What I'd like to say to people, what I need to say to people and what I do say to people are quite different.
deleted
I bet I delete this within 24 hours.
I know myself.
In the meantime why did the Sopranos and Entourage end in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY?
5/13/07
Inarticulately yours
Earlier post
deleted
I know myself.
In the meantime why did the Sopranos and Entourage end in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY?
deleted
I know myself.
In the meantime why did the Sopranos and Entourage end in EXACTLY THE SAME WAY?
5/10/07
5/9/07
That's what friends are for (with apologies to women named Samantha)
Herewith follows a transcript (edited for brevity and names) of today's intercontinental email exchange that made me giggle a great deal (a much needed giggle):
*my rapper/beverage name
*his rapper/mobster name
From: Shelly D*
Hey, be nice to me I'm having a rough day!
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit* wrote:
Um...now I have nothing to say.
I suppose I can try. You're not bad. I don't mind you. You're kind of alright, I guess.
From: Shelly D:
Well I guess that's alright. You're fairly inoffensive. It doesn't make my eyes bleed to look at you, usually.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I don't often feel sick to the pit of my very soul and being at the mere mention of your name.
From: Shelly D:
Most of the time, simply seeing your name in print doesn't cause me to have violent convulsions.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
Some nights I don't wake up screaming when I remember that I know you.
From: Shelly D:
I have avoided assaulting the majority of men who vaguely resemble you in height.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I have avoided the women that vaguely resemble you.
From: Shelly D:
I have renounced my preferences and now only date women except for women named "samantha".
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
You have made me immensely relieved that my suspicions about your preferences were right all along, but now I am scared to date women at all, just in case you have beaten me to them. Unless they are called Samantha, in which case I am safe as long as I don't mind shouting my own name out in bed. (which I don't).
*my rapper/beverage name
*his rapper/mobster name
From: Shelly D*
Hey, be nice to me I'm having a rough day!
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit* wrote:
Um...now I have nothing to say.
I suppose I can try. You're not bad. I don't mind you. You're kind of alright, I guess.
From: Shelly D:
Well I guess that's alright. You're fairly inoffensive. It doesn't make my eyes bleed to look at you, usually.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I don't often feel sick to the pit of my very soul and being at the mere mention of your name.
From: Shelly D:
Most of the time, simply seeing your name in print doesn't cause me to have violent convulsions.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
Some nights I don't wake up screaming when I remember that I know you.
From: Shelly D:
I have avoided assaulting the majority of men who vaguely resemble you in height.
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
I have avoided the women that vaguely resemble you.
From: Shelly D:
I have renounced my preferences and now only date women except for women named "samantha".
On 5/9/07, Sammy the Brit wrote:
You have made me immensely relieved that my suspicions about your preferences were right all along, but now I am scared to date women at all, just in case you have beaten me to them. Unless they are called Samantha, in which case I am safe as long as I don't mind shouting my own name out in bed. (which I don't).
He remembered!!!
"Happy aborted anniversary."
- the actual ex
Sigh. At least I still have the blender and the KitchenAid. They seem to have outlasted.
- the actual ex
Sigh. At least I still have the blender and the KitchenAid. They seem to have outlasted.
5/7/07
Fabulous funny food link du jour of the day
No sh@#%t, Sherlock.
What American accent do you have?
Created by Xavier on Memegen.net
Created by Xavier on Memegen.net
New York City. You are most definitely from New York City. Not New Jersey, not Connecticut. If you are from Jersey then you can probably get into New York City in 10 minutes or less.
Take this quiz now - it's easy!
5/4/07
Celebrate something beautiful.
This is a touching essay by Jeff Pearlman on espn.com (I don't have anything to add, really):
Celebrating life in the face of death
By Jeff Pearlman
Special to Page 2
"Death tugs at my ear and says, 'Live, I am coming.'"
-- Oliver Wendell Holmes
Two Mondays ago, Cindy Sherwin's life ended.
She was riding her bicycle through New York City, training for the upcoming Ironman Triathlon in Lake Placid, N.Y., when she suffered an aneurism and became brain dead. Unable to save her, doctors at Roosevelt Hospital kept Cindy on life support so her brother -- married two days earlier -- could return from his honeymoon in the Maldives to say goodbye.
I first learned of this story when my wife hung up the phone, turned toward me and said, simply, "You won't believe this." Cindy was the daughter of one of my mother-in-law's closest friends. She was, at age 33, a model of vigor and health. Along with the five marathons and myriad triathlons she'd completed, Cindy worked as a personal trainer. Fitness was her life. Her passion. "The rabbi asked us to sit down and throw out words to describe her," says Elaine Schaller, Cindy's mom. "My thought was that she was a gift from an angel. She was my gift from an angel. 'Special' is too trite of an adjective for her."
My wife was right. I couldn't believe it. For the next few days, Cindy's death consumed my thoughts. One moment you're doing the Hora at your brother's wedding, the next you cease to exist.
Three days after Cindy was taken off life support, I switched on my computer and saw the headline CARDINALS' HANCOCK KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT. Although major league baseball was my beat for nearly six years, I had never met Josh Hancock. Truth be told, I knew almost nothing about the man. Was he a lefty or a righty? Was he married? Religious? A smart dresser? A Travis Tritt fan?
