I got another message from Cassie the other day. Hi Cassie! It was a really nice message. All the messages she sends me are really nice.
I don't really know Cassie. I've never met her. Cassie might not even be her real name. I know her only through the internet, through this weird little blog-world that fascinates and terrifies me all at once. We are aware of each other because we both like to take pictures of shadows. You can see hers here. She also has a thing for Norwegian singers, apparently, which means she's a dirty, lusty lady just like me so no wonder we get along so well. I would love to steal her URL fifty years from now, although I think she's using it unfairly. It's way too early for that. Old lady? Really? I don't think so, Cassie...
Anyway, she asked if I had burnt out on blogging since my thirty day marathon last month, and my only reply was well, yes I have, as a matter of fact, I've burnt out on life COMPLETELY over the past month and a half and I'm wondering if it isn't time to go find a job pitting olives or labeling cheese somewhere, somewhere where I'LL NEVER HAVE TO SPEAK TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING AGAIN, something, you know, away from the general public, just so I don't spend the rest of my days locked up for mass murder or something crazy (yet completely logical) like that.
Yet I'm stuck behind a bar, where my very livelihood depends on pretending to be nice to people. Kill me now. I beg you.
The other night, over fancy beer and trail mix, I expressed to D.G. my desire to go "Down the Line" with a baseball bat and he slowly backed away with a pleasant, yet terrified look on his face.
"Another beer, wanderlust? Or three?"
Absolutely.
Anyway.
Yes, I'm still here, but you really don't want to hear from me right now. Really. Trust me. It's best for everyone. There's no telling what might come out of my mouth right now. Next thing you know I'll be strung up by my earlobes in some whacked-out republic no one's ever heard of for insulting their version of Allah and I'll end up holding all of YOU responsible for it, because I'm rational like that.
Give me a minute to stop hating everyone and everything and I'll be back with random, senseless photos and postings any day now, thank you very much. (most likely when motherfucking Chri$tma$ is over) Also, if I'm feeling nice in the upcoming day or two, (that means don't piss me off, people) I'll tell you about my dinner at Dovetail. Now THAT gives you a reason to wake up tomorrow, doesn't it? Mmm, Dovetail...
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Game over
I fucking win. In your face, bitches.
Although I don't actually *win* anything at all, so... I don't really know why I'm celebrating...
I managed to find my way onto the Internet and say something every day for an entire month, no matter how pissy of a mood I was in, no matter how difficult it was to find a wi-fi hot-fucking-spot, no matter how little I had to say, no matter how tired I was. I fucking did it, I made it happen, so fuck you K.M. for saying "man, I know you. You'll get distracted by a shiny object and lose interest ten days in."
Again, it really is kind of an empty victory because I get, what now? What? The knowledge that I can manage to talk shit about nothing every day if I want to? That's nothing new. I do that every fucking day at work. It's the life of a bartender. You wouldn't BELIEVE the conversations I pretend to be interested in day in and day out. It's exhausting. Because I work in the financial district, I now know more than I ever wanted to about the world of finance, which is quite possibly THE most boring industry on the fucking planet. I have to love Asheesh, who said it best when I asked him why he went into finance. "Honestly?" he said, "Because I needed to pay off my student loans."
And how can you argue with that?
My new thing at work is to pretend my customers are alien species and I'm doing social and cultural research. "So, tell me again about the frat that you belonged to in college? Because really, I find it fascinating. Truly."
Anywaaay.
I have to go. I have to watch my honey finish putting these fucking shelves together, and when he's done I'm SURE we have much better things we could be doing besides fucking around on the internet. Thanks for tuning in, and now that my month is up you can expect to go back to the random, sporadic, inconsistent, pointless posting that was going on before this ridiculous game started four long ass fucking weeks ago.
Although I don't actually *win* anything at all, so... I don't really know why I'm celebrating...
I managed to find my way onto the Internet and say something every day for an entire month, no matter how pissy of a mood I was in, no matter how difficult it was to find a wi-fi hot-fucking-spot, no matter how little I had to say, no matter how tired I was. I fucking did it, I made it happen, so fuck you K.M. for saying "man, I know you. You'll get distracted by a shiny object and lose interest ten days in."
Again, it really is kind of an empty victory because I get, what now? What? The knowledge that I can manage to talk shit about nothing every day if I want to? That's nothing new. I do that every fucking day at work. It's the life of a bartender. You wouldn't BELIEVE the conversations I pretend to be interested in day in and day out. It's exhausting. Because I work in the financial district, I now know more than I ever wanted to about the world of finance, which is quite possibly THE most boring industry on the fucking planet. I have to love Asheesh, who said it best when I asked him why he went into finance. "Honestly?" he said, "Because I needed to pay off my student loans."
And how can you argue with that?
My new thing at work is to pretend my customers are alien species and I'm doing social and cultural research. "So, tell me again about the frat that you belonged to in college? Because really, I find it fascinating. Truly."
Anywaaay.
I have to go. I have to watch my honey finish putting these fucking shelves together, and when he's done I'm SURE we have much better things we could be doing besides fucking around on the internet. Thanks for tuning in, and now that my month is up you can expect to go back to the random, sporadic, inconsistent, pointless posting that was going on before this ridiculous game started four long ass fucking weeks ago.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Sunshine and skittles
Once again, I bring you sunshine and fucking skittles early in the morning.
I'm still bitter about the bicycle. I fantasize revenge on an hourly basis. I'm not good at letting things go. It's probably something I should work on. I should be more forgiving.
Nah. Fuck that shit.
Regardless, I'm feeling a great sense of loss and anger here. I wasn't half this upset when my fucking car got stolen ten years ago, also from the French Quarter. I had no physical or emotional attachment to the car, it was just a car. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else. I was more pissed off at the dumb bitch who was with me that night, who was whining and complaining about the fact that "my baaaag was in theeeere! With all my make-uuuuuup!!" She had left her fucking bag in my trunk, against my recommendation (because she was a dumb bitch) and was seriously distraught that her make-up and the fucking PEN she bought for her husband were gone. Meanwhile my CAR was gone. It was unfuckingbelievable. I wanted to smash her teeth in.
Anyway, taking my motherfucking bicycle is much more personal and even though I'm not even there and it's not really a direct inconvenience, at least not right now, I'm hugely angry and I'm feeling ready to smash some teeth in again. FUUUCK.
Well. That's all I really have to say about that right now. On a happier note, I have to go now because I have to get dressed and look pretty to meet the boyfriend at the airport so he can come and put together this shelf I bought for the bathroom and help me hang these pictures which will hopefully improve my mood enough to enjoy the four days off in a row that I have. Let's keep our fingers crossed here, people.
I'm still bitter about the bicycle. I fantasize revenge on an hourly basis. I'm not good at letting things go. It's probably something I should work on. I should be more forgiving.
Nah. Fuck that shit.
Regardless, I'm feeling a great sense of loss and anger here. I wasn't half this upset when my fucking car got stolen ten years ago, also from the French Quarter. I had no physical or emotional attachment to the car, it was just a car. It was more of an inconvenience than anything else. I was more pissed off at the dumb bitch who was with me that night, who was whining and complaining about the fact that "my baaaag was in theeeere! With all my make-uuuuuup!!" She had left her fucking bag in my trunk, against my recommendation (because she was a dumb bitch) and was seriously distraught that her make-up and the fucking PEN she bought for her husband were gone. Meanwhile my CAR was gone. It was unfuckingbelievable. I wanted to smash her teeth in.
Anyway, taking my motherfucking bicycle is much more personal and even though I'm not even there and it's not really a direct inconvenience, at least not right now, I'm hugely angry and I'm feeling ready to smash some teeth in again. FUUUCK.
Well. That's all I really have to say about that right now. On a happier note, I have to go now because I have to get dressed and look pretty to meet the boyfriend at the airport so he can come and put together this shelf I bought for the bathroom and help me hang these pictures which will hopefully improve my mood enough to enjoy the four days off in a row that I have. Let's keep our fingers crossed here, people.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Yes please
I don't know what on earth could make a copper pot worth six hundred dollars, but I know that I want one...
I love walking around the housewares department at Zabar's and fantasizing about all the things I will buy when I am incredibly wealthy and money is no object and presumably I have a larger apartment so I have room for it all. A full set of Mauviel Copper Cookware is obviously on the list now, along with that fancy wine chiller thing. And all the pretty plates and fabulous appliances, an awesome juicer that realistically I would probably use once then it would collect dust on a shelf until I gave it away or moved out.
The food and deli department downstairs is even better, I imagine it's how an Amish teenager might feel on his first visit to a porno shop. Do they even have porno shops anymore? Why would anyone rent porn videos when they can get it for free on the internet? Anyway, you get what I mean. If I could I would buy the entire Zabar's cheese department and put it in my basement. I would also hire one of the bread-makers to live in the basement too and bake me fresh rye bread every morning. My refrigerator would be stocked with caviar and truffle butter.
I fucking love Zabar's. It's like a magical fantasyland of kitchenwares and deliciousness. Good shit.
I love walking around the housewares department at Zabar's and fantasizing about all the things I will buy when I am incredibly wealthy and money is no object and presumably I have a larger apartment so I have room for it all. A full set of Mauviel Copper Cookware is obviously on the list now, along with that fancy wine chiller thing. And all the pretty plates and fabulous appliances, an awesome juicer that realistically I would probably use once then it would collect dust on a shelf until I gave it away or moved out.
The food and deli department downstairs is even better, I imagine it's how an Amish teenager might feel on his first visit to a porno shop. Do they even have porno shops anymore? Why would anyone rent porn videos when they can get it for free on the internet? Anyway, you get what I mean. If I could I would buy the entire Zabar's cheese department and put it in my basement. I would also hire one of the bread-makers to live in the basement too and bake me fresh rye bread every morning. My refrigerator would be stocked with caviar and truffle butter.
