July 31, 2007

I can see your bum.

It is really amazing how much better your day can be when you're wearing pants that fit.

Think about it.

Interesting

Viewing American class divisions through Facebook and MySpace

UPDATE:

Responding to Responses to: "Viewing American class divisions through Facebook and MySpace"

Um, this chick is cool.

You fall for pretty strangers / And the promises they hold

Wow, the “Hamptons” suck it (see #7) . . . and 9 other things I learned over this past weekend:

1. Cadbury Buttons go beautifully with strawberries and champagne . . . and a breezeway . . . and a quiet night at my sister’s house . . . and good company . . . (Sarah: We’re totally doing that again next time I’m out there. I’ll bring the Prosecco . . . and, um, we’ll order the Buttons?)

2. You don’t so much need towels at the beach . . . you do, however, need sunblock (especially if you’re the color of snow). The crazy bright red color (and pain) that was all over my back, chest and shoulders has finally started to dissipate, somewhat. Let’s just say, these last fews days have made me wish I could let the girls free and go boob-holder-less – outside of my humble abode, that is. “Why not?” you say . . . “For fear of clocking small children in my path,” I say.

3. You tell a two-year-old not to do something, she’s going to do it . . . and do it with a smile.

4. My sisters are two of my best friends (sniffle sniffle wheeze sniffle).

5. I’m still pretty na├»ve when it comes to believing that most people are open-minded.

6. You stand up for yourself and for your friends and you feel quite a bit of peace.

7. The “Hamptons” is one big ball of insecurity, immaturity, and asshole.

8. I love breakfast food. A lot. A whole, whole lot.

9. There's nothing much better than being by yourself, at home, under a blanket, during a rainstorm, with a good movie/TV/book/magazine, and a big bowl of ice cream.

10. Absence makes the heart grow fonder . . . or some bullshit like that.

July 30, 2007

Oh, snap.

(Note: Not made by moi.)

Yup, Sarah, I'm going to end up in the South.

Mmmmmm mmmmmm
Ohhhh ooohhh yea
Sitting here thinking
Damn I'm getting a little older
Trying to find some piece of mind
Take the weight of the world off my shoulders
Mmmm got me driving down the highway
Trying to make it through each and every day
Fade to black n all poverty
Take a truck and move my people down south with me

Trade my ball and chain in for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies, my people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick em'
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains, shadow dancing in the pouring rain

Sitting here looking in the mirror
Damn it's getting a little clearer
If I could paint a perfect picture
Would u dare take it wit ya, take it wit ya, take it wit ya
Picture us whistling while fishing
Picture us dancing while romancing
To a tune that belongs to me and u
My ball and chain we will all be free yea

Trade my ball and chain in for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies, my people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick em'
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains, shadow dancing in the pouring rain

We can be dancing, steady romancing
Whistling, while we steady fishing
Yea, yeah, oooh, oooooooh
Oooooooh, yeah

FYI: I will be marrying Anthony Hamilton. Just as soon as he figures out who I am. (Would answering one perfume soaked letter kill him? I mean, seriously . . .)

I agree with Nan.

It's not fun watching someone get ripped a new one.

Believe me.

Nan vs. Oprah

Yay!! Whoop whoop! Hooray!

My Boys! All new episodes! Tonight at 10!

Yay!


Where are my pants?

Kath: you are my hero.

July 27, 2007

And here I thought I was a shoo-in.

Diddy Got More Responses For Personal Assistant On YouTube Than CNN Debate Questions

What What! Holla!

My bones are back! My bones are back!

Pull up your skirt, and you shall receive!

Wait . . .

You know, it didn't sound overtly sexual in my head.

Shocker.

July 26, 2007

No bones. None.

Pep Pep Pep




See? Not suicidal. Just without bones in back. Is this OK with you?

Eff.

