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.