Happy Bean

When I'm stressed and feeling crappy, I take very little pleasure in things. First to go is my sex drive followed by my desire to do quiet things I usually enjoy like write in my blog and read. What I prefer is loud, mindless things like movies and dancing. I tend to surround myself with people, but in a strangely artificial way in which I'm with them but not really there. Also, my shoulders get real tense so that even my nifty back massager machine isn't enough, but I can't ask anybody I know for a massage because it's weirdly sexual and, as you know, my sex drive if by then diminished so I don't want the pressure. (I don't know any girls.)

This weekend I saw The Ex in the theatres as well as The Incredibles, The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai in the 8th Dimension, and Grey Gardens through Netflix. And Sunday I spent about 7 billion hours listening to specific tracks in iTunes (loudly) to get good recommendations from my new Last.fm account (be my friend.)

But I'm getting myself out of it, which I have this ability to do. I'm doing good. My shoulders are still tense, but I'm a bunch happier and I finally finished the second half of Peter Pan last night. It's not like I can make problems float away by magic ("it's leviOsa, not leviosA"), but I find that turning my mood around is the best way to start approaching them to fix. Treat the symptoms, not the disease... bad in medicine, best in frustration management.

Anyway I'm back and I'm not going to be whiny anymore and my best coworker and I got a free pineapple from the cafeteria downstairs that they were just gonna throw away because it wasn't ripe yet and the manager is from a Scott Adams comic and would rather throw it out and waste it than wait for 2 days and use it. So we put it in two paper bags and it's hiding in my desk until Pineapple Wednesday when we will cut it up and make the library materials all sticky COME JOIN THE PARTY!!!!!

P.S. My belated review of Spiderman 3 is that it sucks and I'm mad I had to see it two times because I accidentally double-booked myself and couldn't cancel because both people had already booked tickets. It was funnier the second time because I knew it would suck and I acted obnoxious and the girl two seats down from me was all "Kirsten Dunst looks like shit in this scene" and we became best friends.

10-4 30w

So last week I was walking into work and they were having one of their security meetings where all the guards stand around in the hallway and get their assignments for the upcoming week or something. Anyway, they're all anal about us wearing these stupid ID cards for some reason because I guess that makes the library a safer place even though we all know each other's faces anyway.

Anyway, I always have my ID in my hand (there's usually nowhere to clip it because I don't wear fancy shirts with pockets and ties) but fine. I was wearing a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt that day because I am a shlub and I was walking with my ID in my hand and the head of security eyes it as I'm casually placing my hands in my shirt pockets in order to look more emo.

I saw him see it, but he stopped me and said "Where's your ID?" in this rude, condescending tone. "Oy, here we go," I think, so I removed my hands from my pocket and said "It's right here" all innocent-like. He goes: "You're supposed to wear it on the outside" with that same asshole tone like I'm 10 years old and he's fucking Sir High Officer Muckety-Muck in charge of saving the world from a nuclear holocaust. But I keep my cool and say "I know, I will as soon as I get upstairs and take my sweatshirt off." It was a lie, but it was totally logical because why would I wear that ugly hoodie all day?

Yeah, but he's all "You should be wearing it when you walk in the building" (the rude tone continued) so I had had enough and figured if he's gonna treat me like a miscreant teenager, I'll act like one so I said "Ooookaaaay," like a crabby 15-year-old and then I put the ID back in my pocket and walked away.

It was such crap, nobody ever wears their ID and he never gives them shit but suddenly because he's standing in front of his loyal toadies he has to embarass me for the sake fo some pissing power trip? As if.

Anyway I felt like I won even though I didn't because it required me acting like an immature brat, but part of me felt liberated.

Then a few days later I saw him in the cafe downstairs and I know the girl behind the counter, and he's the type of guy who thinks he's friends with everyone so we were both talking to her and he introduced himself to me as if I didn't hate him. Fine.

But today he made it all better because we were in the cafe again and he was talking to the girl. I wasn't listening because I was putting milk in my tea, but suddenly he turned around, pointed to me, and said "If only we could all be skinny and good-looking like this guy here." Then he asked me "What are you, 19?" So then he was my best friend and I smiled and said "I'm 24."

So I forgive him now because a) he complimented me, but also b)cause I realized the reason he was treating me like a kid that day was because he thought I WAS a kid, so it made sense even though being a dick to a teenager is just as rude as being a dick to me.

But mostly I forgave him because I'm shallow and he drew everyone's attention to my waist, which is one of my favorite parts.

I'm youth, I'm joy...

Everything in my life is making me really tired right now, so I'm escaping. I'm planning a short trip to a secret somewhere, and instead of doing important things like laundry and dishes, last night I read the first half of this edition of Peter Pan, and it's already become my favorite book in all of literary history.

Pardon the imagery here, but about 20 pages in, I already felt like I was lying in the arms of a charming British man as he told me this lovely fairy story to make all my problems go away. Right, and we were naked, but whatever.

What I'm getting at is there's this comforting, genuine quality to J.M. Barrie's style that makes it feel like I'm hearing this story from a close friend instead of just some dude who wrote a book. It reminded me of, and hear me out here, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

This has nothing to do with C.S. Lewis' writing style. I didn't read that book. It was read to me by somebody I was dating about whom I care very much. (Note present tense.) I remember those nights so fondly. Being read to is probably one of the more intimate things I've ever done with anyone. I'd have my head on his chest as he did this deep Aslan, and holy God, he has this soft, creepy voice for the Ice Queen that turned me on so much I can't even handle it. (I swear, if you ever get the chance, date an actor and make him read to you, but make sure he's a guy.)

Anyway, the relationship didn't work out because I have emotional problems, so in the current absence of a talented Prince Charming (or, preferably, a Dread Pirate Roberts), Peter Pan has come the closest to simulating this lovely experience. You should all stop what you're doing and read it immediately, but make sure you have a blanket. It's also nice to let your cat sit on you.

So, I've decided to do a Peter Pan bookfest. After this, I'm reading Peter Pan in Scarlet, some authorized sequel that they got this chick to write for some reason. I dunno why, whatever. And then I'm reading Peter and the Starcatchers and Peter and the Shadow Thieves by Dave Barry, and they had better be good because I'm putting a lot of stuff on hold for this. Then I'm watching Finding Neverland because Johnny Depp is hot.

Perfect

I just caught my cat batting around a dead cockroach, and now I want to die.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Nothing in the world is grosser than crusty, dried-out rubber bands. They almost make me not want to be a librarian anymore, not that I need a lot of help in that department these days.

Morale is low here in the trenches. We lost two of our men this weekend, and nobody's sure who will be next. We sit in fear over our keyboards, shifty eyes peering left and right always expecting more managerial treachery to leap from the shrubbery. Twitching at every innocent sound, we pray to someday be free from our post to return to the happy life we once knew, the life our fallen comrades will never remember.

Ok, enough. Friday we were called into a meeting. Apparently management (all 4 or 5 layers of it) has tried everything it can to cut corners and adjust next year's budget to work with our ever diminishing funds. So, layoffs. Fine. Layoffs happen; it's the unfortunate side-effect of working in this industry. They told us at the meeting that technical services was to lose a certain number of people, and two of them were from monograph cataloging. (That's my division.) They apologized, tried to justify it, and answered questions, one of which was "If you've cut all the corners you could, what happens next year when the budget is cut again? Won't there be more layoffs?" The answer to that was in Non-Committal Managerese, but it translates to English as "Nice knowin' ya!"

Then they sent is back to our offices. "Hey, you might be fired in a couple hours! Ok, back to work! Have fun! Chop chop!" Clearly we were not going to get any work done because we had to form a circle and start bitching.

Now, I like my boss. I like his boss. I like her boss. But this has to be on the list of Top 10 Ways NOT To Handle Lay-Offs. I'm not sure who planned it. Nobody would tell us who was being let go, and they all knew. Nobody's happy right now.

I'm not supposed to bitch about work on here because I signed some sort of bullshit privacy thing that said I wouldn't. But before this happened, we already felt like were being dicked around by outside forces, outside forces being a term which here means "by people who are not my boss or his boss or her boss." The division's been shrinking for years, nobody communicates with anybody, we're given conflicting information about how to conduct ourselves here, and people are making decisions that affect our jobs without consulting us catalogers when we're the ones in the thick of it. Maybe my boss or his boss or her boss are a part of the trouble, but I get the impression that we're all in the same boat here and that the bullshit is trickling down from a higher level.

And now this. At it's early stages, low morale leads to minor water-cooler grumbling. As it increases, productivity is affected. After Friday, we've officially passed that to the point where low morale is bound to lead to massive disloyalty. Why stick around here when my job could be gone in a year? I'm not moving up since there's no career ladder to climb. I'm not learning anything since I've been relegated to do copy cataloging of backlog for the past two months, a phrase which here means "a tedious, repetitive, non-morale-boosting task usually performed by paraprofessionals and sometimes students." The pay is barely enough to keep me in clean socks and a Spartan living space. We'll continue to be dicked around, a phrase which here means "treated unkindly and humiliated, as though hit in the face with a dick." So what exactly is the draw?