Studying Stones

I am out here studying stones
Trying to learn to be less alive
Using all of my will
To keep very still
Still even on the inside
I've cut all of the pertinent wires
So my eyes can't make that connection
I am holding my breath
I am feigning my death
When I'm looking in your direction

'Course numb is an old hat
Old as my oldest memories
See that one's my mother
And that one's my father
And that one in the hat, that's me
It's a skill I'd hoped to abandon
When I got out on the open road
But any more pent up emotion
And I think I'm gonna explode

There's never been an endeavor so strange
As trying to slow the blood in my veins
To keep my face blank
As a stone that just sank
Until not a ripple remains
I am high above the tree line
Sitting cross legged on the ground
When all of the forbidden fruit has fallen and rotted
That's when I'm gonna come down

'Course numb is an old hat
Old as my oldest memories
See that one's my mother
And that one's my father
And that one in the hat, that's me
It's a skill I'd hoped to abandon
When I got out on the open road
But any more pent up emotion
And I think I'm gonna explode

—Ani DiFranco



Feeling spineless.

July 25, 2007

um . . . HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Be prepared to create Sober's profile this weekend, Sarah: Dogster

Betsy: I would love to see Nikita's profile on Catster.

Oh, and I'm seriously considering adopting Louie. He's a star now though, after being on Good Morning America, so I think I need to move pretty damn quickly!!

I should totally try to make as many important life decisions as possible today . . .

No effing kidding.

Are we surprised by this??? I mean . . . seriously?

MySpace finds 29,000 sex offenders

July 23, 2007

That reminds me . . .

*Posted on old blog . . . too good to not repost . . . not reposting other bit of blog in which I made retarded comments. Because you have the whole of THIS blog for that.*



July 21, 2007

Wait, what just happened?

Holy Headache, Batman.

Last night = Yankees game, a lot of beer. One hot dog. No prior lunch experience.

Now normally I wouldn't think of becoming drunk off of Miller Lite and Budweiser, but I was enjoying America's favorite pastime and all. I think I watched a total of 5 minutes of the game. And I'm pretty sure minute 2 consisted of me screaming "Take off your pants!!" when A-Rod was up . . . if you know what I mean.

All Class, All The Time.

The times, they were a fun. The group I went with were mainly cops. Remind me to never date/marry one of them. Fun to hang out with . . . not fun to trust, I would think.

Anyhoo . . . woke up with a lovely little headache. And now I think I'm going to go run off last night and gear up for another night out. Two nights out during a weekend, one tired Mugwatch makes.

BUT, in a way, I think I'm celebrating. Think I'm accepting a job offer on Monday. Think this one is going to jumpstart the career a little bit (or at least revitalize it).

Thinking too much. Must go zone out . . . and then eat leftover pizza. Mmmmmmm . . .

July 17, 2007

I’m not a fan of whiskey.

Seriously . . . not a fan. At all. A non-fan, if you will. Just tried to partake in an ice-filled glass of it. The third sip almost did me in. What’s a girl got to do to get back a tolerance around here?

Not that I’m trying to do that . . . I just needed a drink. I had “a day.” (Thank you, Kath, for listening to the crap of it. You call for help and I make you practice for psych class. We both win, really.)

I had a lovely little vacation in Edinburgh. It was mighty fine. Didn’t do much sightseeing though . . . none at all, actually. But I did a ton of laughing my ass off. And I enjoyed a couple glasses of wine, in a cemetery. So, that’s something.



I met some fantastic people in the land of the Scots. I’ve already had my first email correspondence with my “new best friends fae Scotland,” a lovely couple from Aberdeen that my Godmother met when they answered an ad she had put in the paper, to sell her dresser. Four and a half hours after showing up at my G'Mum’s place to check out the merchandise, they left with a round of hugs, kisses, and see you soons.

Good eggs . . . good, good eggs.

I believe I could live there. Perhaps I really should take my Godmother’s “Be my assistant, Titface!” under consideration.

So, here I am, back to real life. Sweet baby Jesus (dear six pound, eight ounce baby Jesus), I wish my real life didn’t include an imminent lay-off, employment lawyers, and the possibility of continuing to work for an evil empire. However, it does. But, my new goal is to avoid whining like a two-year-old (yes, way too late for that, I know) so I’m not going into it. (Did anyone else just hear that resounding sigh of relief?)

What will be, will be.

Yeah, I’ve never believed that. I actually think that one has a lot to do with “what will be.”

I’m totally not going into that either. Ew . . . talk about heady bullshit.

Right . . . so, all I’m saying is that I enjoyed my time away and I wish it had lasted longer. Oh, and I also wish Tim had been in my back pocket so he could have taken some decent pictures. Mine are shite.