I fucking love Zabar's. It's like a magical fantasyland of kitchenwares and deliciousness. Good shit.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
This is not a kitchen sink
So why is it in my fucking kitchen? It doesn't even belong in a bathroom. It doesn't belong anywhere.
This place drives me crazy sometimes. I can cook, but I can't do dishes. It's hard to wash pots and pans in a sink the size of a serving bowl. It's hard to wash a plate in that fucking thing. So if I have anything larger than a glass to wash I end up doing it in the bathtub. Fun!
I need a new fucking kitchen but I have no money so I have to wait. Light fixtures are my new obsession right now. Every single one that's here has to go. They're all awful. We're talking chandeliers here, people. Lots of brass. I dressed them up with Mardi Gras beads and it still hasn't helped. I don't know what to do, except leave the house as much as possible.
But the internet people came and woke me up at 8am today so now I have internet at home which means I don't really want to leave the house much. Hmm. Maybe I should look on the internet for new light fixtures. Brilliant.
Because new light fixtures will improve my life, I am certain of this. New light fixtures and new window coverings. And a ceiling fan. Definitely a ceiling fan.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Day 25
We're on Day 25 and I've really got nothing here. Sure, there's plenty going on, and I have to work later and let's not even talk about the bathroom floor. But I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it and I'm at the library because I couldn't do the Christmas music today, I really couldn't, and it was everywhere, literally everywhere, every coffee shop, everywhere with internet, so I had to come over here to get some peace and fucking quiet and internet.
FUCK, it sucks not having internet at home. Of COURSE it had to cut out a week after I literally committed to being on the internet at least once a day for an entire fucking month. Of course of course of course, blah blah blah. I'm really wishing I had made it a bet instead of just accepting the challenge like a dumbass. I really wish I was better at thinking things through. I'm pretty sure I've already said that here before. Oh well.
On a different subject entirely. I noticed something kind of interesting today. The battery in my camera is almost completely drained, which usually wouldn't be all that interesting. The battery in my camera drains all the time, especially when my boyfriend has his shirt off. What's interesting about it is that the battery is drained because I haven't used it. At all. I've had my camera out maybe twice in the past two weeks.
That's odd. That's not like me. Usually my battery drains once a week from overuse. Lately I've been completely uninspired. I feel like I should do something about that. What exactly? Fuck. Who knows. I wish recharging my inspiration were as easy as plugging in my battery.
FUCK, it sucks not having internet at home. Of COURSE it had to cut out a week after I literally committed to being on the internet at least once a day for an entire fucking month. Of course of course of course, blah blah blah. I'm really wishing I had made it a bet instead of just accepting the challenge like a dumbass. I really wish I was better at thinking things through. I'm pretty sure I've already said that here before. Oh well.
On a different subject entirely. I noticed something kind of interesting today. The battery in my camera is almost completely drained, which usually wouldn't be all that interesting. The battery in my camera drains all the time, especially when my boyfriend has his shirt off. What's interesting about it is that the battery is drained because I haven't used it. At all. I've had my camera out maybe twice in the past two weeks.
That's odd. That's not like me. Usually my battery drains once a week from overuse. Lately I've been completely uninspired. I feel like I should do something about that. What exactly? Fuck. Who knows. I wish recharging my inspiration were as easy as plugging in my battery.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Nope, not yet
I thought I might wake up feeling better about things today, but no. Not even close. I'm still bitter about the bicycle. Still bitter that I have to wake up at 8am five days in a row. Still bitter that I don't have Internet. Still bitter that the job that promised me health insurance has arbitrarily decided they can't afford it now and aren't going to give it to me. Motherfuckers, don't they know that that's the only reason I even TOOK that fucking job? Now I have to go look for another one. I HATE looking for work.
I also hate that I'm going to be without a bathroom for two days again, provided the motherfuckers show up like they're supposed to tomorrow. I'd like to go stay with a friend, but the Internet assholes are coming Thursday morning and I need to be here to let them in.
From what I hear, certain people regret challenging me to post something everyday for a month. From what I hear, certain people didn't realize I was so angry and hateful right now. I tried to warn certain people about this in the first place, I distinctly remember saying, "I really don't want to talk about things right now, I have nothing to say," but certain people didn't want to listen. Too late now, oh fucking well. Everyday for a month. You got it. Happy now?
I also hate that I'm going to be without a bathroom for two days again, provided the motherfuckers show up like they're supposed to tomorrow. I'd like to go stay with a friend, but the Internet assholes are coming Thursday morning and I need to be here to let them in.
From what I hear, certain people regret challenging me to post something everyday for a month. From what I hear, certain people didn't realize I was so angry and hateful right now. I tried to warn certain people about this in the first place, I distinctly remember saying, "I really don't want to talk about things right now, I have nothing to say," but certain people didn't want to listen. Too late now, oh fucking well. Everyday for a month. You got it. Happy now?
Monday, November 29, 2010
More fuel for the fire
Things were looking up for a minute there. It was a good weekend, I got lots of sleep. I made an appointment for someone to come finish my bathroom floor Wednesday morning. (they'd better fucking show up) I went and bought lots of happy, clothes and a wine rack. All kinds of shit, crazy on sale. All over the neighborhood.
So yeah, I thought things might be on an upswing, I thought my mood might be about to improve, then I got a phone call last night informing me that the bicycle I left in New Orleans had been stolen.
Moth-er-FUCK-er.
I LOVED that fucking bicycle. We went everywhere together. FUUUCK.
This is the only picture I have. I took it with my phone when I brought it home:
Now I have no fucking transportation when I visit. Fantastic. This is getting better and better.
It's quite a feeling, being fucked over in absentia. I wasn't in the same zip-code, wasn't even in the same TIME ZONE. And still?
I don't even know what else to say anymore.
So yeah, I thought things might be on an upswing, I thought my mood might be about to improve, then I got a phone call last night informing me that the bicycle I left in New Orleans had been stolen.
Moth-er-FUCK-er.
I LOVED that fucking bicycle. We went everywhere together. FUUUCK.
This is the only picture I have. I took it with my phone when I brought it home:
Now I have no fucking transportation when I visit. Fantastic. This is getting better and better.
It's quite a feeling, being fucked over in absentia. I wasn't in the same zip-code, wasn't even in the same TIME ZONE. And still?
I don't even know what else to say anymore.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
Brooklyn, New York
at dba after the Saints game last week
dba is the best place to watch a Saints game around here. Bar None is too intense, East Village Tavern is too disconnected. dba is like home, especially when Simon is there with his Tchoup Shop, can you say crawfish macque choux, seafood gumbo and short-rib pies? Best bar food ever. Simon and Jack were sitting next to me on the plane back to NY when I went to New Orleans for Halloween, but I was too whacked out on Valium to hold a coherent conversation. We exchanged Halloween stories and I passed out, that was pretty much the extent of our interaction until we landed.
I took this photo out back smoking and drinking with the boys after the game. It was an easy win, a boring game, and we had already moved on to plotting world domination...
dba is one of my favorite bars on the planet. I spent way too much time and money at their Frenchmen St. location when I lived in New Orleans. They have live music every night down there. My friend Julia works the door and has saved me a small fortune in cover charges over the past couple of years.
I left a ridiculously expensive pair of sunglasses at the bar after I took that picture that night. My mission to retrieve them was quite the emotional roller coaster. When I called the next day I was shocked and thrilled to hear that they had them. Then the L train fucked me and I couldn't make it down. I called back and they promised to hold them until the following day. I made it down, ordered a drink and waited for the bartender to go look for them. After looking everywhere, she couldn't find them. Shit.
So I ordered another drink while she texted the bartenders from the previous evening to ask where they had left them. As I finished my drink she came over to say, "Sorry, they said they were by the cash register, but I don't see them. I've looked EVERYWHERE, even the office. Maybe the clean up people took them, I don't know..." Shit. Depressing.
So, I ordered another drink to help with the train ride home. And the barback started chatting me up. I told him the tale and he said, "Oh man. That sucks. Whattaya gonna do though, huh?"
No shit. Whattaya gonna do? As we continued to chat and I finished my drink, the bartender came over. She said, "Hey, give me your phone number, just in case we find them somewhere." And the barback said, "Where were they supposed to be?" And she said, "By the register" and he went to look and found them in about two seconds.
dba. Best. Bar. Ever.
vist Shadow Shot Sunday here.
at dba after the Saints game last week
dba is the best place to watch a Saints game around here. Bar None is too intense, East Village Tavern is too disconnected. dba is like home, especially when Simon is there with his Tchoup Shop, can you say crawfish macque choux, seafood gumbo and short-rib pies? Best bar food ever. Simon and Jack were sitting next to me on the plane back to NY when I went to New Orleans for Halloween, but I was too whacked out on Valium to hold a coherent conversation. We exchanged Halloween stories and I passed out, that was pretty much the extent of our interaction until we landed.
I took this photo out back smoking and drinking with the boys after the game. It was an easy win, a boring game, and we had already moved on to plotting world domination...
dba is one of my favorite bars on the planet. I spent way too much time and money at their Frenchmen St. location when I lived in New Orleans. They have live music every night down there. My friend Julia works the door and has saved me a small fortune in cover charges over the past couple of years.
I left a ridiculously expensive pair of sunglasses at the bar after I took that picture that night. My mission to retrieve them was quite the emotional roller coaster. When I called the next day I was shocked and thrilled to hear that they had them. Then the L train fucked me and I couldn't make it down. I called back and they promised to hold them until the following day. I made it down, ordered a drink and waited for the bartender to go look for them. After looking everywhere, she couldn't find them. Shit.
