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

I blogged last.

Dude, I feel like I was just at work . . . I think I'm going to need more time off in between coming to work. Like a day or two. That sounds good—I'm going to get right on that.

The Superbowl is this weekend! Yay! *Wings, pizza, beer, fun . . . really, what's not to like?* Of course, I’ll be going out to Long Island to hang with the peanut and her parents SO I’ll most likely be watching the game and hearing “Puppy! Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” whilst doing so . . . BUT that’s the price you must pay.

Not too much to report. Working a lot—not sure WHY, as my job is coming to an imminent end BUT there you go . . .

Getting some good resume/portfolio feedback from the places I'm applying to though—exactly what my confidence level (or lack thereof) needs after the past two years. Let’s hope one of these interviews actually turns into a job-o . . . of course, I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I want to do next so I should figure that out before the offers start pouring in. POURING IN, people—I’m a hot commodity, after all.

I obviously have absolutely nothing of importance to say this morning BUT I felt the need to put something up so Cris couldn’t say “I blogged last” anymore . . . if you call a single link a blog . . .

Cheap movement, Cris. Cheap.

I feel right at home in this stunning monochrome, alone in my way.

I’ve obviously been listening to a lot of Ani Difranco lately.

I’ve come up with a new life plan. It goes as follows:
1. Move to Hawaii
2. Live in small bungalow
3. Work as bartender
4. Spend all free time on beach: swimming, reading, sleeping, etc.

That’s pretty much it.

Why is it that when I start feeling melancholic, I start thinking about the beach and the ocean and space and quiet?

My friend Michelle always told me that I would go through a mini-crisis in my late twenties. That it was typical. So, I’m right on track then, I guess. Good to know.

All I know is that I’ve been watching a lot of Beverly Hills 90210 (the high school years) of late, and that can’t have a positive result for anyone. Damn DVR has taken over my life.

Thank GOODness I don’t have a boyfriend because I just don’t know how I’d fit him into my busy schedule.

Woah. WOAH.

This sums up my work situation.

Village Voice Weekly Horoscope - SCORPIO (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21):
Employees who work at the Grand Canyon are not supposed to tell visitors that the monumental gorge is over five million years old. Officials are worried that doing so might offend fundamentalist Christians who suffer from the delusion that Noah's flood created the Grand Canyon a few thousand years ago. Keep this vignette in mind during the coming week, Scorpio. Let it serve as a warning beacon. I suspect that like a non-fundamentalist tourist at the Grand Canyon, you're going to be fed a line of BS that was designed for people who can't handle the truth. Either that, or someone will withhold the facts from you out of a concern that you'd be furious to have your assumptions questioned. As an antidote, be extra devoted to learning the real story that's hidden beneath the official account.

Well, crap.

Catwalking and head trauma.

OK.

It’s been a rough start to the new year. Really rough. New year, new you, my ass. But, I’m not going to go into it.

I would, however, like to discuss the end of 2006. I must say, it was grand.

I’ve never been a fan of new year’s eve. People (the collective “people”) just seem put way too much expectation into one night. I prefer to just hang out with my Mum, drink a lot of wine, and eat a lot of cheese. It’s not a bad way to spend a night, believe me. Of course, it’s not unlike how I spend most nights . . . but nonetheless: new year’s eve can usually suck it.

So WHY I decided to head to Vermont with 6 other women to spend new year’s weekend in a house, with one bathroom, is beyond me.

I was proven wrong. So very, very wrong. It was, in a word, fanfuckingtastic. And I think it deserves a list. A top ten, if you will.

TOP TEN REASONS TO SPEND A WEEKEND IN VERMONT WITH 6 FABULOUS WOMEN:

10. Learning once and for all that you’re not a morning person, after waking up to an incessant DING DING DING one morning (“It might help to plug in the toaster, Barbara.” —Tina) and pots clanging the next (“Barbara, you’re killing me right now. Could you just . . . read a book.” —yours truly)

9. Catwalking . . . after drinking a LOT of champagne.

8. 7 women crying while watching Fried Green Tomatoes.

