New Year's Resolutions 2010

• I promise to blog every now and then, srsly.
• I promise to weigh 170 librae by March 15th using nothing but the power of my mind and my friend's Wii Fit.
• I promise not to burn down the crappy new office in the crappy part of town they're making us move to in 2 weeks.
• I promise to listen to more Depeche Mode. I dunno why.
• I promise to enact my awesome party idea even though nobody will come.
• I promise to keep the same hairstyle and color for the entire year, probably.
• I promise to stop being attracted to Disney channel teen stars and being sad when there is only one picture of the guy from Wizards of Waverly Place in an issue of Tiger Beat magazine.
• I promise to like Lady Gaga more than Hannah Montana.
• I promise to cook more because I'm damn good at it!
• I promise to stop being offended when people think my stuffed pillbug, Klappar Skalbagge, is creepy.
• I promise to stop eating sour cream straight from the container.
• I promise to do my origami page-a-day calendar every day so that by this time next year there will be 365 shitty folded disasters strewn about my workspace.
• I promise to embody Bree van de Kamp in everything I do. (I'm going to need the basket back.)
• Finally, I promise that this year will be a lot less lame and unfruitful than 2009.

*PLEASE READ* Christmas/Hannukkah List 2009 *PLEASE READ*

• a pony
• some peppermint bark
• a tray of cranberry bliss bars
• help hiring painters
• video games
• a black Disney princess that is actually black like Raven-Symoné and not some European-featured girl (because apparently there's only one type of pretty) with "darker" skin running with her toothless sidekick from a stereotyped voodoo dood into the arms of a Magical Negro who will hook her up with a white guy to save the day
• world peace

Don't forget the pony.

Cherry Cherry Boom Boom

In shallower and therefore more relevant news, you all need to go to Amazon.com and download Lady Gaga's unbelievably shitty holiday song Christmas Tree. It says it was released on March 10th, but I dunno why anyone would release a song like this at that time unless they hoped it would be picked up for Empire's Christmas in July Sale.

Anyway there's absolutely nothing good about it, but this and Bad Romance are all I've been listening to.

Embarrassing Sentimental Nonsense DO NOT READ

I had one of those weird dreams last night that makes you reimagine your life, y'know those? They're so annoying.

Basically I was at a sort of gala that looked like the Oscars or Tonys, right, and I was with this sort of friend who I see at parties and stuff. We went out a few times in the early part of this year. But right, in the dream we were totally in love in a major way... like total vile disgusting mushy dulcet choir of little birdies love. It was so intense that the people at the gala called us up on stage to honor our affection. We were standing there and drinking champagne off to the side while some performance was going on, but the whole audience was captivated by our electricity and charisma as we gazed at each other lovingly. You'd vomit I'm not even kidding, it doesn't matter who you are you'd just hork all over the place if you saw it.

Anyway the point of the dream was not the person, it was the feeling. And it wouldn't mean anything if it were just this one time, but I have dreams like this AT LEAST TWICE A WEEK! On top of that, it's corresponding with all these other things in my head like a recurring daydream about decorating an apartment with someone and a disturbing drive a friend warned me about around my birthday: he said that 27 is the age he started.... I can barely even say it.... WANTING BABIES! Yeah, dudes, I actually see maybe the slight possibility of a baby-like shape on the WAY-WAY-DISTANT-SO-DON'T-EVEN-START-WITH-ME horizon. I was browsing for a Hannukkah gift to myself the other day and I actually thought "Do I want these $500 shoes or would I rather use the money for 10 minutes of private school?"

What am I becoming!?!?!?!?!?

Ok just kidding, it's not all that bad and not nearly so intense as I let on for the sake of keeping this shitty blog interesting. I am, however, dealing with a lot of new feelings because I'm coming out of an almost year-long funk and am feeling really good about every aspect of my life except not being a billionaire. There are three different things that have converged remarkably: 1) a renewal of hope that life will be big and wonderful, 2) an optimism that it can actually happen (this differs from #1, trust me), and 3) things in my life going kinda right. They all feed each other and make me kinda shiny happy, which is dangerous and scary and will probably grind to a halt and lead to my ultimate demise. So I hate it a little. But what can I do, I just feel good.

Anyway I'm not a sentimental person, so in conclusion, I'm drowning in my own barf.

Beep

I don't like the new Facebook feed, but it provided some amusing synchronicity today.

Also, I propose a universal voicemail update: "Please leave a message after the honk."

13 stone 8!

If you are a close follower of my Twitter account (and you should be), then you already know that my body weight has reached an unprecedented 190+ pounds and that this exciting milestone was reached Wednesday evening on the scale belonging to my friends Mark and Kandace, who outdid themselves at this year's Thanksgiving feast. Kudos, guys.

Now if you'll all please consult your star charts, you will see that Wednesday evening fell precisely 18 hours B.B. or BEFORE THE BINGE! God only knows where I stand now that Thanksgiving has come and... sort of stuck around.

TG is over, though (and t g for that), but that doesn't mean the end of my rampant expansion because my subsidized calendar states that tomorrow starts the Month of Southern Comfort Eggnog and Cranberry Bliss Bars for Every Meal. (Gregorian is so 16th-century.) And the MoSCEaCBBfEM is everyone's favorite part of Fat and Gluttony Season Brought to You By Crisco. This is the best time of year for personal growth. And by growth, I obviously mean engorgement.

So from now until Month of Regret I have 31 days to break the big 200! (Yes, January has been purchased by the very CONCEPT of regret, which I'm pretty sure is a subsidiary of Taco Bell.) Anyway, I know I can count on all of you for support and food donations and invitations to get ice cream 5 times a day. Thanks!

[Oh and before you get your pretentious bile all over my new Slytherin tie, I stole the subsidized calendar bit from Infinite Jest, which no, I have not read all the way through.]

Sea-Addled

Last week I vacationed in Seattle, which is definitely a Top 10 American City in my brain. Probably Top 5. I started liking it when I noticed walking around that people looked at me while they were passing. Right in the eye. It's not an ogle or a leer or anything, and they don't necessarily smile or greet. They just look. It's interesting. I'm a looker myself, so I appreciated it, especially compared to here in New York where people don't pay any attention.

Also everything is clean, the food is universally delicious and cheaper, and interestingly I don't feel nearly as threatened at their Eagle as I do here. It's possible I can never go there again, however, in fear of a drunken repetition of last Friday night's REALLY BAD IDEA, which is a funny story you will NOT get to hear. Teaser: it involved low-grade chemical burn. I felt 19 all over again, and now I can't wait to be 30.

Oh and in unrelated news, I chopped all my hair off last week and dyed it brown. So I look like a boy again. Pictures to follow if that guy who took them ever learns how to use Facebook. Also in Seattle I bought tea, gloves, and underwear with New York on them.

Right. So basically I still exist ok bye.

Coccus

Whoa, dudes, I haven't updated since Regina Spektor. That was a long time ago, but ok you can all forgive me because I am all sick and pathetic today.

At 2 a.m. going into Monday I woke up with pretty much the worst sore throat ever. I came to work anyway because I am both masochistic and sadistic, but yesterday I took off and I went to the walk-in treatment center at Duane Reade.

I know!

Yes indeed, dudes and ettes, there are four Duane Reade locations in Manhattan that provide prompt-care non-emergency medical services, and one of them is by my house! They took my insurance and I basically waited for almost no time to see a strangely peppy lady doctor who told me I have strep throat. Which I knew. She also kept me and asked me special questions to make sure I didn't have swine flu, which I guess is a big deal. In case you are dumb, swine flu is this sickness all the kids are into these days. And a swine is a pig.

So I got my prescription, walked across the room to drop it off, bought me a couple books across the street, picked up my amoxycillin, walked home, and did not read my books but instead watched Food Network all day. It was awesome.

When sick, however, the best thing to do while sitting at home doing nothing is to let your feverish brain go on it's own special blend of tangents and see what you can learn. Yesterday I mostly kept the Food Network in the background while I had more important things on my mind such as the disturbing viscosity of Tylenol Sore Throat.

I also thought a lot about fucking Animal Crossing because I am a loser. In case you have a life, Animal Crossing is this supremely retarded game on the Nintendo DS in which you walk around picking apples, catching bugs, collecting seashells, and fishing and then selling your spoils to the local store to raise money to buy furniture. You also make friends with all the little animals that live in your neighborhood and have one personality trait each. It's totally addicting and probably the best thing ever if I had to pick one.

My best friend in Animal Crossing is a squirrel named Blaire. She only talks about boys and dating. One time she compared dating to fishing with a degree of insight far surpassing what I would expect from a virtual world where everybody walks around aimlessly carrying a shovel and falling in holes.