So I ordered another drink while she texted the bartenders from the previous evening to ask where they had left them. As I finished my drink she came over to say, "Sorry, they said they were by the cash register, but I don't see them. I've looked EVERYWHERE, even the office. Maybe the clean up people took them, I don't know..." Shit. Depressing.
So, I ordered another drink to help with the train ride home. And the barback started chatting me up. I told him the tale and he said, "Oh man. That sucks. Whattaya gonna do though, huh?"
No shit. Whattaya gonna do? As we continued to chat and I finished my drink, the bartender came over. She said, "Hey, give me your phone number, just in case we find them somewhere." And the barback said, "Where were they supposed to be?" And she said, "By the register" and he went to look and found them in about two seconds.
dba. Best. Bar. Ever.
vist Shadow Shot Sunday here.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
That might help
It certainly couldn't hurt. Wine shipment from Longboard came in. Wine is always good for improving my mood. It's always fun when the doorman has a package for me, this one was the most timely I could think of. It won't last long. I'd like to say I'm going to save some for when the boyfriend comes to town next week, but I really can't make any promises. I'm off until Tuesday. Look out.
It's actually the first time I've had wine in the house since I moved in. I don't have a wine rack, which is on my list of things I need to get this weekend. I didn't even have any wine glasses in the house, all my nice ones broke and I left my crappy ones in New Orleans, figuring I would get nicer ones when I got here, but I forgot. So I went to the housewares department at Zabar's and bought eight of the nicest wine glasses I've ever had:
I believe this is the phenomenon that Janson refers to as "going to buy some happy." It worked, having them in the house and knowing that they're mine makes me pretty fucking happy. I've never had wine glasses this nice before. Although, I haven't even taken them out of the box yet, which means I haven't opened any of the wine yet, which is obviously a problem that needs to be fixed, along with my internet, but that's another story, maybe for tomorrow, maybe not. Depends how much liquid happy I get through tonight.
Friday, November 26, 2010
One down, two to go
Well, that's over with. Thanksgiving really is an awful holiday. What exactly are we celebrating again? The fact that a bunch of white people came over in boats, raped and pillaged the natives and stole their land? Right. Somehow, I'm less than thankful.
Yesterday was a good day though, the Saints won, the curry was delicious, and the rum was aged. Best of all, we didn't have to see or talk to anyone else. Her neighbor tried to get us to come over to "celebrate" but we hid downstairs with the lights out.
So now there's only Christmas and New Year's to get through and I'm in the clear. This is absolutely the worst time of year. It's nauseating, all that forced cheer and insincerity. Endless marketing and consumerism. Complete stangers admonishing me to "have a happy holidaaaaay!!" Christmas decorations. Christmas music. I'm going to smack somebody.
Thanksgiving is easier to avoid than Christmas. People are much more insistent about Christmas for some reason. They're all in your face and very forceful. What really kills me is how crazy people get every year when they ask what I'm doing for the holiday and I say "Nothing." They go absolutely insane.
"WHAT? OH, NOOO!! That's AWWWFUUUL! You CAN'T be alone on CHRIIIISSTMAAASS!!"
Really? That's funny. I think I can, actually.
It never ceases to amaze me that these same people couldn't give a fuck less that I'm alone on the other 364 days out of the year, but all of a sudden on Christmas it's a federal fucking emergency. Seriously, people? Go fuck yourselves.
Yesterday was a good day though, the Saints won, the curry was delicious, and the rum was aged. Best of all, we didn't have to see or talk to anyone else. Her neighbor tried to get us to come over to "celebrate" but we hid downstairs with the lights out.
So now there's only Christmas and New Year's to get through and I'm in the clear. This is absolutely the worst time of year. It's nauseating, all that forced cheer and insincerity. Endless marketing and consumerism. Complete stangers admonishing me to "have a happy holidaaaaay!!" Christmas decorations. Christmas music. I'm going to smack somebody.
Thanksgiving is easier to avoid than Christmas. People are much more insistent about Christmas for some reason. They're all in your face and very forceful. What really kills me is how crazy people get every year when they ask what I'm doing for the holiday and I say "Nothing." They go absolutely insane.
"WHAT? OH, NOOO!! That's AWWWFUUUL! You CAN'T be alone on CHRIIIISSTMAAASS!!"
Really? That's funny. I think I can, actually.
It never ceases to amaze me that these same people couldn't give a fuck less that I'm alone on the other 364 days out of the year, but all of a sudden on Christmas it's a federal fucking emergency. Seriously, people? Go fuck yourselves.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Balloons
It's a miserably cold and shitty day in New York today. It's Thanksgiving and that fucking parade starts two blocks from where I live so instead of being able to sleep in peacefully this morning, I was woken up at 8am by news helicopters whirling around overhead. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I should have worn earplugs to sleep, I was given fair warning last night. I left work early and wanted a nice quiet night at the cafe on my corner with my computer. Instead I came home to mayhem in the neighborhood. There were people everywhere, streets were blocked off. The Jews for Jesus were giving away free hot chocolate. I questioned their motives, then I questioned if they had put drugs in the hot chocolate. I was disappointed when they said, "No, that would be too expensive."
Anyway, I went to go investigate the commotion, turns out the balloons were around the corner from my building. A few were tied down and uncovered, but most were squashed and strangled under nets, which was bizarre and slightly depressing.
Some of the balloons looked like they'd had a bit too much to drink, especially these guys...
Bizarre for sure.
There's a Saints game to watch. Me and Jenelle are cooking Indian food and drinking rum. I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, and there aren't any parades that I am aware of. Things are looking up.
I should have worn earplugs to sleep, I was given fair warning last night. I left work early and wanted a nice quiet night at the cafe on my corner with my computer. Instead I came home to mayhem in the neighborhood. There were people everywhere, streets were blocked off. The Jews for Jesus were giving away free hot chocolate. I questioned their motives, then I questioned if they had put drugs in the hot chocolate. I was disappointed when they said, "No, that would be too expensive."
Anyway, I went to go investigate the commotion, turns out the balloons were around the corner from my building. A few were tied down and uncovered, but most were squashed and strangled under nets, which was bizarre and slightly depressing.
Some of the balloons looked like they'd had a bit too much to drink, especially these guys...
Bizarre for sure.
There's a Saints game to watch. Me and Jenelle are cooking Indian food and drinking rum. I don't have to wake up early tomorrow, and there aren't any parades that I am aware of. Things are looking up.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Very funny, Jonny
Yeah. This guy is HILARIOUS.
Thanks, man. That might be the first (genuine) smile I've had on my face since I saw Kirsten and David last week.
Thanks, man. That might be the first (genuine) smile I've had on my face since I saw Kirsten and David last week.
Better your wall than mine
That's that horrible painting that was in my mother's apartment when I got it. Remember that fucking thing? It's hanging on a wall at an Asian restaurant in Flushing now. I went to take a look a while back, I don't even remember the name of the place or where it is, to be honest. All I know is that it looks much better on their wall than it did on mine. Good fucking riddance.
Fuck this Christmas music is killing me. I'm at the deli on the corner because I still have no internet. They're playing non-stop Christmas music and it's making me want to break things.
But anyway, I came across that picture and had to laugh. I gave the painting to some dude on craigslist. I gave most of her shit to him, lamps and couches and chairs and more awful paintings. He got all kinds of crap out of my hair. The house looks so much better now.
Except the fucking bathroom floor. If something isn't done about it soon I don't know what's going to happen. I can't look at it anymore, much the same way I felt about the painting. But I have a plan. It's all coming together.
Sorry for the unfocused randomness here. Actually, no. I'm not sorry.
The music, I can't take it anymore. I have to go, I have to leave. Can't do it. Tomorrow will be better, I swear...
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
What else?
My journey to Brooklyn to retrieve my sunglasses last night was a complete failure. The L train wasn't running which of course no one mentioned until after everyone had been waiting for a half an hour. Fantastic. So I didn't get back to the house until almost 2 in the morning and I still had piles of laundry all over the bed that needed to be put away. Then I passed out and had to be up a few hours later. I'm exhausted. I have to be at work in an hour, and there's no telling when I'll be done. I'm excited to see what else might go wrong today. Perhaps the train will get stuck in the tunnel for three hours on the way to work. Maybe once I get to work the computers will crash (again!) and they won't be fixed until the end of my shift. Maybe when I get home from work the pipes will have burst in the apartment next door and my closets will be flooded. Maybe I'll come home to find that zombies have broken into my apartment and stolen my microwave.
Who knows. Anything is possible. But I'm ready. I've given up hoping things will get better, I've accepted my new reality of hellfire and damnation, mayhem and misery. Just going with the flow, sailing the seas of destruction, waiting for the winds to change. It's a hell of a ride, people...
Who knows. Anything is possible. But I'm ready. I've given up hoping things will get better, I've accepted my new reality of hellfire and damnation, mayhem and misery. Just going with the flow, sailing the seas of destruction, waiting for the winds to change. It's a hell of a ride, people...
Monday, November 22, 2010
Something good happened today
Actually, two good things happened today. One was that the $250.00 sunglasses I thought I lost were found. I called the bar I was at last night and lo and behold, miracle of miracles, the bartender had them. Holy shit. Now I have to go all the way to Brooklyn and back tonight to retrieve them. Boo.
The other good thing was that I tried to go shopping for a pair of boots because it's starting to get cold here but they were all too expensive so I didn't get any, BUT when I got home Cesar said, "Oh, I have a package for you!" And lo and behold, miracle of miracles, it was a beautiful pair of leather boots, a gift from my friends in Palm Beach. Amazing when life literally hands you exactly what you need.