If they see this entry, I'll probably get fired or something. Today my answer is "Feh!" While unemployment is not the most appealing state of being, I can't seem to let rest the fact that when I found out I was not laid off, a part of me was honestly disappointed. After all, to the well-organized mind, a lay-off is but the next great adventure.

Click clack snip snap

Hooray, it's up! To the right is me, as presented by Bill Wadman, the super-cool, super-nice photographer I met with yesterday.

It's part of his 365 Portraits project, and you are all required to go to the site and leave him a comment praising his talent and my attractiveness because I don't want to be the only picture that doesn't get any attention.

Oh, right, I dyed my hair red, that's not been altered. If you want to comment specifically on that, do it here. I don't think he cares. Other features of this picture include my suntan (an upgrade from Casper to Rose McGowan), the way my new hair makes it look like I'm always wearing eyeliner, and the blue scaffolding screens the mayor hung special to bring out my eyes, which are actually blue-green so he has failed me.

Anyway, so check it out. I like a lot of his portraits because they're bright and contrasty and make my eyes dance, so look around the rest of the site. April 15th is my new secret lover. In April 26th, you will find a picture of my cat. February 21st is my favorite one of all. And March 12th is what I think of you.

Just Shoot Me

Today I sat for my first real live photo shoot because I am a glamorous movie star.

Not really. I dunno if you remember back a few months ago, but I mentioned about being a part of this guy's portrait project. I can't find the entry. Anyway, it got all postponed, but we finally did it today. I felt like such the celebrity, we were outside the library and he had a big silver thing that shined the sun in my face. I know people were watching me and totally jealous, I just know it.

At one point this one black guy came up and interrupted us as if he couldn't see the giant silver thing and the fact that I'm a VIP, it was weird. Anyway, I thought he was going to ask us to give money to the Democrats or hand us a copy of the Watchtower, but we sent him away and later as I was leaving and the photographer was gone, I passed him again and he wasn't selling anything and he made this dirty comment to me because I'm a sexy model. It was gross.

The photographer is a really nice guy and he was talking to me as he did the thing because I was uptight (because the psychologist stranger told me I'm not comfortable and don't know my self, remember?) and I liked him a lot. He was telling me how he's become friends with some of the other people he's shot for the project and I was like OMG HOW DO I GET HIM TO BE MY FRIEND IF HE'S NOT MY FRIEND I AM A SOCIAL FAILURE!!!! But it didn't work, we're not best friends even though I told him I like his hair. I don't have any friends, maybe I should learn to make more facial expressions.

Anyway he took about 80 billion pictures and one will be his favorite and the one he uses and he'll also e-mail me a bunch of the better ones and I will plaster them all over the internet for all to see, especially Myspace. I'll also link to the website tonight once I'm up on it.

He wants to maybe one day make it into a gallery showing or a book, so I'll be even famouser if that happens and maybe get invited to fabulous party, but for now it's back to being a humble librarian. But anyway, I'm signing autographs so if you want a brush with fame just let me know and I'll leave a comment your blog to show everyone.

Two Drink Maximum

Ok I'm doing a project this month. It is May, ok, and May is the month of birth and renewal or something lame like that. I dunno. The point is, I'm sick of feeling yucky on Sundays. I want all my Sundays to be ones where I wake up early and do stuff outside all day. Not sleep in, nurse my dehydration, watch TV until 4:00 and then shower and order in dinner. And I'm also sick of accidentally going home with people I normally wouldn't look twice at and then having to find my way back from Astoria with greasy hair, red eyes, and sore muscles. (That was a while ago, but similar things have happened in more recent history. I'm just lucky they didn't involve Queens.)

So May is the beginning of a new project. It's called "Two Drink Maximum" and how to play is until June 1st, you limit yourself to 2 drinks during any 12-hour period. It's 12 hours and not 24 so that a mimosa or two (not three) during Saturday brunch doesn't interfere with bar night.

I'm excited for it. Well. Maybe not. But I'm excited about saving a bit of money and a bit of embarassment and perhaps avoiding a vicious case of some hideous disease, perhaps syphillis. I'll probably be stand-offish until June since according to a certain psychologist I met last weekend, I come off that way because I'm uncomfortable with who I am, and once I get to know myself, I won't be so afraid to be that person. (Let me just say, he's really lucky he was hot.)

So anyway, let's hear it for all the moral support I'm going to get this month! You may now leave a comment to provide words of encouragement, success stories, praise for my restraint, and recipes for especially potent alcoholic drinks.

Celebrity Hard-On: April 2007

Oops I almost forgot to do this but I remembered today because of last night. This was supposed to be a monthly thing starting in February, but I forgot to do March and am now doing April at the last possible second. Whatever, read someone else's blog if you want consistent regular features. Yesterday I felt gross and had only a broken cell phone, so I stayed home by myself and watched Robin Hood: Men in Tights and The Princess Bride. What these two movies have in common is that they both star this month's Celebrity Hard-On, Cary Elwes.

You may be thinking "WTF gross," so let me explain now that like last time, this month's featured celebrity is here based on his appearance in the past. I hesitate to call it faded beauty because that's mean and girly and he's aged fairly well for the most part. Now he looks like a really good father. But what I want to point out here is that Cary Elwes in The Princess Bride is the sexiest man ever to live.

I was originally going to honor Errol Flynn with this entry, but I changed my mind. It was a narrow margin, and I like the two for the same reason, but Errol Flynn's little mustache bothered me a bit too much, and I prefer Cary Elwes' cheekbones and still-aliveness. But to be true, either would do.

When I grow up, I'm going to marry a swashbuckler. He's going to swordfight to win my hand and be all suave and morally ambiguous and he'll wear masks and always be faithful and love me only. And he'll be blonde. And can be a pirate named Captain Jack or Roberts or a rogue with a girly name or whatever, it doesn't matter as long as he wears a lace-up shirt because there's nothing hotter than a man in a lace-up shirt that gets all loose and open, revealing his glistening pectorals because he's been fighting for my honor.

To the right up above is a picture of Cary from the beginning of Princess Bride, one of the few scenes in cinematic history that makes me cry every time. He's so beautiful. I pretend he's talking to me. To the left is a picture of him waiting for me in bed wearing the shirt I mentioned before. He's only wearing the little mustache as a joke, it will peel off as soon as I climb in with him.

This picture is from when he was building our dream house. He's looking up from the blueprints because I just told him to grab his sword and put on his Zorro mask so we can play "Damsel in Distress," a game in which he saves me from the invading brigand horde and whisks me away to the unfinished bedroom where there are a lot of candles lit and we can have sex by them. I don't mind playing the damsel because I'm secure in my masculinity.

Daemon Possession

I meant to post this yesterday but ok. If any of you are fans of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, you know what a daemon is. If you're not a fan, get thee to a library. Best books ever.

Anyway, in the simplest possible explanation, a person's daemon represents their soul in animal form or something Pagan/Lisa Frank like that. I'm not usually into this "I was a dolphin in a past life" crap, but I am into pretending I live in fantasy worlds (I'm a Ravenclaw and my X-Power is telekinesis) so I did this. According to the movie website, my daemon is Androne, some ferrety-lookin' white rodent thing.

Fine, an ermine, whatever.

I'm not sure how it derived those adjectives from my answers to it's questions, but the white rat is pretty, so I'm accepting it. But the cutest part about this is for the next 12 days (well, 11 now, I did this yesterday) you guys (yes, you) can decide whether it's accurate and if you disagree, the daemon will change shape. At the end of 11 days, it'll settle into it's form. It's a fun variation on the silly online quiz phenomenon that's swept through Livejournal for six years, so indulge me this one and accept my promise that I'll never do it again.

Kiss of the Spider Man

Ok, ignore the fact that Library Journal is one of my main sources of entertainment news and check out this little blurb about Spiderman, the musical. (Marvel site)

One the one hand, Spiderman is my hero and Julie Taymor knows her shit. And if Legally Blonde can do it...

On the other hand, I feel like the superhero genre is not one that will lend itself to a musical theatre adaptation without coming off as some horrible mockery. I mean, think about it. The list of musical numbers... "Action is My Reward", "Pow! Thwack! Zowie!", "My Spider Sense Is Tingling", "Ouch, That Fucking Bug Just Bit Me!" Hmmm, actually.... ok I've changed my mind. Spiderman the musical is going to be AWESOME! I'm suddenly thinking I'd be a more desirable songwriter than Bono and The Edge, but I also hate U2 and that counts as a bias. Whatever, provided they manage to provide something less mediocre than their regular fare and it can sustain a 2+ hour musical, I'd say Broadway's ready for some springy, high-flying fun!

Things that make you go Hugh

We have this virus. It has apparently been crippling our entire organization, but it just got me today. I'm getting creepy messages about server problems and illegal operations and sometimes when I click to close the boxes, the computer screams like I'm murdering its children while it watches. I spent an hour doing a really difficult record for this Polish book about some Polish guy from Poland and then the thing crashed and I lost it all. Totally lame. Notepad is the only application not being a bitch to me right now, so clearly it is time to update my blog. With copy and paste, I only need 10 seconds of internet time to put it up, so hopefully fate will smile.

