistake. But still delicious.

3. You can get anything you want....at Duane Reade. Anything. Including bald-man head towels, bikini razors and cranberry juice. Holiday candy, baby wipes and shampoo just for brunettes. Panties, lipstick, smokehouse almonds. It's the general store of the 21st century.

A mind is a terrible thing....

Here's a fantastic illustration of how my Expensive Education is Not Wasted:

Today, I had an audition for a pharma ad. Words like 'antibodies' and 'compound' and 'receptors' and such came trippingly off my tongue. The auditor commented that I had no trouble with all the 'science words.' Yeah, that's what I do...

Cool. However, I stumbled badly on 'remaining.'

Biophysics, not speech, people!

Read in Overheard

From Overheard in NY:

Guido on cell: Fucking the shit out of you, lying in bed after, and talking about state capitals! Is that all I fucking am to you? That's the fucking highlight of my life.

--3rd Ave & 85th St, Bay Ridge

Overheard by: punkee

Shuffle, indeed!

Wow. The OhMyBod from Babeland.

Other stupid shit I did this weekend

Got sick (see previous);
Slept through a movie I'd already paid for (@#%@ Fandango!);
Tripped and fell so hard into my bed that I got huge bruises and damaged a couple of blood vessels in my leg;
Closed two of my fingers into my front door;
Ate too much food.

Feh.

Some things don't change. Some do.

I did this little quizlet almost nearly a year ago. So? I don't know, I can't sleep. Deal with it, campers.

Updates in bold.

1. Spell your first name backwards: ellehciM

2. Story behind your journal name: It's a variant of a phrase that my friend Janet and I developed to describe something quite different. In other words, a long complicated private joke that means nothing to you.

3. How old are you: 39

4. Where do you live: NY, NY

DESCRIBE YOUR:

5. Wallet: Black Fossil leather checkbook wallet, stuffed with business cards, receipts, courtesy cards but rarely money which usually goes in my pockets. I'm getting better about keeping cash and cards and change in the wallet, but now the checkbook is getting shredded.

7. Toothbrush: Gray and black Crest bendy ergonomic one. I should get a new one
Cheap green 'crest' toothbrush, from the dollar store (Hence the quotes), not intentionally bendy. I shold get a new one.
8. Jewelry worn daily: Platinum diamond engagement ring on the wrong hand. Weird stone and silver ring I bought at the Clearwater festival. Diamond is in storage.

13. Sunglasses: If I wear contacts, I wear cheap off the street plastic ones. I just busted my $5 oversized '60s ones that I loved. I've worn glasses nearly exclusively this year, so no shades, unless I'm in 'character'

14. Favorite shirt: Either my black vneck sweater or my LL bean grey and green mens flannel.

16. CD in stereo right now: Booty Olympics "Boystyle" Beethoven something, I'm too wrecked to get up and check.

17. Piercings: Two in each ear.

18. What you are wearing now: Above-mentioned LL Bean grey and green mens flannel shirt. Striped high cut briefs. Grey JHU tshirt and Pfizer sweats.

19. Wishing: I could get off my ass and my projects and problems would magically disappear. The same, and sleep.

20. Wanting: Elves. Lots and lots of elves. Smaller tonsils.

21. After this: getting off my ass. taking meds. maybe cereal. Sleep?

22. If you could get away with it and murder anyone who would it be? Can't abide murder, unless someone hurt a friend or family member I would kill to defend them.

23. Persons you wish you could see right now: Hmm, there's a few.

25. Something you're looking forward to in the coming week: My friend Mike is coming to town. Everyone's coming to town. And I have some big shows.

26. The last thing you ate: Last night i had hot and sour soup. Besides Claritin and Klonopin I had a tangerine.

27. Something you are moderately afraid of: Moderately? Uncertainty.

31. Do you believe in love? Yes, much to my detriment.

32. Do you believe in soul mates? Goddamn, I hate that word. No.

33. Do you believe in love at first sight? I'm not sure that's love, but it's something.

35. Do you believe in God? I don't know, really.

38. What is the longest you've ever watched TV? Oh, dear, mindless marathons have trapped me...

44. Who is someone that you really wish was still around? My great-aunt.

RELATIONSHIPS:

45. Who are your best friends? I have a few. Not all of them are geographically close. Some are moving farther away, and that's bumming me out.