Otherwise, everything is still fucked. I heard Christmas music today for the first time while I was shopping and it made me want to strangle someone. Oh, here's a picture of the monstrosity that is now in the lobby of our building at work:
I took that picture Saturday when I walked in and saw them putting it up. I was horrified. I wanted to post it yesterday, but I was writing from my phone and I couldn't get the picture thing to work. I've been trying to post by text but that shit doesn't work. I can't get them to come do my internet at home until December 2nd. Fuck fuck fuck.
I told the bathroom guys to go fuck themselves and give me my money back for the damn floor. Someone else can do that shit.
I'm tired. I'm tired of looking at this computer screen. I'm tired of talking to you right now. I have piles and piles of laundry to do and it HAS to be done tonight and I have to go all the way out to Brooklyn and back. I have to wake up early and work a long ass today tomorrow. I have nothing else to say. Goodnight.
The other good thing was that I tried to go shopping for a pair of boots because it's starting to get cold here but they were all too expensive so I didn't get any, BUT when I got home Cesar said, "Oh, I have a package for you!" And lo and behold, miracle of miracles, it was a beautiful pair of leather boots, a gift from my friends in Palm Beach. Amazing when life literally hands you exactly what you need.
Otherwise, everything is still fucked. I heard Christmas music today for the first time while I was shopping and it made me want to strangle someone. Oh, here's a picture of the monstrosity that is now in the lobby of our building at work:
I took that picture Saturday when I walked in and saw them putting it up. I was horrified. I wanted to post it yesterday, but I was writing from my phone and I couldn't get the picture thing to work. I've been trying to post by text but that shit doesn't work. I can't get them to come do my internet at home until December 2nd. Fuck fuck fuck.
I told the bathroom guys to go fuck themselves and give me my money back for the damn floor. Someone else can do that shit.
I'm tired. I'm tired of looking at this computer screen. I'm tired of talking to you right now. I have piles and piles of laundry to do and it HAS to be done tonight and I have to go all the way out to Brooklyn and back. I have to wake up early and work a long ass today tomorrow. I have nothing else to say. Goodnight.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Bah humbug
Are you fucking kidding me? I went to to work yesterday and walked into the building and this is what I saw. They're putting a Christmas tree up. A fucking CHRISTMAS tree. It's not even fucking Thanksgiving yet! What the fuck! Now I have to look at that shit every fucking day? Fan-fucking-tastic.
I hate Christmas. I'm not sure if you knew that already, but now you do. The entire six week period from Thanksgiving to New Year's makes me want to vomit. I haven't heard any Christmas music yet, I have a feeling I'm going to break someone's face when I do.
Speaking of breaking people's faces, when I got home from work last night and took the paper off the bathroom, I discovered that those assholes didn't do the floor. So now I'm going to have to get these cocksuckers back over here AGAIN to do the fucking floor like I fucking paid them to do, which means I'm going to be out of a bathroom AGAIN for two fucking days.
Fuck this shit. No, really. Fuck this shit.
I hate Christmas. I'm not sure if you knew that already, but now you do. The entire six week period from Thanksgiving to New Year's makes me want to vomit. I haven't heard any Christmas music yet, I have a feeling I'm going to break someone's face when I do.
Speaking of breaking people's faces, when I got home from work last night and took the paper off the bathroom, I discovered that those assholes didn't do the floor. So now I'm going to have to get these cocksuckers back over here AGAIN to do the fucking floor like I fucking paid them to do, which means I'm going to be out of a bathroom AGAIN for two fucking days.
Fuck this shit. No, really. Fuck this shit.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Fuck you
Yeah, pretty much.
That's really all I have to say today. Fuck you, fuck my job, fuck my boyfriend, fuck my so-called friends, fuck my neighbors, and fuck the people down the street. You're all a bunch of piece of shit assholes and I really don't have the time or inclination to deal with this bullshit anymore. The whole world, yes, including you, can go fuck off and die and go straight to hell right now. I would love to physically hurt people right now, I really would. Stay the fuck out of my way. It looks like some people are too fucking stupid to figure that out.
My Internet still isn't working. I'm still typing this shit in the browser of my phone because I'm too pissed off to try to figure out that text thing. My job royally fucked me and I really don't even want to talk about it right now. I don't have a bathroom and I have my period and FUCK THAT SHIT because I got on a plane and left town so I wouldn't have to deal with that problem and those people FUCKED ME. I have friends in town I'm dying to spend time with and I have no time to spend.
There's a million other things going on that suck right now and I really don't want to talk about it. Yes, Jonny, I'm feeling very stabby today...
That's really all I have to say today. Fuck you, fuck my job, fuck my boyfriend, fuck my so-called friends, fuck my neighbors, and fuck the people down the street. You're all a bunch of piece of shit assholes and I really don't have the time or inclination to deal with this bullshit anymore. The whole world, yes, including you, can go fuck off and die and go straight to hell right now. I would love to physically hurt people right now, I really would. Stay the fuck out of my way. It looks like some people are too fucking stupid to figure that out.
My Internet still isn't working. I'm still typing this shit in the browser of my phone because I'm too pissed off to try to figure out that text thing. My job royally fucked me and I really don't even want to talk about it right now. I don't have a bathroom and I have my period and FUCK THAT SHIT because I got on a plane and left town so I wouldn't have to deal with that problem and those people FUCKED ME. I have friends in town I'm dying to spend time with and I have no time to spend.
There's a million other things going on that suck right now and I really don't want to talk about it. Yes, Jonny, I'm feeling very stabby today...
Friday, November 19, 2010
Sunshine and skittles
Of course my Internet isn't working at home. Of course I have no time to go take my computer anywhere because I will literally be at work all day and night. So I have to try to do this on my phone. I have no idea how well it's going to work. I think I'm supposed to be able to text pictures and whatever to some number and it will automatically post here, but I haven't really spent too much time experimenting with that shit yet and I sure as fuck don't feel like doing it now. I don't have time anyway.
FUUUCK. Reason number 4,793 to hate everything in the universe right now.
Oh, sorry. Did you think I had something nice to say? No. Not today, I'm afraid. Not yet. I still hate everyone. I'm waiting for these fucking people to get here to do my bathroom, I don't want to leave until they get here, even if it makes me late for work. I have had very little sleep, I have to work a very lucrative but very LONG day today, come home to no bathroom, and on the next day to still no bathroom and plenty more work. Certain people in my life really suck right now which doesn't help matters and the worst thing of all is that they're talking about needing to get the holiday decorations up at work and I'm like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Can't you please just let me linger in my bubble of denial just a little while longer? Can you let me pretend the holidays aren't coming just for a few more days?
Fuck. I want to stab someone.
Yes, sunshine and skittles, people. That's what I'm here to bring you. Sunshine and fucking skittles, bright and early on a Friday morning.
FUUUCK. Reason number 4,793 to hate everything in the universe right now.
Oh, sorry. Did you think I had something nice to say? No. Not today, I'm afraid. Not yet. I still hate everyone. I'm waiting for these fucking people to get here to do my bathroom, I don't want to leave until they get here, even if it makes me late for work. I have had very little sleep, I have to work a very lucrative but very LONG day today, come home to no bathroom, and on the next day to still no bathroom and plenty more work. Certain people in my life really suck right now which doesn't help matters and the worst thing of all is that they're talking about needing to get the holiday decorations up at work and I'm like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Can't you please just let me linger in my bubble of denial just a little while longer? Can you let me pretend the holidays aren't coming just for a few more days?
Fuck. I want to stab someone.
Yes, sunshine and skittles, people. That's what I'm here to bring you. Sunshine and fucking skittles, bright and early on a Friday morning.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The resentment returns
I don't really have anything nice to say today. Those assholes were supposed to re-finish my bathroom while I was out of town and they didn't. I was told that the guy got into a car accident on the way to my apartment and what the fuck kind of shit is that? How fucking stupid do people take me for? I HATE BEING lied to. Seriously. Ask my therapist, she'll tell you...
So now they're going to do it tomorrow, which is all fine and good except for that fact that I SPECIFICALLY scheduled it to be done while I was out of town because I didn't want to deal with the inconvenience of not having a bathroom for two fucking days. Fucking cocksuckers.
Great. Now I hate everyone and everything and I want the whole world to fuck off and die. I hate the fact that I have to work every night while I have friends in town, I hate the fact that I have to wake up early and work a double tomorrow. I hate that I have so many days off next week, I hate even more that I have no money to go anywhere with all that time off.
I hate that I agreed to post something on this stupid blog every day for a month, especially on days like today when I have nothing to offer but venom and misery. I hate that I lost a MetroCard with thirty-something dollars on it at the fucking airport yesterday.
Hmm, what else? I'm on a roll here...
San Francisco... oh, we don't have time for that today...
I hate that summer is gone and I can't wear sundresses anymore. I hate that so many of my friends are so far away. I hate that my honey won't be here until December 5th, which, incidentally, is also the same day my current challenge ends and I don't have to come up with some inane bullshit to post on this ridiculous blog every day and I win.
You know, what else I hate? I hate that I left it as only a challenge and didn't make it a bet. I totally should have pushed for dinner at Morimoto, or a new pair of Manolo's or some shit like that. I hate the fact that I don't think sometimes...
So now they're going to do it tomorrow, which is all fine and good except for that fact that I SPECIFICALLY scheduled it to be done while I was out of town because I didn't want to deal with the inconvenience of not having a bathroom for two fucking days. Fucking cocksuckers.
Great. Now I hate everyone and everything and I want the whole world to fuck off and die. I hate the fact that I have to work every night while I have friends in town, I hate the fact that I have to wake up early and work a double tomorrow. I hate that I have so many days off next week, I hate even more that I have no money to go anywhere with all that time off.
