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.

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

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?

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.

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.

Good Cop, Bad Cop.

She strikes again.

Fantastic. See it ASAP.

Little Children

New Music. Good Music.

Hot as hell in the great NYC today. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I’m not a heat and humidity person. I’d rather snuggle in the cold. Heat: not made for snuggling.

I really don’t know what I’m talking about.

I decided to forgo the gym (AGAIN) today and walk home (per usual). However, I became somewhat frustrated as I was leaving the office as I realized that I’d forgotten my radio at home. That’s right, folks. My radio. Yes, not only do I still carry around my discman (nope, still no iPod) but I also carry around a radio. Muggins likes the variety. You just never know what you’re going to get.

So, as I’d forgotten the radio, I decided to make my way past Borders on the way. I’ve been revisiting the Indigo Girls’s Come On Now Social album for the last few days and I didn’t think it would keep for another 40-minute walk. So, I did what any other self-respecting woman (in the 90s) would do . . . I bought a CD for $17.99.

For crying out, bleeding loud.

Yes, Sarah, I know this isn’t in my new, swanky, budget. I think I need to add a budget allotment for my lack of willpower.

Believe me, I was highly annoyed . . . that is, until I popped my shiny new CD into my decrepit discman. I give you, ladies and gentleman, my new, favorite song . . . and one of my new, favorite groups. Hot damn, these chicks can harmonize . . .

Amazing purchase. I’m really, really, really happy with it. The album is called 40 Days. Go buy it (the actual CD, with the actual liner notes, designed by an actual designer) – you won’t be sorry. This is their older album. I’ll be buying their new one, Firecracker, shortly.

This is my kind of music.

OK, I’m done.

Almost.

Here’s a lovely looking tour date, from their website, for the NY folk. You can bet your sweet ass I’ll be there. (Because this fact makes you want to be there, too, yes?)

September 27, 2007 (Thursday)
New York, NY
Joe's Pub (425 Lafayette, New York, NY)
Time: 7pm
Tickets: $18
Website: Joe's Pub

(I friggin’ love discovering new music. New beautiful music.)

Too beautiful to keep in the comments section, Johnny.

Love all 14 minutes, 39 seconds of it.

I Dream A Highway

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come and rest my soul
I dream a highway back to you

John he's kicking out the footlights
The grand old opera's got a brand new band
Lord, let me die with a hammer in my hand
I dream a highway back to you.

I think I'll move down into Memphis
And thank the hatchet man who forked my tongue
I lie and wait until the wagons come
And dream a highway back to you.

The getaway kicking up cinders
An empty wagon full of rattling bones
Moon in the mirror on a three-hour jones,
I dream a highway back to you.

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vison come arrest my soul
I dream a highway back to you.

Which lover are you, Jack of Diamonds?
Now you be Emmylou and I'll be Gram
I send a letter, don't know who I am
I dream a highway back to you.

I'm an indisguisable shade of twilight
Any second now I'm gonna turn myself on
In the blue display of the cool cathode ray
I dream a highway back to you.

I wish you knew me, Jack of Diamonds
Fire-riding, wheeling when I lead em up
Drank whisky with my water, sugar in my tea
My sails in rags with the staggers and the jags
I dream a highway back to you.

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come molest my soul
I dream a highway back to you.

Now give me some of what you're having
I'll take you as a viper into my head
A knife into my bed, arsenic when I'm fed
I dream a highway back to you.

Hang overhead from all directions
Radiation from the porcelain light
Blind and blistered by the morning white
I dream a highway back to you.

Sunday morning at the diner
Hollywood trembles on the verge of tears
I watched the waitress for a thousand years
Saw a wheel within a wheel, heard a call within a call
I dreamed a highway back to you.

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come molest my soul
I dream a highway back to you.

Step into the light, poor Lazarus
Don't lie alone behind the window shade
Let me see the mark death made
I dream a highway back to you.
I dream a highway back to you.

What will sustain us through the winter?
Where did last years lessons go?
Walk me out into the rain and snow
I dream a highway back to you.

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come and bless my soul
I dream a highway back to you

I dream a highway back to you
Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come and bless my sould
I dream a highway back to you.

—Gillian Welch

Dun Dun Duuuuunnnnnn

AND of course there's already a t-shirt.

Flight of the Conchords

I am so pissed off that I cancelled HBO.

OOH ooh!

MTV's Unplugged is back!

Cris: Bon Jovi is up first! (Tonight at 8)

I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Mary J. Blige . . . and, it pains me to say, John Mayer (toolbox that he is).

Love Unplugged. Unplugged . . . The State . . . really some of the only MTV shows I can/could watch without wanting to vomit.

(Even though I did get pulled into The Hills last season . . . believe me, that fact hurts my heart.)

(Oh, and then there was The Real World for awhile. Before it became horrible and highly annoying.)

OK, so I've watched a good share of MTV. Especially when living with one youngest sister. I really couldn't get away from it.

"Hey, Katy, what do you want to watch . . . NO, come on!! Stop! Ka . . . wha . . . I don't want to watch this!! . . . wha . . . What are they . . . Who's that . . . What? . . . So, what happened last week that she's now not talking to her? Uh huh? And she slept with HIM? Christ . . . We should order a pizza."

Bolster

SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): Now that we're almost halfway through 2007, it's time to assess how well you're capitalizing on this year's unique opportunities. So let me ask you a few questions. Have you been working hard to increase your value? I don't just mean economically, although it's true that this is the best time in over a decade for you to make more money and launch long-term plans for financial growth. But I hope that you're also adding to your worth in every way you can imagine, like by getting the training and new skills that will make you irresistible to future employers, lovers, and collaborators; and by purifying your motivations and clarifying your ethics and bolstering your integrity. —Rob Breszny, Village Voice

Yup, yup, yup.

Good.

True dat.

Scene: Sarah, niece, and I driving home to VA. Mugwatch making sister listen to Amos Lee . . .

Freedom is seldom found
By beating someone to the ground
Telling them how everything is gonna be now, yeah

Sarah: I feel pretty free after I beat on someone.

(And now I can't listen to the song without laughing. Beating people up is funny. And freeing, apparently.)

She's nothing if not creative (effing crazy).

Nothing but The Truth: The Author Of a Hoax Insists Her Creation Is No Fraud

The whole saga is really pretty damn interesting, if not convoluted.

P.S. I heart blueberry scones. It's like eating cake for breakfast!

I always forget how much I love this song until I hear it again.

love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes

—If you don't know this song . . . you might be a little bit retarded.

Hey Cris, when's our next road trip? I'm pretty sure it's time to bring back our Trivial Pursuit A-game. My parents have no idea what's coming to them . . .

And, um, hey, it's rain New Yorkers . . . and clumsy, wispy rain at that. I'm pretty sure you don't need a patio table umbrella hot shot. Just saying . . .

No subject

Feeling big time ansy.

It ain't fun, folks. It ain't fun.

bored bored bored bored bored bored

We don't need no stinkin' patches.

Was just having a conversation with a friend about Rilo Kiley. Specifically what a good string of music you get if you put them into Pandora. Tis pretty good so far, I must say.

And, OF COURSE, the mention of Rilo Kiley immediately made me think of Troop Beverly Hills . . . possibly one of my (and Katy’s – Sarah, were you a fan?) favorite movies when I was a wee bit. Saw this movie SO many friggin’ times. It rocks it. (The link between Rilo Kiley and said awesome movie would be Jenny Lewis – lead child actress in movie, lead singer in Rilo Kiley.)







Did anyone else watch this movie? Was it just a Raising Kain thing? I wouldn't be surprised.

Katy: Next time you get your ass up here to visit moi, we’re buying this movie and playing this drinking game.