46. How many people have you kissed? There's kissing and then there's kissing.

47. Would you be in a long distance relationship? Oy vey. Perhaps. I like space. Not unless I'd fallen madly in love.

48. Still have feelings for anyone you've been in a past relationship with? Oh of course, who doesn't? Although at least one ex says I don't have nearly enough; he tends to hang on to nearly everyone in some form or another, I really don't. Yes.

49. Do you know what it feels like to be in love? I'm pretty sure I do, but recent life events have caused me to wonder. Shit happens. But yes, I think I do. I don't know.

50. Would you sacrifice your favorite possession for your best friends? Of course.

FASHION STUFF:

51. Where is your favorite place to shop? J. Jill catalog. Bloomingdales on sale if I have the right salesperson; otherwise Filenes Basement.

52. Have any tattoos? No.

61. Do you do drugs? Rarely do I do illegal drugs.

64. What are you listening to right now? Oddly nothing, although Foreigner's "I want to know what love is" is going through my head right now. Nothing.

65. Who was the last person that called you? My friend Mike about his travel plans for this week. Frank.

66. Where do you want to get married? Vegas, drunk. Ha! Of course I am still technically married right now. Alas.

68. What would you change about yourself? Be less angry at myself and more focused on positive changes in my life.

69. What are essentials in your life? Cash, family, friends, Internet, carbonated water. No carbonated water, and not in that order.

CURRENT:

71. Hair: longish, curlyish, dark brown, messy

72. make-up: None. I haven't showered yet. Worn off by now.

73. music: Maudlin shit. Just put on Steve Earle. Musicals. Les Mis, South Park, Moulin Rouge.

74. mood: tense cranky

75. State of Being: uncertain fluish

in other news

I'm sick. I went from 0 to fucking sick in an hour. My throat is swelling up, my eyes are burning. And I'm starving, which happens when I start running a fever. Goddamnit. This officially sucks camel balls.

Camel balls?

I gotta get some rest.

TV Women who May be Retarded (with all due respect to the retarded)

1. Kina from "Real World Road Rules: The Duel" and such. "I'd have won that challenge...if it wasn't for my body." Clearly, all her cranial blood supply is cut off at her gums.


2. Rachael Ray. "Yum-O!" And why are her breasts so forlorn?


3. Kendra from "Girls Next Door." Go Kendra, before it gets away!

Another ESPN gem

Lest you think that chick sportswriters can only write about chick stuff, here's another gem from Jemele Hill.

Craaaaaap

Why me? Why does weird shit happen to me?

I'm nursing what I believe is a dislocated jaw. Either that, or a recently relocated jaw that hurts like a bastard. What was I doing to earn this? Street fight? Stage combat gone wrong?

Nope. Chewing.

In my heavily scarred life, I have, among other things -
- run a screen door into the back of my foot
- gotten a shard of cadaver in my eye (while wearing glasses)
- burned my stomach on a cookie sheet
- slipped and fell INSIDE A HOSPITAL dislocating my knee
- fallen down subway steps (6 train)
- gotten a concussion from an improv show
- face-planted while leaving the stage at the Parkside

Now, I've dislocated and relocated my jaw (I think. It's starting to swell, now that I've removed the icepack). I didn't know whether to call the doctor or dentist, so I called the dentist.

I feel like a moron. A moron in huge amounts of pain.

Clam up, noseface!

I really enjoy the Comic's Curmudgeon; so much, that I am considering buying an 'air quotes' tshirt.

It's selective in its likes (Curtis) and dislikes (scathing serial commentary on For Better or For Worse). It's got neat archives that are fun to browse, especially if you are a recovering strip junkie like me.

Sense memory

I never considered myself a touchy person, in terms of touchy-feely-ness. But there are some touches that I remember, years later, so vividly that it makes me shudder a bit from how real and beautiful it was.

The feel of someone's hands on your shoulders as they gaze intensely into your eyes, deeply, perhaps for the first time, as you look up at them. The caress of someone stroking your skin, remembering how soft and pretty it's always been, as trees rustle on the breeze blowing in. The wonderfully uncomfortable sensation of resting your head on someone's shoulder and having a hand play in your hair, absently, while focusing on something else. Having your hand, squeezed, in a gesture of "I'm here and I like this." A leg tangled up with yours as you drift off to sleep.

Quality, not quantity.

arrrrggghhh (a fair amount of time in the making)

I just want someone to fall madly and truly in love with me, and be able to follow through in a way that doesn't make me insane, annoyed or heartbroken.