I hate that I agreed to post something on this stupid blog every day for a month, especially on days like today when I have nothing to offer but venom and misery. I hate that I lost a MetroCard with thirty-something dollars on it at the fucking airport yesterday.
Hmm, what else? I'm on a roll here...
San Francisco... oh, we don't have time for that today...
I hate that summer is gone and I can't wear sundresses anymore. I hate that so many of my friends are so far away. I hate that my honey won't be here until December 5th, which, incidentally, is also the same day my current challenge ends and I don't have to come up with some inane bullshit to post on this ridiculous blog every day and I win.
You know, what else I hate? I hate that I left it as only a challenge and didn't make it a bet. I totally should have pushed for dinner at Morimoto, or a new pair of Manolo's or some shit like that. I hate the fact that I don't think sometimes...
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Exhausted
I had no idea 44 hours could go by so fast. I could have sworn I just got to Sweetheart's house a minute ago.
I left in the middle of the night last night. We never really went to sleep, just sort of dozed in and out of sleep on the couch until 4am, when I had to start scrambling around and throwing things in my suitcase. Get it together, call a taxi, hurry to the airport, where I would be even less happy with my food choices than I was at JFK two days ago. I still have not eaten today and I'm trying to see how long I can last. I'm starting to get dizzy, so forgive me if this post goes nowhere.
The plane was freezing cold, but I was too tired to complain, so I wrapped my scarf around my knees and tried to sleep. The people sitting in front of me must have had too much coffee, because they wouldn't shut the fuck up. So I wrapped the scarf around my ears and passed out.
I've made it home and now... Now I have to be at work in three hours? Fuuuck...
Once again, I need to get my ass off the internet. I need to take a nap, I need to take a shower, I need to go to work. I'm sure I need to put food into the equation at some point, but that's a lesser priority right now. Sleep. Sleep is the number one word on my mind right now...
I left in the middle of the night last night. We never really went to sleep, just sort of dozed in and out of sleep on the couch until 4am, when I had to start scrambling around and throwing things in my suitcase. Get it together, call a taxi, hurry to the airport, where I would be even less happy with my food choices than I was at JFK two days ago. I still have not eaten today and I'm trying to see how long I can last. I'm starting to get dizzy, so forgive me if this post goes nowhere.
The plane was freezing cold, but I was too tired to complain, so I wrapped my scarf around my knees and tried to sleep. The people sitting in front of me must have had too much coffee, because they wouldn't shut the fuck up. So I wrapped the scarf around my ears and passed out.
I've made it home and now... Now I have to be at work in three hours? Fuuuck...
Once again, I need to get my ass off the internet. I need to take a nap, I need to take a shower, I need to go to work. I'm sure I need to put food into the equation at some point, but that's a lesser priority right now. Sleep. Sleep is the number one word on my mind right now...
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Busted
I guess some people are paying more attention than I thought. I got a text from Janson this morning:
"Surprise! I just landed at JFK to surprise you! Call me."
Hmm.
A few seconds later:
"LOL just kidding, I know u are here u crazy bitch!"
Ha ha. Very funny.
So now he knows I'm here, God knows who else he's told. Everyone's going to hate me. Oh well. So much for sneaking in and out of town under cover of night.
Janson's supposed to come to Mandina's for turtle soup with us tonight. Seafood and turtle soup. Lots of turtle soup. I really don't care about the seafood. I can take it or leave it. The turtle soup I can't live without. I'm wondering if I should say fuck it, damn the torpedoes, call every-fucking-body, tell them I'm here and they should come to Mandina's tonight. Thirteen hours and counting, people, get it while you can.
Thirteen hours and counting! Holy shit, what the fuck am I doing lazing around on the motherfucking internet! Excuse me. Sorry people. Gotta go...
"Surprise! I just landed at JFK to surprise you! Call me."
Hmm.
A few seconds later:
"LOL just kidding, I know u are here u crazy bitch!"
Ha ha. Very funny.
So now he knows I'm here, God knows who else he's told. Everyone's going to hate me. Oh well. So much for sneaking in and out of town under cover of night.
Janson's supposed to come to Mandina's for turtle soup with us tonight. Seafood and turtle soup. Lots of turtle soup. I really don't care about the seafood. I can take it or leave it. The turtle soup I can't live without. I'm wondering if I should say fuck it, damn the torpedoes, call every-fucking-body, tell them I'm here and they should come to Mandina's tonight. Thirteen hours and counting, people, get it while you can.
Thirteen hours and counting! Holy shit, what the fuck am I doing lazing around on the motherfucking internet! Excuse me. Sorry people. Gotta go...
Monday, November 15, 2010
First flight out
Queens, New York
JFK International Airport
6:30am
I took Jet Blue's first flight out this morning. The sky was pretty at 6:30 in the morning. I left my apartment in the middle of the night, journeyed down to JFK, and was highly disappointed to discover that I was unable to get a cheeseburger before my flight. The food places at the airport were only serving breakfast. What the fuck kind of shit is that? This is supposed to be New York, right? I'm supposed to be able to get anything I want, anytime I want. It was six in the morning and I wanted a cheeseburger and I couldn't get one. Fucking BS, man. Had to settle for a crappy ass slice of pizza because I'm sick of eggs in the morning.
I got up at four in the morning and got on a plane so I could spend 44 hours in New Orleans. Nobody knows I'm here. I'm not going to tell them, either. By the time they read this and figure it out, I'll be gone. I had no real reason to come down. Just bored. Had a couple of days off, missed my Sweetheart and decided to sneak away. It's a routine by now. Getting on a plane and coming down here is no different to me than getting on the subway and going to work. I could get to the Jet Blue terminal in my sleep. I almost did this morning, I didn't truly wake up until I started getting pissed off about the cheeseburger thing.
I hate to write and run, but I'm down to 36 hours now. I didn't come down here to sit in a coffee shop. I'm really not exactly sure what I DID come down here to do, (get laid) but sitting in a coffee shop definitely isn't it. Until tomorrow...
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
New York, NY
Coney Island
I took that picture back in the beginning of September. It was a sunny day, obviously. Hot. Lots of people wandering around on the boardwalk.
It's not so hot anymore. I haven't been down to Coney Island for a while. I don't know how many people are wandering around the boardwalk at this time of year. It's not really cold yet. But it's definitely not hot.
I like Coney Island. Every time I go down there alone I wind up talking to the most random and interesting people on the fishing pier. And we all know how much I love bizarre conversations with random and interesting people. When Jenn Farmer came to town, we went down there with Amber and wandered around all day. We ate hot dogs and drank beer. We saw the freak show. We rode the Wonder Wheel. We talked to random and interesting people. As days go, it was a complete success, as far as I'm concerned.
Visit Shadow Shot Sunday here.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Oh, you're damn right it counts...
There has been question from someone out there about whether or not my previous post counts in regards to my current challenge. You're motherfucking right it counts! First of all, the rules specifically state that I must post something, even something about nothing, every day for a month. Posting only a picture does not count, OK, fine. A story and explanation will accompany all photos until December 5th, when I win, I mean when the four weeks is up. But nowhere did anyone say anything about the length or word count of posts. So yes, hell yes, even though my previous post was about nothing and pretty short at that, it still counts. This one does too.
Let's face it, folks, in this day and age, the day of twitter and facebook, tumblr and microwave meals, brevity is where is at. There's too much going on, too much information to absorb. Who has time to sit still? Who has time to listen to me drivel on for more than a paragraph or two?
Besides, much can be said with few words. Don't we all remember the famous story where Hemingway (although that it was actually him is still undetermined) makes a bet that he could write a dramatic (or maybe not dramatic, maybe just short) short story using only six words, a short story that had a beginning, a middle, and an end? And everyone takes the bet and what he comes up with is this:
For sale, baby shoes, never worn.
And of course he wins the bet and everyone thinks he's brilliant. He really was brilliant, regardless of whether that story can accurately be attributed to him or not.
Are you still listening to me? Paying attention? No. I've lost you. I don't blame you. I'm going on about nothing. See, it goes back to what I was saying before. Any more than a paragraph or two and people are going to tune out. Brevity. Good stuff.
Let's face it, folks, in this day and age, the day of twitter and facebook, tumblr and microwave meals, brevity is where is at. There's too much going on, too much information to absorb. Who has time to sit still? Who has time to listen to me drivel on for more than a paragraph or two?
Besides, much can be said with few words. Don't we all remember the famous story where Hemingway (although that it was actually him is still undetermined) makes a bet that he could write a dramatic (or maybe not dramatic, maybe just short) short story using only six words, a short story that had a beginning, a middle, and an end? And everyone takes the bet and what he comes up with is this:
For sale, baby shoes, never worn.
And of course he wins the bet and everyone thinks he's brilliant. He really was brilliant, regardless of whether that story can accurately be attributed to him or not.
Are you still listening to me? Paying attention? No. I've lost you. I don't blame you. I'm going on about nothing. See, it goes back to what I was saying before. Any more than a paragraph or two and people are going to tune out. Brevity. Good stuff.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Random thoughts
I need to paint these fucking cabinets in the kitchen. They're on their way out anyway, the entire kitchen is eventually going to be overhauled into a properly functioning kitchen that a human being who cooks and eats actual food can live with. It's going to be fucking expensive SPECTACULAR when it's done, people.
But in the meantime, until that becomes a reality, I may as well make the cabinets fun to look at instead of insane asylum white. And since the cabinets aren't staying, (no way in hell are they staying) I can fuck around and paint them any way I damn well please. Blue with yellow and pink polka dots? Why not? I can paint them every week if I feel like it. One week they can be sponge-painted silver, next week, orange and forest-green plaid. Maybe I'll get someone who's skilled with a spray can to come in and tag that shit up. Or I can cover them with Minnie Mouse stickers!