7. Learning how to do your hair. With product. And a blow dryer. And a round brush. While drinking champagne.

6. Beer pong . . . with champagne flutes.

5. Being driven (in a limo no less) up a VERY icy road, with a pants-less Jenny, and Teri curled up on the floor, not sure if you’re going to die or not. (“that was enough to make me start going to church again” —Cris)
5.5. Being led up a very icy, dark hill by Kimmy and a piggy key chain (that snorts and lights the way thru little electric blue piggy nostrils).

4. Waking up in the morning to see 7 frozen Amstel bottles in the snow, near where you got in the cab to go to the bar. Because the time it would take to walk from the house’s front door to the taxi would be too long of a time to not have a beer in your hand.

3. 4 bottles of wine, 14 bottles of champagne, 3 dozen Amstels, and more at the bar . . . (“Not a single man in the house and we have enough alcohol to choke a small horse.” —Teri)

2. Sitting down to a delicious dinner, prepared by the one and only chef Tina, and fabulous conversation . . . and realizing how honored you are to be friends with every single person sitting at the table. **sniff**

1. Trying to walk across the iciest parking lot EV-ER while laughing your ass off . . . even though you end up concussing yourself (by falling and smacking your pretty little head). **I will never ever forget the image of Teri on the ground screaming “HELP ME TINA! HELP ME!” before taking Tina down OR the image of Jenny commando-ing it on the ground with Kim over her screaming “You’re going to ruin your blazer! Get up!!”**

Ladies, despite the head trauma, I had an amazing weekend. Thank you Cris, Kimmy, Jenny, Teri, Tina, and Barbara. I heart you.

Here’s hoping 2007 pulls up its skirt soon.

Yum

Beckham to sign with Galaxy

SNL

They can still be funny. Really.

Gangsta Rap - Natalie Portman

Dick in a Box - Justin Timberlake

We'll see.

This is my favorite time of year.
I love Thanksgiving and Christmas and Winter.

Yet, I'm somewhat lacking in holiday spirit right now. I'm tired, I'm burnt out, I'm melancholic. I just got out of a rough week where everything I did and said seemed entirely inappropriate and wrong.

I'm really hoping this little vacation I'm taking in Virginia snaps me out of it. Because I'm sensing the tunnel ahead and I really don't want to have to find my way out of it again.

It's, like, a Christmas miracle . . .

Miss. Laura has started a blog.

For the love of everything good and pure, I think I just peed my pants out of pure joy.

FANTASTIC

Mother of a hangover: TK

I desperately need to downsize—in all areas of my life.

I had a clothing situation again yesterday. Wore pants I really should have retired about 3 or 4 years ago. MUST GET RID OF BAD CLOTHING. (I won't say it again, Muggy.) The problem being that I pound things into dust before giving them up. Relationship anyone? I’m a catch!

REALLLY need to apply this downsizing to my chocolate consumption. I’ve been particularly good at avoiding said demon these last couple of weeks but all of that hard work fell thru last night whilst doing the smidgen of freelance work that I actually completed. Pathetic, people. Pathetic.

Before I go any further, I’d like to give everyone a heads up that they need to book early at Muggy’s Penthouse of Joy. It’s fully booked into next week.

BOOKINGS:
Wednesday: Miss. Miller
Thursday: Miss. Miller
Friday: Miss. Sister and Miss. Cris
Saturday: Miss. Sister and Mr. Sister’s Boyfriend
Sunday: loneliness, heartache, overwhelming sadness

But I’m trying not to look to Sunday too quickly. As this weekend is going to be friggin’ awesome. F.R.I.G.G.I.N.’. awesome. Sister (S) and Sister’s Boyfriend (SB) will be in town . . . and where S and SB go, the bucketfuls of Miller Lite are sure to follow. [S and SB read: If I see that crap at my place, you’ll be bathing in it in the morning.] No seriously, good times, oh, they will ah roll.