TV ShmeeV

Now that NBC has broken my little heart by yanking Studio 60 away (I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am about that), I am finding myself in need of some good television to replace it.

The Riches has taken a pretty good spot in the line up. It's really pretty amazing. AND now that FX is on my radar, I must say that I am quite excited for Damages to start.

We will see . . . we will see . . .

NBC: You should expect to get my strongly worded letter shortly. Effers.

tsk tsk Buffy. tsk tsk

'Skating' Love Assault

Procrastination Device #49783

Nic: Here's hoping you start contributing to my Procrastination a litte more frequently — you've been link-o-fied. (READ: Blog more, you silly thing . . . um, seriously.)

Citizen Boogie

Where to go, where to go . . .

LIGHTS-OUT

Pillar of Health.

I just woke up from a good 5 hour nap (with one break, too pee . . . um, too much information) and promptly ordered pizza.

I. Am. __________.

a. A Fat Ass
b. A Lazy Bastard
c. Way Behind on Sleep and Pizza

I leave you to it . . .

Word. Word. WORD.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): America's former poet laureate Robert Pinsky addressed an assembly at my daughter's high school. He read from his translation of Dante's Inferno and took questions from students. After hearing Dante's description of the nether regions, one boy asked Pinsky what his personal version of hell was. The poet said that each of us creates our own hell. The fearful and negative interpretations of reality with which we infect our imaginations constitute curses that we cast on ourselves. They terrify and enslave us so thoroughly that most of the difficult outer circumstances we encounter are mild in comparison. Your next assignment, Scorpio, is to work on dissolving the hell you carry around in your own mind. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Interesting

Did you know that when you type "Fruitcake" into your cell phone, using the handy "guess the word" function, it'll give you back "Equitable"?

Interesting, no?

No?

Right.

Round TWO.

OK . . . so today has been one fun IM conversation after another. And I’m going to be super annoying and post ALL of them! (Or just this other one.)

Back story: My Mum is a crazy person. She is also one of the funniest people I know. Yet, she remains as refined as can be in front of most people (with the exception of Cris, who can tell her to turn up her hearing aid during an intense game of Trivial Pursuit, and won’t blink and eye when my Mum tells her to eff off).

Anyhow, my Mum has this “thing” where she won’t get off the phone (or IM, apparently) with her children without having the last word. She SAYS it’s because she feels badly if she doesn’t say something last, as she doesn’t want us to feel like she’s hung up on us.

I think it’s more because she just loves having the last word. And you’ll see below where I get my competitive streak. (And, please notice, that I won again – everything’s a competition, my friend. Everything.)

Note: Mum's in England visiting her parents and friends. So, it was . . . um, late . . . 5 hours ahead . . . around 11:00 pm there. Oh, and I left the first part of the conversation in there so you can see what a lovely relationship we have (i.e. how she bullies me and brings me down).

ME (5:47:00 PM): i never got an email back from [Godmother's] friend
MAM (5:47:30 PM): Did you actually write back to him? Because [GMum] said he was upset because he never heard back from you!
ME (5:47:37 PM): YES. i did!
ME (5:47:43 PM): WHAT?
ME (5:47:47 PM): he wasn't really, i'm sure.
MAM (5:48:12 PM): Hmmm. Well sounds like it's a bit of a muddle. Oh well, you can talk to him soon can't you, and find what is happening!
ME (5:48:19 PM): hahahah
ME (5:48:22 PM): right
ME (5:48:36 PM): well . . . it's not like i plan on dating someone who lives in scotland anyhow
MAM (5:48:43 PM): Can't believe that 3 weeks after I get back, we'll be off to Edinburgh.
ME (5:48:48 PM): i know!
ME (5:49:06 PM): i just got vacation time off today for august, too.
MAM (5:49:24 PM): I just hope nothing happens to my flight up to Newark, or I will be screwed for the flight to Edinburgh. Where are you going in August?
ME (5:49:26 PM): going to Cali with C again!!
MAM (5:49:44 PM): That is nice. But expensive.
ME (5:49:49 PM): riiiiight
ME (5:50:06 PM): well, we'll be staying with her aunt and uncle again. for free!
ME (5:50:09 PM): it'll be fun
MAM (5:50:10 PM): Especially if you don't have a job. Debbie Downer and all that!
ME (5:50:11 PM): very excited
ME (5:50:17 PM): oh. my. god
ME (5:50:21 PM): ok, shut it.
MAM (5:50:23 PM): hahahahahahaha
MAM (5:50:27 PM): wont.
ME (5:50:30 PM): you are so annoying
MAM (5:50:37 PM): not
ME (5:50:39 PM): yes
ME (5:50:43 PM): you are
MAM (5:50:45 PM): fook off
ME (5:50:48 PM): you fook off
ME (5:50:51 PM): fook off
ME (5:50:53 PM): fook off
MAM (5:50:54 PM): you fook off
ME (5:50:59 PM): foook oofffeeeee
ME (5:51:02 PM): fook offeeee
ME (5:51:07 PM): fukofee
ME (5:51:13 PM): fucoffee
MAM (5:51:14 PM): I am paying money for this conversation. Did I say conversation!
ME (5:51:16 PM): hahahaha
ME (5:51:22 PM): big bucks
ME (5:51:31 PM): big spender
MAM (5:51:36 PM): Better go. Time for bed. You have a great evening.
ME (5:51:42 PM): have a good night
ME (5:51:47 PM): love to gma gpa and petes
MAM (5:51:48 PM): Love you very much.
ME (5:51:51 PM): love you too
MAM (5:51:53 PM): XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
ME (5:51:57 PM): xo xo xo
MAM (5:52:02 PM): X
ME (5:52:03 PM): x
MAM (5:52:10 PM): FOOK OFF
ME (5:52:10 PM): o
ME (5:52:14 PM): HEY
ME (5:52:17 PM): you fook off
MAM (5:52:25 PM): hahahahahah. laughing my head off now.
ME (5:52:26 PM): x
ME (5:52:29 PM): hahahaha
ME (5:52:30 PM): o
MAM (5:52:47 PM): Really, really going now. XXXXXXX
ME (5:52:49 PM): x
ME (5:52:49 PM): o
MAM (5:52:59 PM): byee pumpkin.
ME (5:52:59 PM): o
ME (5:53:02 PM): bye
MAM (5:53:04 PM): X
ME (5:53:05 PM): x
MAM (5:53:21 PM): Muggins stop. I am peeing my knickers here.
ME (5:53:22 PM): o
ME (5:53:24 PM): hahahahaha
MAM (5:53:40 PM): They will be wondering why I am laughing
ME (5:53:43 PM): xo
ME (5:53:45 PM): tell em
MAM (5:54:00 PM): I sound demented. G and G are in bed. Peter is watching War of the Worlds.
ME (5:54:04 PM): hahaaha
ME (5:54:11 PM): you ARE demented
MAM (5:54:18 PM): You are
ME (5:54:20 PM): you are
MAM (5:54:30 PM): demented twat
ME (5:54:32 PM): you're a demented twat!!!!
MAM (5:54:40 PM): shut it
ME (5:54:43 PM): you shut it
MAM (5:54:57 PM): Okay i can't breathe. Too funny
ME (5:55:01 PM): x
ME (5:55:03 PM): o
MAM (5:55:07 PM): o
ME (5:55:07 PM): x
MAM (5:55:19 PM): oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ME (5:55:20 PM): o
ME (5:55:25 PM): ooooooooxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxoxoxoxoxx
MAM (5:56:04 PM): Right, I am going to be the brave Mam that I am, and close down. Have a lovely evening and be good.
ME (5:56:06 PM): x
ME (5:56:10 PM): you too
MAM (5:56:15 PM): X
ME (5:56:15 PM): love you
ME (5:56:16 PM): x
MAM (5:56:24 PM): OO
ME (5:56:25 PM): o
MAM (5:56:51 PM): OK mascara is running down my face. Going to wash my face for bed. XO
ME (5:56:51 PM): xo
ME (5:56:55 PM): byeeeee
ME (5:56:56 PM): x
MAM (5:57:06 PM): PISS OFF
ME (5:57:06 PM): o
ME (5:57:18 PM): you piss off already
MAM (5:57:32 PM): Bye bye sweet pea.
ME (5:57:33 PM): o
ME (5:57:34 PM): bye

I promise, this is my last IM post for awhile.