Anyway now I'm going to tell you about how I'm the master of charisma. Last night my friend set up this gathering to recruit volunteers for a PFLAG fundraiser. It was this little happy hour at O.W. (Oscar Wilde) and everyone got a free drink. Also, somebody dropped their free drink ticket so I got two.

Hmmm... it would seem the NTVDM CPU has encountered an illegal instruction. I get to choose between Close and Ignore... It's probably a virus program so I should close it. On the other hand, if I ignore it, it could cause problems and the more problems my computer has the less I have to work. Please don't scream.

Anyway, where I was?

Right, so fine, and I'm talking so this cool guy with a cool name when this man passes us by and I go "Wow he looks JUST LIKE Hugh Jackman!" because he did. Nobody agreed with me, but I was not to be deterred. The next time the guy passed I grabbed him and said "You know, you look JUST LIKE Hugh Jackman!" and he was so flattered by my charisma I bet he fainted on the inside. And then, super wow, turns out he owns the bar. So I got free drinks for all my friends (read: all the people standing near me who I decided to include.)

Then we all came together and were talking and the Hugh Jackman regaled us with tales of his political activism (his real job is something important, not just owning a bar) and we all had a grand old time. Now me and Wolverine are best friends forever and he gave me his card and then he asked for my card and I said "You're kidding, right? I make six dollars a year and you want a business card?" and everyone laughed and then he gave us another free round of drinks.

Nobody is as socially connected as I. You wanna hang out tonight? Oh wait I can't I'm having tea with the Queen and then going dancing with Paris Hilton but text me we'll totally do, k thx.

P.S. I'm pretty sure the real Hugh Jackman can have sex with me whenever he wants.

Oooh, what if Carol played Alice???

Ok I have a surprise for you all but I can't give it to you until I find the cord that connects my camera to my computer. I remember coming across it a million times in recent months, but now that I need it there's no way to find it.

Anyway yesterday I watched Alice in Wonderland on DVD despite Netflix insisting it would be a "Long wait". It stars Natalie Gregory, the worst child actress ever, and Carol Channing at her best.

This was a two-part TV special in the 80's, the first part based on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and the second on Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There, both were an hour and a half long. We taped them, and I was obsessed with them. I watched them over and over and over until my dad taped over them and I swore I'd never be happy again. But now some freak decided to release them on DVD even though they're terrible and have no value beyond nostalgia, but I don't care I'm so excited! I Netflixed them in case they sucked all these years later, but they don't so I'm buying them.

They completely massacre the books even though lots of dialogue is directly imported, but if you're going to get all upset about that, spare us all your complaining and don't watch this. It's terribly written (though the teleplay is by Pigman author Paul Zindel), Alice is awful, and it has these revolting little songs that have nothing to do with anything. Tweedledee and Tweedledum, played by husband and wife duo Eydie Gormé and Steve Lawrence, sing about shaking hands, the Mad Hatter sings about the virtues of laughter, and more perplexing of all, the red and white queen, in the middle of a conversation about how cool it is to be a queen, bust out in a little song about math. The math song rocks, by the way: "Do you know addition, what is one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and two?" That's Carol Channing. (I know the line comes from the book, but the song itself still has no context.)

Speaking of Carol Channing, even when I was 10 she was my favorite part of this production. It's the only thing I've ever seen her in, and its influence was enough to make her my personal hero. I've dreamt of her, I smile at her name... she represents to many wonderful things to me, and it's only her role as the White Queen that I have to go by. Anyway, she's fab and has crazy hair and flaps her arms around singing "Jam tomorrow, jam yesterday, but never ever jam today" and I just have to get up and dance. She's perfect. Every word, every gesture. I would rewind and watch her scenes over and over to the point where little white lines would appear because the tape was getting damaged. From the website I linked above:

When Carol Channing asked whether Allen thought she should develop an English accent for her role as the White Queen, the producer wailed, "I don't want any accent. I brought Carol Channing to do Carol Channing..."

Yes. She did Carol Channing.

Oh and wait until you see the special effects, they're fantastic, especially the part where she cuts the cake and PING it's back in one piece again.

The most amazing result of my obsession with this film was that when I finally read Lewis Carroll's books for the first time and every time since, I cannot read the poems "Old Father William" and "The Walrus and the Carpenter" without singing them like they do. It's awesome. Sammy Davis Jr. does the best "Old Father William", his most brilliant performance ever. I know I said the songs sucked but also, they're awesome.

Anyway, none of you will like this unless you've seen it as a kid, in which case I don't have to tell you how amazing it is. But now you all know it's available so go buy it immediately ok bye.

Sunday and the Ramayana

Sunday lovely Sunday. This is what every weekend should be like. Brunch at a French place, a documentary and MoMA, and nice walk in the park. Best Sunday ever, and pretty much what I plan on every Sunday being like from now until October.

I went to bed at 11:30, woke up refreshed, and got to work at record earliness today, which means I get to leave early and be in the sun some more! Between 4:30 and my hair appointment, I hope to finish this book that I've been reading for a THOUSAND YEARS! It's this for this and there's like a billion words in it, and I made the mistake of making it a subway read, meaning I only read it in 10 minute spurts on the subway so it never ends. Previous subway reads have been short things, I don't know what's wrong with me.

Anyway, yesterday I was reading it and it felt real appropriate because the story was ending (but the book has like a 70 page denoument) and spring was coming and everyone was cheerful and happy with the monkeys and the animals. So I guess it's timed well with the arrival of true springtime.

It's really a beautiful story. I thought it would be tedious and horrible like reading the Bible, but this prose rendition is really appealing. There are lovely episodes all throughout, and the good people feel like really good people. The virtue and honor and honesty portrayed in this story had a purity to them that's really unique. This is a world where everyone helps everyone and gives without getting and strives towards a happier community. I don't know anything about Hinduism or the culture in which this mythology was created, so all I can say about the Ramayana is how it affected my Western, non-religiously-affiliated mind.

All the virtue depicted in this story, all the reasons people gave of themselves and helped others, was due to this universal respect that everyone (everyone not evil) shared. It's an affect that is really inspiring, perhaps because it is woefully absent from our own reality. The bad (evil) characters in the story were considered such because they were selfish and lacking in respect for the lives of others. It wasn't about wishing ill on anyone, it was about taking without consideration.

Another major theme in this story was forgiveness, and the act of granting it when it is needed. Misdeeds, fault, and blame aren't absent from the story, but when a character has acted inappropriately and genuinely asks forgiveness, it is always given. Always. There are no grudges or endless bitternesses. Our silly notion that forgiveness has to be deserved or earned isn't even a passing thought in these characters' minds. I think there's a lot we can take from their example.

Maybe the reason the characters in this mythology were so positive and giving was because -- and maybe I'm imagining this -- they all seemed acutely aware that they were part of this huge story. It's really hard to explain what I mean, but it seemed like they knew their lives were epic. At many points in this book, the characters would sit and relate past stories about other characters, and as the book went on, they'd be telling stories about things that happened earlier on in their own timeline. And they would tell these things in the same fashion as the main tale itself. It was stories being built on stories with every character being part of countless histories all interwoven and stretching back thousands of years. With an awareness of this huge epic that involves yourself and every person around you, I believe it would be difficult to be hateful or self-serving. Stories are one of the most powerful things that keep communities and cultures cohesive. We're all aware of our own, but I think we often forget that we're a part of each other's. What this book represented to me was the power of what could happen if we all worked towards forming a huge communal epic where everyone's actions are a part of the story and everyone, no matter who, can be a hero.

Hmm... that got a little sappy and heavy-handed.... sorry.

Frustration

Ok, I know this is 20 minutes long and EXTREMELY dorky, but this guy made me laugh a billion times.

Anyone know where he found this?

Just to see

I can't believe what a freak I am, but I just made my first Craigslist posting.

Missed opportunity yes, but also an opportunity to vent a little. In case the link is outdated, I'll just lay it out. The headline reads "G Lounge, you're the nicely-shaped lyric tenor" and the rest of it is:

Right. And I'm the tall cute librarian you shouldn't have walked away from. Charming convo, soft lips, please tell me you just got lost. You can't even begin to imagine the freak who tried to replace you. If you're interested, so am I. If you ditched me, I'll kick your ass.

Appealing or not, that's what it says. I think it suits me.

And so, I join the ranks. Just felt like a good first time.

Ok ok new game

Me: Do you wanna play Pharmacy Phriday with me?
Well I already played...
But I can teach you, it's fun.
I just made it up.

Robb: sure
lets do

Me: Ok, it's easy.
You think of a disease and then look it up online to make sure you don't have it.
I did dyspepsia.
And then when you don't have it, you celebrate.

Robb: but...
what if you do?

Me: Then you get to whine for the next bunch of days about your horrible disease and everyone will feel sorry for you.
Win/win really.

Robb: hmmm
sounds like fun

Me: I almost lost, I didn't know what dyspepsia was, but it's a stomach thing and I've had heartburn three times this week, which is more than I've ever had in my life.

Robb: hmm
it's more fun when you do it with mental disorders.