No. Not Minnie Mouse stickers.
But something. Anything but insane asylum white. Plum crazy purple, perhaps. But the insane asylum white has got to do.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Dining!
Ducale
79th and Columbus, New York, NY
Octopus and fennel salad
You've got to be careful about ordering octopus. When it's good, it's good. But when it's bad, it's just all wrong. It's so easy to overcook it, then you've just got chunks of flavorless bicycle tire. Not what you want to be chewing on. If I'm the least bit skeptical of a restaurant I won't bother to even try it.
But I had ultimate faith in Ducale, a restaurant on my corner that also happens to serve an outstanding Bolognese sauce. They did a great job with the octopus, light and fresh and perfectly cooked, tender and flavorful. I approve!
79th and Columbus, New York, NY
Octopus and fennel salad
You've got to be careful about ordering octopus. When it's good, it's good. But when it's bad, it's just all wrong. It's so easy to overcook it, then you've just got chunks of flavorless bicycle tire. Not what you want to be chewing on. If I'm the least bit skeptical of a restaurant I won't bother to even try it.
But I had ultimate faith in Ducale, a restaurant on my corner that also happens to serve an outstanding Bolognese sauce. They did a great job with the octopus, light and fresh and perfectly cooked, tender and flavorful. I approve!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Focus
I don't have it. I can't keep it. One minute I'm here, one minute I'm there. I want this, I want that. One day I'm obsessed with finding someone to reupholster my chair, the next day I'm off that and suddenly figuring out my Mardi Gras costume for next year seems of utmost importance. I'm thinking ahead to where I might be living in the next year or two, I'm wondering when I'm going to have time to get to a hockey game. (let's go Rangers!) I'm hoping I'll have time to take a trip out of the country this year, or at least to Palm Beach. I'm hoping I'll make enough money to tip the doormen nicely during the holidays. I'm making myself dizzy. I can't keep up. Slow down!
I wonder what I'm trying to distract myself from. Because it seems I have lots to think about, but nothing really important on my mind...
I wonder what I'm trying to distract myself from. Because it seems I have lots to think about, but nothing really important on my mind...
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Kid unfriendly
I am dismayed to find myself living in a city that now likes to bill itself as "kid-friendly."
Kid-friendly? Since when is NYC kid-friendly? Oh yeah, since they turned Times Square into Disney-fucking-land. I liked Times Square SO much better when it was all hookers and hustlers and drug addicts. You know, my people...
There were a lot of things I hated about San Francisco, San Franciscans themselves were at the top of the list. (NO, not ALL of them. Stop yelling at me) But one of the things I truly loved about the beautiful City by the Bay was how decidedly UN-kid-friendly it was. There are more dogs than children in San Francisco, a statistic that always brought me untold joy. It's not an urban legend, you can read the article right here. Of course, the main reason there are more pooches than pre-pubescents is because San Francisco is so motherfucking expensive that anyone who makes less than half a mil' a year can't AFFORD to have children, but that is neither here nor there. The important thing is, I didn't have to dodge baby strollers and whiny little brats screaming for soda at the grocery store every fucking day.
Here, they're everywhere. There's a playground down the street, it might be attached to a school, I'm not really sure, but every day around 11am there's a cacophony of laughter and screaming and I swear one day I'm going to firebomb the place. My apartment faces the back of the building, so there's no street noise, it's usually quiet and peaceful. Except for that one hour or so a day when I think my head is going to explode.
I don't hate all children, I'm not a monster. Nor do I blame them for their misbehavior, their screaming bloody murder on the subway, their howling in line at the bank, (the fucking bank!) their temper tantrums in the aisles of Duane Reade. I blame THEIR PARENTS for allowing that shit to go on.
Parents! Control your motherfucking children! Have some respect for the people around you, especially people who had the goddamned sense to use birth control! When your Satan's spawn starts screaming uncontrollably, TAKE IT THE FUCK OUTSIDE!! I don't care that you don't want to lose your place in line and have somewhere to go and if you take your kid outside it's going to hold up your whole day, guess what, shit like that happens when you have a kid. That's what you signed up for when you decided to breed. I have a friend who once ate her entire meal in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant because her infant son was screaming like a banshee and wouldn't shut the fuck up and she had the DECENCY to not want to subject innocent diners to that bullshit. Take a cue, people. When an entire roomful of people are staring at you and your offspring with daggers in their eyes because they can't hear themselves think, GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE. Or to the bathroom. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just fucking GO.
This has been a public service announcement from someone who is ready to smack the fuck out of you. Oh yeah, one last thing. Congrats to Hans and Moni! They will be wonderful parents. Close to perfect, of this I am sure...
Kid-friendly? Since when is NYC kid-friendly? Oh yeah, since they turned Times Square into Disney-fucking-land. I liked Times Square SO much better when it was all hookers and hustlers and drug addicts. You know, my people...
There were a lot of things I hated about San Francisco, San Franciscans themselves were at the top of the list. (NO, not ALL of them. Stop yelling at me) But one of the things I truly loved about the beautiful City by the Bay was how decidedly UN-kid-friendly it was. There are more dogs than children in San Francisco, a statistic that always brought me untold joy. It's not an urban legend, you can read the article right here. Of course, the main reason there are more pooches than pre-pubescents is because San Francisco is so motherfucking expensive that anyone who makes less than half a mil' a year can't AFFORD to have children, but that is neither here nor there. The important thing is, I didn't have to dodge baby strollers and whiny little brats screaming for soda at the grocery store every fucking day.
Here, they're everywhere. There's a playground down the street, it might be attached to a school, I'm not really sure, but every day around 11am there's a cacophony of laughter and screaming and I swear one day I'm going to firebomb the place. My apartment faces the back of the building, so there's no street noise, it's usually quiet and peaceful. Except for that one hour or so a day when I think my head is going to explode.
I don't hate all children, I'm not a monster. Nor do I blame them for their misbehavior, their screaming bloody murder on the subway, their howling in line at the bank, (the fucking bank!) their temper tantrums in the aisles of Duane Reade. I blame THEIR PARENTS for allowing that shit to go on.
Parents! Control your motherfucking children! Have some respect for the people around you, especially people who had the goddamned sense to use birth control! When your Satan's spawn starts screaming uncontrollably, TAKE IT THE FUCK OUTSIDE!! I don't care that you don't want to lose your place in line and have somewhere to go and if you take your kid outside it's going to hold up your whole day, guess what, shit like that happens when you have a kid. That's what you signed up for when you decided to breed. I have a friend who once ate her entire meal in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant because her infant son was screaming like a banshee and wouldn't shut the fuck up and she had the DECENCY to not want to subject innocent diners to that bullshit. Take a cue, people. When an entire roomful of people are staring at you and your offspring with daggers in their eyes because they can't hear themselves think, GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE. Or to the bathroom. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just fucking GO.
This has been a public service announcement from someone who is ready to smack the fuck out of you. Oh yeah, one last thing. Congrats to Hans and Moni! They will be wonderful parents. Close to perfect, of this I am sure...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Busy doing nothing
I'm glad it's raining today. It makes me not feel so bad about not wanting to leave the house. I've been feeling guilty about that lately, not wanting to leave the house. I feel like I should be out exploring and doing and seeing and enjoying. Instead I mostly feel like staying home, re-reading Kurt Vonnegut books and fucking around on the internet. My mind is turning to mush and I'm in danger of losing my social skills.
That's entirely untrue, by the way. My mind is overloaded with thoughts and information and I think a mile a minute and it drives me insane. My social skills are better than ever, as I have constant interaction with clever, interesting people all the time. At work, on the subway, in the bagel shop. Everywhere. I had a bunch of friends already here when I moved, and I've made a bunch of new ones too, I'm certainly not lacking in the socialization department.
But more often than not lately, I can't be bothered to leave the building, preferring to sequester myself away up here on the sixth floor and stare out the window. Lately I've been needing to take a break from the world. Days like today are great, because I feel validated. Who the hell wants to go wandering around when it's shitty and wet and cold outside?
Actually, you know what? I do. I'm bored. I feel like I'm wasting time. I want to go wander around my neighborhood. Or some other random neighborhood. I want to go to the library and try to find a Kurt Vonnegut book I haven't read yet, or maybe someone entirely new I've never read before. I want to take a break from taking a break from the world.
Leave it to me to finally get motivated in a fucking rainstorm.
That's entirely untrue, by the way. My mind is overloaded with thoughts and information and I think a mile a minute and it drives me insane. My social skills are better than ever, as I have constant interaction with clever, interesting people all the time. At work, on the subway, in the bagel shop. Everywhere. I had a bunch of friends already here when I moved, and I've made a bunch of new ones too, I'm certainly not lacking in the socialization department.
But more often than not lately, I can't be bothered to leave the building, preferring to sequester myself away up here on the sixth floor and stare out the window. Lately I've been needing to take a break from the world. Days like today are great, because I feel validated. Who the hell wants to go wandering around when it's shitty and wet and cold outside?
Actually, you know what? I do. I'm bored. I feel like I'm wasting time. I want to go wander around my neighborhood. Or some other random neighborhood. I want to go to the library and try to find a Kurt Vonnegut book I haven't read yet, or maybe someone entirely new I've never read before. I want to take a break from taking a break from the world.
Leave it to me to finally get motivated in a fucking rainstorm.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
New York, NY
At the deli down the street from work
Because I like to make up rules as I go along, I've decided that regarding my current challenge, (see previous post here) photos count as long as I write something to accompany the photo.
