Yet another place to see my stuff (hooray!)
I Can Bring Home the Bacon
for women in business for themselves!
1/13/09
1/10/09
Dreams revisited.
I am lucky to have such good friends, even those who are yaks.
This deserves reprinting in its entirety (a comment on the previous post) because it says much about the writer and the writee, as it were. Who may be the only people to whom it makes sense, which is fine.
Thanks. Keep on trucking, dogsledding and skateboarding.
This deserves reprinting in its entirety (a comment on the previous post) because it says much about the writer and the writee, as it were. Who may be the only people to whom it makes sense, which is fine.
Thanks. Keep on trucking, dogsledding and skateboarding.
I would say that you have what others call dreams, but you just don't call them that. Perhaps "don't consider them that" would be more accurate?
Here's a game. First solve for X in
I want to _____X______
Now solve for Y1 or Y2:
I want to X because I want to Y1 or because of Y2.
Now solve for Z1 or Z2:
I want to Y1 because of Z.
The reason Y2 affects me is Z.
Once you get to Z (or perhaps a few more iterations), I think you may be on to something.
On the other hand, if it takes getting to Z (or a few more iterations to ZZZZ...), doesn't that mean sleeping, which counterfeeds back into the title of the post?
Off to sleep myself ...
1/9/09
Dreams are for people who sleep.
It is horrifying to wake up at a rather advanced age and realize you don't have a life's dream.
Watching too much fair-to-middling reality TV will bring this home.
I wish I was blissfully ignorant enough to think that I could just pick up and 'make it' in New York, Las Vegas, LA, wherever.
Unfortunately, all I see are broken plans and downsides and struggle and unanswered phone calls and three-AM sweats.
What, I say, the fuck?
Watching too much fair-to-middling reality TV will bring this home.
I wish I was blissfully ignorant enough to think that I could just pick up and 'make it' in New York, Las Vegas, LA, wherever.
Unfortunately, all I see are broken plans and downsides and struggle and unanswered phone calls and three-AM sweats.
What, I say, the fuck?
12/16/08
12/14/08
Merry Christmas!
Dear Asshole Artisanal Cheese Vendor on Avenue A at the Greenmarket,
If you offer samples to people, you can expect that some people won't like them. Especially when your cheese tastes like fermented Elmer's Glue. Don't glare at me with a frozen smile and try to blame me for wanting a "strong" cheese. Asshole.
Dear Bitchy Lady in the Laundry room,
Don't cut in front of me coming from the elevator with your cart. Don't take three washers at once. Don't accuse me of slamming a washer door. Don't try to manipulate me with tales of grief. And don't fuck with my laundry.
Dear Mom of Bitchy Lady in the Laundry room,
Yes, I will take down the picture of Jesus in the lobby. And put it up in my apartment, because Jesus loves me. And was Jewish.
If you offer samples to people, you can expect that some people won't like them. Especially when your cheese tastes like fermented Elmer's Glue. Don't glare at me with a frozen smile and try to blame me for wanting a "strong" cheese. Asshole.
Dear Bitchy Lady in the Laundry room,
Don't cut in front of me coming from the elevator with your cart. Don't take three washers at once. Don't accuse me of slamming a washer door. Don't try to manipulate me with tales of grief. And don't fuck with my laundry.
Dear Mom of Bitchy Lady in the Laundry room,
Yes, I will take down the picture of Jesus in the lobby. And put it up in my apartment, because Jesus loves me. And was Jewish.
12/5/08
If you want to amuse yourselves
all three of you who read this (I've been admittedly lax)
check out my short attention span, link o rama Tumblr:
Enjoy!
check out my short attention span, link o rama Tumblr:
Enjoy!
11/24/08
11/17/08
What I need
A bungalow with a deck on a breezy desert island, convenient to seafood and Internet access. And big thick towels.
or
A cabin in the woods with a crazy well-stocked kitchen, a wood burning fire that I know how to operate, and Internet access. And flannel.
or
A cabin in the woods with a crazy well-stocked kitchen, a wood burning fire that I know how to operate, and Internet access. And flannel.
Vibes, whatever.
I'm not much for crystals, vibes, auras, nonspecific positivity and whatnot. But when gleefully shredding old bills and papers (I love my paper shredder, it's like a big noisy confetti maker), I came across a small, smooth stone in a tiny grey suede bag. It was from the hotel in Toronto we stayed at during the Toronto Improv Festival, when I performed with Harsh. And, immediately, I remembered, that outside from checking out Toronto itself and seeing some shows (that I could've caught in the US, for the most part), I had a generally miserable and shitty time, from the endless train ride to the personality clashes and general lack of acceptance and enjoyment. Except for my $1.00 combat boots, some decent food and drink, and checking out the film set that is Toronto, what a fucking miserable trip that was.
I threw out the freaking tranquility stone without a second thought. I feel better already. Positivity, man.
I threw out the freaking tranquility stone without a second thought. I feel better already. Positivity, man.
11/15/08
Delightful! Splendiferous!
If you haven't watched the 200th episode of "Inside the Actor's Studio," hosted by Dave Chappelle and guest James Lipton, I must emphatically say, Watch it. Watch it now.
Here's a taste:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/43525/inside-the-actors-studio-james-lipton-on-the-actors-studio
Here's a taste:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/43525/inside-the-actors-studio-james-lipton-on-the-actors-studio
11/12/08
It's not you, it's me.
If you want a really cool but nonprescribing shrink, I can recommend one, highly. She's very cool and yet takes no shit.
I just quit therapy today. This is a good thing, I'm convinced of that.
So much for "keeping it to myself for awhile." (That was the original plan. Until someone notices. I guess. If I tell my mom I'm finally "cured" she'll ask "Are you sure?" Then again, I'm really sick of her asking me if I'm cured. But I digress.)
In some form or another, I've been in therapy for 18 years off and on. Not Woody-Allenesque analysis, just the talky kind. Again, there were often breaks in between. There was the short-termers - the dear, sweet old lady I was convinced was the soul of evil living in the coolest apartment in the city; the burnt-out NYU doc who went medieval on a terribly fragile me for cancelling an appointment (he was reported to administration; do not fuck with even a fragile me). There was my first real doctor at Mt. Sinai, a hulking babyfaced Westerner who I'm surprised survived me; last I saw he was an ER shrink in the Bronx. There was the curmudgeouly but handsome psychiatrist on the Upper West Side; the hippie-ish psychotherapist who, for a few years, I followed to Westchester - eventually the train ride was the most thereapeutic part of the day. And there was the woman, before this one, who I reduced to tears, and then she "forgot" our next (last) appointment. I hope she's in retail now.
I didn't necessarily plan it, although I'd been planning it awhile. She was terribly nice about it, more fair than I'd ever believed a therapist would be. "Perhaps you need to leave here, to put some of this stuff into practice." I think closure is overrated; I chose "goodbye for now" and was nice to know the keys to the sofa were always available. Which is a good feeling. I think if I was a twittering basket case, she'd perhaps have advocated against me returning to the light of day solo.
Anyway. I meant to say more, display all kinds of brilliant insight as to my mental evolution. Reflect, you know.
But right now I just can't sleep. For real.
I just quit therapy today. This is a good thing, I'm convinced of that.
So much for "keeping it to myself for awhile." (That was the original plan. Until someone notices. I guess. If I tell my mom I'm finally "cured" she'll ask "Are you sure?" Then again, I'm really sick of her asking me if I'm cured. But I digress.)
In some form or another, I've been in therapy for 18 years off and on. Not Woody-Allenesque analysis, just the talky kind. Again, there were often breaks in between. There was the short-termers - the dear, sweet old lady I was convinced was the soul of evil living in the coolest apartment in the city; the burnt-out NYU doc who went medieval on a terribly fragile me for cancelling an appointment (he was reported to administration; do not fuck with even a fragile me). There was my first real doctor at Mt. Sinai, a hulking babyfaced Westerner who I'm surprised survived me; last I saw he was an ER shrink in the Bronx. There was the curmudgeouly but handsome psychiatrist on the Upper West Side; the hippie-ish psychotherapist who, for a few years, I followed to Westchester - eventually the train ride was the most thereapeutic part of the day. And there was the woman, before this one, who I reduced to tears, and then she "forgot" our next (last) appointment. I hope she's in retail now.