What I did know was that in the ensuing days and weeks, precise rites of passage were certain to unfold. The media would zero in on the Cardinals, pull players aside, ask in (understandably) semi-hushed tones, "How do you cope with something like this?" and "What will you remember about Josh?" Members of the team would respond, in (understandably) semi-hushed tones, "We're gonna do what Josh would have wanted, which is to continue to go out there and play hard." Shortly thereafter, the Cardinals equipment manager would affix a black patch with Hancock's uniform number to a sleeve, or maybe somewhere above the chest. There would be moments of silence, the unveiling of a mural or plaque. A month later, maybe two, Hancock's relatives would throw out the first pitch at Busch Stadium. They'd receive a standing ovation. "Josh is loving this up in heaven," Jim Edmonds or Braden Looper or Chris Carpenter would say. "I'm pretty sure he's smiling down on us right now."
I am by no means mocking such a routine. Death isn't a 6-4-3. It's complicated. Slippery. Dimensioned to the infinite degree. But as I was wandering the streets of Manhattan last week, perhaps crossing some of the same blocks that had comprised Cindy Sherwin's final journey, I stumbled upon something of a personal revelation. When those close to us pass, we immediately -- often robotically -- turn to ritual. Jews like myself sit shiva, tell some funny stories and eat cookies. Military personnel fire off shots into the air and play taps on the bugle. Baseball players wear patches and hang the deceased's jersey from an empty locker stall. It's all in the name of healing; of finding a way to understand why a Cindy Sherwin or Josh Hancock passed and -- most important -- to soothe the pain.
But maybe, just maybe, we shouldn't be in such a rush to soothe the pain. Cindy Sherwin is dead. Josh Hancock is dead. Soon enough, you and I will be dead, too. We will no longer possess thoughts or feelings or hurt or joy. We will be lifeless. Nothingness. Such is not hypothetical, but reality. Life ends.
I want to force myself to think about that, and then embrace what Cindy Sherwin and Josh Hancock no longer can. I want to order the Reese's Pieces Sundae with extra whipped cream. I want to lounge in the sun at Shea Stadium on a lazy August afternoon alongside my 3-year-old daughter and a gimantic (her word, not mine) box of Cracker Jacks. I want to run in the pouring rain and belt a karaoke version of "Sometimes When We Touch" and drive for layups in Paul Duer's driveway and wrap my arm around my wife's shoulders as we watch the sun set from the bench in our front yard.
I am petrified of death. Beyond petrified. But do not soothe me. I demand to be reminded of my mortality every day. That existence is not permanent. That our time is fleeting and our hourglass easily breakable.
From my vantage point, that's the way we truly honor Cindy Sherwin and Josh Hancock and the many others who pass on too soon.
First, think of all the joyful, amazing, life-defining things they will forever miss out on.
Then, without delay, go do them.
5/1/07
4/26/07
4/25/07
4/23/07
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.
Things are looking up a bit.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
4/22/07
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
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.
Love,
Queen of Pedestrians
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.
Love,
Queen of Pedestrians
I love New York, Part 76574.232323....
THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE PRODUCT PLACEMENT BUT THERE IS LOTS...
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.)
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.)
4/21/07
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.")
4/20/07
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."
4/19/07
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!
Delightfully fashiony light reading! (Courtesy of multiple links removed from Gawker)
And Saturday is Spring Tasting in Chinatown!
4/17/07
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?
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?
4/16/07
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.
But then again, what would people say, really?
I feel the need to explain it somehow but that just probably makes it worse.
4/15/07
quote of the night
"I've been coming here for years. I know too much about the subconscious now."
- Tony Soprano to Dr. Melfi
- 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.
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.
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.
4/12/07
4/11/07
4/7/07
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?
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?
4/6/07
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
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
4/1/07
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
(So all 5 of you reading this should read this too!)
JenMac's new thing a day
3/30/07
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.
"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.
3/29/07
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.
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.
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?
3/28/07
3/25/07
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.
3/20/07
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'd never wish blood clots on ANYONE. (Discomfort? Ha!)
Does this mean I'm having sympathy for Dick?
Eww.
3/19/07
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.
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.
3/18/07
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.
"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.
3/16/07
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.
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.
3/12/07
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
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
3/10/07
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.
- "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.
3/9/07
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!
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.
3/7/07
3/4/07
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!
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!
3/3/07
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.
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.
3/2/07
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
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!
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!
2/27/07
2/25/07
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
- 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
2/24/07
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
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
2/23/07
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.
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.
2/21/07
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!
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!
2/16/07
2/14/07
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...
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...
2/11/07
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.
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!
2/9/07
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.
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.
2/5/07
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
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
2/4/07
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!
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.
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.
1/25/07
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
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...!
[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...!
1/23/07
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?
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?
1/22/07
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!
1/21/07
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!
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!
1/20/07
Lesser-Known White-Guy TV Supporting Players- Yet Another in the Series
Oh, Q. So pretty, so smug, so pale! Sigh....
1/18/07
Bayliss!
A neat interview with Kyle Secor on the bisexual Bayliss.
Mom got me Seasons 1 & 2 of "Homicide" on DVD. Hooray!
Mom got me Seasons 1 & 2 of "Homicide" on DVD. Hooray!
1/17/07
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.
- 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!
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!
1/15/07
1/13/07
"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.
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.
1/8/07
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.
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!
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!
1/3/07
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
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
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