To quote the legendary Harvey Fierstein, "Is that so wrawng?"

ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

scatterbrained

I started to post about my lovely weekend, and somehow don't remember what happened to the post.

Anyway, it was lots of fun.

But I'm so behind on THINGS.

I also notice that there's a certain lack of personality, or at least consistency, in this bloggero.

Does anyone care? Nah!

Bahahahahah. I'm working too late and have miles to go before I sleep.

Icky in Pink

ESPN, and especially Page 2, are my frequent workday companions. I'm a great fan of Mary Buckheit and Jemele Hill, two fine chicks whose sportswriting I admire.

Today's Page 2 featured them both:

Lighter Reading (Mary Buckheit on sports-'fashion')
Heavy Reading (Jemele Hill on Katie Hnida's rough times in NCAA football)

Great stuff.

Yeah, I'm hot. Or at least toothy!

See previous, or Beauty Products Revisited

Yesterday, I bought Aveeno Exfoliating Body Scrub and Vaseline Intensive Care Firming Lotion.

I have no idea if this stuff works. Yet I felt a profound need for it.

I will keep the public informed as to my smoothness and firmness.

This was the week that was

Let's take advantage of how scatterbrained I am. I kept meaning to post, but it's hard to type unobstrusively here at work (yes, I'm working today) and it's the last thing I want to do when I go home.

Some highlights:

• The world's worst comb-over.


• Don't drink and...drink.


• I am a GrownUp - Shopping at Duane Reade for products by Brand, that May not Be on Sale, and May be for Women over 30.


• Comedy - Oy Vey!


• Obsession: or, why must all my list contain an Odd Number of items?

Enjoy your day! Here's a couple of tapirs for you:

More random uselessness, or useless randomness

I tried to sign on for 10 minutes to let people know that I am wearing an exceedingly ugly shirt today.

It's blue, green, pinkish-tan and white paisely. Under the button placket and cuffs (that are permanently rolled up, a great look if you have long arms), there's a pale blue stripe. The buttons stop short of the top, which means you have to look at the black lace camisole that I incongruously put on this morning.

Not a pretty sight. Trust me.

Hello.

My cat just slid off my file cabinet, taking all the papers and clothes with her.
I've been on the phone for 2 hours.
I've been drinking Irish whiskey, which is very very tasty.
Dr. 90210 is on.
I thought I was going to go out, but I didn't.
I need to bake a pie.
Hooray!

Tenacious D - so cool!

I love funny/funnylooking/musical guys. Don't you? If you do, go see the new Tenacious D picture. Then download the soundtrack. Then continue to be amused and amazed.

"Dude (I Totally Miss You)" is my new favorite love song.

Totally predictable but so fucking hilarious. Nice bits by Paul Tompkins and Amy Poehler.

I don't go to the movies enough, and am ridiculously disappointed when the movie sucks, and ridiculously giddy when it's fantastic.

I can do without the ten previews of shitty movies. Please. Especially when I'm popcorn-and-soda free.

T-day photos

A selection....

Man am I good!

Here's the menu. Remains up for grabs!

Toasted Rosemary Walnuts (from Laurie Colwin, "More Home Cooking")
Wild Turkey (from Quattro's Game Farms, Union Square) with Herb Butter
Turkey Gravy (fresh)
Baked Sweet Potatoes
Green Beans with Orange and Toasted Maple Pecans (from Cook's Illustrated)
Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes
Dressing with Pine nuts and Dried Cranberries
Butternut Squash Lasagne (from Giada DeLaurentiis Everyday Italian)
Cranberry Sauce (berry and the sliced kind)
Pear Chutney (homemade, also from Laurie Colwin, "More Home Cooking")
Pumpkin Pie (homemade)
Pecan Pie (homemade)
Apple Pie (from Black Forest in Lindenhurst)
Butter cookies with frosting turkeys on them.

OK. I'm not perfect. I didn't make the pie crusts. But I did make fresh maple-flavored whipped cream.

I'm SO TIRED!

Haps all.
Thanks for my lovely family for making it all worth it and fun.
Photos to follow!

Obsessive? p'raps.

It bugs me that now that I've switched my Blogger account, my old posts are Not Labeled.

This will take time, that I don't have, to fix. Think I'll attempt it? Bet on it.

Did I just correct the commas in that sentence above? You betcha.