I didn't necessarily plan it, although I'd been planning it awhile. She was terribly nice about it, more fair than I'd ever believed a therapist would be. "Perhaps you need to leave here, to put some of this stuff into practice." I think closure is overrated; I chose "goodbye for now" and was nice to know the keys to the sofa were always available. Which is a good feeling. I think if I was a twittering basket case, she'd perhaps have advocated against me returning to the light of day solo.
Anyway. I meant to say more, display all kinds of brilliant insight as to my mental evolution. Reflect, you know.
But right now I just can't sleep. For real.
11/10/08
Trust me on a few things.
I am a big moron. Or maybe, I can just be a big moron.
I should not eat so much buttered popcorn.
Sports bras, even swell comfy red ones, can give you a uniboob.
The No Yarn till 2009 resolution seems to be working.
Facebook can be fun and can be incredibly lame.
I would like to coat some candied peel in chocolate, but it has to wait until the peels dry.
Honestly, I don't like candied peel, but it makes a swell gift.
Rats.
I should not eat so much buttered popcorn.
Sports bras, even swell comfy red ones, can give you a uniboob.
The No Yarn till 2009 resolution seems to be working.
Facebook can be fun and can be incredibly lame.
I would like to coat some candied peel in chocolate, but it has to wait until the peels dry.
Honestly, I don't like candied peel, but it makes a swell gift.
Rats.
11/7/08
Coolest case name of the day.
I'm a bit researched out at the moment, but here, I defy you to turn this into an improv group name:
KATHREINER'S MALZKAFFEE FABRIKEN MIT BESCHRAENKTER HAFTUNG et al. v. PASTOR KNEIPP MEDICINE CO., 82 F. 321 (1897).
KATHREINER'S MALZKAFFEE FABRIKEN MIT BESCHRAENKTER HAFTUNG et al. v. PASTOR KNEIPP MEDICINE CO., 82 F. 321 (1897).
A delightful array of slightly overpriced korean deli snacks
Ka-Me plain rice crackers, Slim-Fast, Babybel cheese, Leibniz whole wheat butter biscuits.
An odd array of New York office-grazing comfort foods.
10/23/08
10/22/08
10/15/08
Seriously, figure it out!
0100100100100000011000010110110100100000011000010110010001100100011010010110001101110100011001010110010000100000011101000110111100100000011101000110100001100101001000000110001001101001011011100110000101110010011110010010000001100011011011110110111001110110011001010111001001110100011001010111001000101110001000000000110100001010000011010000101001100100011011110110010101110011001000000110100101110100001000000110001101101111011011100111011001100101011100100111010000100000011010000111100101110000011001010111001001101100011010010110111001101011011100110010110000100000010010010010000001110111011011110110111001100100011001010111001000111111000011010000101000001101000010100110100001110100011101000111000000111010001011110010111101110111011101110111011100101110011100100110111101110101011000100110000101101001011110000110100101101110011101000110010101110010011000010110001101110100011010010111011001100101001011100110001101101111011011010010111101010000011011000110000101111001010001110111001001101111011101010110111001100100001011110100001001101001011011100110000101110010011110010101111101000011011011110110111001110110011001010111001001110011011010010110111101101110001011110100001001101001011011100110000101110010011110010101111101010100011011110101111101010100011001010111100001110100001011100110000101110011011100000000110100001010
Figure it out.
0100111101001011001011000010000001110100011010000110100101110011001000000111001101101001011101000110010100100000011010010111001100100000011000010111011101100101011100110110111101101101011001010010111000100000001000000101010001101000011000010111010000100000011010010111001100101100001000000110100101100110001000000111100101101111011101010010011101110010011001010010000001100001001000000111010001101111011101000110000101101100001000000110011001110010011001010110000101101011011010010110111001100111001000000110111001100101011100100110010000101110000011010000101000001101000010100100100100100000011011000110111101110110011001010010000001100011011010000110010101100101011100110110010100101110001000000010000001000100011011110010000001111001011011110111010100111111000011010000101000001101000010100100110101000100
10/12/08
Holy Crap, I could own these!
But would my friends ever forgive me?
The Broadway Box
Les Mis (possibly redundant since I know all the words. Ask me about my Iowa trip.)
Songs that I could do at American Idol/Showtime at the Apollo/Star Search auditions
The Broadway Box
Les Mis (possibly redundant since I know all the words. Ask me about my Iowa trip.)
Songs that I could do at American Idol/Showtime at the Apollo/Star Search auditions
10/11/08
Cranky post-fever observations.
1. "The Starter Wife" - Since when has being a divorcee, in and of itself, been fascinating, much less a plot point? What is this, 1953? Shut up, Debra Messing. Just shut up and stop smiling. Jeez.
2. How come when you're unshowered, borderline delirious, and exceedingly cranky (while looking slightly like a crazy person), the newsagent guys will still flirt with you? Moreover, I was buying a crocheting magazine, the most unsexy purchase ever.
3. I've got nothing. Sorry.
Wait - I do.
3. If you're a "friend" and not nearly as good to me as I am to you, then I don't need to include you in that category. Thanks for playing! (Chances are that if you are reading this, it doesn't apply to you.)
2. How come when you're unshowered, borderline delirious, and exceedingly cranky (while looking slightly like a crazy person), the newsagent guys will still flirt with you? Moreover, I was buying a crocheting magazine, the most unsexy purchase ever.
3. I've got nothing. Sorry.
Wait - I do.
3. If you're a "friend" and not nearly as good to me as I am to you, then I don't need to include you in that category. Thanks for playing! (Chances are that if you are reading this, it doesn't apply to you.)
10/8/08
Welcome to my world of insomnia.
Sigh. More juice, perhaps, in some vague flavor known as 'tropical.' Yum!
Anyway.
So I went to Ricky's in search of halloween supplies, and was fairly succesful. The Ricky's girl steered me towards a very cool wig - not the packaged kind, but their regular stock - that was half off. It's a long dark affair, that's fun to play with. However, I was going for more of a drag-queen aesthetic so I wonder if I could style it somehow. I have no clue how to style an inexpensive synthetic wig. I bought a headband but it looks more preppy-princess. I could braid it and go as a fundamentalist polygamous lady, but I haven't the dress. Actually, I do, now that I think about it - a long, modest flowered affair. Hmm!
My original halloween idea was to be a zombie drag queen. Named Jiggle Mortis.
Not that it's terribly original, but I have a neat stash of drag-queen accessories i got at the Broadway Flea Market a few years back - gold pumps, a blue feather boa, and sequined armbands. I've got a neat gown that I scored for $5 (seriously!) at FIlene's, if it still fits OK. And, of course, I have gloves somewhere but I need to find them - I fear they've disappeared into the sexytime black hole in my bedroom (that ate my blue satin bustier). So it's all about the hair. I'm sure there's a few Wikipedia entries that will help me with the 'do. Or, I just pretend I'm Cher. It's Cher hair, to be fair.
Au contraire, mon frere. (Anyone who gets that reference in connection with hair gets a free cocktail!)
To sum up, wigs are fun! And Ricky's is a neat store. (I also got makeup sponges, gray face paint and a tiny vial of stage blood for convenient zombifying.) Huzzah!
Anyway.
So I went to Ricky's in search of halloween supplies, and was fairly succesful. The Ricky's girl steered me towards a very cool wig - not the packaged kind, but their regular stock - that was half off. It's a long dark affair, that's fun to play with. However, I was going for more of a drag-queen aesthetic so I wonder if I could style it somehow. I have no clue how to style an inexpensive synthetic wig. I bought a headband but it looks more preppy-princess. I could braid it and go as a fundamentalist polygamous lady, but I haven't the dress. Actually, I do, now that I think about it - a long, modest flowered affair. Hmm!
My original halloween idea was to be a zombie drag queen. Named Jiggle Mortis.
Not that it's terribly original, but I have a neat stash of drag-queen accessories i got at the Broadway Flea Market a few years back - gold pumps, a blue feather boa, and sequined armbands. I've got a neat gown that I scored for $5 (seriously!) at FIlene's, if it still fits OK. And, of course, I have gloves somewhere but I need to find them - I fear they've disappeared into the sexytime black hole in my bedroom (that ate my blue satin bustier). So it's all about the hair. I'm sure there's a few Wikipedia entries that will help me with the 'do. Or, I just pretend I'm Cher. It's Cher hair, to be fair.