OK . . . no time to finish this train of thought (yes, that’s what it was . . . at some point). Must run downtown for a haircut. Coming soon: Super Sexy Muggy w/Bangs. Or should I say, "Superer"?

Idiot

Lindsay Lohan needs help . . . obviously. Thank goodness these girls are volunteering!

Confessions of a Teenage Fug Queen

I like their style.

Duke's R Kelly Ignition Remix Video

It’s friggin’ freezin’ out there, Mr. Bigglesworth.

The bus I was on this morning broke down at 72nd and York. That’s a good 19 blocks and 6 avenues from my job. I walked it. I’m an idiot. BUT to jump to my own defense (as I would): I had used change for the bus and didn’t have enough to get on another bus, I currently have on my “I’m Financially Responsible” underpants and didn’t want to spend money on a cab, AND the Upper East Side subway system seemed pointless (as it is). Cut to me: sitting in my office with my scarf wrapped around me and my winter coat acting as a blanket for my legs.

I make freezing look good.
Cold. Cold. Friggin’ COLD!!

So, this has been a busy little week for yours truly. I’ve had a houseguest (studio-guest?) since Monday . . . which makes my 150 sq. foot studio (that’s SUCH an exaggeration) a wee bit more cramped than usual . . . but that happens when you put more than one person in there. However, Miss. Miller is a lovely little studio-guest and not the least bit un-fun. In fact, she’s fun+10! And a fancy shmancy lawyer, too! (Um, Laura, can you please help me get out of a little thing I like to call “Confidentiality Agreement Shmonfidentiality Agreement”?)

Let’s see . . . what else . . .

I’ve been particularly busy at work yet have managed to get my butt to the gym the last few days. Whoop whoop! Starting to use weights again. Holy Painful Ass, Buttercup.

Oh, yes, and I got an eye infection! Fun, right? RIGHT?!?! Righto. It’s no herpes of the eye, but it’s still a lot of fun. If by fun you mean it sucks big balls. I have to wear my glasses until next Tuesday. I never wear my glasses. They tend to give me headaches. They’re also a tad loose, a tad scratched up, and one step away from being held together with duct tape. BUT, alas, I have to wear them. Strangely, I’ve been told that I “look so smart!” once and “look really good!” three times . . . what in the eff do I look like without them??

And now for something completely different (but still “busy” related . . . “busy in the mind” that is . . . oh, snap!):

I’ve decided to stay in my pricey little studio. Expensive? Yes. Going to keep living paycheck to paycheck? Yup, most likely. But after weighing the pros and cons more times than I can count, I’m sure that this is the right thing to do. It may be an expensive little place to live, but it’s MY OWN little place. That and I like the neighborhood, the management is awesome (SO important to me after a number of craptacular places), security is good, electric and gas is included, AND I can walk just about everywhere . . .

I’m even thinking of ways to make extra money on the side, to help with the expense. Here’s what I have so far:
1. Courtesan (there are some definite “up” sides to this option . . . hardy har)
2. Bartender (PROBABLY have to learn how not to drink on the job first . . .)
3. Market my design services and up my freelance work

I’m leaning towards the courtesan option.

I might be She-Woman.

I need a nap.

QVC

"A piece of that tip just got me, O'Dell."

"OOOOK, we're going to make sure that Chris is OK . . ."

"Porn!"

Procrastination Device #408932

Benevolent Visionary

Kramer

Pretty funny: Seinfeld: The Lost Episode

I'm moving to Mexico . . . and getting stoned.

Interesting article. Highlights below.

Can't Get No Satisfaction
In a culture where work can be a religion, burnout is its crisis of faith.

Today, in New York City, everyone knows that the ones “screaming and cursing these motherfuckers for calling me with their goddamned problems” are as likely to be hedge-fund managers as any species of do-gooders. Burnout is the illness of just about any averagely driven, obsessive New York professional. Bankers, high-tech workers, advertisers, management consultants, lawyers working in their mustard-lit honeycombed Hades—all of them are as likely to complain about burnout as schoolteachers and social workers. In 21st-century New York, the 60-hour week is considered normal. In some professions, it’s a status symbol. But burnout, for the most part, is considered a sign of weakness, a career killer.