Me: You just told me I'm crazy, there's too much chance I'd actually diagnose something.

Robb: thats what makes it fun

Me: If you don't play right, I don't want to play with you.

Robb: you want to play with me.

Me: You have Double Entendre Disorder, or DED, and it means you make straightforward double entendres that people don't run with.

Tideland

Oh, I forgot to tell you I watched a movie last night called Tideland that was pretty messed up. I don't know if I liked it. I kept finding myself doing other things like checking my e-mail and chatting online and playing Kick the Cat but then I'd get really interested again and engross myself in the movie. So I dunno. It got horrible reviews, most everyone on Rotten Tomatoes hated it, but I know I didn't hate it because I'm not mad and if I did, this review would be a lot funnier. Lots of it was gorgeous and charming and fun and unsettling (in the good way.) Other parts were boring, overdone, and didn't brush their teeth.

Basically it's about a little girl whose parents are junkies, and she's all disconnected and oh-so-innocent and lives in a fantasy world that she shares with some creepy Barbie heads she puts on her fingers and makes talk. The Barbie heads are all decrepit, it reminded me of Barbie Beauty Shop. Then her mom dies and she doesn't really seem to get it, but her crazy dad takes her to grandma's old farmhouse in the wheat field (Tideland). Grandma's long gone, but they set up and he shoots up again and dies and the girl can't understand why he won't come back from his vacation. She thinks he smells because he farts. Hyperactive imagination or not, this girl is supremely stupid.

Anyway, she meets these people, first Crazy Taxidermist Lady who has been preserving her mother for years (super-gross) and preserves the girl's dad too so they can be a family forever. It's not a terribly original plot element, but it freaks me out every time so I like it. She also meets a Retarded (differently-abled, whatever) Boy, who's super fun, and they pretend to fall in love. It's cute. My favorite part was when she dressed him in fabulous grandma clothes and a wig.

It's all in the spirit of Alice in Wonderland, which the director insisted on reminding us of every two seconds, which wasn't necessary. The heavy-handed rabbit hole stuff and CTL quoting the Mad Hatter was over the top, the more subtle stuff would have come through without it.

Ok I guess I like this movie even though two hours was not necessary. You should all go rent it if you like crazy weird stuff and watching a kid use her imagination for a long time (lots of those parts work real well, but they made me feel like I had no childhood because I never did stuff like that, I just played video games.)

Make sure you're not eating anything crunchy during the scene where the girl and CTL are fighting in the bedroom because you'll want to yak.

My muscular what?

I touched this guy's butt in the subway 4 times this morning, it was so embarassing. The train wasn't even crowded but I kept managing to firmly brush or press on his ass over and over again. It was a nice one and I was only person on the train who knew because he was wearing baggy jeans, so I was kinda proud, and the result was that during this boring meeting for over an hour this morning all I could think about was this guy's butt. I hope he's not mad at me, it was an accident.

Also, this has given me a fair bit of motivation. People touch my butt all the time! SoI mean, it's one thing to say "I'll go to the gym, I'll go to the gym" but sometimes you really FEEL it, FEEL the need no the DESIRE the LONGING to so something so bad it hurts. So the squats start today and by the end of the summer I will have the most muscular buttocks in all of Christendom.

Pics to follow.

A More Perfect Union

I know I promised a thrilling entry about literature and old people. I also was going to tell you about the most beautiful man on earth and how we're going to be passionate lovers for all eternity. But I'm forced to push these breaking stories aside to make room for another issue.

I'm sure you've all heard, but there's been another school shooting. Hmmm, must be Monday. Is anyone else getting tired of this song?

So here we go. One side'll be all "Gun control is the answer!" and the other is all "Guns don't kill people, people kill people" and I'm on both sides, firmly believing that killing requires a combination of guns AND people, meanwhile everyone argues, nothing gets done, we continue our tradition of avoiding problems, and then another 31 people die because some nutcase got a C on their geology final. It's like our fucking national pasttime.

I'm all about gun control, pretty much believing the things are useless and cause only grief, but people focus far too intently on that forgetting that every mass murderer out there would be psychotic whether they have a gun in their hand or not.

I could go on and on about this, but I don't want to, so I'm going to get right the point and be done. We, as a national community, do not take care of each other. Everything is politics and debate and right/left, right/wrong, "I believe, I am, I deserve, do for me, look at me". We're conceited, self-important, and completely selfish.

Yeah, I know, not you. Not your friends. Not me either, right? Maybe. I dunno. I'm not talking about us or you or those guys or that group, I'm talking about We the People.

We've all heard that stupid phrase "If you don't look out for yourself, nobody will." It's the worst thing anyone has ever said. First we have to stop believing it and then we have to make it untrue. Screw the law, screw gun control. Legislation and politics can are not the answer to this problem. Wake up, look around, get over yourself, and fix something. I'm so tired of this. Pay attention to other people. Not just your friends or your family, everyone. If we could all leave the world a little more beautiful (this word was difficult to choose, I'm using it to mean a lot of things) than it was before we got here, I promise this stuff would not happen so often.

Nothing I've said here is remotely original. So why do people have to keep saying it?

Vampire Hunter Dieter

I got a new barcode scanner today, it's super neat. My boss told me to plug it in where the other one was plugged in, but when I opened it I was all "Yeah, as if, I can't plug a USB cable into a 9-pin port" but I was total tech-savvy young person and installed mine and the one for the other music cataloger with no problem.

Part of the stand to the thing looked like a cross between the head of one of those Star Wars droids (right) and a Lego antelope skull (not pictured) so I bent it funny, made mondo paper clip antlers, gave it eyeballs, and named it Dieter after the sound it makes when you turn the scanner on. Everyone in the office loved Dieter, but I had to dismantle him to assemble my fancy new scanner stand. I still don't use the scanner because I like to type on the keypad, but don't tell anyone. It's probably my favorite part of my job.

Also, I watched Vampire Hunter D. I did it to add some spice to my Vampire Moviefest, but it turns out I hate anime. While it was fun to learn the Japanese word for vampire (banpaia), this movie sucked. Everyone was one-dimensional and the fight scenes were so dumb. I didn't realize Pokemon was just doing genre shit because it turns out all anime battles are just like Pokemon. These guys would leap high into the air, which turns into psycho color time. Then they say something lame ("Let's see if you can handle this!") and then they vogue and glide towards each other and one of them ends up hurt, but you don't know who until they say "Ah! You hurt me!"

Then they tried to be all emo and shit, and you know how I feel about that. Luckily, everyone died in the end except the good guys, surprise, and Vampire Hunter D rode into the sunset or something, I don't really know I turned it off before the credits came on, that's how much I couldn't stand it.

So I hate anime except Hayao Miyazake, and I know that's such an ignorant American thing to say but if you had to sit through this shitty movie, you'd understand.

In my next blog entry I'm going to talk about the book I just finished and probably pay tribute to fogey Internet trolls stay tuned.

I am on the cutting edge of art because I stole the office scissors

Today at work I made art. I drew a picture on a post-it of an angry wuzzle (like a fuzzball or soot sprite, but with arms, legs, and antennae, this was a common doodle of mine back in school). He is angry because morale is low, so he has mean eyebrows and also I took a staple and bent it all funny and poked it through the paper where his hand is, so it looks like he's carrying a little crowbar. "KILL THE BEAST!" And then I got scissors and made a set of eyes with eyebrows to tape on my staple remover so it looks like an evil piranha demon, it's so awesome. I'm gonna go to the supply cabinet in a minute to see if there's a red sharpie so I can put blood on his teeth. I can't wait to find some staples to remove!

I also got a lot of cataloging done too, so don't go running off to tell the Powers That Be (sometimes known as the Powers That We Wish Weren't) about my laziness because I'm allowed a 20 minute break like everyone else, and this took me way less time.

Anyway, after work I'm gonna search for my camera battery charger so hopefully I'll be able to take pictures of my art for tomorrow. They're for sale. If you want one, it's $300. I think this is going to be my new project, I'm going to make adorable angry things out of office supplies and display them all over my desk.

Ok, so there's no red sharpie in the cabinet, but I found the thumbtacks motherlode, and I'm thinking Hellraiser or some sort of angry porcupine thing, so I gotta go.

But check out Office Supply Panda Bear!

Get up, Stand up

Yeah, I was stood up last night.

Dinner was supposed to be at 8, right, and we confirmed this when we spoke on the phone at 7. I got there early and waited and waited and waited and called and waited and at 8:30, I left a message "It's Scott. It's 8:30. I'm going home."

Oh, and I don't know if you noticed, but it was freezing outside last night. People were passing me by, and some of them passed me a second time thinking "I bet that loser got stood up."

I don't feel bad about myself, it's not like this was some hot date with a gorgeous muffin I've been in love with since the third grade (Billy, if you're out there, I still love you!). Plus, he asked me out, so it's not like he thinks I'm boring or stupid or unattractive. (He'd be wrong if he did.)

But you just don't stand people up, am I right? I don't care if your puppy died. I don't care if a hideous alien fetus just busted through your father's ribcage and you need to hurry over and apologize for never being the type of son he wanted. Send me a freaking text message, it takes two seconds: "Cn't makf it, sry." Don't leave me standing there until my toes fall off.

