It's in my head!

I'm currently working in the Being John Malkovich office space. Not that the ceilings on the floor are actually half-height, but the fact that (1) it's adjacent to a construction zone, (2) the floor is 85% uninhabited and 90% dark due to unactivated motion detector switches, (3) it's too quiet and thus just plain eerie, all give it rather a dim and paradoxically cramped feel.

I'm also quite turned on right now, but for completely unrelated reasons.

And this is gross.

I rediscovered Strip Creator!

Fun! I made some funnies!

Showtime Synergy!

Jem and the Holograms - June 25!

Cat Spanking!

snort

I just started thinking of someone as a 'friend with drawbacks.'

As opposed to a 'friend with benefits.'

Get it? See the juxtaposition?

Ohhhh....I crack myself up, I do.

duh-huh-uh, I'm a SCORPIO!

I always liked Rob Brezny's charming Free Will Astrology. May be silly, but he's got a neat turn of phrase:

I suggest we title this chapter of your life story "The Perplexing Joy of Hundreds of Emotions," or maybe "The Wild Peace of Way Too Many Feelings." That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it's an apt reflection of your immediate future: extreme, expansive, melodramatic, spectacularly educational, and filthy rich with intrigue. You may not break the world's record for most mood shifts in a good cause, but you could very well smash your own personal record.

Stars, in their multitude.....

Aren't cheesy horoscopes fun? They inevitably make me giggle, nod knowingly or some such ridiculous assent to the generic assessment of my completely individual personality traits.

So here's the latest, from Glamour (I'm a Scorpio, surprise, you know how we are):

You tend to think of yourself as an emotional wreck, but there's a logical explanation for your obsessiveness. You're intensely emotional and mystically sexual (oh, those eyes!). No need to apologize. The key to your spiritual maintenance is finding healthful outlets for your passion, creativity, artistry and sensitivity. Yours is perhaps the most powerful sign of the zodiac. Take care not to surrender to Scorpio's darker side. You have the capacity to self-destruct and to destroy others. Your fear of losing control can wreak havoc, because it may induce you to grab power or attempt to control others excessively. When you're not doing well, you tend to detach and retreat from human contact. That's bad news because your intensity diffuses among groups. Sharing is vital to your long-term bliss. Your best match is someone who shares your interest in metaphysics and is charmed by your ethereal, fanciful musings. Don't batter yourself for your insecurities and emotional instabilities. Think of it as the cost of being a deep thinker. Your philosophies on such topics as survival, life's deeper meanings and reincarnation couldn't have become so highly evolved without a dose of depression. Still, you'll be fine. Your resourcefulness, work ethic, strength, courage and efficiency are your saving graces.

And while you're there, vote for "Jake" - as long as you think Jake should be Michael Somerville. I'm biased. Mike is a sweet funny guy who I've had the pleasure of being comedic with from time to time.

How big strapping gals look adorable

1. By standing next to a very, very tall dude. (If you are not aware, I am 5-9 barefoot. And by the way I was told that I look 'petite' and 'normal sized' by two different friends. Indeed!)



2. By wearing a friggin' sundress.



Well, kind of adorable. I was worried about my arms, but it was pointed out that the arms may not be the focal point of the dress.

And perhaps not using words like 'friggin' may help.

How do you spell relief?

OK, this is hilarious:


Bathroom Blog

Confused? Yeah, me too.

I was trying to find a nice bouncy cynical song to post, but this is the one that popped into my head:

I don't know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I've been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,
I seem like someone else.
I don't know how to take this.
I don't see why he moves me.
He's a man. He's just a man.
And I've had so many men before,
In very many ways,
He's just one more.
Should I bring him down?
Should I scream and shout?
Should I speak of love,
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Don't you think it's rather funny,
I should be in this position.
I'm the one who's always been
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,
Running every show.
He scares me so.
I never thought I'd come to this.
What's it all about?
Yet, if he said he loved me,
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.
I wouldn't want to know.
He scares me so.
I want him so.
I love him so.
- Jesus Christ Superstar, "I Don't Know How to Love Him"

For the life of me, I have no fucking idea what this means.