. . .

And Farber often calls burnout “the gap between expectation and reward,” which may have the most relevance to New Yorkers. This has always been a city of inflated expectations. People with more modest aims for themselves seem less prone to disillusionment.

. . .

Pines’s work has also shown that people in fiercely individualist societies are more prone to burn out. “I once did a study comparing Mexican college professors to American college professors,” she says. “The Mexican burnout rate was lower. To them, the kind of lifestyle you describe in New York is insane. At noon, you come home, eat, and see your family. It isn’t even a question.” In Israel, she adds, she consistently found lower levels of burnout than in her studies in the United States, even though the lives of its citizens are tangibly threatened in a way that most Americans’ are not. “And one explanation I have,” she says, “is that it’s because of the existential threats to our daily lives. You feel your own life is more significant.”

. . .

If one of the surest recipes for burnout, as Michael Leiter has said, is the sensation of inefficiency—particularly if we’re still expending energy and seeing little in return—then there may be something about the modern office that conspires to burn us out. In 2005, a psychiatrist at King’s College London did a study in which one group was asked to take an IQ test while doing nothing, and a second group to take an IQ test while distracted by e-mails and ringing telephones. The uninterrupted group did better by an average of ten points, which wasn’t much of a surprise. What was a surprise is that the e-mailers also did worse, by an average of six points, than a group in a similar study that had been tested while stoned.

That’s right. Stoned. Those people were literally burned out, and they did better.

Happy Shmappy.

Dude . . . I just had to schedule a SuperShuttle pick-up time of 5:30-5:45 a.m. for Wednesday. Holy fifth of Jack, I'm going to need a nap.

I love the SuperShuttle. They're friggin' great. $22 for a trip from Manhattan to JFK?? And that's with gratuity included. LOVE.

I'm SuperExcited (I'm such a tool) about going home . . . even if I have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn for it. I can't wait for some lounging around, no work, messing with my niece, messing with my Mum, getting my Dad cranky, playing some cribbage, eating and drinking as much as humanly possible in one sitting . . . oh, and the giving thanks stuff. It's going to be superb.

I love this time of year.

Man, I'm a loving SOB tonight, eh?

I don't love the filthy little asshole though. He's still making himself unpleasant. Not. Cool.

OK . . . Wow, this was a lot of nothing. I'm off to watch women rip each other apart and whine about some man who couldn't give a shit.

OOH OOH, and Studio 60 is on, too. Life, well, it just couldn't get any better this evening.

hip hip

good guys: 1
bad guys: 0

Smell my pants. My pants smell funny.

FOR FUCK’S SAKE (does that apostrophe belong there?)

There’s a dead mouse stuck in between my kitchen sink and the wall. The space between the sink and the wall is about 3.5 feet tall and a quarter inch wide. The only way to get the filthy little asshole out is to remove the sink/cabinet . . . at least this is what the maintenance man told me. I called the emergency line this morning because when I got home last night, my place stunk. After the smell didn’t go away overnight (not for lack of trying with candles, incense, liquid plumber (thought it was a “drain” problem), open windows, and a little airwick thing that managed to make the smell even worse by making it floral), I really thought an emergency call was needed. BUT, as said, the sink/cabinet has to be removed . . . and that can’t happen until Monday (if I want it to at all) . . . so the maintenance guy buried it with caulk. Yup, entombed the sucker with caulk. The smell is mostly gone but I’m still getting wiffs of it when I approach the sink area. And I can’t relax. I know that filthy little asshole is rotting away in a little corner of my apartment and all I can imagine is that its filthy little asshole relatives are going to come looking for him soon. Oh good God . . .

The thing is . . . this isn’t the first “odor problem” I’ve had this week. No not THAT kind of odor problem, Cristina. Although this next sentence would make you think otherwise:

I Febreezed my pants.