There's also this horrible blue bird that looks like the eagle in the Muppets. His hobby is body building, and he's your typical middle-American douchebag. Every time I talk to him, he says "Today is a good day for being conservative." I'm not even kidding. If he doesn't say that, he tells me he'd rather be talking to somebody else. Probably because he his a homophobe. So I stopped talking to him altogether and now I just follow him around hitting him with my bug-catching net until he decides to move out of town.

Anyway that's what I like to think about. The end.

Just kidding, I do have a much more interesting story about the past bunch of days, but I will tell it to you later bye.

Bum buh bum bah bum

Guess what, dudes and lady dudes! I saw Regina Spektor last night!

She's one of my favorite people to see perform live because of how absolutely comfortable she is with her music. She effortlessly alters and embellishes her songs on the spot, and it sounds so natural making her one of the few popular musicians out there who I watch and think "I sure wish I could do that."

Anyway enough praise, here's why the concert SUCKED because of the kid sitting next to me who showed up smelling like cigarettes and salami. When he wasn't e-mailing on his Blackberry because he's so important his friends can't be without him for 2 hours, he was flicking on and off the blinding glowstick thing that came in his drink, bouncing in his seat and shaking all the chairs, putting on some RANK-smelling hand lotion (3 times in an hour) that anyone who's ever HEARD the word allergy would react to, or SINGING ALONG but only at the high parts to prove "hey guys I love her best because I can do this" but all he proved was that he can sing higher than Regina because he was always sharp. I also caught him updating his twitter with misquoted lyrics from a song she had just finished.

I know that being 20 is like living in a different world and being high energy and caring about stuff that doesn't matter when you're older, and I know we were all horrible in our own ways at some point in our youths, but is there ever an excuse for being that much of an obnoxious asshole concert-goer? I mean except for that time when I laughed my way through that cello recital because the woman playing looked like a man and made so many stupid faces that I had to excuse myself, I've always known there are just some things that you don't ruin for other people no matter how immature you are.

So eff you, little queer salami cigarette and lavender boy! And eff that girl you were with who had a voice like Harvey Fierstein because that was creepy. At least they left before the encores so I could enjoy my favorite songs unmolested.

Anyway just kidding, the concert didn't really suck because of him because I am totally a bigger person pshhhh!

Oh and I forgot my camera.

Unpaid

Ok the problem is that every Tuesday night I have a volunteer shift from 6-9 at a place I am not disclosing here because I already have one person who comes in every week and stands there watching me work and occasionally asks me personal questions in a quiet, molestery monotone... y'know, one of those people who makes you uncomfortable but is too nice/tragic to stand up to because you don't want to make them upset. Whenever I start thinking I maybe don't have a conscience, I remember some of the people I've put up with in the past to spare their feelings and then I feel better despite how ungraciously I do it (ungracious because then I complain about it in my blog).

Anyway the reason this is a problem (but not a huge problem) is because I'm super tired today because someone made the stupid decision to syndicate Roseanne from midnight until 2, and anybody who knows anything knows that you can't resist Roseanne especially when you turn it on and it's that scene in the bathroom where they're high and Jackie's hiding in the shower.

After that is the one where Roseanne is trying to get pregnant but Jackie gets pregnant instead. I don't like that one so much.

So I'm super tired today and on top of that I'm not getting a single evening to myself this week because tomorrow I'm going to a Regina Spektor concert, Thursday I'm having a Buffy night, and Friday I'm going to a Mika concert. Saturday I'll be busy doing all the cleaning and shopping I didn't get to do during the week.

Furthermore, the thing I do during these volunteer times is the exact same thing I do all day at work except instead of doing it with music, I do it with sexy pictures and bawdy stories. And for those of you who don't know what my job is, that thing is NOT digitizing it and bringing it home to store on my computer for rainy days.

And somehow this manages to happen every week. I'm always sitting here going "I don't wanna go, I won't wanna go..." and I sorta dread it and think of not going, but then I suck it up and go anyway and it ends up being fine and I have a good time and feel like I've done something good.

And then I get home and wish it wasn't already 10:00.

This probably is also a result of the social anxiety disorder I just decided I have. Because not only do I do work there, but I also have to be friendly. And I'm not very good at that.

Anyway this isn't going anywhere. It's just what I'm feeling.

In other news Sexy Latte Boys 1 and 2 are totally M.I.A. and I will die alone.

Unplugged

My friend Kev favorited a video on YouTube today and that got it posted to Facebook where I clicked it. Here:

Thoughts upon watching: "Hey, that reminds me of life."

Am I a Ninja? Check one: __ Yes __ No

Anyway tonight is the season finale of Skins, which is pretty much the only thing I've had to look forward to in my week these past 2 months. Every Thursday my friend Ryan and I watch these kids

and more prance about getting high and fucking each other, which I can relate to because I lived in Indiana for 3 years and that's basically all there was to do.

Just kidding about that; drugs are for losers.

Ryan brings Bud Light because "it's tradition" and by the end of the night I am usually drinking cheap white wine straight from the bottle.

I like having a standing engagement, but it's ending because the only other thing on my DVR on Thursdays is Glee, and that's not enough to bring people together. I guess it'll move to Monday for Gossip Girl where we can also do the previous Friday's Dollhouse? Monday sounds like a loser's day for beer, and GG rather demands something classier.

Anyway this is my homage to the end of Skins for now.

Ennui Are the World

Dudes, we have a problem, and that problem is not that my coworker is watching YouTube videos of what can only be Pokemon that are making me miss my DS and the days when Pokemon and Xena were the most important things. No this problem is much more serious and it is that I am becoming boring!
It's true! I don't know if it's increased age, increased heft, or something more sinister, but I'm starting to think my extended motivational/creative dry spell isn't just a phase but a FUNDAMENTAL ALTERATION IN MY VERY ESSENCE!
I no longer:

• write
• photograph
• read as much
• doodle little piece of shit alien dinosaurs on post-it notes at work and then dream of transcribing them into paintings on little ceramic tiles to decorate my apartment and give as gifts
• make a concentrated effort to do these things

Instead I:

• work really hard at my job neglecting important things like the internet
• sit and watch cable
• eat all the potato chips
• DVR Food Network competition shows
• know everything that is going on in Gossip Girl, Glee, Skins, Smallville unfortunately, and Wizards of Waverly Place
• gain like 10 pounds

I know I've mentioned this before (maybe too much) but I'm starting to wonder if something's really happening to my brain. Last night, for example, I stayed up past midnight watching old episodes of Sister, Sister on the Gospel Music Channel.
THIS IS NOT A THING SUCCESSFUL PEOPLE DO!
Anyway, I actually started writing this entry yesterday and it turned into a 20-paragraph essay exploring my mental problems. It was actually very enlightening to write and I'm keeping it for my personal collection of ramblings, but it's too serious and personal for this medium.
The conclusion of the ramble is convoluted and would make a good optimistically melancholy movie produced by Focus Features, but the solution I'm telling you guys I came up with is "STFU IF YOU'RE BORING GET UNBORING (i.e. UNLAZY)!"
That's too hard for right now, but to pass the time I made up a riddle are you ready?
Q: Who was cute and then stopped being cute and now is cute again?
A: Ben Savage
I know, right? Observe.

Aww.

Oh.

:-)

Topanga.

Thanksgiving in September

• I am thankful for window-washing latte boys.
• I am thankful for Activia, obviously.
• Last night I let my friends talk me into going out on a Tuesday and didn't get home until 2 and then like an idiot instead of going to bed I watched an episode of Dexter for an hour and ate ALL THE FOOD so I am thankful I have the metabolism of a hummingbird.
• I'm also thankful for not being the slightest bit tired today, which is pretty weird.
• I am thankful 'weird' is an anagram of 'wired' because it gives the last sentence a little something extra.
• I'm thankful in advance for not crashing until after I accomplish what I need to this evening.
• And I'd be thankful if the Powers That Be would take that as a demand, not a prayer.

What are you thankful for today? Oh and I'm thankful for my friend The Architect adopting my cat because ever since she got fleas, her leprosy has been acting up and there are parts. And she ate all my Activia and can basically fly across the room through the force of her excretions? Just kidding, she's fine.

Activia Challenge Log: Days 2-3

Day 2

Strawberry. No noticeable change in "regularity." Discovered that cat goes crazy for Activia almost as much as for milk and ice cream. Marketing opportunity?

Day 3

Vanilla again. Like Hercules, vanilla is my "favorite flava". Feeling occasional "gurgliness". My organs are shifting, making ready for the ascension... Found some cropped grey hairs in the mirror and have been oddly attracted to old pictures of Christopher Guest. Things seem to be going as planned.

Activia Challenge: Day 1

Ok guys, I'm doing it. My life needs some serious changes. I feel like I'm stuck and need something to get things going in the right direction.