Unless I win another conversation.

The best IM conversation EV-ER.

(WINNER: me, LOSER: cris)

WINNER (4:19:11 PM): coolio
LOSER (4:21:43 PM): run dmc
WINNER (4:22:02 PM): ll cool j
LOSER (4:22:27 PM): tupac
WINNER (4:22:35 PM): biggie
LOSER (4:23:31 PM): dammit! i was gonna say him!
LOSER (4:23:48 PM): dj jazzy jeff and the fresh prince
WINNER (4:24:05 PM): that's two, you know . . . fitty
LOSER (4:24:19 PM): no, they were one for many an album
LOSER (4:24:41 PM): doug e fresh
WINNER (4:25:43 PM): eminem
LOSER (4:26:10 PM): young mc
WINNER (4:26:18 PM): missy
LOSER (4:27:08 PM): tone-loc
WINNER (4:28:44 PM): dr dre
WINNER (4:28:46 PM): br b
LOSER (4:29:02 PM): snoop dogg
LOSER (4:31:35 PM): dude...have you finished my report yet?!?
WINNER (4:33:08 PM): um, almost.
WINNER (4:33:15 PM): lil kim
LOSER (4:33:25 PM): couldya hurry it up?
WINNER (4:33:34 PM): i feel so BLAH . . . haven't exercised at all since last wednesday.
WINNER (4:33:36 PM): feel poochy
WINNER (4:33:39 PM): blech
LOSER (4:33:51 PM): wu tang clan
WINNER (4:33:55 PM): tribe
LOSER (4:34:00 PM): well poochy isn't good
LOSER (4:34:02 PM): nas
WINNER (4:34:15 PM): nelly
LOSER (4:34:58 PM): p diddy
LOSER (4:35:04 PM): what is poochy anyway?
WINNER (4:35:05 PM): skillz
LOSER (4:35:18 PM): ice cube
WINNER (4:35:23 PM): ice t
LOSER (4:35:28 PM): ludacris
WINNER (4:35:35 PM): eve
LOSER (4:36:04 PM): mc hammer
WINNER (4:36:16 PM): mercanary
LOSER (4:36:38 PM): sugarhill gang
WINNER (4:37:15 PM): vanilla ice
LOSER (4:37:28 PM): ok he SO doesn't count
WINNER (4:37:40 PM): UM, if mc hammer counts, so does vanilla ice
WINNER (4:37:45 PM): AND he's trying to make a comebak
WINNER (4:37:49 PM): or a comeback
LOSER (4:37:50 PM): mc hammer was a revolutionary
WINNER (4:37:57 PM): as was vanilla ice
LOSER (4:38:06 PM): vanilla ice was a wannabe
WINNER (4:38:12 PM): so is your face
LOSER (4:38:16 PM): there's an effing fly in my office.
WINNER (4:38:49 PM): um, it's your turn you bastard
LOSER (4:39:00 PM): no. i'm still stuck on vanilla ice.
WINNER (4:39:07 PM): oh come ON.
WINNER (4:39:21 PM): just b/c you didn't like his rap doesn't mean he wasn't one.
LOSER (4:39:36 PM): fine. cheater. jay-z
LOSER (4:39:41 PM): brb
WINNER (4:39:44 PM): i'm so NOT a cheater.
WINNER (4:39:45 PM): slick rick
LOSER (4:42:28 PM): um. who the eff is that?
WINNER (4:42:48 PM): slick rick! OLD OLD OLD school
WINNER (4:43:00 PM): look, if you're not knowledgeable enough . . .
LOSER (4:43:03 PM): you are SUCH a cheater.
LOSER (4:43:09 PM): public enemy
WINNER (4:43:10 PM): look him up you bastard
WINNER (4:43:15 PM): eazy e
LOSER (4:43:16 PM): hahahahaha
LOSER (4:43:22 PM): beastie boys
WINNER (4:43:37 PM): mc doom
LOSER (4:43:43 PM): WHO THE EFF IS THAT???
WINNER (4:43:49 PM): LOOK IT UP
LOSER (4:43:49 PM): where are you pulling these effers?
WINNER (4:44:00 PM): i'm really smart
LOSER (4:44:00 PM): outkast
WINNER (4:44:04 PM): freddy foxx
WINNER (4:44:12 PM): oh my god, i'm laughing SO hard
LOSER (4:44:14 PM): you are such a bastard.
WINNER (4:44:24 PM): i'm gonna pee my pants
LOSER (4:44:28 PM): hahahahaha
LOSER (4:44:37 PM): salt n pepa
WINNER (4:44:41 PM): Bubba Sparrxx
LOSER (4:45:03 PM): fugees
WINNER (4:45:07 PM): Bushwick Bill
LOSER (4:45:12 PM): EFF YOU
WINNER (4:45:17 PM): hahaha
LOSER (4:45:21 PM): those totally do not count if i have never heard of them
WINNER (4:45:26 PM): hahahaha
WINNER (4:45:28 PM): SO COUNT
WINNER (4:45:31 PM): so so so count
LOSER (4:45:33 PM): NOT NOT NOT
WINNER (4:45:35 PM): yes.
WINNER (4:45:37 PM): yes yes yes
LOSER (4:45:41 PM): NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
LOSER (4:45:46 PM): (foot stomp)
WINNER (4:45:47 PM): yeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
WINNER (4:45:53 PM): fist pump fist pump
LOSER (4:45:53 PM): (door slam)
WINNER (4:46:03 PM): (arms crossed, big humpf)
LOSER (4:46:04 PM): (cup throw)
WINNER (4:46:09 PM): (pen toss)
WINNER (4:46:22 PM): (squat thrust) (lunge)
LOSER (4:46:22 PM): (turn my back to you, you ass)
WINNER (4:46:36 PM): (point finger, you piece of shoe)
LOSER (4:46:40 PM): tlc
WINNER (4:46:43 PM): Kool Keith
LOSER (4:46:49 PM): i hate you right now.
WINNER (4:46:56 PM): and i you
LOSER (4:47:04 PM): grandmaster flash
WINNER (4:47:21 PM): Kool Herc
LOSER (4:47:36 PM): public enemy
WINNER (4:47:43 PM): you already said that
LOSER (4:47:50 PM): are you sure?
WINNER (4:48:01 PM): yes
WINNER (4:48:16 PM): after i said vanilla ice and you had to pull up your skirt and move on
LOSER (4:48:20 PM): oh yeah. sorry. um...mos def
LOSER (4:48:26 PM): you are SUCH a cheatingbastard.
WINNER (4:48:39 PM): melle mel
LOSER (4:48:50 PM): de la soul
WINNER (4:48:51 PM): coke la rock
LOSER (4:49:03 PM): mc lyte
WINNER (4:49:06 PM): N.W.A
LOSER (4:49:08 PM): common
WINNER (4:49:13 PM): bone thugs
LOSER (4:49:14 PM): dmx
WINNER (4:49:22 PM): didn't you say that?
LOSER (4:49:26 PM): no.
LOSER (4:49:30 PM): keep up shorty
WINNER (4:49:30 PM): the game
LOSER (4:49:40 PM): digital underground
WINNER (4:49:42 PM): Harmony
LOSER (4:49:43 PM): mase
WINNER (4:49:47 PM): ghostface killah
LOSER (4:49:54 PM): naughty by nature
WINNER (4:49:59 PM): gang starr
LOSER (4:50:02 PM): cypress hill
WINNER (4:50:05 PM): puffy
LOSER (4:50:09 PM): said it.
WINNER (4:50:12 PM): freaky tah
LOSER (4:50:20 PM): kanye
WINNER (4:50:22 PM): big L
LOSER (4:50:26 PM): busta rhymes
WINNER (4:50:51 PM): jamie foxx
LOSER (4:51:03 PM): arrested development
WINNER (4:51:05 PM): kool moe dee
LOSER (4:51:08 PM): heavy d
WINNER (4:51:17 PM): lil jon
LOSER (4:51:21 PM): method man
WINNER (4:51:23 PM): T.I.
LOSER (4:51:28 PM): mobb deep
WINNER (4:51:30 PM): roots
LOSER (4:51:41 PM): whodini
WINNER (4:51:42 PM): emcee lynx
LOSER (4:51:48 PM): da brat
WINNER (4:51:49 PM): the coup
LOSER (4:51:57 PM): foxy brown
WINNER (4:51:58 PM): schooly d
LOSER (4:52:04 PM): big pun
WINNER (4:52:10 PM): x clan
LOSER (4:52:18 PM): fat joe
WINNER (4:52:22 PM): spoonie gee
LOSER (4:52:50 PM): leroy
WINNER (4:52:51 PM): big daddy kane
LOSER (4:53:02 PM): jimmy gangsta
WINNER (4:53:03 PM): rakim
LOSER (4:53:11 PM): dr. little j
WINNER (4:53:17 PM): mc ricky brown
LOSER (4:53:25 PM): dj hippity hop
WINNER (4:53:26 PM): ja rule
WINNER (4:53:29 PM): hahahaha
WINNER (4:53:31 PM): WHAT????
LOSER (4:53:48 PM): hahahaha
LOSER (4:53:56 PM): dude, i've been totally making names up
WINNER (4:54:03 PM): HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
WINNER (4:54:06 PM): oh. my. god.
WINNER (4:54:17 PM): i just took a drink and can't swallow.
WINNER (4:54:21 PM): oh my god, going to pee
LOSER (4:54:50 PM): hurry up! it's your turn!
WINNER (4:56:43 PM): oh my god, you're such a cheater. i WIN
LOSER (4:56:51 PM): no effing way!
WINNER (4:57:09 PM): um, YOU WERE MAKING SHIT UP.