Au contraire, mon frere. (Anyone who gets that reference in connection with hair gets a free cocktail!)
To sum up, wigs are fun! And Ricky's is a neat store. (I also got makeup sponges, gray face paint and a tiny vial of stage blood for convenient zombifying.) Huzzah!
10/5/08
9/30/08
9/27/08
9/26/08
No time left for you!
I have no time to blog! No time! Well, not at the moment. Well, not really.
But in the meantime, aren't these charming?
The Cake Pan Lady
And since I'm feeling especially generous,
Eliza Skinner. The phrase 'sticky man-trash' is somehow quite beguiling.
And finally, a truly fine piece of improv geekery.
But in the meantime, aren't these charming?
The Cake Pan Lady
And since I'm feeling especially generous,
Eliza Skinner. The phrase 'sticky man-trash' is somehow quite beguiling.
And finally, a truly fine piece of improv geekery.
9/12/08
9/11/08
Tribute.
This is hardly original; I've seen it around lots of places today. But it's worth watching.
9/10/08
9/4/08
Unconvincing
Dear Sir,
I am not believing your "Killer Death Ride" sticker as affixed to your shiny white Vespa.
Sincerely,
a Dick
I am not believing your "Killer Death Ride" sticker as affixed to your shiny white Vespa.
Sincerely,
a Dick
9/3/08
Recipes!
I am not a food blogger (kind of a food blogger addict, though). However, I am emerging from an "everything I cook sucks" phase (everyone hits that patch every once in a while) to becoming a functioning home cook again. That phase is diabolical - it started weeks ago, with a lentil dish I'd made a hundred or more times, which ended up tasting odd and worsening with every attempted fix. Several other failed dishes followed, inexplicable and frustrating. Even my local falafel takeout - my go-to after a failed cooking venture requires cheap quick takeout to dispel - has changed hands and acquired a certain irredeemable dinginess.
I seem to be emerging, though, and have whipped up some delicious dishes lately I thought I'd share.
Imprecisely yours, the Lazy Gourmet.
Veggie Shepherd's Pie - convenience food heaven with the imprimateur of healthy.
1 bag Morningstar Farm veggie crumbles (frozen)
1/2 box or so of mixed vegetables (frozen) (I used peas and carrots)
about 1 cup pearl onions (frozen)
about 1/2 a large bottle of tomato juice or V-8 (trust me. Ever buy a bottle of V-8, have a few glasses, and realize you don't like it much?)
Worcestershire Sauce (dust it off, it's crucial)
Black pepper
2 cups prepared instant mashed potatoes (I use some brand in a small blue box - one envelope makes 2 cups - you don't even need milk even if the box tells you that you do.)
grated cheese (optional)
Preheat oven to 375.
Spray with nonstick spray a 9 inch square pan. Dump in the frozen goods. Pour in the juice. Season with black pepper. Stir. Shake in (I'd guesstimate about 6 good shakes) Worcestershire Sauce - the sauce should go brownish red at this point in the pan. Stir well to distribute sauce and veggies.
Spread mashed taters over the top. (Leftover would be fine, I'm sure). Aim for complete coverage. Sprinkle with cheese, or not.
Bake for 20-25 minutes until the top browns slightly and the sauce gets bubbly and pokes out around the edges.
Inelegant but tasty. Freezes and transports to work well!
Broccoli Ricotta Pesto Pasta
3 Cups steamed broccoli, more or less. (Ziploc steamer bags are a freaking miracle, trust me. Worth the price of admission, cause you won't cook those well-intentioned veggies otherwise)
1/3 c grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 c toasted walnuts
1 clove garlic
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Juice of 1 lemon
1/3 cup olive oil
Black pepper and salt
1 small container part-skim ricotta cheese
Your favorite pasta
Dump the steamed broccoli (cooked in bag or you can just boil it up until it's bright green but not soggy), cheese, nuts, garlic, lemon juice and zest into a food processor. Pulse until chopped fine. Turn on the processor and drizzle in the olive oil until you get a smoother paste (pesto - paste - get it?). You may need a little more oil. Season with black pepper and a little salt.
Cook up as much (I guess a box or less - I use very little) pasta as you like - but be sure to pull out 1 cup or so of cooking water before you drain it.
Now, you can be flexible in the assembly. Add some or all of your pesto to a big serving bowl. Stir in some hot pasta water, a little at a time, until the sauce is smooth. You may not need all of it. Now, add the ricotta cheese and the drained cooked pasta. Mix well. Add some pepper or lemon to taste. Enjoy! Also packs off to work and freezes well.
My Weird Comfort Food Soup
I make this an awful lot.
Lipton Ring o Noodle Soup
2 Eggs
Handful grated Parmesan, Romano or Asiago cheese
Cook up soup according to package directions. Beat the eggs with the cheese. Stir it into the boiling soup. Stir a bit until the egg is shredded and cooked.
I seem to be emerging, though, and have whipped up some delicious dishes lately I thought I'd share.
Imprecisely yours, the Lazy Gourmet.
Veggie Shepherd's Pie - convenience food heaven with the imprimateur of healthy.
1 bag Morningstar Farm veggie crumbles (frozen)
1/2 box or so of mixed vegetables (frozen) (I used peas and carrots)
about 1 cup pearl onions (frozen)
about 1/2 a large bottle of tomato juice or V-8 (trust me. Ever buy a bottle of V-8, have a few glasses, and realize you don't like it much?)
Worcestershire Sauce (dust it off, it's crucial)
Black pepper
2 cups prepared instant mashed potatoes (I use some brand in a small blue box - one envelope makes 2 cups - you don't even need milk even if the box tells you that you do.)
grated cheese (optional)
Preheat oven to 375.
Spray with nonstick spray a 9 inch square pan. Dump in the frozen goods. Pour in the juice. Season with black pepper. Stir. Shake in (I'd guesstimate about 6 good shakes) Worcestershire Sauce - the sauce should go brownish red at this point in the pan. Stir well to distribute sauce and veggies.
Spread mashed taters over the top. (Leftover would be fine, I'm sure). Aim for complete coverage. Sprinkle with cheese, or not.
Bake for 20-25 minutes until the top browns slightly and the sauce gets bubbly and pokes out around the edges.
Inelegant but tasty. Freezes and transports to work well!
Broccoli Ricotta Pesto Pasta
3 Cups steamed broccoli, more or less. (Ziploc steamer bags are a freaking miracle, trust me. Worth the price of admission, cause you won't cook those well-intentioned veggies otherwise)
1/3 c grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 c toasted walnuts
1 clove garlic
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Juice of 1 lemon
1/3 cup olive oil
Black pepper and salt
1 small container part-skim ricotta cheese
Your favorite pasta
Dump the steamed broccoli (cooked in bag or you can just boil it up until it's bright green but not soggy), cheese, nuts, garlic, lemon juice and zest into a food processor. Pulse until chopped fine. Turn on the processor and drizzle in the olive oil until you get a smoother paste (pesto - paste - get it?). You may need a little more oil. Season with black pepper and a little salt.
Cook up as much (I guess a box or less - I use very little) pasta as you like - but be sure to pull out 1 cup or so of cooking water before you drain it.
Now, you can be flexible in the assembly. Add some or all of your pesto to a big serving bowl. Stir in some hot pasta water, a little at a time, until the sauce is smooth. You may not need all of it. Now, add the ricotta cheese and the drained cooked pasta. Mix well. Add some pepper or lemon to taste. Enjoy! Also packs off to work and freezes well.
My Weird Comfort Food Soup
I make this an awful lot.
Lipton Ring o Noodle Soup
2 Eggs
Handful grated Parmesan, Romano or Asiago cheese
Cook up soup according to package directions. Beat the eggs with the cheese. Stir it into the boiling soup. Stir a bit until the egg is shredded and cooked.
Sunny day, chasing the clouds away....
Sorry, but the Sesame Street theme just came up in my party shuffle. Party, indeed!
Janet told me this weekend, upon much caressing of her hot new iPod Touch, that she wasn't a "shuffle girl." That she liked whole albums, instead. That's OK. For me, it depends on my mood. Sometimes it's party shuffle, sometimes it's ten repetitions of Mitch Hedberg.
Joe Powers is in the hospital. If you don't know him, he's a sweet young comic who was in a terrible accident. Pray to whatever g-ds you do or don't believe in that he pulls through good and strong.