So I've decided to do something about it. I'm going to take the Activia Challenge! If you don't know what I'm talking about, watch this informational video:

I had to look up what digestive irregularity is, and I'm pretty sure I don't have it. I eat all the gross stuff they tell you to and even drink aloe vera juice (not gel) like in this video. (It turns into an ad around 3:20 so you can quit then.)

But it doesn't matter, I'm still challenging Activia to make my digestive system EVEN BETTER or my money back. Using science, I have determined that "normal" people who take the Activia Challenge will benefit from a regular digestive system, but people who already have good systems will manifest some sort of digestive superpower. I expect soon I will excrete butterscotch cookies.

So:

Activia Challenge Log: Day 1

Activia is delicious! I had vanilla today. I was disappointed when my intestines did not instantly start making noises as the War on Bacterial Terrorism began, but grand gestures are usually not that good in battle anyway. I would prefer to avoid a gastronomic Hiroshima.

Oh my God.

SLB Continued

Ok time for today's update on Sexy Latte Boy (Starbucks Edition). You're probably thinking WHOA stop blowing my mind with all the excitement, and you're probably thinking it sarcastically, but it turns out.... nothing. It turns out nothing. In case you are wondering, new readers, yes this is all I ever talk about.

Anyway this morning I didn't go in to get coffee because there was no need because Sexy Latte Boy was out on the street totally washing the windows. Normally I'd hate seeing someone I love doing work like that in broad daylight, but he looked really good. And he looked even better when this girl started playing with him on the other side. She was maybe 4 and was smiling and putting her hands all over the window and he was putting his hands all over his side and smearing all the soap around. She'd bounce joyfully, he'd grin playfully... it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

Dad's are hot. Dad's without kids: hotter.

The downside is that this forbodes a phenomenon a friend described this weekend. He told me that 27 (the age I am turning on Monday) is around when people who don't want kids start instead to want kids. I denied it.

I didn't tell him at the time that I has lately been seeing them and thinking "Oh, that thing's cute" (so far only when they're not opening their mouths.) I also didn't tell him that I have three girl names that I like (Sabrina, Monica, and Justine) and am anxious to apply them and find out if the girls turn into the fictional characters I associate with them (Sabrina the teenage witch, Monica from Friends, and Justine from that Marquis de Sade book with the orgies).

It's all very wrong. Wrong wrong wrong!

The reason I'm against it is because I'm still in that stage in between KIDS BOO and KIDS YAY! So basically I still think they're annoying life-ruiners but I kinda don't care. And since my goal in life is to keep violently self-destructive behavior to a minimum, I'm considering this a Code Red conflict.

Anyway I gotta go. Nobody bring any children around me unless you are Sexy Latte Boy in which case we can talk it over.

Hubby Hubby

Let's hear it for Ben & Jerry's! Apart from making delicious ice cream named with some most excellent puns, they have now changed the name of their flavor Chubby Hubby to Hubby Hubby to celebrate Vermont's policy and promote marriage equality! (Press Release)

It's a nice gesture made better by the fact that Chubby Hubby is one of their most kickass flavors. Also Jerry went to Oberlin like me. Or was it Ben?

Anyway (C)hubby Hubby is a vanilla ice cream base with peanut butter-filled pretzel balls coated in chocolate. You will kindly refrain from any "chocolate salty balls" references in an ice cream now associated with man on man love. Instead, I ask you to look at the pretzel balls as metaphors for love: sweet on the surface with a layer of salty toughness, which, once overcome, leads to a gooey melange of composite happiness.

Either that or just think "Love makes you fat."

Latte Boy Rundown

Discerning readers will have noticed the full meaning of yesterday's annoying "Starbucks Boy" post. In case you are not discerning (don't worry, it happens to all guys) I was describing a torrid Starbucks love triangle that I made up.

I pretend this one boy there loves me. But I don't love him. And there's another boy who I do love, but he loves girls I'm sure. Pretty sure.

The first boy is super nice and friendly to me ALL THE TIME. Like one day I was in there reading and drinking coffee (obvs) and he came up to me and got all up in my business like what was I reading and "Not working today?" so I told him "The Three Musketeers" and "I got locked out of my apartment" and he asked my name and it was all very awkward because I had been wearing the same clothes and not showered in 3 days and just wanted to be left alone. And then yesterday he asked how the book was and it had been like 3 weeks. Sohe's nice, just... not... what's the word I'm seaching for.... the slightest bit attractive?

The other boy is symmetrical and scruffy and skinny and has unkempt slightly unwashed hair that sticks out from his cap at odd angles. His skin is nice and his eyes are bright and his smile is charming. In summary, he likes milk and it shows.

And he's got this deep voice and his eyes kinda twinkle when he looks at people like he's casting some sort of spell. He's got a quiet, comfortable confidence about him.

Anyway he is ALSO super nice but in a softer way and not so in-your-face friendly. He likes being around people, you can tell.

And he came into my life just in time because Sexy Latte Boy at Joe: The Art of Coffee has a) not been around and b) been letting himself go.

So there you are now updated on my obsession with coffee boys and know how important they are.

August 2007 Archives

I haven't been writing in my blog lately so here is a portrait of me two years ago around this time wheeeeeeeee!

I discuss linguistics.

I see Xanadu.

I complain about the weather because I am so interesting.

I complain about people complimenting me.

I go to the Buffy sing-along.

I do not get conned by a cute homeless kid.

I am mean to somebody.

(Big surprise.)

I have emotional problems.

I totally presage that Dumbledore is gay.

There's a Boy Who Works at Starbucks...

1. There's a boy who works at Starbucks with shaggy hair and a sexy smile.
2. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who laughs kinda like a doofus.
3. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who smells just like a sexy boy should.
4. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who's kinda oddly-shaped.
5. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who always asks me how I am.
6. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who remembers my name and what book I was reading a month ago.
7. There's a boy who works at Starbucks whose name I don't know.
8. There's a boy who works at Starbucks whose name I forgot.
9. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who always catches me looking.
10. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who I always catch looking.
11. There's a boy who works at Starbucks whose body I want.
12. There's a boy who works at Starbucks whose body I could never have.
13. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who is very inspirational.
14. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who makes me feel better about myself.
15. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who I secretly like.
16. There's a boy who works at Starbucks who secretly likes me.
17. There's a boy who works at Starbucks, and it'll never happen.
18. There's a boy who works at Starbucks, and there's no way in hell.

**********************************************************************

There are two boys who work at Starbucks: Evens and Odds.

Dinner for Poor People

I was supposed to have plans tonight but they broke and I was stuck in the house with like $5 to my name, frozen meat, and nothing coherent to make a meal with until I found brown eggs and made

eggs with salsa arugula and some cheese and peanut butter and jelly. I saw it on the food channel.

Anyway my plans tonight were supposed to be with my friend Mike so in his absence I decided to finally process the photos I took from our trip upstate to take photos. He let me use his cool lenses and filters, so this was an exercise in experimentation both in shooting and post-processing so it's not my fault if they're just boring pictures of waterfalls, I'm showing them all to you anyway.

First some IMPORTANT FACTS about Kaaterskill Falls.

What this deluxe information plaque doesn't tell you is that if you have to pee 5 minutes after you got there because you didn't go at a sensible time, you have to climb this huge hill to hide behind a tree and you'll slip and slide down the entire thing on your butt along with like 3 huge rocks that your friend will have to avoid so they don't kill him like in some Atari 2600 game. Ok time for nature.

That pic turned out more purple than I'd like but I already closed Photoshop.

Sorry hobo I didn't see you there trying to shower MY TOTAL BAD!

Babbling brook: "Blah blah blah."

That one would be my favorite if I framed it a little lower.

Anyway that's all and also it wouldn't be a photo trip if I didn't secretly photograph some straight guy I thought was hot.

Here he is looking to the future.

Here he is breaking up with his future because she is a nag and he wants to be with me.

I'm Back Hi

Happy Monday, kids! Guess who's blog sabbatical ends today? Here's a hint: he's tall and boring and looks like that British rock star he's never heard of.

You've missed much, and by that I mean nothing. I moved, which is cool. I live in a lovely new one-bedroom apartment now that's actually person-sized and has a grand kitchen that has helped me learn that cooking is actually kinda cool! I'm now a student of Giada de Laurentis' "Giada at Home" series and have mastered the preparation of ricotta parfait, asian chicken salad, and ravioli with arugula and pancetta. Also, last night I made Mac and Cheese with Tuna 'n Stuff, which is my lifetime speciality, and then I pan fried it to see what would happen, and test audiences loved it.

Oh and I went to the beach a week ago and got sunburned lobster red, though it's faded to a nice tan that's quite a-peeling. Then I locked myself out of my house, which was shitty, but I got better.