I think I’m going to use jet lag as an excuse to go crawl into bed now. G’night.

July 10, 2007

Oh, and FYI . . .

In 8 hours and 45 minutes I'll be on a plane headed to Scotland.

This isn't the time to question how those heavy metal objects shuttle through the air.

Yup Yup Yup Yup Yup

Sentence Sensibility

This reminds me of the text message my friend received from a guy she'd just met:
"it is so hot out here I have sweat coming out of every orphus"

#1. HOT
#2. Dumbass

July 6, 2007

You can't hide from me.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Before I suggest to you what your next assignment should be, read this passage from poet Adrienne Rich. "Whatever is unnamed, undepicted in images, whatever is omitted from biography, censored in collections of letters, whatever is misnamed as something else, made difficult-to-come-by, whatever is buried in the memory by the collapse of meaning under an inadequate or lying language-this will become not merely unspoken, but unspeakable." What I hope you will do in the coming week, Scorpio, is rescue from obscurity any important thing that is on the verge of becoming unspeakable. Be a retriever of that-which-is-about-to-disappear. Be a rememberer of that-which-is-close-to-being forgotten. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Like, oh, say, my sanity?

July 5, 2007

Eff. You. And your little waist.

I had a salad for lunch. (OOH, good story! Tell us more!) Finished it up by gnawing a hunk of bread that had been thrown in the bag with the salad. I then threw part of it away saying, “Ugh, too much bread.” (Because I was full.)

The “new guy” was in my office scanning and actually said: “WHY would you get a salad if you’re just going to eat bread ANYhow??” (Attitude included.)

To which I promptly replied: “I’m not scared of carbs. People who stay away from them creep me out.”

Which is funny. Because dude was just talking about coming off of his no-carb diet.

I’m a rock star. Rock. Star.

P.S. Don’t you love how I help you to understand the story with parentheses. You’d be totally lost without them, I know.

July 2, 2007

Books books books books books books . . .

Right smack in the middle of reading The Boleyn Inheritance AS WELL AS The Memory Keeper's Daughter. Both quite lovely so far. I would love to just sit down and read a book from start to finish with minimal pauses. (Minimal pauses = a day or two.) Instead, the only time I seem to pick up a book anymore is on the bus on the way to work in the morning. Thus it takes me weeks or months to finish a damn book.

("Why not read at home?" you ask? Well, if I knew the answer to that, don't you think I'd finish the books a lot faster??? . . . Man, stupid questions . . .)

All of this is to say that last night I picked up yet another book off my shelves. The very stocked shelves of books that I haven't read. I have a "free book table" problem. (So shoot me. I work in Publishing. If they're not going to pay me a decent salary, I'm going to make up for it by grabbing as many books as humanly possible — or at least possible for my apartment to hold. . . . Jebus, you want to let me get through a post? Back off.) This other book would be Radical Careering. It's quite full of a number of fabulous snippets. I think it is just what my current mental state needs.

YOU CAN BE COMFORTABLE, OR OUTSTANDING, BUT NOT BOTH.

OWN YOUR CAREER. LIVE IN VERBS. DO WHAT YOU ARE. RECLAIM YOUR LIFE.

INDECISION GENERATES ANXIETY.
(um, no fucking kidding)

IT'S NICE TO BE IMPORTANT, BUT MORE IMPORTANT TO BE NICE.


I really could go on but one must stop somewhere . . .

I'm going to start reading more. I'm going to start drawing again (yes, I've said this before . . . this time I hope I mean it). I'm going to start trying to learn the guitar again (hence the brand spanking new 9V battery I bought for my tuner . . . new strings probably would have been a good idea, as well . . . as mine make my guitar sound like a dying cow at the moment . . . or maybe that's just my playing . . . wait . . .)

Basically, I need to wake the hell up. There's so much I want to do. Why am I not doing any of it?? Seriously. Seriously . . .

***

Kath: Excellent discussion tonight. Excellent cheese fries. Excellent excellent excellent.

Laura: I LOVE that you're blogging again. It makes me incredibly happy.

***

Loving this song at the moment: Waiting For My Real Life To Begin / Colin Hay
Looking forward to: Scotland! Mummy! GodMummy!
Missing: Cris . . . I've been a negligent BBBBFFFFFF. I'm a twat.