Can you tell me how to get? How to get to Sesame Street.
I had a lovely, lovely weekend in Chicago, for real. It wasn't just the getting away (which may have been nuts of me, given the short "whirlwind" trip and the fact that I leave for California this weekend). It was the complete and total dissolution of a sense of responsibility and decision making. And I can thank my lovely friends Janet and Ken for that, from picking me up at the el to gently depositing me at O'Hare full of pork omelette and giggles. We did tons of stuff, interspersed with some serious lumping around. I even slept better. I really needed to get the hell out of Dodge. Saw a benefit at the Old Town school (and ate free skordalia till I emanated garlic); hit the Taste of Polonia festival (an amazing fest of all things Polish. Sto lat!); went to a fantastic dance performance by the Breakbone Dance Company (perhaps inspiring me to get off my butt); and the traditional pre-airport Sunday brunch at Java Thai. And lots of nice, hard dozing and music-listening and cheese-snacking. I really needed that.
I don't have the speakers hooked up to my new mac mini, but the built in invisible ones don't really suck for my purposes. Nice!
I'm not tired anymore. Not much. A bit bouncier than I was an hour ago, perhaps. But otherwise OK.
Janet told me this weekend, upon much caressing of her hot new iPod Touch, that she wasn't a "shuffle girl." That she liked whole albums, instead. That's OK. For me, it depends on my mood. Sometimes it's party shuffle, sometimes it's ten repetitions of Mitch Hedberg.
Joe Powers is in the hospital. If you don't know him, he's a sweet young comic who was in a terrible accident. Pray to whatever g-ds you do or don't believe in that he pulls through good and strong.
Can you tell me how to get? How to get to Sesame Street.
I had a lovely, lovely weekend in Chicago, for real. It wasn't just the getting away (which may have been nuts of me, given the short "whirlwind" trip and the fact that I leave for California this weekend). It was the complete and total dissolution of a sense of responsibility and decision making. And I can thank my lovely friends Janet and Ken for that, from picking me up at the el to gently depositing me at O'Hare full of pork omelette and giggles. We did tons of stuff, interspersed with some serious lumping around. I even slept better. I really needed to get the hell out of Dodge. Saw a benefit at the Old Town school (and ate free skordalia till I emanated garlic); hit the Taste of Polonia festival (an amazing fest of all things Polish. Sto lat!); went to a fantastic dance performance by the Breakbone Dance Company (perhaps inspiring me to get off my butt); and the traditional pre-airport Sunday brunch at Java Thai. And lots of nice, hard dozing and music-listening and cheese-snacking. I really needed that.
I don't have the speakers hooked up to my new mac mini, but the built in invisible ones don't really suck for my purposes. Nice!
I'm not tired anymore. Not much. A bit bouncier than I was an hour ago, perhaps. But otherwise OK.
8/27/08
It's so big!
Even if you've never owned a broadsword, you still need one of these.
From http://www.cavalierattitude.com/:
Why am I so easily amused? I have no idea. I think I like the red and black one. I can use it to tote around my smaller friends. And their broadswords. Because my friends are tiny, vengeful armed trolls. It's not an insult. They are actual trolls. With broadswords.
From http://www.cavalierattitude.com/:
Why am I so easily amused? I have no idea. I think I like the red and black one. I can use it to tote around my smaller friends. And their broadswords. Because my friends are tiny, vengeful armed trolls. It's not an insult. They are actual trolls. With broadswords.
8/26/08
Far, far more delicious.
Unlike the tentacles that reared their ugly suckers here, the tentacles in my most recent soup purchase were delightful.
Seafood and Vegetable Noodle Soup from the spare-looking Chinese takeout on 60th between Park and Lexington. Rich and tasty with delicious seafood of all sorts - shrimp, squid, octopus, fish balls (not bad but not my favorite, and no, not what you're thinking - they're small fried up spheres of chopped fish) and crab stick (tastier than expected).
Note the tentatcles slyly peeping out from behind the water chestnuts and broccoli, nestled in a bed of egg noodle.
Seafood and Vegetable Noodle Soup from the spare-looking Chinese takeout on 60th between Park and Lexington. Rich and tasty with delicious seafood of all sorts - shrimp, squid, octopus, fish balls (not bad but not my favorite, and no, not what you're thinking - they're small fried up spheres of chopped fish) and crab stick (tastier than expected).
Note the tentatcles slyly peeping out from behind the water chestnuts and broccoli, nestled in a bed of egg noodle.
8/24/08
Light as a feather, flat as a board...
Dear lady friends, PLEASE come on Tyra with me and discuss our breasts. Please, please, please.
(Although I realize that most of my demographic is 'dudes who know me' and who are also flattish-chested, I'm afraid you do not qualify.)
(Although I realize that most of my demographic is 'dudes who know me' and who are also flattish-chested, I'm afraid you do not qualify.)
Casting Call Information
City: Any City
State: National
Are you flat chested and are envious of your friend/sister's breast size?
Do you have a large chest and wish you could trade with your petite friend?
Please email me or call me ASAP (please include a picture of both people involved)
8/22/08
Sign o' the (burrrrrppp) times
Two youngish bros in dress shirts and ties (I'm guessing finance types) are in the Duane Reade in line in front of me. Each is carrying a case of Bud, Coors Lite, and a number of tallboys. They cheerfully avoid the well-meaning cashier's inquiry as to "what's the occassion," but they do advise him on how to properly bag said stash of cheap brew.
Here's the quiz: What's going on back at the office?
a) Just some genial summer merriment.
b) They can't afford the Whiskey Bar.
c) What do they care, they are so fired anyway.
They didn't even have any snacks. Times is tough.
Here's the quiz: What's going on back at the office?
a) Just some genial summer merriment.
b) They can't afford the Whiskey Bar.
c) What do they care, they are so fired anyway.
They didn't even have any snacks. Times is tough.
8/21/08
Passive-aggressive poopery.
I don't know about your office, but mine has a nicely equipped "poop stall." Everyone knows that the approved "poop stall" is the one furthest from the door, where you can retreat in solitude, outlast a few pee-ers, thumb through the Vagisil product warning and the back of the M&Ms label (all that fits into your purse; I don't have the man-balls sufficient to stride into the poop stall proudly with a copy of the Wall Street Journal tucked under my arm.) Our poop stall is outfitted like the others with a multitude of TP rolls, but also with a can of industrial-strength Country Breeze Lysol - my favorite! I like to shoot a tiny courtesy spray upwards in synch with the courtesy flush.
However, in the spirit of 21st century poop-upmanship and eco-whininess, someone has taken issue with the Lysol, herein and to wit:
Now, I don't usually carry a pen into the stall (unless it's in my bag with a roughly folded copy of "Diesel Sweeties" - shut up), but someone was clearly on a mission. Someone hates cans; someone hates Lysol; someone is afraid that the next banned-supertoxin is disguised under all those Country Breezes. I tell ya, someone had better lighten up, plz!
Lysol is our friend (and a character on a classic Chappelle's Show bit)!
I bet that person uses paper seat savers and groans when they detect poopery rather than just deal with life. I'd rather have a pleasant, germicidal Country Fresh experience, than you!
(submitted to passiveagressivenotes.com)
However, in the spirit of 21st century poop-upmanship and eco-whininess, someone has taken issue with the Lysol, herein and to wit:
Now, I don't usually carry a pen into the stall (unless it's in my bag with a roughly folded copy of "Diesel Sweeties" - shut up), but someone was clearly on a mission. Someone hates cans; someone hates Lysol; someone is afraid that the next banned-supertoxin is disguised under all those Country Breezes. I tell ya, someone had better lighten up, plz!
Lysol is our friend (and a character on a classic Chappelle's Show bit)!
I bet that person uses paper seat savers and groans when they detect poopery rather than just deal with life. I'd rather have a pleasant, germicidal Country Fresh experience, than you!
(submitted to passiveagressivenotes.com)
8/14/08
Things to do
when you're tipsy:
Eat cheese and crackers
Make multiple corrections for typos
Amuse thyself
Things not to do:
Go out for sushi
Make phone calls.
Eat cheese and crackers
Make multiple corrections for typos
Amuse thyself
Things not to do:
Go out for sushi
Make phone calls.
Lesson for the ladies!