I don't think I've laughed that hard in years.

(And, so you know, I didn't make up a single rapper . . . Wikipedia is very helpful for stupid shit like IM wars.)

Emoticrazy

Does anyone use AOL email anymore? I am digging the new interface . . . but these loading graphics kind of freak me out.









Am I alone?

Hip.Sters.

They're pissed. (In a cool, "but I don't really give a shit" kind of way.)

Please do see the link, within the link, to the original TIME OUT article about our Hipster friends. Or, well, just go to it from here: Why the hipster must die.

ADDITION:
Oh my Hipster, I love this quiz: What’s your hipster dirtbag quotient?

Here was my result:

What's a Moz?
We hate to be the ones that have to break this to you, but unless khaki-colored, baggy cargo pants, Yanni and a pleasant disposition come back into style, you're consigned to a life of unremarkable blandness. We're sorry.

I am totally un-hip.

Like I needed a quiz to tell me that.

Dodo! Come!

OK . . . so, rush hour in NYC officially sucks it. Big time. After a couple years of successfully avoiding the subway system during rush hour, today was un-fun. BUT that’s what you get when your sister suckers you into staying out in Strong Island one night longer than you were planning on. BUT (again) how easy is it to leave this nugget (and, of course, nugget’s Mummy)?:



(This was a RARE RARE RARE occurrence of my niece not moving.)

I miss my family already.

I had a lovely weekend while it lasted. Congrats again on becoming a homeowner, Sarah. Your newly papered shelves look like a couple of geniuses put them together . . . oh, wait, but they did! (Um, we’re awesome.)

OK, I’m going to start making sense now . . . (because that’s happened before??)

I think I’ve been awake for too long this morning.

(Yes, it’s possible.) (Wow, I love the parentheses, don’t I?) (I need to stop it.) (It's not going to happen . . . see below.)

At least I have PANDORA to enchant the morning for moi (I am not French). Holy CRAP, I love this site. It’s BAD NEWS BEARS for me though. Why, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. Read: I have a spending problem. And worse, the spending problem gets a wee bit out of control around music and movies (and clothes and home furnishings and art and . . . ). Hence my inability to go into a Best Buy without leaving without $60 worth of stuff. And a lot of the time, the stuff that I pick up is random shit that I just think “looks good!” Most of the time this works out for my ears. For my financial situation: EFFING HORRIBLE.

Right. Getting back to PANDORA . . . I now have a list of 10 or so albums that I want to buy. Stuff from people I’ve never heard of AND albums from people I hadn’t realized had come out with new albums (because I have my head up my ass, apparently). Here’s a little sampling from my “The Be Good Tanyas” radio station (because I know you’re REALLY interested):

Kate Rusby – “10”
Deb Talan – “A Bird Flies Out”
Wailin’ Jennys – “40 Days” / “Firecracker”
Old Crowe Medicine Show - “Don’t Ride That Horse” (FYI Kath and Tim: Sarah and I were looking thru some pics from her wedding over the weekend – you two looked right lovely!!)

If anyone has any idea what these albums are like, please let a chick know. (Not that a bad recommendation will really stop me from buying them.)

Speaking of my horrible spending, good GOD, I need to get it under control. Big time panic lately. Big time stress. Big time idiot I’ve been. Must pull up skirt and act like adult.

Perhaps a new job will help?? Less stress, less spending?? Less boredom, less shopping?? Here’s hoping. Of course, we’ll have to wait until the end of the summer to see, I suppose – unless I can get my ass into a new gig before lay off time. Here’s hoping squared. What, oh what, can I do to make my resume more alluring? Attach “free massage” coupons?? Hhmmmmm . . . note to self: learn massage.

Wow, I’ve gotten way off course here. Not that there ever was one. I think I might be a little dazed from lack of sleep. Again. So, really, this is completely normal for yours truly.

Good thing I have a blog to talk about all of these important issues, huh?

Caroline's! Chelsea Handler! Tonight! So excited! Need . . . to catch . . . breath . . .

Oh. My. God.

Truck Takes Man in Wheelchair on Wild Ride

um . . .

SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): Militant atheists make the claim that religion has always been a primary cause of war. If humans weren't under the sway of "the God delusion," they fume, armed conflicts would be infrequent. But military historian Eric Bergerud says that's absurd. He notes that while there have been a few religious wars, "most wars in history have been driven by the lust for power and loot." In other words, the materialist delusion is far more lethal than the God delusion. People who believe there's nothing of value beyond what the five senses can perceive are often the most dangerous of all. Make this the seed for your meditations, Scorpio. Think about how much less fear and loathing you'd suffer if you knew for a fact that your soul lives forever. Imagine the peace and wonder you'd feel if you knew there are realities and spiritual beings that aren't visible to the naked eye or to the technology that science has dreamed up thus far. --Village Voice, Rob Brezsny

I'm still trying to figure this one out . . . little help??

I have no words.

Crap-ass American viewing habits. I heart you Studio 60. Call me.

It's Official: Studio 60 Gets Cancelled

I must say, I don't like it.

London Olympics logo

"may well cause epileptic seizures" . . . well, that can't be good.

Stupid poo-head quiz.

Are You Smarter Than a Fifth-Grader?