Random walks, continued

Yesterday I walked around my neighborhood. Slightly too chilly for my thermal shirt, denim jacket and corduroys...in other words, perfect. Bright and early in the East Village means a certain level of calm and quiet, with oldsters out buying the Saturday paper a day early, some hungover dog-walkers, store owners sweeping their sidewalk narrowly within the borders of their stores projected on an invisible line to the sidewalk, a few dedicated scribes in coffee shops with laptops, toast and black coffee. Stopped into Odessa to get a light-no-sugar and tasted the sweetness from where the pre-loaded cup had been emptied. Adjusted the brown bandanna (a remnant of a past relationship, if not a remnant then a reminder) that was sliding down over my eyes and hardly sheltering my shower-wet hair. I walked to Tompkins Square, past the homeless group milling about, awaiting the Christian meal truck, past the empty chessboard tables in the area where Tent City used to be. I sipped my coffee and strolled in lazy loops, pausing on a bench, balancing my phone between neck and ear as I wiped the stray coffee from my pants leg. I rounded the large paved expanse in the middle where small film crews and photogs often pause. I passed the playground, the dog run, and found a happy spot in the middle of the park. When the leaves are all on the trees, you feel sheltered, and it's as if there are no buildings surrounding you. Peering through the trees in November, you can see the tenements and occasional high-rise cross-hatched by the bare branches. I happily kicked some leaves, as no pile of leaves should be left unkicked. I passed the Parks Department man who was leaf-blowing and smiled, perhaps too late. At the east end of the park I saw a gathering outside the old church. Was it a wedding? Funeral? Just a Saturday mass? I walked along the eastern edge of the park, passing my family's ancestral home on 7th Street.

It was nice to have company on my solitary walk, even by way of cell phone. I'd have enjoyed it either way, but it was quite pleasant.

Autumn. New York. Cliche? Perhaps. Wonderful.

A huuuuge blow to my self esteem

Not really. According to current standards of bloglebrity, I'm not up to blogging snuff.

So everyone who sees this...love me! At least electronically.

Thanks to Will Hines, everyone's favorite C-list blogger. Of course this will only shoot him straight into the B-list-osphere.

Reproduced without permission...the most brilliant intercontinental conversation EVER.

Originally titled "Cunts x 10."* See if you can figure out why?

read them, count them, and count them again, you cunts:

Scarpe708: This is fun, I like improv with you, you cunt
mir777: You are a good scene partner, for a silly cunt
Scarpe708: The English can be quite fuuny, as we are cunts...
mir777: So can New Yorkers, because we are witty Jewish cunts
Scarpe708: I will ALWAYS love you New York, you're still cunts
mir777: I love England, even though it is full of Cunts
Scarpe708: You are still counting to ten, you clever bitch cunt
mir777: Yes, I am brilliant even when I am a cunt
Scarpe708: I can't keep up now, can I? you funny cunt
Scarpe708: I will blog this, you know that, don't ypu? cunt
mir777: It's getting harder and I'm starving, you distracting sleepless cunt
mir777: Yes yes yes yes yes blog cunt cunt cunt cunt
Scarpe708: And scene, cos we can still end up saying cunt


9 words plus cunt to a sentence. get it? cunts?

*non-Anglophiles should know that the old c-word isn't nearly as BAD in the UK, home of 'scarpe708,' as it is here in Noo Yawk City.

ps - Cunt!

And what's with that hair?

The young....(circa 1985)


















The terrifying...(circa 2001)
















The not too shabby...(circa 2005)

A controversial rejoinder.

Plaid boxers. No doubt.

A controversial opinion.

Republicans. Why are they so darn sexy?

Nyet, nyet, nyet.

Sorry, Billy.

I rented "Gorky Park" because (a) I loves me a good Cold War intrigue novel and this was a fine one, and (b) I loves me some William Hurt.

Wrong, wrong.
What LANGUAGE are you speaking? All the Russians are essentially voiced as working-class Brits, but Mr. Hurt, your accent of faux-Soviet-stilt combined with dialect-tape upper class English, slipping back into American WASP every ten words or so.
Distracting! Arrgh! Arrgh!

I'm waiting for Lee Marvin to appear. Then, back in the red envelope you go!
Arrgh!

Who's your fave Girl next Door?

Holly's the main one. Bridget's the smart one. Kendra's....the blonde one.

Vote for Mark & Ari!

They're good people. Funny people. And the film is friggin' hilarious!