When using spray on leg hair remover, and the can says leave on for 3 minutes, for heaven's sake, pay attention!
[picture of raw scabrous legs]
[picture of raw scabrous legs]
8/7/08
8/6/08
We ARE the champions!
Queen founder Brian May finished his PhD in astrophysics after a 30 year break.
Here's the tome:
http://www.springer.com/astronomy/book/978-0-387-77705-4
How cool is that?
Here's the tome:
http://www.springer.com/astronomy/book/978-0-387-77705-4
How cool is that?
New York City lunchtime marginalia
1. If you're feeling a bit lonely on a summer's day, try incorporating a molded-cup bra that may be a wee bit too small in the cups into your wardrobe. Instant friends on the street!
2. If you're a guy, the white man-capris with the drawstrings at the legs may not have been your best fashion choice. However, the upside-down lettering on your ass pushed it over the edge.
3. Avoid all delis that have dry panini on display. Instead, head to the Chinese steam-table takeout and noodle shop tucked away on 60th between Park and Lex. Ridiculously tasty and inexpensive to boot.
2. If you're a guy, the white man-capris with the drawstrings at the legs may not have been your best fashion choice. However, the upside-down lettering on your ass pushed it over the edge.
3. Avoid all delis that have dry panini on display. Instead, head to the Chinese steam-table takeout and noodle shop tucked away on 60th between Park and Lex. Ridiculously tasty and inexpensive to boot.
8/5/08
Moderation knows no bounds.
"I'm going to put a to do list on your tombstone."
- The Ex-Husband
You know, this is the funniest thing I'd heard all day (or at least the second-funniest), but it's probably the most accurate.
My approach to life is often a bit extreme. I mean, it's not like I go hurtling down mountains intentionally or anything but I tend to push it.
For example, my exercise "program" (as it were):
Warm up: Start exercising
Exercise: Work out until dizzy, strange and near-puking
Cool down: Do a few more exercises
Repeat for a few weeks until legs are permanently wobbly, tendinitis sets in, and you are close to requiring intravenous fluids. Take a few weeks off. Wallow in self-loathing. Buy a new ill-fitting sports bra.
Repeat.
I'm not alone in this, but it's probably not the wisest course of action.
Moderation, where art thou?
- The Ex-Husband
You know, this is the funniest thing I'd heard all day (or at least the second-funniest), but it's probably the most accurate.
My approach to life is often a bit extreme. I mean, it's not like I go hurtling down mountains intentionally or anything but I tend to push it.
For example, my exercise "program" (as it were):
Warm up: Start exercising
Exercise: Work out until dizzy, strange and near-puking
Cool down: Do a few more exercises
Repeat for a few weeks until legs are permanently wobbly, tendinitis sets in, and you are close to requiring intravenous fluids. Take a few weeks off. Wallow in self-loathing. Buy a new ill-fitting sports bra.
Repeat.
I'm not alone in this, but it's probably not the wisest course of action.
Moderation, where art thou?
8/4/08
For those who don't know me
(although that rules out 99% of the readers of this blog, although they may be amused by the following)
I am pretty much the exact opposite of this.
I am pretty much the exact opposite of this.
8/2/08
this blog is getting way too Tumblrish...
but at any rate, here's some more videos to amuse you until I become witty again!
These ones I made.
Yeah.
These ones I made.
Yeah.
7/30/08
7/28/08
Magic indeed!
From r stevens (creator of Diesel Sweeties, the best strip ever). I'll try to put in the actual youtube clip later, but if you know me, this would've been a near-perfect storm of evening entertainment.
7/27/08
5-6-7-8
I just bought and watched the movie version of "Chicago." Yeah, I'm a few years late to the party, but I loooved the stage version and I looooved the soundtrack (with the late late Jerry Orbach). But hell, this is a fun film! And damn, but if I had Catherine Zeta-Jones' body...hell, a girl's gotta dream. Watching her (pretty great) and Renee Zellweger (no slouch) sing and dance, it was pretty clear that Catherine's a dancer and Renee's an actress who is dancing. Does that sound performer-snobby? Oh well, it's my blog. I just notice that I'm rambling. Renee Zellweger looks a wee bit gaunt. I just realized that I sang (badly) the entire film. Richard Gere is delightful. And am I the only one who thought it was a hoot that the role played by a drag queen on Broadway is played by Christine Baranski in the movie?
I wish I could sing. Or dance. Or both, at the same time!
Preferably in a 1930s-era musical.
Jazz hands. Seriously.
7/22/08
Nerd Alert: High
If these don't make you ooh and aah, then there's nothing more I can do for you.
Star Wars Flash Drives
7/17/08
Almost famous?
Received today via my web site:
Uh what to do, what to do?
Dear Michelle,
I'm a collector of autographs. I have more than 3.800 authentic autographs of politicians, sportsmen, artists and authors from around the world.
Therefore, I would ask you if you would be so kind to send me an autographed photo of you
(or your autograph on a piece of paper with some words written down).
I will be very delighted to got your autograph in my personal collection.
Anyway, thank you very much, and may God bless you and your family.
With warm greetings from Belgium.
Uh what to do, what to do?
Fashion based reality TV is ruin my mind, no?
(I have adopted the accent of Francesca Fiore, so yes, the above title is correct.)
Things I want, in an abstract way:
1. DVF wrap dress
2. An amusing Betsey Johnson dress.
3. Christian Loubotin pumps.
4. Kate Spade bags.
Of the above, I may break down on 4 (which, I might add, will not cause me to fall, look like a sausage, or empty my bank account). The rest are clearly high and outside.
Things I want, in an abstract way:
1. DVF wrap dress
2. An amusing Betsey Johnson dress.
3. Christian Loubotin pumps.
4. Kate Spade bags.
Of the above, I may break down on 4 (which, I might add, will not cause me to fall, look like a sausage, or empty my bank account). The rest are clearly high and outside.
7/16/08
stuff that made me happy yesterday (mush alert)
a long shower
cantonese roast pork noodle soup with a fine gentleman
haagen daz frozen yogurt sorbet pop, raspberry
watching the HOFers at the all-star game with my mom
my mom
warm weather and set trailers abounds
the smell of pierogies and summer in the air
a relatively sane kitty
a couple dozen roses
a whole lotta post it notes
even more post-it notes
sleep.
cantonese roast pork noodle soup with a fine gentleman
haagen daz frozen yogurt sorbet pop, raspberry
watching the HOFers at the all-star game with my mom
my mom
warm weather and set trailers abounds
the smell of pierogies and summer in the air
a relatively sane kitty
a couple dozen roses
a whole lotta post it notes
even more post-it notes
sleep.
7/10/08
World's Most Inane Blog Meme, or What to do when Insomnia Strikes
1. Name three songs you sing when you think no one is listening.
2. Favorite cheese?
3. Favorite informercial?
4. Jammies, undies, tshirt, nightie or nothing?
5. What celebrity would you sleep with in a heartbeat, even if you knew that a photographer from Us Weekly was poised outside your window to take a fuzzy photo of your naked butt?
6. Beer, wine or sangria?
7. Favorite refrigerator magnet?
8. Would you ever eat an unsugared grapefruit?
9. Most recent QVC purchase? If so, what? If not, why?
10. Favorite art supply?
11. SPF?
Enjoy. I'm not bothering to tag anyone but if you're up at this hour, hey, go to town. Feel free to post answers in the comments if you're blogless.
2. Favorite cheese?
3. Favorite informercial?
4. Jammies, undies, tshirt, nightie or nothing?
5. What celebrity would you sleep with in a heartbeat, even if you knew that a photographer from Us Weekly was poised outside your window to take a fuzzy photo of your naked butt?
6. Beer, wine or sangria?
7. Favorite refrigerator magnet?
8. Would you ever eat an unsugared grapefruit?
9. Most recent QVC purchase? If so, what? If not, why?
10. Favorite art supply?
11. SPF?
Enjoy. I'm not bothering to tag anyone but if you're up at this hour, hey, go to town. Feel free to post answers in the comments if you're blogless.
7/9/08
7/8/08
Hi, I have a boyfriend.
Did you know that?
I feel like I'm slowly emerging from the long-distance relationship closet, now that there may be a plan in place to make it not so.
I wonder if the people who may be vaguely intrigued by this will find it.
Nah.