I was a heart surgeon this weekend. Tonight, I’m a badass.

So . . . great weekend. Had a grand time out on the island of length with my lovely friends. I’m still so pale that I appear to be a beacon of light yet I’ve decided not to care. I’m embracing my whiteness. So what if I’m the color of salt.

My ass hurts. Not because of the weekend (I didn’t have THAT kind of fun) but because of the 8 miles or so I’ve ran over the past two days. After being incredibly lazy during the weekend, I’ve decided to run it away. (OK, so I use "run" loosely here . . . let’s say jog/walk.) This is fine but now my right ass-cheek hurts. How do you pull a muscle in your right ass-cheek, you ask? I have no fucking idea.

I ran (just work with me) up the East River yesterday. There were small groups (families, as some might call them) along the river, grilling out. Yup, full-fledged BBQs with small grills and blankets and kids. Now, there’s only a good 20 feet of space (and I believe I’m overestimating) between the FDR and the river but that wasn’t going to stop them. The BBQs were in full swing! It was kind of sweet, actually. Not sure I’d like to eat a burger locked between speeding cars and a somewhat smelly mass of water but . . . whatever! It’s all in the name of fun!

Now, I can say with a certainty that I wouldn’t want to eat a freshly caught fish out of the East River but, apparently, there are some who don’t mind.

Anyhow, this is all just to say that somewhere between running past cookouts and fishing poles, I pulled an ass-muscle. I’m one hell of an athlete.

I didn’t do much better on the treadmill tonight. I was a good thirty minutes into my run when I went for my towel and pulled the emergency stop string by accident. I’m not sure I have to go into detail about the shock of running a good 5.5 miles/hour before coming to an immediate halt. Jarring? Yeah.

Yeah.

Feeling good. Feeling fit. Feeling healthy. Let’s hold onto that, shall we (crossing fingers)?

Word.

You know that "laughing but shouldn't be laughing" feeling?

Child Ruins Monks' Intricate Sand Design
AP

KANSAS CITY, Mo. (May 24) - The little boy spotted the pretty pile of colored sand on the floor of the vast hall and couldn't resist. Slipping under a protective rope, he danced all over the sand, ruining the carefully crafted picture.

Never mind that it was the creation of eight Tibetan monks who had spent two days cross-legged on the floor of Union Station, meticulously pouring the sand into an intricate design as an expression of their Buddhist faith.

They were more than halfway done with the design - called a mandala - on Tuesday when they ended their work for the day and left. The little boy showed up sometime later with his mother, who was taking a package to a post office in the hall.

"He did a little tap dance on it, completely destroying it," said Lama Chuck Stanford, of the Rime Buddhist Center in Kansas City.

A security tape shows the boy's mother returning to the mandala, grabbing her son by the arm and walking out of camera range.

The monks saw the destruction Wednesday.

"No problem," Geshe Lobsang Sumdup, leader of the group from the Drepung Gomang Monastery in southern India, said through a translator. "We didn't get despondent. We have three days more. So we will have to work harder."

The monks are on a yearlong tour of the United States and Canada to raise money for their monastery. The original monastery in Tibet was destroyed.

In a ceremony Saturday, they will sweep up the sand and offer bits to onlookers for their gardens. The rest will be placed in the Missouri River.

"The belief is that it will carry the blessings all over the planet, from the Missouri River to the Mississippi to the gulf and to all the oceans of the world," Stanford said.

Well, shit. But sand is made for stomping and kicking. Right?

Danielito

The most amazing person I've never met: Mammalpants

You're the coolest, Mr. Hamilton.

The Landlord - Part II

Outtakes!

Kitlers!

Holy crap, I can't stop laughing . . .

Cats That Look Like Hitler!

Well, sure, this makes sense.

Baby 'Bubba' Gets State Gun Permit

I think we're dead.

I'm in love.

As I'm the chick who stops at every handmade jewelry designer's / artist's roadside stand, I LOVE this site. And, um, check out the amazing prices . . .

Well, crap, I guess now you all know where I'll be shopping for gifts from now on.

(Tim: You should TOTALLY sell your photography on here. I'd buy it!!)

Etsy

I just don't think I can express how fantastic I think all of this is. I can't stop looking at everything.

Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest . . . with . . . a herring!

There’s a large piece of shrubbery in the lobby of my office building, with paper wrapped around it. Someone bought someone else a shrub . . . and had it delivered, no less. Not a pretty arrangement of flowers but a large, 3-4 foot shrubbery. I just don’t know where to begin . . .

My ass is currently being pummeled by a cold / allergies concoction of some kind. It’s a lot of fun, believe me. That, and it’s really doing a lot for my looks. I mean, who isn’t attracted to a red, runny nose?? Hot, I say. Hot. As soon as I can figure out which drug will help, plan on me buying stock in said drug.

In the meantime, I can’t take a day off to whine because I have a shitload of work to do. And I can’t wait to finish up the cover I’m working on -- one can only do image searches of “disgruntled teenagers” for so long before wanting to strangle someone. Am I right? Why, yes. Yes, I am.

Here’s hoping things start looking a little sunnier (less stuffy) by Thursday. I have an interview, which I’d rather not sniff through. Although, sniffing all of my answers would make me somewhat unforgettable . . . decisions, decisions . . .

P.S. When I was doing my google search for the exact Monty Python quote, I found this: Monty Python and the Holy Grail in Glorious Legocolour . . . JUST. AWESOME.

She's allowed to do anything she wants.

Aunt DoDo and Lisbeth take Manhattan tomorrow . . . Best. Time. Ever.

Who knew it was possible to adore someone this much?

Where are my pants?

Got the following email from my younger sister's boyfriend, Paul (Hi Paul!):

Muggy,

I am not sure why, but this made me think of you.

P

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Pants_Day

I think this feeling is called "pride." It truly is an amazing day.

(I'm totally not wearing any pants right now. It's breezy.)

America's Finest News Source

If Someone Wanted To Publish My Blog Entries For Money, I Wouldn't Say No

I'm a receptacle . . . wait, what?

SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): "The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place," said Pablo Picasso, "from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing stranger, from a spider's web." Now substitute your own name for "the artist" in the above statement, Scorpio, and you'll have your assignment for the coming week. In other words, be alert for and open to the feelings flooding toward you from every direction. Regard the whole world as a giant classroom where you'll be taking a crash course to upgrade your emotional intelligence. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Bring it.

P.S. Fabulous time last night, Miss. Kath. (Next time though, please remember to wear your shiny, white mumu.)

Funny.

The Landlord

Because . . .

it's Monday:

Badgers

Kenya

"I like my sausage straight." - GMum

I had a fantastic weekend. Just great. My GMummy rocks. Case and point: "I like my sausage straight."

Yeah, that's right.

(And holy crap: Zorn and the boys were brilliant Saturday night. There's nothing quite like a small jam-packed room bursting with old-time music — mmmmmm, boys with string instruments . . . )

The British are coming! The British are coming!

Big plans this weekend. Big.

Mum is coming into town tonight thru Sunday. I’m to be surrounded by Brits and Scots! My godmother (whom I never actually remember meeting) is my Mum’s old boarding school BFF and she’s coming into town for the weekend with her Scottish lad of a boyfriend, for her birthday. So, of course, my Mum is also bringing it to the city.

I plan on giving my godmother a piece of my mind for her birthday. I’m pretty sure she’s the one responsible for the fact that I’m now a recovering catholic. Just saying, if you’re given a job . . .

Of course, the only time I talked to her over the phone I told her to “fook off” and she told me to take a flying somethingorother, so I’m pretty sure we’re going to get along just fine. I heart crazy Brits.

She also has a book coming out. You should buy it: Mother’s Ruin.