In brief

I haven't been able to write about stuff that I've been meaning to - AIDSWalk, the Memorial Day Parade, and Melissa's lovely wedding (just this past weekend).

But working backwards, I can tell you a few things I did at Melissa's wedding weekend (which was allover glorious) that I've never done before: having reiki, drinking 31 year old scotch, learning Magic: The Gathering, eating sausage casserole and gnome cake, meeting a man whose shirts I can wear (kind of like finding the Holy Grail), and visiting Stone Mountain (with the Southern Mount Rushmore). I did not, however, make it to the Waffle House this time south.

Here are the photos.

Now I've got work to do, carry on!

is it my imagination....

or does this in fact actually look like a 'nugget?

frustration...

Funzo Timewasters that are Good for You

I forget how much I enjoy McSweeney's:

From the irresistable (even if they constantly reject my submissions. Okay, submission) Review of New Food:

I like my dried apricots like I like my men: thin, tart, and rather difficult to chew.

Nerd alert!

Spent the last half-hour discussing, among other things, adiabatic systems in varying contexts; as applied to quantum physics and computer science as well as thermodynamics. Reviewed the Hamiltonian operator and eigenvalues. The bomb calorimeter was fondly recalled.

Feeling smarter? Or just a wee bit dizzy?

Ack.

(I was going to post an appropriate Far Side cartoon here, but this gave me pause.)

Mildly amusing electronica

Hipster Cards
if you're lazy and/or a sucker for amusing freebie greetings.

For the two out of three of you who may care a little...

Go Blue Jays! NCAA Division I champs!

music geeks!

Stolen from targemq8 who stole it from bourbonsoul

Step 1: Put your MP3 player or whatever on random.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 15 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from. (NOTE: posting in the comments is fine)
Step 4: Strike out the songs when someone guesses correctly. (Mine are bolded)
Step 5: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING! (Cheating!)
(NOTE: some of these may be covers. since you can't read my mind, really, I'll accept any acceptably well known artist)
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
1. There are places I remember...
2. Unchain my heart....baby let me be..
3. It was raining hard in Frisco
4. You're all I've ever wanted but I'm terrified of you
5. Pissing in a river, watching you rise
6. When you say love you're telling everyone...
7. I was a fighter always looking for trouble and my life was so empty there was nothing left to live for
8. I've been lonely, I've been waiting for you
9. In a desperate mind, little gardens grow
10. Love me two times baby, love me twice today
11.She says meet me at the gates at eight
12. What's wrong? What are you afraid of?
13. Oh my man I love him so, he'll never know
14. Love come quick, love come in a hurry
15.Ohhh comely l will be with you when you lose your breath

Those crazy Scandanavians

http://www.scandinaviandetails.com/KIDS/toys/pee-poo-plush-dolls

The extra 'e' is for extra....

If you get that reference, click below for your prize:

http://goyourway.net/

I am obsessed.

As an aside the link I got the last post's photo from may be the most adorable website for guys who want to get cute and meaningful (And by meaningful I mean 'canned cuteness that would make me cringe but is hilarious in the abstract) "pressies for their princess." Also, "pressies for your princess" sounds dirty but it's not

By the way, if any of you menfolk who read my blog and are so inclined (which I believe is a subset of the total, whose number is less than one), I would either be appalled or amazed with any bundle of crap ordered from this site and send to me. I especially loathe teddy bears, they collect lint. Still, I may turn all girly, it's a calculated risk.

Cut to later: I am officially obsessed with this website and I can't explain why. I think it's PMS. Stop me before I order something cute. I can't afford overseas shipping on this stuff.

owwwww etc.

I did the AIDSWalk! I wanted to write lots and lots but of course was too achy to deal with it last night, and haven't put up the photos.

in the meantime here's a message from my quadriceps:

Once again, someone says it far better than I

Read it. It's truly compelling.

Once again, Jennings rulz

Following his blogmeme...this is a hoot.

What I've been watching

Random hotties

Best career move I've heard all day.

"I'm going to quit and start diving for treasure."

- Captain Yogurt*, Patent Attorney at Large



*not his real name. You know how much I love the pseudonyms!