He's tall, dark and goofy. I love him lots. He really exists, and owns lots of shoes. He likes my cooking and thinks I'm adorable. He is capable of cheering me up against my will. Turn-ons: leggy dames, video games, pastrami on rye (Sorry for the lack of a third rhyme.) Turn-offs: rare steak, polo shirts, lack of leg room. (Given up on rhymes). And more! He likes stuff I do (flea markets, otters, being goofy) and he likes stuff I'm not into (strategy games, comic cons, drawing). He has an unmistakably awesome laugh. He willingly accepts comedy foisted upon him. He likes giving random presents. He has the capacity to surprise me.
Anyway, that's him in a bloggy nutshell.
Hugs!
I feel like I'm slowly emerging from the long-distance relationship closet, now that there may be a plan in place to make it not so.
I wonder if the people who may be vaguely intrigued by this will find it.
Nah.
He's tall, dark and goofy. I love him lots. He really exists, and owns lots of shoes. He likes my cooking and thinks I'm adorable. He is capable of cheering me up against my will. Turn-ons: leggy dames, video games, pastrami on rye (Sorry for the lack of a third rhyme.) Turn-offs: rare steak, polo shirts, lack of leg room. (Given up on rhymes). And more! He likes stuff I do (flea markets, otters, being goofy) and he likes stuff I'm not into (strategy games, comic cons, drawing). He has an unmistakably awesome laugh. He willingly accepts comedy foisted upon him. He likes giving random presents. He has the capacity to surprise me.
Anyway, that's him in a bloggy nutshell.
Hugs!
7/7/08
bucket of truth
my stomach is sore
i am sipping lime snapple
i am still on crutches
i have actual work to do
i am out of cup o soup
i had two tiny bags of potato chips and one last cup o soup for lunch
my mom is in recovery room doing relatively swell
and...
i am wearing a baggy pink sweater over said boob-framing blouse.
meh.
i require more cup o soup. now.
i am sipping lime snapple
i am still on crutches
i have actual work to do
i am out of cup o soup
i had two tiny bags of potato chips and one last cup o soup for lunch
my mom is in recovery room doing relatively swell
and...
i am wearing a baggy pink sweater over said boob-framing blouse.
meh.
i require more cup o soup. now.
the bucket of barf list
my stomach is bleeding
i didn't sleep until 430 AM
i had weird dreams about getting remarried, then hanging out with the supreme court justices for lunch
i am on crutches today
my office is about 60 degrees
i have a raging headache but can't really take anything for it
i am running dangerously low on cup o soup
my mom is in the hospital awaiting major surgery
and...
my stupid brand-new blouse is bra-revealing.
feh.
i didn't sleep until 430 AM
i had weird dreams about getting remarried, then hanging out with the supreme court justices for lunch
i am on crutches today
my office is about 60 degrees
i have a raging headache but can't really take anything for it
i am running dangerously low on cup o soup
my mom is in the hospital awaiting major surgery
and...
my stupid brand-new blouse is bra-revealing.
feh.
7/2/08
I Want Delicious Eczema-Free Candy!
Sometimes the law of the land is adorable. And delicious!
What I'm reading right now:
Hildreth v. Mastoras, 257 U.S. 27 (1921), Chief Justice Taft (yes, Taft) writing for the Court.
What I'm reading right now:
Not all candy is pulled, but much of it is. The process is first the mixture of the ingredients, then the boiling, then the cooling on a slab, and then the pulling. After boiling and cooling, it is a compact mass of dark color. The pulling aerates it and makes it less in weight but larger in bulk, lighter in color and more capable of holding flavor. Until the beginning of this century, candy was pulled only by hand. It required much strength. Candy pullers were hard to get. The work was strenuous and produced perspiration and uncleanliness. It was done with the
bare hands, and it was impossible to avoid danger from eczema and abrasions of the skin of the hands. It was neither appetizing nor sanitary. A good candy puller pull 300 pounds of candy a day. The capacity of the large machines now in use is 2 1/2 tons each, and one man can attend to two machines. Thus since 1900, the art has advanced from a production of 300 pounds a day to 10,000 pounds, with the same labor.
Hildreth v. Mastoras, 257 U.S. 27 (1921), Chief Justice Taft (yes, Taft) writing for the Court.
6/26/08
Not nearly as delicious.
How many things are wrong with this lunch?
"Seafood Bisque" from the Food Merchants deli down the street.
Ok.
First of all, "Seafood." Not clam, or crab, or lobster. Should give one pause, right? But it appears pink and bisquey.
Second. The reason it's probably pink is because of the massive amounts of cayenne pepper. Not the stomach-soother I was hoping form.
Third. Octopus.
When consuming lunch from a Midtown deli, one should not be confronted with tentacles.
I love octopus, but only from trusted sources. Not a bottomless pinkish vat at the Food Merchant.
I don't feel so hot.
"Seafood Bisque" from the Food Merchants deli down the street.
Ok.
First of all, "Seafood." Not clam, or crab, or lobster. Should give one pause, right? But it appears pink and bisquey.
Second. The reason it's probably pink is because of the massive amounts of cayenne pepper. Not the stomach-soother I was hoping form.
Third. Octopus.
When consuming lunch from a Midtown deli, one should not be confronted with tentacles.
I love octopus, but only from trusted sources. Not a bottomless pinkish vat at the Food Merchant.
I don't feel so hot.
6/20/08
Delicious!
Thanks, Karla, for my going-away present from the old job!
Mine have pineapple flavor too!
Seriously, I like these better than chocolate.
6/18/08
I am working very hard.
But check this out - hacking coffee machines!
And the presence of this in my office makes me a wee bit giddy. (I put it up and several people have copied it. It's a particularly detailed one.)
Web Elements
Nerd.
And the presence of this in my office makes me a wee bit giddy. (I put it up and several people have copied it. It's a particularly detailed one.)
Web Elements
Nerd.
6/13/08
This "Next Food Network Star" finalist....
...is clearly a Romulan.
Look at the eyebrows. Look at the way hairdo hides her ears. It's obvious.
For this reason alone, I hope she wins.
6/12/08
This will have to hold you till I work up the steam to write more stuff.
SCORPIO [October 23–November 21] Danny Anderson was out feeding his horses in Prosser, Washington, when a rattlesnake slithered into the barn. Anderson took a shovel and decapitated it—but when he reached down to pick up the severed head a few minutes later, it came back to life just long enough to bite him. Luckily, Anderson was fine after a trip to the hospital to receive anti-venom treatment. The metaphorical moral of the story, Scorpio: When your brave efforts finally eliminate a threat, don't get overconfident or let your guard down until you're absolutely, positively sure that it's gone.
From Free Will Astrology.
5/21/08
5/19/08
5/18/08
What I learned at Family Court.
When boys fight, a great deal of it is about posturing and marking one's proverbial territory.
When girls fight, it's all about destruction.
Boys go for the body. Girls go for the face. Boys prefer fists. Girls prefer sharp objects. Boys will tangle. Girls will slash.
Why is this relevant, you may ask?
When girls fight, it's all about destruction.
Boys go for the body. Girls go for the face. Boys prefer fists. Girls prefer sharp objects. Boys will tangle. Girls will slash.
Why is this relevant, you may ask?
I am one telegenic fattte!
Joy! It's Fattie Day on Discovery Health! It's the 627 pound woman, the morbidly obese teenager, the fattest man, and plastic surgery galore! Watch the skin fly! I plan on tucking into a steaming plate of chicken enchiladas in front of the telly before the night is through. Yum-o!
5/14/08
I am one colossally bored and saline fattie.
Before I make another Cup O'Soup, before I read about construction liens, and before I wander off into thought about how pathetic my creative life is at the moment, I'm going to post pictures of Images From my Phone:
1. Empire State Building, the King Kong Ascendant Night View:
2. Adorable Nephew, or Highly Effective Mother's Day Decoy, Tompkins Square:
3. Pom juice handed out by girls dressed as pomegranates, if pomegranetes wore black tshirts and pants and lumpy magenta felt:
1. Empire State Building, the King Kong Ascendant Night View:
2. Adorable Nephew, or Highly Effective Mother's Day Decoy, Tompkins Square:
3. Pom juice handed out by girls dressed as pomegranates, if pomegranetes wore black tshirts and pants and lumpy magenta felt:
5/4/08
I am one broke-down fattie.