Zorn will also be in town this weekend:

Saturday the 28th in Brooklyn:

E-Ting Habit, at Barbes in Brooklyn 10PM
www.barbesbrooklyn.com

E-TING HABIT. Banjo player Richie Stearns is probably best known for his band The Horseflies, a seminal group known to mix up traditional stringband music with modernist touches. He's visiting us and has put together a group of like-minded friends. They will be playing high energy funky old-time music. With Richie Stearns- banjo, Jason Zorn- guitar, Joe Bass- bass, and Steve Selin and Nat Rowan on fiddles.

More than likely to be a better time than a punch in the face. I hope to be there myself, Brit and Scots in tow, as my Mum also likes the old-time music (ain’t she cool?) and I like the idea of her in a crowded bar.

Patsy Cline said it best.

There was a sign posted in the entryway of my apartment building about some chick getting mugged at knifepoint in the building right next to mine, this past weekend. She was OK. Her credit cards were taken. The sign was a warning to be careful and attentive of your surroundings when entering the building. Scary stuff.

Yet . . . when my sister was mugged a couple of years ago in our old building, I got a date with a cop out of it. So, really, mugging ain’t all bad, right? Am I right?!

Yup, I’m this much of an ass most of the time.

I best be careful when walking into my apartment building tonight because I’ll be carrying a box with these inside:



I needed rain boots and these were so retarded, I had to have them. I can’t let the muggers get them. Must protect with life.

The other four pairs of shoes I ordered online arrived sometime last week and I definitely lined them up in front of me and told them “I love you all!”

I need help.

In other news, I can barely pay my bills this month. But hey, at least my feet will look fabulous when I declare bankruptcy.

Muzak

Totally digging these new CD purchases (a few oldies, but newbies to me):

Amos Lee - Amos Lee (As if Supply and Demand isn't fantastic enough, he had to begin with this self-title shizat.)

Citizen Cope - The Clarence Greenwood Recordings (I heard Sideways before a friend's gig the other week and immediately ordered the album when I got home. Amazing song. Great album.)

Timbaland - Timbaland Presents: Shock Value (You just can't help bobbing your head, yo.)

Ray LaMontagne - Trouble (I finally just bought the friggin' album.)

So much love, so little time.

My taxi ride last night was enlightening . . . as they should be. I sat in the back, the window rolled all the way down, taking in how amazing this city is, and I realized how good I have it.

I just spent a weekend in Virginia. I spent time with my Mum, I spent time with my lovely friend Farrah and her cute-as-can-be tot, I saw my tall-as-can-be sister. I love Virginia. I love the people I have there. It smells good there. It smells like growing up.

I’m always struck by how much I love this city, too. I see the skyline from the train and I’m still amazed that this is home. I’m honored by it. I love that I’ve found such comfort here. I've found important people here. I've found my (space) self here.

There are things I want. There are things I wish I had. There are financial messes I need to get out of. There are shopping habits I need to get counseling for (major counseling). There’s that new job I need to find. There are 10 pounds I’d love to lose . . . but then there’s my family. And my friends. And my health. And the warm weather. And new people to meet . . .

Pessimism Shmessimism.

Good God, I sound like a fruitcake.

VA

Feeling rather unfocused.
Thought I'd share some links.
And a song-o. (Be Good Tanyas cover it on their Hello Love album.) It fits my mood.


April 16 Memorial Website

Hokie Spirit Memorial Fund


A Thousand Tiny Pieces
(Sean Hayes)

Just play this one out until it explodes into a thousand tiny pieces
What's your story, universe, you are melody in numbers
You are shapes, you are rhythms, there are signs that we can learn
To place over the heavens, to predict how long we'll burn
How long will I last, can I turn up the heat?
What star am I circling, what's circling me?
Now my ebb and my flow, my lack of control,
Turning on, turning off
Saying yes, but playing no.

Things keep changing
Things keep changing
Things keep changing

Just play this one out until it explodes into a thousand tiny pieces,
What's your story, universe, you are melody in numbers
You are shapes, you are rhythms, there are signs that we can learn,
To place over the heavens, to predict how long we'll burn
How long will I last, can I turn up the heat?
What star am I circling, what's circling me?
Now my ebb and my flow, my lack of control,
Turning on, turning off

tool

Handwriting analysis. (This guy's a tool. *hardy har*)

SO much to say, so little time . . .

I spent $270 on shoes this morning. Within 10 minutes. Fucking. A.

But they’re beautiful looking shoes. Of course, I won’t be POSITIVE of their glory until they arrive (in 4-7 business days).

I have a serious problem. I just cleared off that credit card. (Dammit.)

In other news, this weather is super-great. My pants were completely soaked from the ass down this morning for a good hour. (I’m still wearing my pee pants! –Anyone? Anyone?) After a lot of complaining and borrowing of a co-worker’s space heater, all was as it should be — dry ass and all. The soggy mood did contribute to $300 worth of online shopping BUT we were moving on . . .

Random thoughts (I spit on transitions.):

1. Banc Cafe (30th and 3rd, I believe) has amazing Pomegranate martinis. (And a variety of mens of the suit persuasion, Kath. Shall we wingman it there? Although, do we really want a suit? Am I right? Is anyone still reading this crap?) Had a few of them (martinis, not mens) last night while discussing too many issues to count. I love that I don’t need to invest in a therapist as my friends and I all act as each other’s.

2. Heading to Boston this weekend to see Teri’s band play. I’ve never been to Boston. I plan to rip shit up. (Of course, I'm mostly just going to see the inside of a bar but that does sound like an amazing weekend in my book.)

3. Have discovered that I analyze everything to a pulp. Shocker. Yet, it’s so highly amusing.

4. Holy Parentheses, Batman.

not your typical author web site

Creativity abounds today:
http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/

Love this.

(update) This chick is awesome: Miranda July

this chick = effing creative

Another blogger with a book deal.
But this one's worth a gander (A glimpse. Not a male goose.): INDEXED

Bunnies.

So, Kates (younger sister -- mind you, only a year and a half younger) and I are emailing today and I ask her if she's going to Mum and Dad's for Easter . . . this is her reply:

Yeah I’m going to mom and dad’s. mom started talking about how she bought these little chicken things to eat this year and I was like woah woah woah. And she goes, AND I still got ham and pineapple cuz I knew you’d be upset. So whatever. Now I have to have my ham and pineapple share space on my plate with some foreign chicken object. Puh-lease.

I totally know how she feels.

Cris: Is your Mum making chocolate bird nests again this year?

It must have been a sight to behold.

Just look at the fantastic crap you find when you google the word "molasses" to check for spelling . . .

The Boston Molasses Disaster, also known as the Great Molasses Flood or The Great Boston Molasses Tragedy, occurred on January 15, 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts in the United States. A large molasses treacle tank burst and a wave of molasses ran through the streets at an estimated 35 mph (56 km/h), killing 21 and injuring 150. The event has entered local folklore, and residents claim that on hot summer days the area still smells of molasses.

. . .

"Molasses, waist deep, covered the street and swirled and bubbled about the wreckage. Here and there struggled a form — whether it was animal or human being was impossible to tell. Only an upheaval, a thrashing about in the sticky mass, showed where any life was.... Horses died like so many flies on sticky fly-paper. The more they struggled, the deeper in the mess they were ensnared. Human beings — men and women — suffered likewise."

The Boston Globe reported that people "were picked up by a rush of air and hurled many feet." Others had debris hurled at them from the rush of sweet-smelling air. A truck was picked up and hurled into Boston Harbor. More than 159 were injured; 21 people and several horses were killed - some were crushed and asphyxiated by the molasses. The wounded included people, horses, and dogs; coughing became one of the biggest problems after the initial blast.

Amazing.

Half past Fun.