There's a chance he may have fallen asleep because he had been travelling earlier in the day, but bitch, that doesn't cut it either! First of all, rude. Second of all, it's been 20 hours! You're awake by now so apologize.

Once again, it's a fucking lawyer that ends up being a total dickhead to me. You'd think I'd have caught on by now. I've gone out with 6 lawyers this past year. Four of them have managed to seriously piss me off. The other two were European (a Brit and a Greek), and I'm guessing this is no coincidence. My lawyer friend in CT has warned me for the past 3 years "Don't date lawyers we all suck" and I'm gonna start listening.

...but they make so much money...

UGH, whatever, screw you all. I'll find a Jewish doctor. Are you happy now, mom?

Twee Vaders

Best Dutch Children's Song Ever. The language has some pretty cool cognates.

Spring Awakening made mercifully shorter

Broadway Abridged did a shortened script of Spring Awakening that does a good job bringing out all the reasons the show was ridiculous and shitty. What it doesn't mention enough, though, is how the music sucks and makes no sense and serves no purpose (one can never mention that enough), but I'm not getting into it again.

The End

I've had a vision. A vision of destruction and mayhem. Of mass insanity and hysteria dissolving the fabric of our society. Language becomes meaningless, hoardes of people throw themselves at each other in unrestrained fits of carnal rage and desire. The id rules and drives the world to an imploding apocalypse out of which no man can claw. I have seen it. I have lived it. Happy Hour will be the end of us all.

It's not so much Happy Hour that's the problem, it's that it usually seems to become Happy Nine Hours. Two for one margaritas and a slice of pizza suddenly gets appended with a trip to three other bars, 10 beers, some free sample of a most repugnant unpalatableness, and something red a nice boy from L.A. buys for you. Suddenly it's 2:30 a.m. and you're walking down Christopher St. with a charming Jewish lawyer wondering "What the hell am I going to wear to work in the morning?"

Always the knowledge-seeker, I learned some important things last night:

1. Just because it's free doesn't mean you should take it, be it an alcoholic beverage or the AM New York.
2. Vodka is not kosher for Passover, but apparently the wandering Jews had gin and beer because those are okay.
3. Laundry will not do itself while you are at the bar. It's rather sad really.
4. Everyone in New York City is a Jewish lawyer. Everyone.

Oh, and I'd like to tell you about a most charming man I met early in the evening. Stuart went to the restroom and immediately I was accosted by this stranger. He was clearly attractive in his youth, but smoking and the tragic neglect to moisturize has stripped him of his frail beauty. Nice bone structure, unhealthy complexion. Cute shirt. Anyway, he came up to me and said, in the way of a greeting, "Wow, you look like a 10-year-old!"
"I.... what?"
"You're adorable, you look like you're 10."
I raised my eyebrows. "You like 10-year-olds?"
"No, well. I'm just saying you're cute."
"Ah. Indeed."

This was perhaps not the most gracious way to accept his compliment(?) but it's what came out. It was followed by a silence so awkward it made my neck stiff. Luckily, he was bold enough to continue the conversation. It was brief small talk, unimportant, and it fizzled quickly, at which point he said "God, I could just rape you right now."
"Excuse me!?!"
"Oh, I just said--"
"I heard what you said. And I look like I'm 10. Wow. That's really not the way -- don't touch me -- to win me over. Please leave."

He didn't get it, but Stuart came back. What the hell? Is everybody on this earth very very stupid? I'm pretty sure this man is not a pedophile sex offender, so why would he want to be perceived as such? Fine, so maybe he didn't make the connection. But "I could just rape you right now"? That's not a come-on, that's a threat! Whatever happened to a good "Are your legs tired?" or "Nice pants, but they'd look better on my bedroom floor"? Romance is truly dead.

Warning: Major Geek Out

Sorry about that last, I just get upset that people can be so insincere.

Anyway, not to be all bi-polar or anything, but today I'm over it and am in a way better mood for a million reasons.

I paid off my credit card last night. And this morning when I woke up, my apartment was way cleaner than it was when I went to bed. I don't know how this happened, but I swear it's true.

Oh, and I read the sixth Series of Unfortunate Events book yesterday (because I was crabby) and now I'm really into them like to the point where I yell "Holy shit!" and freak out my cat every time the mystery deepens and I get so upset when bad things happen to the orphans that I have to sometimes put the book down and cool off for a few minutes. They get really good after Book 5, you should all read them immediately if you like formulaic things, which I do, that's why I'm a cataloger. So I read that book and then the first half of the seventh one and then I had a dream with Violet Baudelaire in it, so I woke up in a good mood today.

In honor of that and because I paid off my credit card, this morning I ordered myself a Fruity Oaty Bars t-shirt. If you don't know what that means, we have some serious television time to get through.

Then when I left for work it was pouring rain, and my umbrella is broken, so I decided to just own it and I got all wet and it was great.

Oooooh, and then today Issue #2 of the Buffy Season 8 comic came out. The cover's fab and I can't wait to go home or to go on break, really, because that's when I'll read it. And at the comic book store (yes, I go to those, I have a frequent buyers account even) I saw Alice in Sunderland sitting there all pretty and heavy and expensive and I got really excited because I was looking at it on the Dark Horse website (yes, I look at comic book websites even though I don't read them except Buffy) so I impulse bought it because I'm a working professional career man and can do that sometimes.

Anyway, while we're on the topic of comics and me being a loser, does anyone else think that Lost Girls costing $75 is complete crap? I mean hello, here's a book I want more than most other things ever written and I have to become a hobo to buy it? Please, whatever, I am so above consumerism.

OMG YOU AND I ARE SO HOT! WE MUST BE FRIENDS BECAUSE WE ARE HOT!

How is it possible that anyone thinks this will be an effective pick-up line? I'm paraphrasing, really, but I just got a message to this effect on myspace from some guy (not hot). I forgot to check the exact address, but I'm sure you can find him at http://myspace.com/giantgaydouchebag.

He's all "My mind is my best asset but everyone always talks about my other 'assets'" like yeah right. He's obsessed with his body so he tries to act all "Oh, I'm a person too" well then don't plaster half-naked pictures of yourself all over the place and then have 1,000 friends you've never met tell you you're hot because you copy pasted the same message to them all. Whenever people's myspace comments are filled with a bunch of glittery animated gifs that say "Thanks for the add" you can tell the person's collecting an album of strangers and trying to feel popular, not wanting to have a meeting of minds.

My mind is my best asset too, and I'm using it right now to tell you to fuck off, how much of yours did you use when you wrote that clever original personal message to me?

You said you thought my profile was great, well good thing you took the time to check it out. Pictures are nice, but one ought to look at the nice words as well, and the words in my profile say I hate you.

I have a headache and am in a really shitty mood, that's why I'm taking it out on this gotard meathead in Queens.

Alanis Makes You Work

This makes me love Alanis almost as much as I did in 7th grade. She is hilar.

Spring Awakening: There Isn't A Subtitle Mean Enough

I went to see Spring Awakening yesterday, and I was excited. I really was. I had heard wonderful things from loads of people, and I saw a fun clip on YouTube of a high-energy musical number ("The Bitch of Living") with boys dancing on chairs and singing about sex. The musical is based on a controversial 19th-century play with lots of the original dialogue preserved but also with songs and cute boys. How could I go wrong? This was the perfect formula for exactly my kind of entertainment. When I want to like something, I can usually find a way to like it even if it's kinda mediocre.

But not when it sucks, which all that Spring Awakening managed to do. After the first act, I was seething and the thought of sitting through another hour of this crap (which I had to do because I wasn't alone) was making my head hurt. I couldn't sit still, and during intermission I had to run outside and call the only successful actor/singer in my life to leave some wrath on his voicemail because I knew he'd understand.

Here begins the review. I'm going to give things away later, but hopefully you're taking my advice and staying far far away from this show, so it shouldn't matter: Spring Awakening is without question the most overwrought piece of wannabe bullshit I've ever seen on screen or stage. The dialogue parts were tolerable and I even laughed two times, but I didn't give a shit about a single character, primarily because every time the music started, I wanted to gouge their eyes out with a nail.

That's the worst part of this abominable show: the music. And being a musical, it's kind of important. The "Bitch of Living" song? Yeah, that was the only thing in Act I that had the slightest bit of appeal, and even that wasn't nearly as good as I expected, the YouTube video obviously depending on editing to create the illusion of energy. All the other numbers were stagnant, boring, and meaningless. Every song had these RETARDED lyrics so overflowing with trite metaphors they were completely incoherent. "I want to sing the song of purple summer"? "Brush the pearls of my dreams and sing them to that stars"? What the fuck does that even mean!?!?! (I'm misquoting the second one, I know, but I can't remember how the shit really went.) The entire show was like this! With this crap "poetry" along with the show's theme of freedom from silencing adults and their sexual puritanism, the show should have been called Emo Livejournal: The Musical.