And lastly, I'm SWMing again, which is.... fine.

More recent highlights include being totally broke, not leaving the house yesterday because of laziness and a headache, and watching Dementieva beat Sharapova for the Rogers Cup instead of cleaning the bathroom.

Anyway I'm back hi and did you miss me yes or no?

Camera Obscura

photo by dwnldth5 via Flickr

So I did something other than sit on my ass last night! Yeah it was pretty cool, I went and saw Camera Obscura at Webster Hall. I also had Mexican and drank a lot of beer.

I wasn't too familiar with their music, but they're very easy to get into. You just have to drink a little, kinda zone, and try not to get depressed. They're really very good. The girl who opened for them, Anni Rossi, is also worth checking out. She sings and plays violin. It's neat.

My friend Sam maybe had a harder time enjoying the concert because of the girl next to him. We were near some speakers or something, and this chick was perched on top, leaning back with legs spread. And apparently she also had Mexican for dinner or maybe Indian because she was just cutting loose. I was thankfully far enough away, but Sam got a faceful of her girlish effluvia every time.

P.S. that's one of my favorite words, and I've used it before. Let's learn:

effluvium [i-floo-vee-uhm]
-noun, plural -via [-vee-uh], -viums
a slight or invisible exhalation or vapor, esp. one that is disagreeable or noxious
[Latin, from effluere, to flow out]

Yeah "to flow out" kinda makes me wanna vomit right now, but whatever. Anyway, you had to be there. Sam's reactions threw me into a laughing fit that lasted a full third of the set.

Right... so Camera Obscura. Quality show.

Failblog

Today at lunch I spilled my drink all over the place, which was really embarassing. Luckily, the girl next to me was super nice and gave me her napkin, which I in turn gave to the mother of the child I spilled my drink all over. Stupid everything.

Moving on, the saddest part about having no life is that I also have no blog. Yesterday I sat at home all day because my friend didn't call me back. Saturday I sat at home all day because it was yucky out and I didn't feel like going furniture browsing. I want fun!

I did go to a birthday party Saturday night for my friend Heather. Her apartment's awesome, naturally, and I sat in the corner by the bar and everyone would come over and talk to me Bert. That worked out nicely. He's good to have around because he will make all of my friends for me and all I have to do is sit there and eat food.

Speaking of sitting there and eating food, that's all I've been doing lately. Twice last week did I have dinner twice. Starvation diet starts now so I can be sexy on pride day and get all the boys.

Speaking of pride day, maybe it'll be fun and put some excitement into my life of Smallville and nachos.

Oh and I'm moving next week!... or starting to. So that'll be fun since I found out I'm moving one block from my boss!

Robotomy

Liver, liver, spleen, spleen,
All my parts that can't be seen.
Please acknowledge my dismay,
That you'll all melt down someday.

Appendix, brain, and beating heart,
I'd like a few replacement parts.
New intestines made of plastic,
Tasteful muscles, nothing drastic.

A dura-stomach, that'd be neat.
With all the crap I tend to eat.
But skip the kidneys if you please.
(A robot hybrid never pees.)

Computer brain hooked in accord,
With wires for a spinal cord.
A stainless steel cranium,
My power source: uranium.

Toss the heart, and don't replace it.
All these changes? Time to face it:
Plastic nose and metal bones,
Guarantee a life alone.

Though to the world I am a freak,
At least I know that I'm unique.
A walking, human-shaped tin can,
The world's only bionic man.

Why Boys Are Hotter in Summer

• Less clothing and darker skin, obvs.
• Everyone's fatter in winter especially me
• T-shirt chest sweat
• Exposed calves with stupid tattoos on them
• Hanging out topless with their t-shirt shoved in their back pocket
• When sometimes there's a guy who has been working out probably less than a year and he's still fascinated with his developing muscles so he discreetly fondles his pectoral but pretends he's just scratching but you can tell he's not
• Arms
• Leaps for the frisbee and you can see their tummy for a sec
• Sunglasses on the head make straight boys look 5% gayer
• Everbody looks like they've just had sex, are about to have sex, or are currently having sex
• They touch each other more for some reason I think maybe
• And lastly THEY'RE EVERYWHERE OMG AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Nerdblog

Last night I was supposed to go to this party. The (why am I admitting this?) Sunnydale High School 10-Year Class Reunion. In case you have a life outside of decade-old television, Sunnydale High is not MY high school, but that of Buffy (the vampire slayer), who graduated at the end of the third season (i.e. June of 1999).

I didn't go because it was sold out because I have better things to do, but that's ok because I heard it was lame.

What I did instead was stay home and play this awesome little video game called Braid by Jonathan Blow. Yeah, Blow.

I can imagine in high school on substitute teacher day: "Blow, Jonathan." "Don't mind if I do!" ... yeah remember how I am 5?

Anyway it's a platformer, and in it you're this guy (Tim) who goes to different worlds collecting puzzle pieces for some reason with the ultimate goal of saving a princess. But you also have the power to reverse time, so if you screw up or die, you don't start over, you just go back. It's a neat mechanic, and it comes into play a lot in puzzle solving. Other worlds have different time-oriented powers like dropping a localized time flux that slows things down inside of it. In another, time goes forward when you walk right and backwards when you walk left.

Blah, I'm not gonna sit here talking forever about a video game, but it's super cool and you all need to play it immediately. (Srsly, it's very short, like a couple hours.) It's a total-package kinda thing, something you don't find very often. The graphics, the esoteric story, the music, all of it comes together to make the more unique gaming experience I've had in a long time. Eat your heart out, post-apocalyptic first-person-shooter of the moment!

In conclusion, go to that god-awful Perez Hilton site and watch Joe Jonas dancing to All My Single Ladies. Or just watch it here.

Everybody Love Parfait

I went to Dunkin Donuts this morning (as every morning), but instead of a donut, I got a coffee bun the size of about 50 coffee buns. Now I have a stomachache and feel bloated. Tonight I'm seeing Shrek: the Musical, and I'm pretty sure it'll be like looking into a mirror for 2 hours.

I really wish someone would sign onto GChat who I can talk sexy with.

Oh look somebody just did:

Ryan: hi

me: What is UP!? Are you ready for tonights SHREKTACULAR performance!?!?!?

Ryan: I don't think I am, my friend

me: What do you mean?

Ryan: I mean, I can BARELY contain my excitement!

me: ... I don't get that one.
But I, for one, am getting OGRE-excited!

Ryan: well, I am going just to go
my expectations are very low
so it its good, that will be a pleasent surprise

me: what you mean to say, I assume is: "if it's good, that will be unexSHREKted!"
HAHAHAHA!
I slay.

That's how I talk sexy.

Oh hi.

Happy Schlubby Wednesday everybody!

In case you have no powers of deduction, Schlubby Wednesday is when you dress schlubby (i.e. junky) and also probably don't do your hair either. Like maybe after your shower you see your dude's dirty old t-shirt that doesn't fit you crumpled into a ball in the corner, so you put it on and then you put on your oversized hoodie because they have one of the same color and then you put a hat on while your hair's still wet so it dries sticking out at odd angles. And then you forget to shave. That's Schlubby Wednesday.

Anyway I haven't blogged in two weeks, so I'm behind on some very important Fuck Yous.

• Fuck you, Subway, for taking tuna off of the $5 footlong menu. That was so mean, and you only did it because it was the best one! So for every extra dollar I spend on a footlong tuna, you get another million years in HELL. And fyi hell is not some namby-pamby 15-second flash toasting in the oven. In hell, you are bread burnt to charcoal by the flames of unending torment and then painfully reconstituted and burned again but before that Rachael Ray makes a sandwich out of you! That's what happens in sandwich franchise hell. Read the bible.
• Fuck you, Citibank, for cancelling my card and not telling me so I was stranded today with no cash or ability to do ANYTHING NOT EVEN CHECK MY BALANCE OR ESPECIALLY EAT! Apparently if you shop at a store whose something something is compromised, they cancel your card as a precaution. Yeah, thanks for looking out for me and almost making me starve to death, Citibank!
• Lastly, fuck you children and the elderly, obviously. Same reasons as last time.

Oh as to your question "What have I been doing for the past two weeks?", the answer is "I have no idea, they just kinda disappeared."

Can I Get a Witness?

I'm too tired to work so I just read my last 9 months worth of blog entries in response to the same masturbatory impulse that makes me love staring at good pictures of myself and laughing at my old repeated jokes time and again. Wow do I have nothing worthwhile to say ever!

Anyway the only thing I need to talk about right now is that my favorite Jehovah's Witness is back and she got a BRAND NEW WIG! It's just as unconvincing as her old wig, but it has highlights.