Well, hello sunshine!

My sister tells me I'm too stressed out. She's right. I have too much rattling around in this pea-sized (ok, ok, rather large) head of mine. So . . . Project De-Stress the Mugwatch is now in action.

I will be:
- easing the eff up on myself

Yeah . . . that's the only bullet. Coming up with more will stress me out. And, well, that's just not part of the plan.

I'm not sure there's enough alcohol in Manhattan for this plan.

All I'm sayin' is . . .

Oh my god!

Theres a million mcs that claim they want some
But see, I create sounds that make your ears go numb
Peace to sayers ave., yeah you know how we go
My best friend steven at the home depot
Lowerton is in the house, I cant forget southside
Walk past mcs like that girl did the pharcyde
Im labeled as the cats meow, the mc with the know-how
Act like you know, not now, but right now
Beast of the east, on mcs I have a feast
Id eat that ass like quiche, crack a smile like shanice
Straight out jamaica scene, jamaica, queens
But you could find me out in georgia, or anywhere in between
Now if my partners dont look good, malik wont look good
If malik dont look good, the quest wont look good
If the quest dont look good, then queens wont look good
But since the sounds are universal, new york wont look good
Picture phife losin a battle, come on, get off it
Put down the microphone son, surrender forfeit
Did I hear somethin bout a crew? what they wanna do?
You better call mr. babyface, so he can bring out _the cool in you_
Or itll be a sad love song being sung by toni braxton
And Ill dissect you like a fraction
Oh, you wannabe top cat mcs, Ill pop you like a zit
You wanna be the champ, you more like chief some-shit
Big up myself everytime when it comes to this
Mcs be runnin scared as if theyre watchin the exorcist
I kick more game than a crackhead from hempstead
My styles are milk, man, youd think that I was breast fed
You know the steelo when the diggy dawg is on the scene
I dedicate this to all the mcs outta queens
That goes for onyx, ll, run-d.m.c.
Akinyele, nasty nas and the extra p
You need a chart, straight up and down man, there aint no other
Nuff respect to all my peeps that made the album cover
Yo, tip dont worry dunn you know I get the party jumpin
Get on the mic and break em off a lil lil sumthin
Yo, tip dont worry dunn you know I get the party jumpin
Get on the mic and break em off a lil lil sumthin (ooohh...)

Oh my god!

La, la, la, la..
Doop, doo, do, do..
La, la, la, la..
Shooby-doop, do, do..
La, la, la, la..
Shooby-doo, do, do..
You know Im on the other, for the top 40
Haha, you gotta do it like this..

We got the funk doody don shit, clearly its the bomb shit
So recognize me, kids memorize me
Everyday, I be scroungin, really, I be loungin
I play the down low, very very incognito
Aries is my sign, I know that I can rhyme
Sometimes I rhyme in riddles, plus I make the hunnies wiggle
Intellect is the major, some heads like to wager
The skills on the hill, overlookin dollar bills
Man, ya crazy, thinkin you can phase me
The ab doesnt study near nonsense money
Life seems to meet me, mcs seem too cheesy
With they doody ass renditions of defeatin competition
I rock to the roll man, yes, Im a soul man
Betcha bottom dolla, vinia will make ya holla
As ya stand at attention, did I forget to mention
Mcs will give me twenty, if I sense that they act funny
Lyrics are abundant, right there, I sound redundant
Just mentionin the fact, that the area is fat
I dwell in the unda, so hunny, its no wonder
That I get plenty of tail, well I even get white
Ima bet hittin head crack, there money, take that
Breakin niggaz off, cut their bank, then Im off
While my nikes match my lil hat, beat joint is mad fat
Got the cutter of the box if a kid thinks hes ox
For tier means creator, the poetry relator
Its hemp, like betsy ross, let me tell you whos the boss

La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!) smooth it yall
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)
La, la, la.. (oh my god!)

Queens got a zoo
Brooklyn got a zoo
Bronx got a zoo
Long island got a zoo
Long island.. got the zone
Jersey got a zoo
Philly got a zoo
Milwaukee got a zoo
L.a. got a zoo
Oaktown got the zone

La, la, la..
See, I like to get down jack

—TRIBE


OK, now I REALLY want to go to the zoo.