God, every time an actor pulled out a microphone I cringed. The lights would go down, these stupid colored stars in the background would set the "mood" and then the actor would stand there motionless singing their stupid little anthem that even fucking Tori Amos would roll her eyes at. (I hate Tori Amos, by the way.) Sometimes the brilliant staging would have the other kids walking around like little sheep in a Christmas pageant, but mostly you wondered why the rest of the cast was even there. The story was about three kids, and they were the only ones with any use. All the other characters had dumb little subplots that went nowhere and contained about as much character development as a Dick and Jane book. "See Ilsa get beaten. Run, Ilsa, run!" "See the gay guys' one scene. It is gratuitous. End, scene, end for the love of God END!" But no, the gay guys have to sing the same vapid song the leads sang in Act I that was all "Read the word of my body. You are my bruise." Jesus Christ.

The three leads (characters Wendla, Melchoir, and Moritz) had pretty good voices. Everyone else was just ok except the fat kid whose raspy crooning wouldn't get him onto American Idol so God knows where he came from. Sadly, Moritz eats it at the start of the second act in one of the world's weakest suicide scenes, and that actor was the only one with any personality even if it did become schtick early on. Well, piss, there goes a third of our talent. Then everyone sped through the rest of the plot (they wasted too much time with the horrible music in Act I so all the drama had to happen at once. I think people thought it was actually "intense." Whatever.) Oooh, expulsion, boarding school, pregnancy, abortion, predictable death, all accompanied by more idiotic songs having nothing to do with the people singing them. It's sad, I really think the original play might have been good before they dicked it up.

Also, we have to talk about the guy playing Melchior. He was an understudy, but hot and he had an ok voice and all. But he had this disgusting problem where he kept spitting all over the place. His singing was all consonants, and all 21 of them were accompanied by these spectacular misty effluvia. It was like fucking Sea World in there, and I felt really bad for poor Wendla having to do all these duets with him. He even drooled at one point, and I wasn't even that close to him to see it!

But I digress, that's not important.

God, and you should have heard the screaming when the show ended! I couldn't believe so many people bought in to this abhorrent production. Were they actually moved by those half-wit lyrics? The tired music? The uninspired staging? Maybe it was the plot that the creators of the show seemed to think unimportant. The fervor of applause and cheering had a particular quality to it. It was the high-pitched scream of fanaticism. The sound reminded me of Rent, a show that garnered such a fan base because of what it was about rather than how it was presented. The difference here is that Rent didn't suck. The audience's reaction was completely beyond reason, I will never understand it. There was nothing redeeming about this ridiculous production. Spring Awakening was inexcusable.

Once Upon a Time 2007

I've never done anything like this before, but I ran across this Once Upon a Time 2007 book challenge and I figured it was something to do. It meshes well with what I read anyway, and it'll get some stuff crossed off my list.

Anyway, I'm doing the third one, which is to read one book from each of the genres of folklore, fairy tales, mythology, and fantasy and then to finish with a reading of A Midsummer Night's Dream on, to be exact, Midsummer. That means June 21st. (Not to be confused with July 21st, better known to me as the Seventh Coming.) Anyway, here it is:

• Fairy Tale - The Onion Girl / Charles de Lint -- I don't know the first thing about this, I just stole it from someone else's list. I dunno who.
• Fantasy - Inkspell / Cornelia Funke -- The sequel to Inkheart, which was great. Cornelia is German and the books are about a bookbinder and his daughter, so I have no choice but to love them.
• Folklore - Folktales of Ireland / ed. Sean O'Sullivan -- Straightforward. I figure if I'm going to listen to the music, I might as well know the stories.
• Mythology - Ramayana / retold by William Buck -- Don't ask me what moved me to want to read this, I just do ok?
• L'Envoi - A Midsummer Night's Dream / William Shakespeare -- I'm pretty sure I read this in junior high, but I was stupid then.

My pace on this will be slowed by my 11 billionth reading of the Harry Potter books and the fact that I've been having a super hard time sitting still for more than 10 minutes lately. I can't focus on anything, I'll read a page in a book, get bored, watch half an episode of something, get bored, take a nap, go out for ice cream, take a shower, and realize only 15 minutes have passed. It's weird, and I'm shocked I had the patience to get through this blog ent

Oh I'm famous on the internet.

I joined yet another social networking site the other day bringing my total up to about half a billion. I dunno why I do it, I just have to sign up for everything I ever find ever. I don't even participate in half of them beyond creating a profile, I've made no geeky online friends through any except Facebook and MySpace, and I'm sure I'm a member of a bunch that I've forgotten about entirely.

I've talked about this before, but I'm really shocked at the explosion of mediums in which one can set up an online identity. I don't know how people can be active in all their communities when I can barely respond to an e-mail within a week.

Then there's the mother of online communities that I had never tried before, so the other day I downloaded Second Life, but that didn't last very long. That thing's learning curve is way to steep for me and Kenneth Cole shoes aren't known for their tractiony grip. I made a guy, named him Tonks, and then spent half an hour trying to get him to NOT look like a gay monkey. I wanted him to look like me because I like myself and have no desire to "redefine myself" like so many people do online. I don't want to be an anime furry animal with blue hair. I wanna be me. Anyway, I failed at that and ended up with a 6 foot 8 inch skinny gay monkey-man with pretty green eyes.

Then I walked around a while and there was nobody to be found until some Asian girl appeared out of thin cyber air, walked up to me, and started asking me all these questions in broken Engrish. When I tried to type back to her, Tonks the Monkey lept into the air, started flying, and then fell 50 feet back onto the Asian girl, knocking her over a cliff. When he stood up and brushed himself off, his hair had disappeared. It was all very confusing, not to mention ugly and clunky, so I gave up and deleted the thing. I'm having plenty of fun with my first life anyway. And I officially don't understand what all the hype is about.

Anyway, the most recent community I joined and stuck with is Good Reads because I got an e-mail invite from the man who restored my faith in the bow tie. It's cute, it's all about the books you're reading and what you like. You hook up with friends (though I have but one) and see what they're reading and what they recommend and what you have in common. I dunno, it's still new to me.

Anyway I've gone on and on when all I really want to do is make a list of the communities I'm a part of. I'm not even active in most of them, but if you're in one or what to join one, make me your friend. I command it. And remember, my profiles and activity in these places makes me who I am more than anything else in the world including my personality. If I don't have any online friends, I'm a loser and you're responsible.

MySpace
Facebook
Livejournal (defunct, don't read it)
LibraryThing
GoodReads
The ORG
Gay.com
Connexion
Flickr
Buzznet
del.icio.us

That's all I can think of, I guess the list isn't as long as I expected. Whatever, those links provide all the information you need to know about me but this blog is important too so come back because there's always something new to learn. Let's be best friendsters.

Ugh, so I did that thing where I don't check my voicemail for days at a time. Anyway, yesterday when I finally did, I had two messages from that silver-tongued dickface from last Saturday, the one who hit on the chubby kid right in front of me and was all lame and retarded. I played the first one twice and counted... he used the phrase "You're a good kid" six times. I guess that's all he could think of. But he used the phrase "I'm sorry I was a bitchhead and macked around and left without saying goodbye" zero times, so ok. And the second was all "I dunno if you got my message, just thought I'd try again. Call me I am pathetic." Bitch please, I'm not going to be your New York connection. He said he wants me to be successful and buy a fabulous condo and live the life I really deserve, but I'm pretty sure he only said that because he wants to move in with me and live for free and seduce my sexy Latin maid while I'm off earning money to buy him pretty clothes, so no thank you. Earn your own fortune or just use that Boston sugar daddy you brought with you, he seems pretty weak-willed and acquiescent. Or send him to New York, I saw an expensive jacket at Bloomie's I really want.

13 Favorite Fictional Characters

I'm not a meme person, but I saw one I liked. I'm ganked this from Susan. Hers is part of a weekly thing, but I'm not very good at keeping up with stuff like that. Here are my 13 favorite fictional characters in no special order except that Hermione is first.

Most of these characters are women, I know. I put the men at the end, and they're technically not even men, but they're definitely male. Four of them come from the Whedonverse and two from Harry Potter. I'm sorry, that's just the way I am.

1. Hermione Granger - She's smart, she's pretty, she'll tell it like it is, and if you piss her off she'll summon a flock of canaries to peck your ass to death. Don't tell me she doesn't reign. Hermione has grown so much and gotten her priorities in shape through the Harry Potter series so now she's my favorite young woman of all time.

2. Kaylee Frye - I have this thing for impossible optimism, and Kaylee is just so full of it. She has no class, no grace, and sometimes no clue, but she's just so happy wherever she is. Plus she does "man's work" and women in man's positions are automatically sexy, not like she needs the help. If I were a man... if I were a straight man, I'd want her only. She's seriously on the verge of knocking Hermione out of number one. Her adorable accent and pink frilly dress never cease to make me smile.

3. Amelie Poulain - Ditto on the optimism thing. Plus, her bionic imagination and infections smile. She sees the world in a unique way that everyone can understand. Also, we both love creme brulee.

4. Ginny Weasley - We're starting down the section of the list devoted to women who don't take shit from anyone. Ginny Weasley's bat bogey hex could knock Hermione's canaries out of the sky. She's gone from timid annoying child to serious boy-using vixen with a load of power. Seventh daughter and all (it's a superstition thing.) Look into her eyes. Ginny will knock you down.