Maybe I'm wrong, but if the point of covering your hair is to curb vanity, doesn't buying a wig with highlights TOTALLY DEFEAT THE PURPOSE?!? But whatever, maybe they don't wear wigs for that reason, maybe they have eyes growing out the backs of their heads, who even knows with Jehovah's Witnesses? Can they use the Internet? I hope not.

Anyway the SADNESS OF MY LIFE is that I saw her from down the street, so as usual, I mentally prepared myself to smile and say hello and made sure I had no offensive books in my hand this time, and I was extra excited to see her after her winter-long sabbatical from my life, and then I got to her and SHE DIDN'T EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE ME! It hurt. After all we've shared! All the good times.

It hurt only until I realized the truth: Not only do Jehovah's Witnesses live in caves with no Internet and wear nothing but Laura Ashley, but every few months they go to a secret facility in the Nevada desert and have their memories wiped clean of everything but their love for... whatever it is they believe in. The lighthouse or whatever. I'd call it a conspiracy, but it already WAS a conspiracy so big fucking deal right?

Right.

Praise Jesus.

B

Hi ok so I'm going to tell you about the boy I am dating due to the ungodly amount of pressure he is putting on me (i.e. asking once while we were drunk when he makes it into my blog.)

Usually people don't ever make it into my blog (at least not early on) until something funny happens in which they are a major player, and I suppose one such occasion has presented itself. Basically the first night I came back to his place, his temp roommate was there sleeping in his bed and so we woke him up and then fast forward 3 minutes and my boy goes into the bathroom and I try to impress his dog with my charisma and spunk and wind up flat on my stomach on the floor with a major headache and bleeding from the chin right in front of the temp roommate, who makes no offer to help and just kinda stands there. It was embarassing and horrible. I didn't tell you about it for that reason.

But right, back to it, basically I don't talk about love life stuff here but... well he's nice and I like him and his face smelled really good today for some reason. Also I kinda owe it to him since in the space of like 2 weeks, I've gotten over $50 of free delicious chocolate products, not to mention lunch today, the promise of many home-cooked meals, a ticket to the Tony's, and a possible future almost free vacation to the British Isles barring swine flu, uncomfortable personal revelations, or the unlikely event of severe sexual incompatibility. So even though I have a long history of collecting free swag from even the most insignificant liaisons, the amount of sugar I have consumed makes me think the least I can do is tell you his name, which is B. Sweet B.

Ok so obviously his name is B only as much as The Architect's name is The Architect, which is not at all, but that's what you get.

Sweet B because his job is pretty much "culinary tour guide", or more specifically "guy who gives chocolate tours of New York and teaches people stuff about the history of the places and how everything is made and blahdee blah blah blah." I imagine people eat a lot of chocolate on these tours too. Maybe I should call him Dia-B-tes.

Anyway here he is with his walleyed dog Vernon, the one I failed to impress:

His walleyed dog Vernon is named Vernon like Vernon Dursley from Harry Potter so we like that. Also, B wants to learn things from me, and the things he wants to learn about are opera and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which are the only things I know how to talk about anyway.

Right and he's from the south and kinda short and kinda smiley and he has awesome friends (so far) except for that one and he'll do stuff like make homemade dumplings for no reason at all, just to eat them it's so weird.

Right so there you have it: your incoherent and entirely uninformative character profile of Sweet B. The moral of the story is we're dating the end.

Like, a lot. The end.

Stuff White People Do Not Like

#1 - YOUR SHITTY HOMEMADE HIP-HOP ALBUM!

Failed artists of New York, harken to my words! No, I do not like hip-hop! Do I look like I like hip-hop?? Does ANYBODY wearing Marc Jacob look like he likes hip-hop??? If so, I stand corrected, but it does not change the fact that I do not like hip-hop!

Furthermore, if anything is going to change the way I look at hip-hop, the album you made in your basement with your cousin Londell is not that thing! SO LEAVE ME ALONE BECAUSE ALL I WANT TO DO IS NOT BE BOTHERED AS I WALK OUT OF THE VIRGIN MEGASTORE WITH MY GILMORE GIRLS DVD!!!

Seriously, what is it with those guys? Why do they think everyone including elderly white women like hip-hop? Why do they even ask people if they like hip-hop if they aren't going to listen when they hear "no"? Why do they do things like that one time when they surrounded me on the street like FIVE of them and asked me why I don't like hip-hop and where I live and harrassed me when I was clearly in a hurry to get back to my job working with recordings by musicians who actually matter? OMG that was so embarassing, when they asked where I live I thought they asked where I as going so I was all "The Library!" and they were all "You live at the library?" and I felt like I was in the 7th grade again until I remembered at least I had somewhere to go at 2:00 on a Thursday afternoon.

For reals, though, is 5th Ave. and 48th really the best place to give out your album? Is that your demographic? Businessmen and sandwich artists? None of us moonlight as club promoters. And if we did WE STILL WOULDN'T WANT YOUR MUSIC!

Next time I hear "Hey, do you like hip-hop?" I'm responding with "No, do you like herpes?"

u no u <3 me: a poem

like omg!
like ttly!
like rufkm?
uh-uh!

o rly? ya rly!
no wai wtf!
im srs! ur srs?
well duh!

!!? ik, r?
!!! goi,
its so no bd!
cha 4 u!

gtg cya mwah
ok fine ttl
xox u r kewl
<3 u 2!

Personal Day

I'm taking a personal day today because I was up late last night. I went to bed at like 12 and honest-to-God, as stupid and dramatic as this sounds, I was up until 4 fuming about... certain aspects of my professional life. I'm tired. I'm just tired of it all.

But like a GOOD LITTLE BOY SCOUT I got up today right on time and showered and got out the door only to make the 15-minute walk in the cold wet and find I didn't have my wallet, which contained my metrocard and all my money as wallets have a habit of doing. Fifteen minute walk back. Wetter, colder. There was no way I was doing that a third time. I'm already about to pass out from exhaustion and cold wetness. Plus there's too much I can do at home. So, a "personal day."

Personal days always sound like such crap, and here's why: They are crap. If you're taking a personal day, it's usually because you can't deal with your own life in the hours allotted to you: 5 p.m. to 9 a.m. Or it's because you have a real shitty job. Or it's because it's fucking raining.

Whatever the reason, you just have to own up to the fact that you're kinda ill-equipped to be living. But I take a personal day about once a month at this point so Look Who's Talking Too.

Pain in the...

At my job, I have to be able to do three things:

1. Read music.
2. Type.
3. Turn my head to the right to see what I'm working on.

UNFORTUNATELY I slept funny and have such awful tension in my right shoulder anyway that it's all mangled and pinched so that while blow drying my hair this morning, it started hurting SO BAD that now turning my head to the right is nigh impossible unless I am willing to endure excrutiating pain. Who'd have thought a librarian could have a physical disability keeping him from doing his job? Even blind librarians can like... work at a blind library or something.

BUT LIBRARIANS WHO CANNOT TURN THEIR HEAD TO THE RIGHT HAVE NO MORE OUTLETS AVAILABLE TO THEM!

Goodbye, cruel world. At least my boss is out today.

Susan Boyle

With stage-quality power comes salon-quality responsibility.

Susan Boyle for the CONDITIONAL win!

Can I Be Your Marshmallow? Because I Want S'more! :-/

I'm in love I'm in love and I don't care who knows it!

Dudes. Srsly. I went into Saks today after work (as promised) and decided it was time to find something for my cousin's wedding in May. I was aiming for a narrowish purple tie to go with the jacket and shirt I wear to every damn wedding. Simple.

Well first of all I found that tie after wandering the 6th floor for a while, it was like fate. You can't see the whole thing here but it's a Gucci solid with those two signature stripes near the top. The violet is a little lighter than the website makes it look.

Fine right great but then I was walking out of the section to maybe find some jeans when I saw the most gorgeous amazing shirt I have ever seen. And that's how I fell in love.

His name is Robert Graham, and he's without question my new favoritest designer ever. (Careful, the website's kinda loud.) The two shirts I found were these beautiful, well-fitted pastel numbers with a little sheen and some subtle floral prints. The neat thing about these shirts is that they have a regular French cuff, but you can also reverse it and press it for a really neat alternate cuff with a touch of whimsy. The pink shirt had a reverse cuff that was light blue with pink embroidery. That one was my favorite, but they didn't have it in my size. The blue shirt had a reverse of this kinda fruity, bold floral pattern... dark blue, green, purple, and burgundy. Srsly sweet, and it fits me great.

So I bought it. I HAD TO!

Anyway he's also got great ties, some of which are also reversible and so are essentially a two-for-one. And some switch fabrics in the middle, so when you wear them, if you don't loop it together, the back part can peek out for a fun contrast.

