No effing kidding.

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

MySpace finds 29,000 sex offenders

That reminds me . . .

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

Wait, what just happened?

Holy Headache, Batman.

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

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

All Class, All The Time.

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

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

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

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

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.