So I took this photo after work the other night. To be honest, I can't even tell you the name of the place. I just stop in from time to time because it's open late and it's on the way to the train and they have good paninis and snacks and I can sit in the window and stare outside and people watch and wonder how long it's going to take to get home. My kitchen is still somewhat dysfunctional, so I don't cook at home too much right now, and who needs to anyway in NY, what with all this great food everywhere. The guys who work here have heard the whole story about my kitchen. They're always trying to get me to take something home for breakfast the next morning, but I can't find it in my heart to tell them that I'm cheating on them in the mornings with the deli on my corner, where the guys can tell how much I've had to drink the night before by what I choose for a morning beverage. Ginger ale for a hangover. Fresh squeezed orange juice when I'm healthy...
http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/
At the deli down the street from work
Because I like to make up rules as I go along, I've decided that regarding my current challenge, (see previous post here) photos count as long as I write something to accompany the photo.
So I took this photo after work the other night. To be honest, I can't even tell you the name of the place. I just stop in from time to time because it's open late and it's on the way to the train and they have good paninis and snacks and I can sit in the window and stare outside and people watch and wonder how long it's going to take to get home. My kitchen is still somewhat dysfunctional, so I don't cook at home too much right now, and who needs to anyway in NY, what with all this great food everywhere. The guys who work here have heard the whole story about my kitchen. They're always trying to get me to take something home for breakfast the next morning, but I can't find it in my heart to tell them that I'm cheating on them in the mornings with the deli on my corner, where the guys can tell how much I've had to drink the night before by what I choose for a morning beverage. Ginger ale for a hangover. Fresh squeezed orange juice when I'm healthy...
http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Game on
This is how the conversation went, more or less:
Her: What's going on with your blog? You haven't posted anything in like three weeks, and before that you were getting sporadic at best. I check that damn thing every day, and I'm continually disappointed lately. I rely on you to entertain me and you're letting me down.
Me: You rely on ME to entertain you? Wow. You need to get a life...
Her: It's true. Seriously though, what the fuck?
Me: I don't know. There's not a lot going on right now. I don't really have anything to say.
Her: Bullshit. I've known you way too long. You've always got something to say. I think there's too much going on right now. I think you have too much to say.
Me: It's true. Seriously though? I don't really feel like it right now.
Her: Fuck you.
So basically the conversation continued on a downward spiral until I was challenged to post something, even something about nothing, every fucking day for a solid month, and apparently just posting a really cool photo doesn't count, which I think is total bullshit because sometimes you can tell an entire story with just a photo or two, but what-the-fuck-ever. You got it. Four weeks, starting tomorrow, which means I win on December 5th. Game on, bitches...
Her: What's going on with your blog? You haven't posted anything in like three weeks, and before that you were getting sporadic at best. I check that damn thing every day, and I'm continually disappointed lately. I rely on you to entertain me and you're letting me down.
Me: You rely on ME to entertain you? Wow. You need to get a life...
Her: It's true. Seriously though, what the fuck?
Me: I don't know. There's not a lot going on right now. I don't really have anything to say.
Her: Bullshit. I've known you way too long. You've always got something to say. I think there's too much going on right now. I think you have too much to say.
Me: It's true. Seriously though? I don't really feel like it right now.
Her: Fuck you.
So basically the conversation continued on a downward spiral until I was challenged to post something, even something about nothing, every fucking day for a solid month, and apparently just posting a really cool photo doesn't count, which I think is total bullshit because sometimes you can tell an entire story with just a photo or two, but what-the-fuck-ever. You got it. Four weeks, starting tomorrow, which means I win on December 5th. Game on, bitches...
A reasonable request...
I saw this in the bathroom at my favorite pizza place in my work neighborhood. I'm working on finding a favorite pizza place in every neighborhood I frequent in the five boroughs. Four, really, because who the hell ever goes to Staten Island? (apologies to my friends and co-workers who live on Staten Island) My very favorite pizza place of all is literally around the corner from where I live, lucky fucking me.
So anyway, Palermo Pizza is a few blocks away from where I work, and I'm guessing they were having problems with people urinating on their bathroom floor, because otherwise, you know, why put up the sign? It's not something I want to think too hard about, because it's not going to stop me from going in there. At all.
Palermo Pizza. West Broadway and Murray. Really good fucking pizza. Use the bathroom at the Whole Foods around the corner.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Victory?
I'm really not sure how to feel here.
On the one hand, I'm thrilled that it looks like the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" military crap is finally going to go away. I know that it would be a huge step forward in the struggle for gay rights, and it would be absolutely wonderful for all the gays and lesbians currently enlisted or aspiring to enlist, but there's something I've always wondered.
My beloved gays and lesbians, why are you so eager to join an organization that clearly doesn't want you as a member? Why so gung-ho to defend a country that only 17 lousy years ago, under public pressure, finally started to warm up to the idea of even allowing you to join its military? Even still, it was under some bullshit, homophobic clause of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," or in other words, "We're Going To Stick Our Heads In The Sand And Pretend Gays Don't Exist And Force You To Lie About Who You Are On a Daily And Consistent Basis Otherwise Your Ass Is Fired." Basically, having your fundamental human (and don't forget Constitutional) rights trampled to death like that poor fucker on Black Friday a couple of years ago.
I say fuck 'em. You deserve better. And how well do we really think this is going to work here, people? Women STILL put up with truckloads of bullshit (and violence) in the military from these dumb fucks, a quick Google search just brought up hundreds of recent articles and websites. Does anyone really think it's going to be any better or safer for a gay man? Or a lesbian? Yeah, I can't wait for some fucking drunk, dumb-ass jarhead to get pissed off when some hot dyke refuses to fuck him. That's going to turn out really well, don't you think?
Yet, at the same time, I desperately, passionately want for all of my fellow human to be given complete and one hundred percent full and equal rights in the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of our hearts if at all possible. I feel this way, and I don't even fucking LIKE most of my fellow human beings. But as you know I love my gays and lesbians, very much, and I want what's best for them. I'm just not sure if the military is it. Although I'm not sure if the military is what's best for ANYONE, but we can get into that some other time.
Yes, I know this is about a fight for human rights, and it's about more than just joining the military. It's about acceptance and equality and fighting for gay rights, the only group left that it's still "OK" to discriminate against. And it's not exactly like there's a tidal wave of gays and lesbians breaking down the door to enlist.
But I kind of wish my gay boys would just stick to being design and theater majors, that way I can keep wearing nice clothes and enjoying Broadway shows. Is that wrong of me? Or am I just being selfish here?
On the one hand, I'm thrilled that it looks like the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" military crap is finally going to go away. I know that it would be a huge step forward in the struggle for gay rights, and it would be absolutely wonderful for all the gays and lesbians currently enlisted or aspiring to enlist, but there's something I've always wondered.
My beloved gays and lesbians, why are you so eager to join an organization that clearly doesn't want you as a member? Why so gung-ho to defend a country that only 17 lousy years ago, under public pressure, finally started to warm up to the idea of even allowing you to join its military? Even still, it was under some bullshit, homophobic clause of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," or in other words, "We're Going To Stick Our Heads In The Sand And Pretend Gays Don't Exist And Force You To Lie About Who You Are On a Daily And Consistent Basis Otherwise Your Ass Is Fired." Basically, having your fundamental human (and don't forget Constitutional) rights trampled to death like that poor fucker on Black Friday a couple of years ago.
I say fuck 'em. You deserve better. And how well do we really think this is going to work here, people? Women STILL put up with truckloads of bullshit (and violence) in the military from these dumb fucks, a quick Google search just brought up hundreds of recent articles and websites. Does anyone really think it's going to be any better or safer for a gay man? Or a lesbian? Yeah, I can't wait for some fucking drunk, dumb-ass jarhead to get pissed off when some hot dyke refuses to fuck him. That's going to turn out really well, don't you think?
Yet, at the same time, I desperately, passionately want for all of my fellow human to be given complete and one hundred percent full and equal rights in the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of our hearts if at all possible. I feel this way, and I don't even fucking LIKE most of my fellow human beings. But as you know I love my gays and lesbians, very much, and I want what's best for them. I'm just not sure if the military is it. Although I'm not sure if the military is what's best for ANYONE, but we can get into that some other time.
Yes, I know this is about a fight for human rights, and it's about more than just joining the military. It's about acceptance and equality and fighting for gay rights, the only group left that it's still "OK" to discriminate against. And it's not exactly like there's a tidal wave of gays and lesbians breaking down the door to enlist.
But I kind of wish my gay boys would just stick to being design and theater majors, that way I can keep wearing nice clothes and enjoying Broadway shows. Is that wrong of me? Or am I just being selfish here?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
For those who are curious...
...and apparently some of you are, the photo in my previous post was taken looking down the stairwell in my building from the sixth floor, which is the floor I live on. Good thing I've got an elevator!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Change of scenery
It's nice being back in New Orleans. Things are reassuringly the same. Same beautiful houses, same daily gun violence that never fails to blow my mind when I think about how few people live here and how many die each year. The beignets are the same, the French Quarter hasn't changed. Our football team will still give you heart failure down to the very last play of the game. The streets are the same. The city is the same. The government is still hopelessly broken, and we still have the best musicians the country has to offer.
The only thing I found that was different was the Mississippi river. I can't remember the last time I saw it so low. A couple of months back it looked like this:
It's always been my favorite place to sit. Of course it was one of my first stops when I got here Thursday. Right now it looks like this:
Really trying to remember the last time I saw it like that. Not quite sure what to make of it. I kind of like it though.