Whine, whine, whine. That's what sucking down horse-choking antibiotics and associated goodies will do to ya. My delicate constitution is revolting, as am I (as a result of my delicate constitution revolting-verb, making me revolting-adjective. Got that, grammar fans?) I am exhausted, thirsty and not as functional as I'd like to be (lots of highly necessary domestic tasks falling by the wayside as I 'lounge' on the sofa attempting to crochet a horse which looks like a pregnant fish.)
The only thing amusing me at the moment is flipping between Reality Shows of Thing I Would Not Like to Attempt, including Project Runway, America's Next Top Model, and my new besties at Cheerleader U.
These girls and boys are Very Serious about cheerleading. The only person on the show with a sense of humor is the slyly masochistic trainer who loves dunking the kiddies into a 50-degree cold pool post-practice. Her, I like. The rest are Very Serious Indeed.
I'm going to have a nice bowl of acceptable herbal tea (Yogi brand Chai, without the syrupy nastiness of 'chai lattes') with some soymilk (just sweet enough). Otherwise, avert your gaze from me at all costs, or you will turn into a pile of ick.
The only thing amusing me at the moment is flipping between Reality Shows of Thing I Would Not Like to Attempt, including Project Runway, America's Next Top Model, and my new besties at Cheerleader U.
These girls and boys are Very Serious about cheerleading. The only person on the show with a sense of humor is the slyly masochistic trainer who loves dunking the kiddies into a 50-degree cold pool post-practice. Her, I like. The rest are Very Serious Indeed.
I'm going to have a nice bowl of acceptable herbal tea (Yogi brand Chai, without the syrupy nastiness of 'chai lattes') with some soymilk (just sweet enough). Otherwise, avert your gaze from me at all costs, or you will turn into a pile of ick.
5/2/08
I am one veiny fattie!
Man, that sounds gross! But, a pattern is a pattern and it's not time to break it yet.
The point is, I went to get some blood drawn today, and the nurse told me my veins were 'great' as opposed to 'terrible.' Great meaning 'not buried under ten layers of flab.'
The point is, I went to get some blood drawn today, and the nurse told me my veins were 'great' as opposed to 'terrible.' Great meaning 'not buried under ten layers of flab.'
5/1/08
I am one sore fattie.
Two days in a row at the gym? Wow! Yes, I went yesterday - 20 minutes of sheer aerobic joy on the treadmill, just me and Mr Green Jeans 2.0 listening to my "HARSH" (depressing/angry) mix and watching snippets of ESPN on the TV and poorly captioned news feeds on CNN. I have to ask people I know who have captioned - isn't one supposed to know the basics of what's going on in the world as they transcribe? I know transcription's a bitch, but Michelle Obama is newsworthy enough for her name not to be spelled "My Shell Obama" in the captioning. And why the hell doesn't the gym screen their TV programs better? I don't want to watch "30 Minute Meals" while I'm trying to drain the starch from my body.
Whew, that was a five calorie rant at least.
Unfortunately, I couldn't dodge Mavis. I actually ran into her at the gym shop where I was looking for a pair of shorts (I'd managed to pack four upper-body garments and no lower-body garments into my sweaty silver gym bag.) I was despairing over the (expected, to be fair) lack of big gal clothes, and found a pair of men's XL shorts among the tiny tanks and hoodies. Mavis stuck her face next to mine (why does she do that? Her neck appears to telescope like a goose-neck iMac) and gravelly make no sense to me:
"Oh I left ya here last night! Good, yer shoppin." And then she was gone. It looks like she had a haircut this weekend; she had a shorter, straighter more straw-like blond coating on her head.
Mavis, please go away. Maybe I'll get the counterman to feed her some slightly toxic Gatorade Tiger (which according to him, tastes slightly toxic anyway).
Good news - the shorts looked dandy, I got sweaty, took a lovely shower and had a delightful evening at the theatre, listening to men talk about what pathetic athletes they were.
Whew, that was a five calorie rant at least.
Unfortunately, I couldn't dodge Mavis. I actually ran into her at the gym shop where I was looking for a pair of shorts (I'd managed to pack four upper-body garments and no lower-body garments into my sweaty silver gym bag.) I was despairing over the (expected, to be fair) lack of big gal clothes, and found a pair of men's XL shorts among the tiny tanks and hoodies. Mavis stuck her face next to mine (why does she do that? Her neck appears to telescope like a goose-neck iMac) and gravelly make no sense to me:
"Oh I left ya here last night! Good, yer shoppin." And then she was gone. It looks like she had a haircut this weekend; she had a shorter, straighter more straw-like blond coating on her head.
Mavis, please go away. Maybe I'll get the counterman to feed her some slightly toxic Gatorade Tiger (which according to him, tastes slightly toxic anyway).
Good news - the shorts looked dandy, I got sweaty, took a lovely shower and had a delightful evening at the theatre, listening to men talk about what pathetic athletes they were.
4/29/08
I am one thirsty fattie.
Just got back from the gym about an hour ago, with a raging dehydration induced headache. I'm quaffing the delightful "G2" from Gatorade, which got high marks from the Asian gentleman who staffs the snack bar at Equinox. Gotta love a gym with a snack bar. He gave the thumbs-down to the other new Gatorate product, "Tiger." I slugged some G2 right there and totally agreed that it was a tasty treat (and less sugary/overtly salty than Gatorade which makes me gag.) However, due to my delicate system, I cannot chug without repercussions and so I am sipping it but suffering the headache.
I'm sweaty too. But sweaty kind of feels nice. I noticed the tshirt I'm wearing - the Johns Hopkins one I bought at the last Reunion - is actually fairly baggy. And my boobs are tiny. (I have been obsessing over them as of late - keep in mind, dear readers, that 'tiny' means 'may be able to purchase a mass-market bra in a regular store....maybe.')
I was parking it on a bench at the gym (a gym with benches and a snack bar? what the eff?) and I was, unfortunately, assailed by an elderly (well, probably fairly close to my age) trainer that I'll call "Mavis" - partly because I don't remember her name, and partly because she's just such a Mavis. Every time I see her, she tries to chat me up and induce me to get a 'fitness analysis' with her (I already had the best trainer ever and I'm not inclined to sign up again). I have actively ducked her at times, but this time I was vulnerable.
"Howareya?" (She has a death-grip Long Island accent; usually I will regress to mine, but I just get snooty around old Mavis)
I told her I was checking out a yoga class (which was about five minutes from ending).
"ohyagoinin?"
No, Mavis. Now shoo!
"I don't know about yoga, vinata and whatever. But there's a class you'd like...." Blah blah blah "And there's men in there!"
I was rescued by a lovely young lady trainer who sent Mavis on an appointment and we chatted pleasantly for a bit.
Look, folks I understand the need for trainers to be salespeople, but I think I may be forced to rat old Mavis out. Not because she's old. Because she's effing annoying.
The gym is waaay crowded at 630. This is the only reason I'm glad my boss generally forces me to idle until 7ish.
Mmmm....hydration. I may limp over to the Key Food, although they probably don't have anything as highfalutin' as orange flavor G2.
I'm sweaty too. But sweaty kind of feels nice. I noticed the tshirt I'm wearing - the Johns Hopkins one I bought at the last Reunion - is actually fairly baggy. And my boobs are tiny. (I have been obsessing over them as of late - keep in mind, dear readers, that 'tiny' means 'may be able to purchase a mass-market bra in a regular store....maybe.')
I was parking it on a bench at the gym (a gym with benches and a snack bar? what the eff?) and I was, unfortunately, assailed by an elderly (well, probably fairly close to my age) trainer that I'll call "Mavis" - partly because I don't remember her name, and partly because she's just such a Mavis. Every time I see her, she tries to chat me up and induce me to get a 'fitness analysis' with her (I already had the best trainer ever and I'm not inclined to sign up again). I have actively ducked her at times, but this time I was vulnerable.
"Howareya?" (She has a death-grip Long Island accent; usually I will regress to mine, but I just get snooty around old Mavis)
I told her I was checking out a yoga class (which was about five minutes from ending).
"ohyagoinin?"
No, Mavis. Now shoo!
"I don't know about yoga, vinata and whatever. But there's a class you'd like...." Blah blah blah "And there's men in there!"
I was rescued by a lovely young lady trainer who sent Mavis on an appointment and we chatted pleasantly for a bit.