5. Anya - Anya is hilarious and says what she wants. She talks funny and her hair color changes with the tide, but she still has some serious vulnerability, not that it'll stop her from telling you all the awkward truths you need to hear. I idolize her for that and wish I had the balls to do it myself. It's a project. This blog is a step, but nobody reads it so I haven't changed the world yet.

6. Piper Halliwell - She deals with a lot... running a business, raising a boy she knows will grow up ugly and another she knows will grow up to be the most annoying character in the entire Charmed series, fighting demons, melodrama with her increasingly chubby husband. She doesn't take it in stride at all. Bitch will knock you down if she don't blow you up. She has no patience for bullshit and will let you know. Again, this is another admiration thing. I wish I had her temper. Being nice to people who don't deserve it is so not my style anymore.

7. Nanny McPhee - She kicks ass without raising her voice. And she knows that it's ok to do horrible things to horrible people. She's the person you need.

8. Constance Trentham - The only person on this list who's not a decent person. She's also the reason Minerva McGonagall isn't here. I thought two Maggie Smith characters would be pushing it. Lady Constance is a rich bitch with nothing to offer the world but spite, snark, and nastiness. We need more people like her. All old ladies should be this rude. I can take it. Can you?

9. The White Queen - Wow, this picture's a lot like the previous one. The White Queen's presence here makes more sense when you realize I was not introduced to this character through Lewis Carroll's novel, but rather through a production of the Alice stories where the White Queen was played by Carol Channing. It is impossible for me to read the book without imagining her in the role. She's crazy! Living backwards in her disheveled hat, the White Queen is a total mess. Nothing she says makes the slightest bit of sense, but you can't argue with any of it. No jam for you.

10. Drusilla - Speaking of crazy women who make no sense, Drusilla has got to be my favorite undead evil thing. I almost put Spike here, but Dru sees the world in such a unique way it makes me want to live in her head for a day. A lot of it is frightening and horrible, but Drusilla feels things so intensely, which is something I can never claim to do. She speaks to the stars when I can't even see them. Plus, she has fabulous nails.

11. Loo - None of you probably know who this is, but Loo is a character in Joss Whedon's Fray, a comic about a vampire slayer in the future. Loo is this oppressively cheerful little girl that's been hideously deformed. She's got like one arm and one eye like she's this total grotesque Chernobyl disaster, but every time she opens her gross little mouth it brings tears to my eyes because she has such a strong spirit in the face of it all. She's innocent and optimistic and one of the main reasons I keep reading Fray over and over.

12. Larry the Cucumber - Larry's pretty retarded, but I love him. He's the only person (thing) I know who can put on a ridiculous hat with suction cup ears and feel absolutely fab. Larry doesn't do much of anything right, but he's happy and sings stupid songs and kinda reminds me of myself when I'm in a good mood. That's why he gets to be one of two males on my list. He doesn't kick ass at all.

13. Hobbes - Oh yes. Hobbes is brilliant and fun and can always find the bright side when Calvin's being all crabby. He rolls his eyes like a pro and has total panache. (I learned that word from him.) He looks awesome in a spotted tie.

Right, that's it. Looking at the list, it seems like everyone on it is either a cheerful optimist or a crazy no-nonsense bitch. So that should teach you something about me.

Short Circuit

I don't know what a "circuit party" is, but I discovered this weekend that I'm afraid of them.

I went out on Saturday with Stuart, and we had a super-fun time and both looked really cute so we kept meeting people. Early in the night, there was this little tiny short kid with a pretty face and neat hair who was in from Boston and had this friend. We all went to Mr. Black where I made out with the boy in that ill-advised drunken way. It wasn't my fault, he kept saying all these insightful things that were really sweet and like he really cared about me. My brain was like "The only reason this kid gives a shit is because he's so full of shit" but my body, face, and penis were in charge, so that's why we made out anyway. It was weird, he weighed like 90 pounds. I could lift him, I felt like such the iron man.

Anyway later he was hitting on some chubby kid so I was like "Wow, over you" but then this old yucky smelly man started hitting on me, so I told him the short kid was my boyfriend but we were in a total fight because he kept hitting on other people. The yucky man asked if I ever did that as if to say "You can cheat with me", so I acted all appalled and moral highground like "I would never fool around on him, if we're not meant to be that's fine but I'm not going to flirt with other people until we work out our situation." In the Game of Life, you get bonus points if you can reject someone and make them feel morally inferior at the same time.

Anyway at this point it was a billion o'clock in the morning and I didn't even know the name of the bar we were at, but I met the two awesomest people. They were bestest friends and each in relationships, so it wasn't some flirty thing, which was the best part. They were super the funnest and we talked outside and one went home and the other, Sabio (coolest name ever), was all "Let's go to the Black party" which is apparently this huge thing, I dunno. I was full of energy and considered it, but it was $40 and then he said last year he saw a kid sit on a bowling ball until it went inside him. I tried to act all cool like that was just mildly interesting but nothing special, but on the inside I was dying. Maybe it's because I'm prudish or maybe it's because I'm a librarian, but I kind of assumed I'd feel really uncomfortable at this party. Also I hate seeing penises in public, and I figured there would be a few. So we took a cab to the place because it got me closer to home, but Stuart and I went away.

Anyway Sabio if you're out there I'm sorry we didn't go with you, but you were super fun and so was your friend with the less unique name. It's not you, it's me.

So I've still never experienced a circuit party and I probably never will and I'm wondering if that makes me some sort of loser and what does "circuit party" even mean? Does it refer to general debauchery, or is there some more specific meaning perhaps involving bowling balls?

The Hunger

I just watched The Hunger as part of my vampire moviefest that's still going on because I am slow and lazy. Anyway it sucked.

David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve are like these vampire things that never get old, but they have to eat someone once a week. Then David Bowie gets this aging disease and starts to decompose all over the place and Catherine's all "Ugh, not in MY Park Ave. townhouse!" so she puts him in a box like she did when this happened to all her other vampire lovers. They're all stacked on the 3rd floor.

You get to see David Bowie's butt, that part was pretty cool. He was sexy when I was 1, but it sucked in this movie when it took him 45 minutes to die.

The imdb plot keywords are goth, psychic, atmospheric, nipple, and nightclub. They use nipple because one of the major themes is lesbians.

After David Bowie decomposes, Catherine falls in love with Susan Sarandon and makes her come over and then they have a sexy scene with Lakme and a luscious lesbian liplock and Susan becomes a vampire in the normal way. In the end, she decides she doesn't like it and stabs herself in the neck and then Catherine's decomposed old lovers come out of their boxes and push her over the banister and she decomposes too the end.

Now I'm watching the commentary for some reason and Susan Sarandon is all "Yeah, the movie seemed pretty neat when I saw the script... but then they changed it all, so.... hmmm... at least it was unique, y'know, I'd rather be part of a unique movie that flops than something that's been done before... I guess... I dunno it was like 15 years ago why are you even watching this?"

Anyway the movie's totally obsessed with itself to the point where it doesn't even know when it's not making any sense. I hate movies that are like "ooooh, look at me, I'm total art" and meanwhile everyone watching is like "What the hell, you're not doing what you think you're doing, let's have more lesbian scenes."

In all it would be better with more lesbian scenes.

Why Being Sick Sucks

Because it always happens at the worst possible time like when you have three houseguests or when you were totally looking forward to partying with Stuart on St. Patrick's Day weekend or when that nice boy you've known for a while finally showed an interest and asked you 3 times to do something on Saturday. This time it was all of these.

Because you hadn't "accrued" enough sick time at work, like they have the fucking right to tell you when you're allowed to be sick and how many times a year, so you have to waste your vacation time and now can't take that trip to Dallas you've been planning until a month later than you wanted.

Because you spent a sizable amount of money on a new Hugo Boss jacket and a nice shirt and tie only to have to cancel your opera plans at the last minute and later have your friend tell you how awesome it was and how perfect the 10th row orchestra seats were.

Because nobody sent you flowers and balloons AS REQUESTED so now their silverware is all toxic.

Because the gnomes didn't come and finish all your work while you were away.

Because sitting on your couch and relaxing used to be nice but now after that's all you did for 5 days it's totally ruined and sitting there just reminds you of how sick you were.

Because the world doesn't get put on hold like your life does so when you finally come out of it, everything's all different and things have happened and people have changed and it's hard to get back N*SYNC with everything that's going on like new inside jokes and who likes who and what happened over the weekend and all that. That's the hardest part of it, really. When you're sick, everyone feels sorry and does things for you and tells you to take your time and get better. But then when you're better, nobody cares about you anymore and they all expect you to catch up immediately and WHY ARE YOU BEHIND and THAT'S SO OVER and YOU MISSED YOUR CHANCE that you start to think "Get well soon" really means "Get well before it's too late."

Because you know this happens every time so how can you possibly relax and get better when your relaxation is precluded by the stress and utter lack of sympathy waiting for you when you're done? You can understand why that happens, I mean 5 days ago they saw you and you were not sick and today they see you and you are not sick. Why feel sorry for you?