Jeans, to be exact.

I Febreezed my jeans.

In the bathroom at work on Thursday.

Because they smelled like mildew . . . YES, it was the pants.

Apparently, when I did my laundry last week, air-drying my jeans wasn’t completed properly. Have no idea why . . . I normally hang-dry quite a bit of my clothing.

Anyhow, I didn’t notice the smell when I threw on the jeans 2 minutes before leaving my apartment for work. And I didn’t notice the smell when I walked to the bus, waited for it, and then got on. And I didn’t notice the smell when I got off the bus and walked into work. I DID notice the smell after I’d been sitting at my desk for 10 minutes. And after noticing the smell, I did a “what is that?” swivel with my head a few times. I didn’t REALLY think it was my pants until I got on the elevator with 5 other people and someone mentioned that it “smells like mildew in here.” Oh. My. God. THIS led to the Febreezing incident. I went and bought myself a bottle and spent 10 minutes in a bathroom stall spraying my jeans and waving them around to dry them out (FYI: you Febreeze clothing until it’s damp—this doesn’t lend itself well to quick bathroom Febreezing). Drying the pants took a little longer than I had time for, so I definitely wore damp pants out of the bathroom. But at least my ass had a lovely breezy smell for the rest of the day.

*I honestly can’t believe I just told the MILLIONS of people that read my blog about Febreezing my pants during work.*

It's all so interesting, eh?

So, my plan for the next three days (the last three days I am in NYC before heading to VA for Turkey Day with the family):

1. Talk to Management Company about filthy little asshole
2. Wash jeans and other “mildew-smelling” items of clothing
3. Invest in stronger perfume

dream a little dream

**The following was emailed to me this morning by my lovely friend Julia (aka Goolia). I found it so highly amusing, that I'm posting it (subject line included—check "title" of blog entry) for your reading pleasure.**

Ma’am,

I had the craziest dreams last night. Everything was as it is, except not, you know? Like we both lived in the UES, but the UES was all residentially like normal life, not NYC. And we lived down the street…like four houses (opposite sides) from eachother. My place was blue and rundown. Yours was white with red trim. And I visited you, and your Mum was there except that she wasn’t your mum she was your MOM, bc she didn’t have an accent. And you guys were decorating. Your place WAS HUGE. For a studio. I mean, you had a separate room just for sitting that was painted this pinky-coral color and had really nice white wicker furniture in it (I said “Mandy, this wicker is SO nice” and you said “Yeah, like EVERYBODy doesn’t own the same set!”) and beside the furniture you had this long buffet table in the room covered completely with vases of the most beautiful flowers (and I was like “OHHHH, this is the flower room you told me about!”). And I also kept saying, “Mandy, you said this place was small! It’s not small, you should see the dump I live in.” But then I think I had to leave for some reason. It was spring and beautiful outside and we lived in a real neighborhood, with kids riding bikes and everything. But you were like “wait” as I was walking out the door, and you grabbed my arm. “Look, she’s coming back.” And it was your friend Christina (?) who I don’t know at all, but in the dream she was ALSO a neighbor and you told me she was so annoying and always mooched off of you, and you kept saying “look, just look at her…ugh, I hope she doesn’t come over.”

Your place was really nice, though I didn’t get to see the upstairs, where your bedroom was. And your mom left rather quickly in my dream. I think she was going to Duane Reade to buy you stuff.

The End.

**Isn't this email what dreams are made of? Fantastic. Super-fantastic.**

Thanks for sharing, Sarah!

This is an excellent way to start the day:

Michael and Dwight: SexyBack

OFFICE SPACE . . . the thriller.

OFFICE SPACE - recut

Pretty darn funny.

Did you hear that?

That was my great bloody sigh of relief.

NBC Reprieves ‘Studio 60’ Despite a Shaky Start

For the love of everything good and pure . . .

You're both off the list. You both know who YOU are.

Hmpf.

Here's hoping.

Can a TV Show With Dream Viewers But Low Ratings Survive? Stay Tuned