I went to a screening of the new Showtime series, The Tudors, tonight. It began with cocktail hour and ended with a Q&A with “Henry himself!” Johnny Rhys-Meyers. Dude . . . what a pretentious ass. I’ll admit, I didn’t always feel justified in thinking that about him. I mean, I think he’s a decent actor, and he’s pretty, and people seem to like him, etc, etc. However, tonight I’m not sitting here thinking “M-Dawg! You had it all wrong! He’s quite a lovely fellow!” Instead it’s “Well, he’s a pompous little fuck, isn’t he?”

My feelings about him aren’t going to stop me from buying the Showtime package and watching every single Tudors episode though. I LOVE me some Tudor history. Especially good old Henry VIII. Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived! Don’t the Brits have some good fun!?! (By the by, the new Philippa Gregory, The Boleyn Inheritance is excellent. Still, nothing tops The Other Boleyn Girl . . . holy crap, I’d marry that book.) Second Parentheses (Betsy: I heart you for the invite.)

To transition gracefully . . .

It’s half past midnight and good Jebus, In other news, I spent $60 at Sam Flax on Monday, picking up 3 different sketch pads (because I’m going to draw like a madwoman, apparently) and some new pastels. I almost bought new pencils until I realized that would give me four sets. Good thing I didn’t because I probably wouldn’t have spent the money on the Jam Band for my fridge. And who knows what I’d do without a magnet of a frog playing bass.



The good news: I’m working at this proactive thing.
The bad news: I’m working at that lazy thing, too.

Hey, at least I’m multi-tasking.


FYI: The new Chocolate LG phone kind of sucks it with regard to the phone part. Texting on this mutha's a bitch. Haven't tried the music part yet. It better rock my world or there's going to be one unhappy camper in Muggyland. *It is a fancy little devil though.*

RICK RICK RICK!

For Cristina.

Top o' the mornin'

Definitely met a great kisser tonight . . . this morning.(?)

On my way home from the bar (bar kissing = classy), my cabbie helped me understand the way of THE LOVE in NYC. Very helpful, indeed: “As the good book says: When Man and Woman get chummy, they marry. In New York . . . don’t happen."

Awesome.

May 1, 2007

I am really excited about this.



Hey . . . it's the small things.

I can believe anything provided it is incredible.

Love my horoscope for this week:

SCORPIO (Oct.23–Nov.21): You've entered an Oscar Wilde–type phase. I urge you to get a sense of how the British author's paradoxical brilliance worked so you can put yourself in a similar frame of mind. Study the following Wilde-isms. (1) "I can believe anything provided it is incredible." (2) "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative." (3) "If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh; otherwise they'll kill you." (4) "Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." (5) "Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much." (6) "Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul." –Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Shared a smile and a wave this morning with a little girl on a school bus. It was a nice way to start the day.

Mr. Ness

Hot damn, you're friggin' smart. Nice bloggage. You've been added, my friend. You've been added.

AND I'm terribly sorry to have missed your birthday shenanigans Saturday night. A belated happy birthday to you! Are you and my niece kind of like soulmates since you share the same birthday weekend AND pieces of my heart? I'm pretty sure you are. I'm pretty sure you are.

I just repeated two phrases twice. I just repeated two phrases twice. Apparently I can't stop. Apparently . . .

Sorry.

Random tidbits.

On the bus, on the way to work this morning, I was reading my ALLURE maggy (nope, Cris, my subscription has yet to arrive – I bought the issue with Michelle Pfeiffer on the cover because I heart her greatly) and made a few interesting discoveries.

1. OhMiBod . . . OhMiFUCKINGAMAZING
Did you know there’s also an iCARTA: a toilet-paper dispenser with a built-in iPod dock and speakers??? Holy Christ, I love iPods . . . now if I only HAD ONE. Of course, I’m sure as hell going to get one now that I know about the OhMiBod.

2. “Redheaded Caucasian women require 20% more anesthesia to block movement in response to a painful stimulation than women with dark or blonde hair.” Weird. And so random to note . . .

3. Lanvin creative director, Alber Elbaz (yeah, who?), is my new hero (hero being a loose term here for “the guy who put into words how I feel at the moment”): “It’s very important to hate what you do because that’s maybe what gives me the energy to wake up the next day and start all over again — the fact that I’m never satisfied with my work.”

I had quite the bus ride.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes me happy and what would make me happy. I’m coming up with a lot of things. There’s nothing but good in that. So far this week, for instance, there’s:

1. Exercising later in the day. (I’m pretty sure running half asleep, in the morning, doesn’t do much for me.)
2. My niece.
3. Walking home, in the cold.
4. DVR'd Inside the Actor’s Studio. (Dave Chapelle, Robert Downey, Jr., Angelina Jolie, oh my.)
6. Melissa Moss’s art. It’s phenomenal. I was introduced to her work yesterday and have already emailed her about buying 2 prints on wood (“burden” and “ogee”). I must say, I’m super-excited. And reading her bio and seeing her work makes me want to change things up . . . pretty cool, indeed.

Bob’s your Uncle.

Nope, Peter’s my uncle . . .

Here’s another little British saying I grew up with. My American coworker just used it during our conversation. Irritating? A little bit. Why? Well, it’s the same irritation I have towards Americans who use slang like “wanker” and “bollocks” on a regular basis: “Oh, because I studied abroad/lived in England for awhile! I picked it up!” Here's the thing: you sound like an idiot. Stop it. You’re American.

Whatever . . . people can say whatever they like. Just don’t start mimicking an English accent after I tell you my Mum is English. I WILL slap you. Because, you’re annoying. And don’t sound English -- in fact, I have no idea what accent you're going for.

(Click the title of the entry for phrase origin info.)

And no, this blog is not going to turn into “Quirky sayings from my Mum” . . . that would make me a wanker.

I'm such an ass.

FACTOID: Wanker is also an English language surname; according to the 1990 census, "Wanker" is the 53,492nd most common surname in the United States.

white rabbit white rabbit white rabbit (fingers crossed, eyes squeezed shut)

My Mum has been torturing me with “Pinch, punch, first day of the month! White rabbit!” for a good few months now. She’s made sure to call me on the first day of the month, as early as possible, to yell it into the phone. The Brit comes up with yet one more weird English custom every few months.

This morning I tried to beat her to the punch . . . if you will. She picked up the phone and started yelling the line to me before I could say a thing. She completely stole my thunder. I’m going to win this war . . . I’m going to win. April’s a whole new month. I think I might even fake a pregnancy as an April Fool’s Day joke, too, just for kicks.*

*Yes, yes, I'm a special person. I know.

Below you will find some references as to where in the hell this little custom comes from . . . from REALLY reliable sources:

From Wiktionary:
pinch and a punch for the first of the month

1. Phrase said on the first day of a new month, accompanied by a pinch and a punch to the victim.
* Must be done prior to 12 midday to prevent retaliation.
* If the phrase ends "with no return", under NO circumstances is the person that has been pinched, allowed to retaliate (as long as this has happened before 12 midday).
* The exception being, the victim can respond with "A kick and a flick for being so quick" accompanied by a kick and a hit to the original speaker. This can't be retaliated to.
* A version encountered on the Canadian west coast turns this phrase into a race of who can say it first, on the first morning of each month. "A kiss and a kick for being so quick," is uttered by the person who is beaten to the "punch" line.
* Its origins are from old England times when people thought that witches existed.

People thought that salt would make a Witch weak so the pinch part is pinching of the salt and the punch part was to banish the witch. The witch would be weak from the salt so the punch was to banish her.

From Wikipedia:
More on the “white rabbit” part.

I have obviously spent way too much time on this. However, I definitely woke up this morning and immediately said “white rabbit white rabbit white rabbit” – because we can all use a lucky month once in awhile.

Better than some.