Being sick is as much a psychological toil as it is physical. Do the recently ill a favor. Allow a few missed phone calls. Let them be behind at work for a week or two. Give them another chance to say yes to a night out. They're jumping onto a moving train. It takes a moment to regain balance.

Sickysnak

I'm sick. Miserably. I'm home and I'm sick and Chris is staying with me and I can't even show him a good time, but he doesn't want to go out in this disgusting weather either.

It's been setting in all week, but suddenly yesterday I started running a really high fever and my head felt heavy and I couldn't sit up or stay awake or run through the meadows or anything. Y'know how you can get so sick that you don't even remember what it feels like to be healthy and you don't think you'll ever be well again? Yeah, like that.

I'm more coherent now. Not sure if it's the Tylenol Cold or the fact that I'm actually getting better. Either way, I'm hoping the fitful, feverish sleep will calm down.

I get really pathetic when I'm sick like I can't do anything for myself. Luckily, I have no problem exploiting people, and I have a houseguest in the absence of a boyfriend. Chris and I ordered omelettes this morning, and I used all the ketchup packets on purpose so that when he wanted ketchup, he'd have to go to the fridge and then I could make him bring me the raspberry jam.

The rest of the day has been filled with Nanny McPhee, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and falling in and out of consciousness. Now everyone had better send me flowers and teddy bears and balloons or I'll come over there and lick all your silverware.

Pontificating : Oh The Places You'll Go

You missed me.

I signed the lease on my apartment a year ago today. In a few weeks, I'll have been in New York for an entire year. It's like no time has passed, and yet i feel like I've never lived anywhere else. But you're not getting the sappy, introspective anniversary entry. I don't feel like hugging and crying and wistfully recollecting. Ah the times! I don't want to talk about transitions and growing and redefining oneself. I've learned three things this year: 1) I'm cute and people like me; 2) I can win in a fight as long as no violence is involved; and 3) the percentage of sexual partners who secretly want to pee on you is alarmingly high.

The city is a lot less magical than you think. People come to New York City with dreams. This is wonderful, and the idealism emanating from the 20-somethings in this town is refreshing. They have visions of themselves living the cosmopolitan or creative or high-powered life they see in the movies or in their imaginations. Most of them don't get it. I didn't (not yet, at least). But the truth is what most of us do get is so much better.

I didn't have delusions of fame or fortune. You don't work at a library as a gateway to a modelling career. I did, however, watch too much Sex in the City before I moved here. I mixed it up with snippets of Will and Grace and Friends, and I basically put together this little world of cute clothes, close friends, awesome night spots where I could meet a new charming J. Crew man every Saturday, and Sunday brunches where I'd complain about his bizarre sexual quirks. Oh, and perhaps the occasional tryst with a rich older man who liked to shop. It was perfect, and I was ready to be SO good at it.

Well as it happens, I have some friends here and there, but no semblance of a tight group. I'm still bad at dressing myself, I had no interest in the Abercrombie models I met that one time, I spend many a Friday night alone with a book, I still can't get my ass out of bed in time for brunch on a Sunday, and the closest thing I've found to my rich older man is the sweaty fat guy who offered me $600 to lick my feet. And yes, I seriously prefer the way things have turned out.

I've been thinking about the phrase "Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars." I used to hate it because it's retarded and repeated about 50 times in my high school yearbook. But I tried reversing it, and now I like it.

What if you did hit the moon? I thought about it.

Well, way to go! Now you're stuck on the fucking moon, dumbass! Go ahead and spend your time all alone in that cratery wasteland! We failures in the stars can go wherever we want.

I have met a ton of people here (although about half of that ton was a slimy man with a fetish) and without exception the most amazing ones are those who are still shooting around the heavens. The rabid freaks, the struggling losers, the raving crazies. And I'm not talking about the people who talk to rocks and scream in the street. I'm talking about everyone. The stories are unbelievable, and becoming part of those stories is what I've learned to appreciate. What this city denies you in dreams it pays you back in gritty, perverted, unpredictable, vibrant life.

Lots of people are disappointed in where they've ended up. But imagine getting everything you dreamed about. Bo-ring! Not to mention hard. Our imaginations aren't strong enough make our dreams as exciting as our lives can be. So next time you feel frustrated that you're not living the life you like, take some time to stop looking up, start looking around, and like the life you're living. You may find you were mistaking fulfillment for failure.

He Hates Me, He Hates Me Not : A Mini Character Sketch of Me

One of the traits I've inherited from my mother is this stupid tendency to assume that people hate me. At best, it just makes me a little paranoid about getting along with new people. At it's worst, it causes me to be too accomodating and to sabotage relationships by assuming that people would rather me be out of the way.

This isn't an issue of a poor self-image. I like myself very much and think that all you losers would do well to have me in your life. No, I'm aware of how irrational it is, but I can't seem to get past it nonetheless.

If someone's called me and I let too much time pass before calling them back, I assume they're mad and then I get too scared to pick up the phone and do it, even if we're close friends. If I go on a date, the time between the date and the first time we talk again is filled with "I don't wanna bother him" and "He probably thinks I'm too quiet" and "He probably only said those things to be nice."

The thing I hate most about it is that it causes me to question the motives behind compliments. This isn't all the time, and I take compliments well, but in my head they're often tagged with "Well, she's my mom, she has to say that" or "He probably just wants to sleep with me" or "Well, he loves me, when you love someone you even like the yucky parts." It doesn't make the compliment any less true, and the opinions of others have helped me feed a positive and healthy self-image (yes, validation from others is important for me, and it is for you too so don't even go there.) I didn't even know I had pretty eyes until people told me, and I believe it. But believing a compliment isn't the point, appreciating it is. And I'd appreciate them a lot more if I could get that stupid voice to shut up.

I also tend to agree with people a lot, and this little paranoia causes me sometimes to be unsure whether I'm being easy-going or acquiescent. Being easy-going is something I pride myself on. It's hard to upset me and most of the time I really don't care where we go for dinner or which channel we watch. But now and then I feel like I'm silencing myself for the "benefit" of other people, even when those people want to hear what I have to say. I'm a hell of a lot better at identifying this and stopping it than I was when I was younger, but every now and then it creeps in.

Luckily, this isn't a terribly serious issue. It mostly leads to personal anxiety, but when I think someone hates me, I never lash out and hate people back. It's a stupid defense mechanism some people have, and if you have it you'd better stop before people start hating you for real.

Further, it's so super-easy for me to get over it. If I can do anything right, it's admit to myself when I'm being a tard. Next time we talk, I'll totally forget about any paranoia that I may have felt. Next time I get an e-mail from you, I'll realize we only went out two days ago and that's not much time at all. But next time I see you, I'll probably let you pick the restaurant.

Don't Call Me Baby

I'm in a crabby mood because I'm tired and don't feel like working and also because everyone in the world is stupid and I hate them! Sometimes when I'm crabby, I take it out on strangers.

I sit by the office phone, so I'm always the one answering it and telling everyone they have a call. Sometimes it's annoying, but most of the time it's fun because I get to pretend I know everyone's business even though I honestly try extra-special hard not to listen to their conversations.

But lately, we've been getting all these calls with "Can I speak to the owner of the residence?" and I'm always all nice saying "Actually, this is a business" and then sometimes they apologize, and sometimes they just hang up and suck.

But it happened again today and I was in the middle of a conversation and feeling curmudgeony anyway, and so when he said "Can I speak to the owner of the residence?" I went into Bitch Mode 2.0:

Ok, this is a business. You guys have called a thousand times, and I always say the same thing. Cross this number off your little list and stop calling it.
Oh, this is a business? Well, does the building have a mortgage on it? [Fucking idiot.]
What? I have no idea, but I guarantee that you have no business with me or this organization. This is the wrong number. Don't call us again.

Then I hung up the phone and imagined ways to violently kill him. Does anyone else want to help me consolidate my mortgage today!?!!!

Who's it all about?

For the second time, Best Gay Blogs made my site traffic spike. This is both good and bad.

It was because of this little entry. Apparently I'm difficult to categorize. The traffic was good because nobody reads my shitty blog, so traffic spikes give my Feedburner bar graph these little erections.

The traffic was bad because everyone's first impression of me is as the Cat Terrorist. Incidentally, the cat is back. This means I'm not a bad person because actions are only wrong if there are consequences.

Anyway, back to the categorization of my blog. I want to talk about this because it is what I do for a living. I put things in order and assign them categories. I even went to a special school to learn how.

Anyway, I think I am most clearly "Personal blogs" only because "Self-gratifying blogs" isn't on the list. Nor is "Blogs nobody reads because they don't say anything and have no consistent theme or voice," though perhaps "Really mediocre blogs" covers that. I have nightmares of being in that category. Little demons chase me around a minefield yelling "We don't have a firm opinion because you are not worth our consideration!" and they throw little pieces of wet toilet paper at me.

Anyway, you should all go to the site and talk about me. None of you will, but neither will I. Whatever, my blog trancends labels. I am in my own category and none of you are allowed in.

Wow, that really degenerated.