Look, folks I understand the need for trainers to be salespeople, but I think I may be forced to rat old Mavis out. Not because she's old. Because she's effing annoying.
The gym is waaay crowded at 630. This is the only reason I'm glad my boss generally forces me to idle until 7ish.
Mmmm....hydration. I may limp over to the Key Food, although they probably don't have anything as highfalutin' as orange flavor G2.
4/28/08
Unbibium! Unbibium!
Isn't this neat? One of those heavy, heavy metals you glance over on the periodic table actually exists in nature! And 'unbibium' is a super cool name.
Viva Unbibium! And thanks to Thorium for helping out!
And slashdot, as always, brightens my day.
Viva Unbibium! And thanks to Thorium for helping out!
And slashdot, as always, brightens my day.
4/26/08
lord have mercy....
Tomorrow is Orthodox Easter. Besides taking care of a million other things, I am baking a 'lamb cake' for my aunt. It's a 2 piece aluminum mold; you fill half, and it rises to meet the other half. An easter miracle, no doubt.
Except-
(1) when you use chocolate cake instead of vanilla
(2) when the mold is a wee bit too full and leaks.
Then, you end up with a lamb perched serenely next to a pile of steaming poo.
Happy Easter, everyone! And happy Passover too!
Follow up: Somehow, the ears detached from the head (one, anyway); the head detached from the body; and random chunks dislodged. That poo was darn useful in patching up!
Except-
(1) when you use chocolate cake instead of vanilla
(2) when the mold is a wee bit too full and leaks.
Then, you end up with a lamb perched serenely next to a pile of steaming poo.
Happy Easter, everyone! And happy Passover too!
Follow up: Somehow, the ears detached from the head (one, anyway); the head detached from the body; and random chunks dislodged. That poo was darn useful in patching up!
Out with the old....in with the newish
Thanks, Maddy, for Mr Green Jeans!
He's now happily loaded with aggro comedy, metal, chick tunes and cello sonatas. What fun!
He's now happily loaded with aggro comedy, metal, chick tunes and cello sonatas. What fun!
4/23/08
Hey nerdz!
Maybe this will inspire you to go back and get that advanced physics degree! Hmmm!
physics is phun. and phundamental!
physics is phun. and phundamental!
4/22/08
Pink is the new offense.
I can't walk five feet in Manhattan without being blinded by one of these:
And there are more, more, more of them in odious shades of pink than you can even imagine.
Last week in court I saw an elderly attorney of unknown foreign provenance flanked by two young blonde women in shocking pink trench coats. I couldn't stop staring. I know they are probably smart, competent legal professionals, but all I could think was "Pink Lady and Jeff."
Why, I ask, why??
And there are more, more, more of them in odious shades of pink than you can even imagine.
Last week in court I saw an elderly attorney of unknown foreign provenance flanked by two young blonde women in shocking pink trench coats. I couldn't stop staring. I know they are probably smart, competent legal professionals, but all I could think was "Pink Lady and Jeff."
Why, I ask, why??
4/18/08
Sadness abounds. Should it?
I lost my iPod last night. It was in its dirty black case with Dale's microphone plugged into it, on top of the piano. Something told me not to leave it on top of the piano, but we did for better sound recording. Which I'll never hear.
Yes, I know it's just an object. And I think 'lost' is the wrong word. 'left' is more applicable, but that makes me seem like more of a loser.
I know I'll never get it back and I'm sad.
I tried to use it as a reason not to go to the gym today but I decided in a fit of maturity that it wouldn't be a good excuse. Still it was sad to do leg presses without my aggro comedy workout mix. There was a profusion of old people in the gym this morning, and the sound track was clearly classic rock.
I am bummed. Oh well. I'll have to go to court next week without the joy of "Savage Love" pumping into my ears.
I feel stupid whining over an object. But it was mine. My mom got it for me before I had surgery a couple of years ago. It was a nice present.
I guess that makes it a bit more of a special object. But it's still a replaceable object, I guess. I really don't have the spare cash to kick around on a blatant luxury good that I rationalize as 'necessary' (to tape things, to motivate me and such) but it's just not a necessity.
Still and all, not happy.
Yes, I know it's just an object. And I think 'lost' is the wrong word. 'left' is more applicable, but that makes me seem like more of a loser.
I know I'll never get it back and I'm sad.
I tried to use it as a reason not to go to the gym today but I decided in a fit of maturity that it wouldn't be a good excuse. Still it was sad to do leg presses without my aggro comedy workout mix. There was a profusion of old people in the gym this morning, and the sound track was clearly classic rock.
I am bummed. Oh well. I'll have to go to court next week without the joy of "Savage Love" pumping into my ears.
I feel stupid whining over an object. But it was mine. My mom got it for me before I had surgery a couple of years ago. It was a nice present.
I guess that makes it a bit more of a special object. But it's still a replaceable object, I guess. I really don't have the spare cash to kick around on a blatant luxury good that I rationalize as 'necessary' (to tape things, to motivate me and such) but it's just not a necessity.
Still and all, not happy.
4/13/08
The way to a woman's heart.
"First of all Rat, you never let on how much you like a girl. 'Oh, Debbie. Hi.' Two, you always call the shots. 'Kiss me. You won't regret it.' Now three, act like wherever you are, that's the place to be. 'Isn't this great?' Four, when ordering food, you find out what she wants, then order for the both of you. It's a classy move. 'Now, the lady will have the linguini and white clam sauce, and a Coke with no ice.' And five, now this is the most important, Rat. When it comes down to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV."- Mike Damone
4/12/08
Work it.
In this scene a gentlemen of my acquaintance and I were discussing my body. He was caressing my shoulder and was duly impressed with my incipient toning. An overly analytical discussion followed; in that, he felt that his favorable impression was 90% due to the fact that I was becoming better, stronger and healthier, and 10% was due to the fact that deep down, he believed that somehow I was doing it for him, and that was incredibly sexy.
Oddly, we were both wearing red T-shirts. Really nice dark red T-shirts.
Apparently I'm having a series of short, intense dreams with handsome-man commentary (see "Tim Gunn" earlier).
Oddly, we were both wearing red T-shirts. Really nice dark red T-shirts.
Apparently I'm having a series of short, intense dreams with handsome-man commentary (see "Tim Gunn" earlier).
4/11/08
Just keep going!
Be afraid...I got my learner's permit today. I also ripped a thin strip of fabric from the bottom of my shirt to wear fetchingly around my neck.
4/9/08
A ridiculous conflict
ON THE ONE HAND....Old Navy, like too many retailers, has pulled their fat clothes from their stores, because apparently fat people and size 16 pants take up too much freaking room in their stores. Or, we'd rather shop while eating pounds and pounds of chocolate chicken pot pies. Or something. At any rate, it's online or nothing.
ON THE OTHER HAND...some of that stuff is cute and super cheap, which is what I require in clothing at this moment.
What's a semi-fattie to do?
ON THE OTHER HAND...some of that stuff is cute and super cheap, which is what I require in clothing at this moment.
What's a semi-fattie to do?
4/7/08
Mistress of the Obvious
"You seem a little depressed."
- my shrink
Good thing all that learnin' didn't go to waste.
- my shrink
Good thing all that learnin' didn't go to waste.
3/31/08
Make it wo-
I had an amazing dream the other night, where Tim Gunn was standing outside a suburban home with me, in the garage (the garage door was open and we were leaning against the hood of a car, drinking a soda). He was impeccably dressed, of course. We were having a serious, thoughtful discussion about how my personal skills aligned perfectly with that of a television producer, and how he thought I would be an excellent producer. When I asked him how I would go about that (did I need to be an assistant? go to school?), he started to answer...and then I woke up.
Tim - Call me! Or, I absolutely cannot make this work!
Tim - Call me! Or, I absolutely cannot make this work!
3/24/08
Late night haiku
The cool air feels crisp
on my face. I would like to
smoke a cigarette.
Full moon glows brightly,
thru my window as I slice
some Brie. I like Brie.
Grape Propel is nice.
Warm or cool it matters not.
Grape Propel is nice.
on my face. I would like to
smoke a cigarette.
Full moon glows brightly,
thru my window as I slice
some Brie. I like Brie.
Grape Propel is nice.
Warm or cool it matters not.
Grape Propel is nice.
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