Do you ever hear snippets of a conversation and think "God, I would be bored out of my fucking skull if I had your job"?

I do.

Random thoughts . . . if you want to call them that.

Immaculate conception? Or not???? (wink wink nudge nudge)
SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): In the coming weeks, you'll attract cosmic assistance whenever you add to your repertoire, branch out artistically or socially, or start gathering seed money for a project that may take years to ripen. Mythically speaking, the coming weeks will also be a good time to have intimate relations with a fertility god or goddess, and to plant magic beans that will grow into a bean stalk that reaches the sky. "Is that it?" you may be asking. "Nothing but good news?!" My only caveat, which is pretty minor, is that you might add a few pounds to your frame. If you're a hetero woman, that could be caused by a pregnancy unless you're careful. --Rob Breszny, Village Voice

Don’t know how I feel about this . . .
'Grey's' spinoff in the works

No kidding . . .
The Romantic Life of Brainiacs

Word. Word. WORD.
Ferguson Speaks From The Heart

Thank Timmy for small favors!! You've made my week. (And yes, that's a wee bit pathetic. Noted. ALSO note that this is the second blog to start with a posting highlighting the pressure I put on the blogger to start said blog. Again, a little sad.)
The Calvacade of Whimsy

TOOL: Bill O'Reilly
UNTOOL: Craig Ferguson

Morning . . . already.

Is it weird to want to change places with a panda?



How is it that I could manage just fine on 3/4/5 hours of sleep in college but now I turn into a zombie if I don't get at least 7?? Must. Find. Caffeine.

Poop poopy poop.

I started a TOOL list on my office wall ages ago. See crappy little camera photo:



Included on the TOOL side are people like John Mayer (even though I own and really like his new album, he’s still a pretty big pussy, uh, tool), DJ AM, Carson Daly, Perez Hilton, P.Diddy, etc. Among the UNTOOL people are various coworkers (one can’t really put coworkers on the TOOL side as they will see TOOL list – one CAN put coworkers on internal TOOL list though), my Mum, and . . . well, that’s it so far. The mess of red marker you see is because someone did not approve of the addition of DJ AM to the TOOL list. The fight is ongoing . . . and I’m pretty sure said coworker doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I mean: DJ AM = UNTOOL??? I think my coworker might be insane.

Mindless gibberish.

I dropped off $86.85 worth of dry cleaning this morning – and that's WITH the 10% discount. This is what I get for buying "nicer clothes that will last longer" this year. Ahh well . . . (An "Ah well" is now how I deal with my money problems now – all grown-up and mature, you see.)

I have a date for Valentine' s Day!! Of course, it's with one of my best girls and I won't be getting laid at the end of it (as one ALWAYS does on a date – am I right?!) BUT it's a date on V-Day, nonetheless. We shall be going to see MUSIC AND LYRICS. Very excited. Very.

I'm usually all disgruntled on V-Day – "I hate this holiday! It can suck it!" type stuff. But, in truth, it's really a lovely little day. I mean, you should tell people you love them every day yadda yadda yadda, but this is the one day that you get to make a real ass out of yourself with the love crap! I mean, come on! Fun! I will be finding appropriately ridiculous gifts for the niecy and nephew, and will spoil my Mummy with something shiny. I’ve decided to turn over a new attitude leaf this year. Just because I don’t have the love of my life now (not counting my DVR) doesn’t mean I won’t have him next V-Day! Word.

And, if my history is anything to show for my lovelife, well, big things are to come.

POSTED LAST YEAR ON OLD BLOG (the one I took down during a "I don't care about anything!" phase – it was great): 2.14.05

Top three men of 2005 . . . a V-Day treat:

1. There was, um, some guy whose name started with a D. Devon? Christ, I can't remember. Not important. Anyhoo, Devon and I, we met at a bar (go figure). He was the bouncer, I was the DJ. Kidding. He was the bouncer and I was one of the classy bar attendees. (I mean, who isn't classy at a place where the waitresses blows a whistle before serving a drink? Class-sssyyyy). So, this bouncer, Devon(???) and I started talking after I eye-effed him. That's right. Classy AND drunk. For some godforsaken reason I give him my number right before walking out the door. AND I put his number in my phone. We were definitely going to talk again! Over the next 2 days *TWO DAYS* Devon calls me 10 (or so) times, leaving only 2 messages – which I had yet to return. I suppose he was pretty upset by the 11th call b/c he dumped me. I was dumped over the phone by some guy I never dated. He asked me why I gave him my number if I wasn’t going to talk to him. Uh, I’ll give you three guesses, stalker.

2. AW. AW, the detective I met when my sister was mugged. (That’s right I turned a bad situation into a good one . . . for me.) OK, so we didn’t really date. At least, I didn’t call the times we hung out “dating.” Apparently, he did. There was a period of, oh, say, 9 months when I didn’t see him but he’d call every few weeks to say hello and check in. Really liked him, he was a nice guy. However, I wasn’t interested in being anything more than his friend, unfortunately. Never had that spark AND he was shorter than me (probably still is), which of course means that I’m not interested. Because, I’m a shallow bitch. I think he wanted a wife. He already had a house in Florida and a 14 year old (17 year old??) kid, so what more would he want? I can’t be positive. He decided to just come out and tell my voicemail one day how he really felt (what is it with me and my voicemail?), and it went a little something like this: “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to say hello, and how’re you doing and, well, I don’t want to keep it a secret any longer . . . I love you.” And, buh bye.

3. RM. (Don’t you just love the initials?? Like they’re going to read this and be all “WOAH!”). Oh, RM. We had fun. Book parties rock for meeting people . . . aka, making out big-time post-party. Or so I’ve learned. RM is QUITE a bit older, owns his own company, has a house in the Hamptons, runs with the socialites, is everything I mock, etc. He makes me laugh. Were still in touch . . . if you know what I mean.

All class. All the time.

Oh, I've been in the lowlands too long.

I have checked Missed Connections three times (no wait, four times) today. I had an amazing Missed Connection last night on the bus.

I gave up on my daily walk home last night because I’m fond of my toes. (If you haven’t noticed, it’s cold as fuck outside. How cold is fuck, you ask? Um, go outside.) Got on the good old bus to get home and managed to squeeze my way through everyone to get to the back of the bus. Once there, a quite handsome young man with a guitar (I’m sure it’s a gorgeous instrument) motioned at me that the seat next to him was free. A “you want to sit down” gesture.

“Thanks!”

“____”

Yup, didn’t hear his reply as my earphones were still in my my ears. *Crap crap crappity crap* So, I just smiled and said “Thanks!” again. Quick. On. My. Feet. And witty, don’t forget witty.

The bus started moving again and I took my earphones out and got out a maggy. *LIKE I’M REALLY READING. HELLO!!! SAY SOMETHING!!* You could cut the tension with a knife.

I could sense that he wanted to say something to me and of course I wanted to say something to him BUTTTTT . . . I didn’t. Why? Because, I’m a giant asshole.

Instead, a few stops later, he got up and walked off the bus. BUT not before looking around at me and giving me a big smile.

GOD DAMMIT! EFF EFF EFF EFF EFF.

WHAT IS MY PROBLEM??!!

All I know is that I’m riding the bus home more often. Of course, I’m going to have to be careful with my eye-effing. I had another “eye-catch” at the end of the ride but THIS bussy had some awfully bloodshot eyes and, well, there’s only room for one drunk in Muggyland.

The Talented.

Dear Mr. Gyves,

I have always found your photography skills to be, quite frankly, above the snuff. Much to my pleasure, you have created a way to share your lovely photos with me (and I suppose others) on a more frequent basis: quickstuff.

I thank you. We all do.

Love,
Me

P.S. Love the second "tables" image. Love.

Hot.

Wax on Wax Hoff