Then I came home and looked at that website and man, there's this vest and this jacket and pretty much this whole collection that I want. Well actually some of the stuff is way too.... what's the word I'm searching for?.... hideous. But if it's not, it's just... man. Robert Graham, if you're reading this would you like to come and live under my bed? I will give you a sewing machine and let you out for meals twice a day if you behave. It's like a sweatshop except with only you and sometimes my cat will come visit, she likes it under there too.

UPDATE: Don't worry, concerned friends, I didn't pay full price for any of this!

Anyway when I finally deposit my paycheck from last week, I'm going shopping again tomorrow. I need at least that vest with the pink flowers and some cufflinks. Yes. Then I can say it. I can say it like he says it and it will be almost true.

"I'm Chuck Bass."

Allow me to introduce: Your Peers!

How sad is it when jury duty is the most relaxing vacation I've had in ages? Honestly, I don't know why people complain about it so much. It's an institution so universally abhorred that it's a punchline, but I don't understand why people are so against being taken out of their normal lives and told to do something a little different for a few days. Isn't that what we're all after on some level? But call it "civic responsibility" and suddenly "DEAR GOD WHY!?" and "JESUS I HAVE TO BRING MY BLACKBERRY!"

It had all the best vacation elements: going to a place that is not your home or work, relaxing with a book and some good music, and eating delicious local cuisine. What more could you want?

"Bikini babes."

Ok, I give you that. There were no bikini babes.

Granted, I had a better experience at jury duty than lots of people. Basically, I sat in the big room reading for two days. My name was never called. I went to Chinatown for my two-hour lunch breaks, and I got to go home at 3:00. It was awesome!

I read two and a half novels. I read Ring, on which was based the creepy Japanese movie. (It's pretty good and more like a creepy paranormal detective story than a horror novel. You should read it ok?) I also finished reading my current classic Pamela, which ended up being pretty shitty, and I got through half of Snow Country by Kawabata. It's pretty.

Oh and there was a sexy juror. I asked him where the cafeteria was in order to establish first contact, but then I never got to meet him again. He probably got called on some stupid case. Stupid criminals taking my loves away.

Yeah, I was a juror at the criminal court, so even if I did get called and my vacation interrupted, there's always the chance it would be some kick-ass case filled with intrique and I'd be all "OBJECTION!" and poking holes in the case like Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney!

Obviously I know so much about the criminal justice system that they would instantly promote me from juror to district attorney.

OMG and speaking of CRIMINAL, I finally finished watching Season 1 of Gossip Girl and am about ready to die over and over about how good it was. I know I'm super behind the times, but man... seriously!

Anyway, I'm 10 minutes past due to leave work and get me some Chuck Bass bowties and a thousand-dollar jacket or two.

Holy crap, when I first typed that I was kidding, but now I'm seriously going shopping.

xoxo!

I, I, Iowa

So, gay marriage in Iowa. I can't say I saw that one coming. It's not because of any prejudice about the people there, but because honestly, I don't give Iowa much thought. I spent 23/26ths of my life in the midwest, and Iowa is the only state in the region I've never visited.

I have to say, though, that my lack of experience with the place gives it a sort of picturesque, fantastical quality. I've spent so much time in Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, and downstate Illinois, and the "Heartland of America" eventually gets tainted by the reality of run-down farmhouses, trashy trailer parks, and miles of dull open space dotted with factories, drab towns, and the occasional "World's Biggest" roadside attraction. Granted, this is all part of the quintessential American tableau, and no place is perfect when you look closely enough. I understand that, and the midwest does have places of breathtaking beauty and incredible people. But none of it compares to the untarnished Iowa of my mind.

It is Hollywood's midwest: 100% rolling hills, amber waves, cornbread, and mom 'n pop shops. The sky is blue, the barns are red, and everyone wears flannel and helps out on the farm. Iowa is Smallville. Even the urban areas sound quiet and organized and full of nice people living happy lives. The names alone -- Dubuque, Ames, Des Moines, Sioux City -- evoke a certain calm, utopian feel. Not Stepford... just peaceful.

Obviously this is all trumped up fantasy, and my imaginary Iowa would turn into the crappy real world as soon as I visited for the first time. Luckily, I have no plans to go there... ever. Fake Iowa is important to me. There needs to be a place like that in everyone's mind: not just a fantasy world, but somewhere close to home that's an idealized version of what you know. And it needs the potential of being real. That's why when I first read the news about Iowa allowing gay marriage, my first thought was, "Oh... great, that's not really relevant to me," but my second thought was, "On second thought, that's the most perfect place to have it."

Folk singer Dar Williams once compared the hills of Iowa to the curves of a woman, and the image inspired one of my all-time favorite songs. I suggest you download it through whatever (completely legal) medium you desire. It's a beautiful song, but it has a little extra poignancy in light of the recent marriage decision:

I've never had a way with women,
But the hills of Iowa make me wish that I could.
And I've never found a way to say I love you
But if the chance came by, oh I, I would.
But way back where I come from, we never mean to bother.
We never make our passions other people's concern.
And we walk in the world of safe people,
And at night we walk into our houses and burn.

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.

How I long to fall just a little bit,
To dance out of the lines and stray from the light,
But I fear that to fall in love with you
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height.
So I asked a friend about it on a bad day, her husband had just
Left her, and she sat down in the chair he left behind.
She said, "What is love, where did it get me?
Whoever thought of love is no friend of mine."

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.

Once I had everything, I gave it up
For the shoulder of your driveway and the words I never felt,
And so for you, I came this far across the tracks,
Ten miles above the limit and with no seat belt, and I'd do it again.
For tonight I went running through the screen doors of discretion
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see.
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Iowa and
You were not thinking of me.

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.

Drainbow Brite

Something else you might not know about me: Bright, appealing colors affect me strongly. Here's how you can tell:

I dyed my hair red because I had wanted to for my entire life.

I bought my toothpaste because it's pink and my mouthwash because it's purple.

I think spring oreos taste better than plain oreos.

I enjoy books with pretty covers more than books with drab covers regardless of content. Well not entirely regardless, but it does COLOR my experience (nyuk).

My apartment is painted in three bold, non-complimentary shades, and I still look at them after all this time and think: Wow. I'm so glad I have walls the colors firecracker, morning meadow, and sudden sapphire.

There is a 20% chance the accent color in my next bedroom is going to be hot pink.

Bright colors just make me happy, and they make doing stuff more fun and I don't even care if my life looks like a Lisa Frank trapper keeper. I've never had so much fun brushing my teeth as I do now with my pink toothpaste. It has little sparklies inside and miniature breath-freshening strips. The flavor is Kiss Me Mint!

Mwah, mint! That is for you.

Idiot Box

Holy crap.

Also this is fabulous because I'd been diligently working all day until I decided to stop and watch a 30-second YouTube video and that's when my boss walked by. Touch my Quizno-nos.

(If you're reading this on Facebook, stop reading this on Facebook. They never import video and it doesn't make my blog look popular. VIEW ORIGINAL SOURCE!)

Anyway this last weekend my mom was here and we went shopping for clothes (her) and apartments (me.) Luck on both sides. More later. What's more important is that I watched the entire first seasons of Dead Like Me and Pushing Daisies. In case you didn't know, both shows feature lead characters who are undead girls with boy names. You may also be interested to know that Pushing Daisies is pretty much the best show I have ever seen. It has nice colors.

Last night featured pizza and a mini Gossip Girl marathon. Season 1, though, so nobody better tell me what happened! I left it where S got this mysterious note from G and I have no idea who G is so nobody spoil it even though it's probably Michelle Trachtenberg because I know she's supposed to show up at some point.

Isn't it awesome hearing me say nothing interesting about TV shows you already saw a year ago? I know, that's why you keep coming back for more! You know you love me.

xoxo

Man Unearths Memories, Describes Them As Misty, Watercolored

Yesterday ended the longest week I've ever had pretty much ever. Yesterday all I did after work was watch Season 1 of Dead Like Me and go to bed early. That's a pretty good show.

Last week was just one thing after another every day both in and out of work. Lots of it was fun, parts of it sucked, and all of it left me kind of a zombie for this date I had on Sunday. PLEASE DO NOT JUDGE ME, DATE FROM SUNDAY WHOSE IDENTITY I AM NOT REVEALING BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW I HAVE A BLOG AND I DON'T WANT TO FUCK UP YOUR LIFE WITHOUT PERMISSION!

IT'D BE COOL IF WE COULD GO OUT AGAIN!

Anyway I wanted to tell you about my shower this morning when I had the opportunity to marvel at the mysterious wonder of the human mind. So I'm about to get out because I was remarkably late for work as usual, when some bizarre switch was flipped and this song popped into my head.

A song I had not thought of for 8 years! I KNOW!