This iz funnie

Courtesy of this fine gentleman.

Weird food combinations I find that I enjoy

Maybe you will too! Or maybe you'll just groan.

1. Honey roasted peanuts and yogurt

I'm enjoying a French Vanilla (Stonyfield fat free) yogurt with HRPs from the deli downstairs. Crunchy/sweet/salty/creamy good!

2. Deli tossed salad

I have to say I see some pretty gruesome combinations out there; it's as if the salad counter toss is one's only daily refuge into creativity.

Mine is perhaps only slightly weird, but with serious shades of unhealty: blue cheese crumbles, mandarin oranges, cucumbers, tomatoes and occasionally bacon or walnuts. Sometimes avocado or asparagus wanders in. A touch of fat free honey dijon dressing. Romaine only, please! Keep your weedy mixed greens and nasty raw spinach.

3. Lipton noodle soup and eggs

A childhood staple. Kind of like homemade eggdrop soup but not as gluey (and with little noodles!) Ring noodle is actually better even though it is not technically "chicken noodle" but "noodle soup with chicken." Yum!

4. Black bean garlic sauce and sweet potatoes.

Grated sweet potatoes mixed with egg, flour and a spoon of black bean garlic sauce. Formed into tiny cakes and pan fried. Weird but great (and you may be getting the extent of my sodium addiction by now). From the late great Laurie Colwin.

5. My favorite smoothie

Milk or soymilk, ice, cocoa powder, Splenda, vanilla sugar free protein powder, peanut butter, and a handful of granola. Texture!

Queasy yet? In the next foodie episode, my on and off again love affair with dried meat and meat-stick products.

For all you science nerds!

Isn't this cool?

For highly edumacated time-killing, try this site. Fun! A nice break from the gossip sites. Feyman lectures, anyone?

Space!

Pretty awesome!

Stolen from here. Thanks, people, yet again for doing my work for me!

Inarticulately yours

Earlier post

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?

"This is so stupid...

...but it made me laugh, almost against my will."
- A.

So true. Check the gallery on the side.

Boyfight!

Hilarious!

"I love you."

Top 15 Han Solo Quotes

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).

He remembered!!!

"Happy aborted anniversary."
- the actual ex

Sigh. At least I still have the blender and the KitchenAid. They seem to have outlasted.

Fabulous funny food link du jour of the day

Yummy!

Stolen with impunity and laziness from here. (How much original content have I posted lately? Snort.)

Hee hee...happy women's day from the Onion!

By the way, your blogger code links suck.

No sh@#%t, Sherlock.

What American accent do you have?
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!

We're going to start with "cot" and "caught." When you say those words do they sound the same or different?

Same, no wait I mean different, maybe, a little bit different... Same Different

nerdz!!!

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.

Oh yeah....a couple of more things...

Rats.

Who's coming with?

Done.

blargh 4: The Final Countdown

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

Things are looking up a bit.

blargh 3: a new beginning

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

Thanks, DC!

blargh 2: The revenge

I mean really, I had about one drink.

So far today:

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

blargh

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

Guess who can't sleep?

More thoughts....

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

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

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

Pregnant Smug Woman:

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

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

Yeah, right.

PostSecret isn't a snack

I keep thinking Pop Secret.

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

Am I gonna share them? What do you think?

Here's the severely expurgated version:

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

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

1. Taking a masters degree overseas

2. Adopting a disabled child

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

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

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

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

Mike Daisey: The state of the art

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

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

Mike Daisey

Dear Dumb People on Bikes,*

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

Yeah, ASSHOLES, I'm talking to you.

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

Anyway, FUCKTARDS, listen up.

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

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

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.)

I'm a grand-lawyer!

Welcome Alice Mary Jean Kelleman!

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

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

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

Happy 30th Anniversary "Annie Hall."

random links assortment - good stuff!

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

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

And Saturday is Spring Tasting in Chinatown!

a little too much information?

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

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

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

Fascinating, huh?

Disturbing yet merely annoying, really.

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

But then again, what would people say, really?

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

quote of the night

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

- Tony Soprano to Dr. Melfi

Rainy days.

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

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

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.