When I was a sophomore in college, I found this flash animation of a little cat in a box singing about how sad he was that he hadn't found anyone to love. It was sweet and schmaltzingly heart-breaking and pretty much the best flash animation to ever have been. I memorized all the words and learned to play it on the piano by ear and it was totally my life for like 3 months until it was taken down for copyright infringement because apparently the song was from some anime movie.

So years passed, and the song is totally absent from my memory... until today! I grabbed the shower curtain and from nowhere the sound of that kitty cat's high-pitched croon "Wiiiishing on a dream that seems far off..."

But that's all I had. I kept thinking and repeating it trying to get more of the song to come. And eventually, line by line, I reconstructed the entire thing! Sometimes I'd remember a word and sometimes a snippet of melody, and from that, I'd get the entire phrase and then move on to the next. It was like a miracle of nature! That for 8 years, I've been living my life with the kitty song deeply embedded in my unconscious, and then some errant synapse fires and brings it all out!

What other long-suppressed mysteries does my yucky slimy thing hold? AND WHEN WILL THEY RESURFACE!? Kitty song was a part of my identity those years ago. Am I not a full person without these forgotten experiences? Or perhaps kitty song has been defining me in subtle ways ever since without my knowledge. Perhaps who I am today has everything to do with the unrecognized influence of a sad, yet optimistic kitten in a box waiting on her shooting star.

OH WAIT I FORGOT WITH THE MAGIC OF WEB 2.0 NO MEMORY IS EVER LOST!

Ha! "There's a hole within my soul." Well done, YouTube capturing algorithm!

OH LOOK I DID ANOTHER FUCKING MEME!

Even if you don't care about what books I've read you should still read this because I make some awesome and mature puns!

The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here.

Instructions:
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.
2) Tally your total at the bottom.
3) Tag others and pass it on.

Here's the list:

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien [more like BORED of the Rings hu hu hu, I wish I'd thought of that myself]
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte [x]
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling [x]
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee [x]
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman [x]
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy [x -- one of my favorite books ever]
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare [Ok no but only because there are some works that are seriously skippable]
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien [x]
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger [x]
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald [x]
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [more like BORE and Peace! Just kidding, I've never even tried this, I'm sure it's great]
25 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams [x]
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll [x]
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis [x]
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis [x]
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden [more like Memoirs of a Gaysha!]
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne [x]
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown [x-- more like The Da WINCY Code... because its so bad I winced all the time.... ok that one sucked]
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding [x (Bored of the Flies, yeah yeah, we get it already)]
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel [x]
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons [Moooooo! Frozen hamburgers!]
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens [x-- more like A Tale That's Too Shitty!]
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley [x-- I hate this book so much it doesn't even get an awesome pun]
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon [x]
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov [more like Ho-lita!]
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville [more like Moby DICK!... wait that doesn't work]
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker [x OMG BORING... more like.... more like... i got nothin' OH YES I DO: "This book sure SUCKED!"]
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White [x]
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad [x -- I also hated this book. Ummmm FART OF DARKNESS!]
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery [x-- favorite ever]
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole [x]
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl [x]
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Totes: 25.

1/4. Not bad

Analysis: WHO MADE THIS SHITTY LIST!!??! What is it even supposed to be? Books you should read because they're good? Books you should read if you don't want to make an effort developing ecclectic literary taste? Books that we have heard of here at BBC and thought would make us sound smart?

Is Hamlet somehow excluded from the works of Shakespeare? Was it necessary to exclude The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe from The Chronicles of Narnia at the expense of the 101st choice that didn't make the cut and was maybe the slightest bit outre and perhaps by a non-European/Russian?

Brave New World? Really???

Oh shit, am I in a bad mood? I didn't think I was in a bad mood, but now I'm acting like I am.

Oh, I gotta go! Facebook wants to teach me to make over $1,250 a week from my kitchen table in my underwear!

Open Letters

Dear Sirs and Madams:

It would appear we have an issue that must be dealt with. Please scroll down to find your personalized letter and take the necessary steps to respond. Your haste is appreciated, though waste will not be tolerated.

Hope you are well,
~2H~

Letter #1

Dear Subway:

It came to my attention last night that you may or may not have altered the recipe for your tuna. By my calculations, the tuna I had last night tasted largely the same as usual but with about 20% more deliciousness added. What is your secret? Have you done the same at all 30,000+ of your international locations? Do they eat tuna in India? Please respond and I would also like a free t-shirt.

Keep eating fresh,
~2H~

Letter #2

Dear Old People:

Would you please stop OH WAIT I forgot you can't use the internet ok nevermind.

Letter #3

Dear Chickens of the World:

How many of you are there!? OMG think about it, like how many chickens get eaten each day? There are millions of restaurants, and all of them need SO MANY CHICKENS like EVERYDAY! WHERE DO THEY KEEP YOU ALL!?! What is it like? Do you have to have lots of babies all the time? How many of you share a studio? Do you save on rent?

Curiously,
~2H~

Letter #4

Dear Cows of the World:

Same goes for you except you're even bigger!

Mooo,
~2H~

Oh my God, why are 75% of my letters about or addressed to foods?

Poll: McDonald's today yes or no?

Spidey Sense

Quick link. I found this in my To Blog pile from a while back.

So check out this spider maker, it's pretty cool. It's the latest in arachnid-simulation technology. It's especially cute if you give him long, skinny legs, and big body, and lots of "walk bounce." And you can feed him. Via Ze Frank.

Whoosh Update: Your Source for Whooshiness

How many hamburgers did I eat this weekend? Four.

I know!

They were so good.

Hamburgers! Hooray!

Hooray for hamburgers!

Other than that, this weekend basically consisted of me looking at apartments. I saw 8 and was impressed with but one. One other was this Grey Gardens nightmare that the selling agent was all "Oh, you can do anything you want with it! It's all surface stuff, you can have it the way you want in no time." My realtor whispered to me "You're looking at $100,000 in repairs and upgrading here. Srsly." I like my realtor.

Anyway my friend Sam also stayed with me because his floors were getting redone. We bed shopped, which involved him making me lay on beds and getting my opinion. But that got boring so I would walk away to lay on the $5,000 beds and say "Oh, but Sam, try out this one!" pretty much with the goal of making him dissatisfied with whatever he ended up choosing. I'm a good friend.

I also went to a The Bird and the Bee concert at Carnegie Hall, which was pretty much the best thing ever. They're a super-talented duo, and the girl who sings (presumably the bird), Inara, was such a trooper because she was sick with a horrible cold but stuck it out and had a great time anyway. Highly recommended.

Bottom line is SNORE I'm so tired right now. Can I tell you how many sets of stairs I did yesterday? I've been looking at lots of walk-ups.

Anyway, there's an awesome apartment with a private roof deck (just for me), so if you pray for me to get it, you're invited to my Memorial Day barbeque. If you're a vegetarian, you might want to eat something beforehand because all I can offer you is Snyder's cheese pretzel niblets.

Some Fine Products

So I was back at the homestead (Chicago) last week at a conference (hence the radio silence). The week, apart from being exhausting, enlightening, fattening, lovely, etc., also involved a lot of cuddling up in the hotel room watching quality daytime television.

Highlights included Tyra, Ellen, Springer, Judge Judy, and some American Idol retrospective. It took me back.

Whatever who cares the point is Chicago has some of the most repetitive, awful, boring local commercials during daytime talkshows. It's all "Get your degree online" this and "Good credit, bad credit, or no credit at all" that clearly appealing to the demographic of jobless losers who sit at home all day and expect the world to give them something for nothing.

Some of them tickled my nostalgia funny, though, like Attorney Peter Francis Geraci and his bankruptcy info tapes. I swear, that man has been trying to get me out of debt with the same constipated schtick since I was 10 years old, but he's obviously doing something right because he hasn't aged a day! You go, Peter Francis Geraci!

Anyway, this sort of got us on the topic of awesome local commercials from across the country. By "we", I mean me and my cuddle-up-and-watch-shitty-teevee buddy James. (Those were some good times.)

Anyway, he deserves most of the credit for the following selections.

Oh, and if you're only going to watch/listen to one of these, scroll down and make it the last one, the one that's only audio. I swear to God.

FREE CHICKEN BOX!

I apologize in advance for the next one. You'll be singing this hit song to all your friends for days!

P.S. AWESOME SUIT WHO'S YOUR TAILOR!?!

Yeah, he's white you racist.

These next two are from Chicago THANK YOU!

How in the hell can he store that stuff for such a cheap price?!

Oscillated!

OMG and last, you need to hear this a million times. It's a radio spot for La France Drugs. No video... no problem. It is top qualiky!

I listen to that over and over again.

OVER AND OVER!

Luggice.

None For Meme, Thanks

There's this meme going around Facebook where you make a fake album cover for your fake band, and it's all based on random stuff. Here are the instructions:

1 - Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random. The title of the first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 - Go to http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3. The last 4 or 5 words from the last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 - Go to http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days. The third photo is your album cover.
4 - Using photoshop or a similar design program, put it all together.
5 - Post it here with this text and TAG the friends you want to join in.

There's some variation, but this is the basic idea.

But there's no effing way I'm doing this. I opened up the first two pages in tabs, and the band name and title I got were (AND I SHIT YOU NOT):

Band name: Anus Language
Album: Powerful Muscles, But No Personality

The reason I am not Photoshopping this is because it gives a whole new meaning to this picture.

Song of the Moment

I'd like to introduce you to "The Thrill of Thirty Seconds" by Skint & Demoralised. If you think the guy's cute, wait until you hear his accent.

This is my favorite song right now. When I have a favorite song, I listen to it endlessly until I'm absolutely sick of it, but there's no sign of that happening yet.

I like it right now because a) it's happy and all my favorite songs are happy songs, but also because b) it expresses that exciting sweetness of new infatuation, which as you all know is the best, worst, and most irrational part of any good relationship. Until you get to the next part, that is.

People try and temper themselves, being afraid to get too excited about something that hasn't developed yet, but I don't like that. I think it's one of life's great indulgences.

Hats Off To SOB!

Remember my salon? Remember how it's awesome and I love my stylist? Well they dropped the freaking ball last weekend and it isn't until now that I've decided I'm seriously mad about it.

Remember how I'm vain and shallow? Remember how my beauty comes from a bottle? Yeah, well Ink for Hair decided without consulting me that they were going to discontinue using their Paul Mitchell "the color" coloring products and only retain their shitty other brand. So FINE whatever, my stylist was up front with me and said "This brand's warm colors suck, so we'll see what we have to work with." (Perfect. Sucky warm colors when I want my hair to be hot hot hot!)

Sure enough the equivalent color on Shitty Other Brand's pallette was dull and totally lackluster. It was bereft of luster. Furthermore, the luster it lacked was made up for in lack of luster. Need I continue?

So my stylist, being fabulous, said she'd mix in this other color to give it some vibrancy and shine like I like. Wheeee great and in conclusion it didn't work and half an hour later my hair was the color MANISCHEWITZ!

I'm exaggerating, but I did hate it. It was super dark and actually the color red, which I dunno if you've noticed, but red hair is not red, it's orange. I looked like a punk or at least like one of those Russian women in leopard-print lycra. My coworker said it looked "cranberry" in the flourescent light in the office.

Everyone was all "Oh, it'll fade and look fine" but it's not fading fast enough and also, I'm afraid it will fade to PINK!

And to top it all off, the shit destroyed my hair! I still can't get my fingers through it without hitting like infinity knots. The Paul Mitchell was awesome because my hair would feel smooth and normal again after like 3 washes. I've washed my hair 12 times since last Thursday, and it's STILL a nappy mess.

I'm so annoyed that I have to find a new salon and colorist, and it's such an inconvenience right now PLUS I'm going to a conference this week and was hoping to look like a professional and not a "professional."

In conclusion, I would say that Shitty Other Brand is not a good hair dye.

Tidbits

I have no large thing to say, but I have many little things to say.

1) I think people (or at least I) should start saying "Wotcher!" like some variety of British people do. I can't think of a cheerier greeting.

2) There's this creepy old guy who works here, and every time he comes into the bathroom, he flushes ALL the toilets before using one.

3) HOLY CRAP ok so this is like the fourth day in a row I've written like 4 lines of a blog post, forgotten about it for hours and then given up and deleted it. Well screw you I'm posting this unfinished piece of shit anyway and my stomach hurts to bad right now.

I gotta go.

Google Says You're Fat... Well I Ain't Down With That

So Google Sponsored Links at the top of your GMail inbox try to link you to places based on your interests and the stuff you talk about in your e-mails and all that. I get some pretty cool stuff sometimes: links to science articles, recipes, tech news, movie reviews...

But I think Google is starting to judge me.

Thanks, Google. You're starting to get my values straight.

яolcats

яolcats

We sleep with vigor... content with the knowledge that Lenin's body will never decay.

Legion of Lesions: A Retrospective

Hi guys! You'll never believe the good news! I'll give you some hints ok it starts with S and ends with E and has TY in the middle.

YES! Another entry in a long line of ugly benign growths on my face and body. I don't have a picture of it yet, and I don't know if I will because it's so small and will be hard to capture.

The thing I love about it is that not only is it a gross red bump on the inside of my eyelid that obscures my vision like a cataract, but it also adds a bit of swelling to my already dark and puffy undereye area! I only wish I had a date tonight!

I was going to name it Tyler, but I know a few Tylers and didn't want them grossed out, so instead I'm naming it Skylar because it "clouds" my vision. Get it?

This isn't the first disfiguring mark my body has displayed in recent years. You all probably remember the gross cyst-like thing in my abdomen region that had to be frozen off. Ice cream anyone?

And then there was this spider bite or zit on my face under my eye that was so aggressive that I deleted the photo instead of subjecting people to it.... I wonder if I still have it somewhere... Anyway, I told everyone I was busy that weekend but really I was just hiding from SHAME.

But none of those were the worst of all, and now I get to use my favorite caps lock sentence ever:

DID I TELL YOU ABOUT MY CYST!?

I probably didn't because it happened in grad school before I decided the world should know all about my problems. Anyway it was over my right eyebrow, and at first I thought it was just a gross zit so I dealt with it but after like a MONTH of it not going away I finally saw a dermatologist and he [REVOLTINGNESS DELETED] and now I just have a scar in the area that I hate when people ask about because unlike most scar stories that are awesome like "I got in a car accident while fighting ninjas riding unicorns" mine is "Oh, you mean I NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT MY CYST!?"

Anyway, this stuff happens to me more than it happens to anyone I've ever met, so like all decent emo sac-wranglers who feel so alone in their problems, I've decided to express my feelings in a poem.

Protuberance Exuberance: a poem
Stye, stye in my left eye.
I found my vision gone awry.
I wondered how, I wondered why.
Stye, stye in my left eye.

Cyst, cyst, the usurpist.
Men look at you with interest.
And when they do, I shan't be kissed.
Cyst, cyst, the usurpist.

Zit, zit, I'm in a snit.
A chronic bane, up there you sit.
You start a bump, you end a pit.
Zit, zit, I'm in a snit.

Stye, stye, why won't you die?
You make me weep, you make me cry.
With all that salt, you still won't dry.
Stye, stye, why won't you die?

Cyst, cyst, I'm super pissed.
My face has a disgusting twist.
I'm warning you, you're on my list.
Cyst, cyst, I'm super pissed.

Zit, zit, I'm over it.
You think you've won, you're full of shit.
You're here, you're gone, and that is it.
Zit, zit, I'm over it.

L'envoi:
Facial growth,
You serve to both
Mar and frighten,
But I'm loathe
To scratch and pull
And squeeze and pop.
Facial growth,
This has to stop.

Watch This

WARNING: This blog contains spoilers for The Even Stevens Movie and by continuing it you agree that either you've seen it or you don't give a shit about what happened at the end or about how bad Christy Carlson Romano's shitty pop song was because the only good thing she ever did was voice Kim Possible.

So I haven't blogged in 11 days because, as I constantly harangue strangers about, I haven't been inspired or anything, but it occurs to me that I don't HAVE to be inspired or have anything special to say and I can write stuff even if all I did all weekend was sit around with an upset stomach for 75% of it so from now on I will bring you breaking news about every retarded little detail about my life.

Starting with The Even Stevens Movie, which I watched yesterday in my first and last attempt to see everything Shia LeBeouf has ever been in. Did you know he used to look like this?

Yeah so basically The Even Stevens Movie has nothing that makes Disney Channel stuff good (wholesomely-sexy 18-year-olds playing 14-year-olds, hokey charm, deceptively catchy pop songs, and Raven-Symoné) and all the stuff that makes it bad (shitty jokes, kids who think their hijinx are funny, and lastly FAT UGLY kids who think their hijinx are funny but do get some props for playing "Chunky Kid" in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer seven years ago.)

Luckily this movie is about how the Stevens family gets tricked into thinking they won an exotic vacation on a tropical island but really it's a reality show that makes their life miserable and tests their strength as a family using starvation and animatronic squirrels. I say "lucky" because the premise means Nick Spano has a long shirtless scene and he's hotter than he looks here on the right:

FEED OUR FATHER!

I CAN'T WAIT TIL MY CONTRACT IS UP!

In the end, the Stevens family learns a valuable lesson about love and togetherness and then Shia LeBeouf and Dave Coulier have an obnoxiousness contest and tie for the win.