The only thing I found that was different was the Mississippi river. I can't remember the last time I saw it so low. A couple of months back it looked like this:
It's always been my favorite place to sit. Of course it was one of my first stops when I got here Thursday. Right now it looks like this:
Really trying to remember the last time I saw it like that. Not quite sure what to make of it. I kind of like it though.
wandering
I'm in New Orleans right now. I came in for a family wedding, to visit Sweetheart before I snap in half from lack of sex, and to take a break from the apartment from hell. It's been great being able to shower without a wall full of peeling plaster staring me in the face. It's been especially great having a kitchen (and a honey who makes me duck paninis for breakfast). I had forgotten the simple pleasures of a stove upon which to cook. I had also forgotten that apartments usually have kitchen sinks and people aren't supposed to be doing their dishes in the bathroom. So I'm really enjoying a comfortable place to crash.
The wedding was lovely, as far as weddings go. As you may know, I'm not the biggest fan of weddings, especially after what happened last time. But this one was painless, a beautiful ceremony in Jackson Square followed by a second-line through the French Quarter ending with a great reception overlooking the river. Food, booze, family. Very nice.
Aside from all that though, I really fucking miss New York. I'm getting spoiled as shit up there and I hate myself for it. I hate it because it's going to make it impossible to leave, and I'm going to have to leave because I can't stay in one place for too long and I miss the West Coast and I kind of have a plan to move back there, maybe Seattle or back to (shudder) the Bay Area, but the plan requires me to stay in New York for a while longer, like at least a year or two and by that time I'll be so used 3am sushi deliveries and a 24 hour Duane Reade half a block away that I will be hopelessly stuck there for all eternity. Or at least until I can figure out how to open a bar somewhere in South America.
Brazil. It should be in Brazil.
The wedding was lovely, as far as weddings go. As you may know, I'm not the biggest fan of weddings, especially after what happened last time. But this one was painless, a beautiful ceremony in Jackson Square followed by a second-line through the French Quarter ending with a great reception overlooking the river. Food, booze, family. Very nice.
Aside from all that though, I really fucking miss New York. I'm getting spoiled as shit up there and I hate myself for it. I hate it because it's going to make it impossible to leave, and I'm going to have to leave because I can't stay in one place for too long and I miss the West Coast and I kind of have a plan to move back there, maybe Seattle or back to (shudder) the Bay Area, but the plan requires me to stay in New York for a while longer, like at least a year or two and by that time I'll be so used 3am sushi deliveries and a 24 hour Duane Reade half a block away that I will be hopelessly stuck there for all eternity. Or at least until I can figure out how to open a bar somewhere in South America.
Brazil. It should be in Brazil.
Monday, September 20, 2010
WHO DAT!!
I would be remiss if I didn't make mention of the fact that my (Superbowl champions) New Orleans Saints are squaring off tonight against the San Francisco 49ers, the city I formerly (and often begrudgingly) called home. I had to laugh at the people who actually asked who I would be rooting for. Seriously? Is that even a question?
Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened at last week's game! Jenelle and I decided to forgo Bar None, as it was disgustingly crowded three hours before the game and was only going to get worse. We decided to go to dba in Brooklyn, another Saints outpost in NYC. My friend James (also from New Orleans) met us down there as well. We get there and I notice a guy running around who looks really familiar. It took a little while, but I finally realized, holy shit, that's Jack. He used to come into a bar I worked at ten fucking years ago. I made a mental note to say hello when I got a minute.
Next thing I know, James is next to me saying, "Hey, wanderlust, have you met Jack?"
And I said, "As a matter of fact, I have. I used to get Jack drunk ten years ago. Shot of Jim Beam and a Budweiser, right Jack?"
The look on his face was priceless.
Of course he remembered me and of course we had lots of catching up to do. Turns out he moved to San Francisco for a while and hated it too! (OK, I'm being dramatic. I didn't HATE living in SF. Not all the time, anyway. I just complained a lot) He's much happier in NY, as am I.
That's the thing about New Orleans. Once you've lived there a little while, it doesn't matter where you go. If there's any sort of gathering involving New Orleans in any way, be it a Saints game, a crawfish boil, or oil-spill fundraiser, you WILL run into someone you know. You just will. Like it or not. I once ran into a guy I used to HATE at the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge in San Francisco. Fortunately for all involved, he was way too drunk to remember who I was.
But it's a beautiful thing, and I love it. Anyway, I've got to go. I have a date with James and Jack and the rest of the Who Dat nation. Bar None has no idea what it's in for.
GEAUX SAINTS!!
Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened at last week's game! Jenelle and I decided to forgo Bar None, as it was disgustingly crowded three hours before the game and was only going to get worse. We decided to go to dba in Brooklyn, another Saints outpost in NYC. My friend James (also from New Orleans) met us down there as well. We get there and I notice a guy running around who looks really familiar. It took a little while, but I finally realized, holy shit, that's Jack. He used to come into a bar I worked at ten fucking years ago. I made a mental note to say hello when I got a minute.
Next thing I know, James is next to me saying, "Hey, wanderlust, have you met Jack?"
And I said, "As a matter of fact, I have. I used to get Jack drunk ten years ago. Shot of Jim Beam and a Budweiser, right Jack?"
The look on his face was priceless.
Of course he remembered me and of course we had lots of catching up to do. Turns out he moved to San Francisco for a while and hated it too! (OK, I'm being dramatic. I didn't HATE living in SF. Not all the time, anyway. I just complained a lot) He's much happier in NY, as am I.
That's the thing about New Orleans. Once you've lived there a little while, it doesn't matter where you go. If there's any sort of gathering involving New Orleans in any way, be it a Saints game, a crawfish boil, or oil-spill fundraiser, you WILL run into someone you know. You just will. Like it or not. I once ran into a guy I used to HATE at the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge in San Francisco. Fortunately for all involved, he was way too drunk to remember who I was.
But it's a beautiful thing, and I love it. Anyway, I've got to go. I have a date with James and Jack and the rest of the Who Dat nation. Bar None has no idea what it's in for.
GEAUX SAINTS!!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Shadow Shot Sunday
Brooklyn, New York
Coney Island
Jenn Farmer on the Wonder Wheel
Jenn was in town visiting from San Francisco a couple of weeks ago. I was so happy to have her here. She herself is an extremely talented artist and photographer. She's trying to convince me to let her paint a mural on my walls. Actually, it didn't take much convincing. I was like, when can you come back? Check out her work here: http://jennfarmer.org/ Shamelessly promoting my friend, I know. What can I say? She deserves it.
Coney Island
Jenn Farmer on the Wonder Wheel
Jenn was in town visiting from San Francisco a couple of weeks ago. I was so happy to have her here. She herself is an extremely talented artist and photographer. She's trying to convince me to let her paint a mural on my walls. Actually, it didn't take much convincing. I was like, when can you come back? Check out her work here: http://jennfarmer.org/ Shamelessly promoting my friend, I know. What can I say? She deserves it.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
I don't understand
OK, I know this story is kind of old news, but I don't have a TV and I don't read the paper or magazines, I really just kind of exist in my own weird little world, so I was vaguely aware about Lady Gaga wearing a dress made of meat and I was like oh, whatever. No big deal. I once saw a chick sew a bikini out of flank steak as a performance art piece during White Linen Night in New Orleans. The whole thing was quite tedious, and it was kind of stinky once it was finally finished, most likely due to the middle-of-summer-in-New-Orleans heat. It wasn't very flattering, either, once she put it on.
Well, I thought, if Lady Gaga wants to wear a stinky, unflattering dress or bikini to an award show or whatever it was, that's fine with me. I don't really care what she does to be honest.
But then I read today that she did it to support gay rights and the repeal of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy, some crazy shit about if we don't fight for our rights we'll have as much rights as the meat on our bones, whatever the fuck THAT means and I was like what? WHAT? What the FUCK?
I'm one hundred percent behind gay rights, believe me, but I'm terribly, terribly confused here. I'm trying my hardest to understand how a dress made of meat has ANYTHING to with gay rights, but I'm failing miserably. Can anybody help me out here?
Well, I thought, if Lady Gaga wants to wear a stinky, unflattering dress or bikini to an award show or whatever it was, that's fine with me. I don't really care what she does to be honest.
But then I read today that she did it to support gay rights and the repeal of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy, some crazy shit about if we don't fight for our rights we'll have as much rights as the meat on our bones, whatever the fuck THAT means and I was like what? WHAT? What the FUCK?
I'm one hundred percent behind gay rights, believe me, but I'm terribly, terribly confused here. I'm trying my hardest to understand how a dress made of meat has ANYTHING to with gay rights, but I'm failing miserably. Can anybody help me out here?
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Neurotic? Just a little...
It's ten-thirty at night and I just got back from the gym and I had it in my mind to go upstairs, eat a sandwich and go back out for a drink (or three), but apparently the doorman thinks I'm in for the night because when I came in he said, "OK, goodnight wanderlust! See you tomorrow!" And I said, "OK, goodnight Cesar! See you tomorrow!" So now I'm trapped in the apartment until after midnight when he leaves because I want him to think I'm a nice, respectable girl who gets home from the gym and goes to bed, not the kind of sleazy, alcoholic girl who goes out to bars at eleven o'clock at night on a Thursday. You know, the kind of girl that I actually am.
I'm starting to think maybe I'm not cut out for having a doorman. I might be just a wee bit too neurotic for that shit. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. More than once I have waited until after five o'clock (when the night shift guy comes on) to leave the house because I had some crazy idea in my mind that the day shift guy had seen me coming and going too many times. Especially when I was running around job interviewing, I would leave the house all dressed up, come back a couple of hours later, leave again, come back. I was like jeez, this guy probably thinks I'm a fucking hooker.
So because I'm crazy and I think too fucking much, I'm trapped inside for a little while tonight. With nothing to do but think. And look at the ugly carpet. Which can't be good. Because that's why I'm stuck inside in the first place. The thinking part. Not the ugly carpet. The ugly carpet was what made me want to LEAVE tonight in the first place.
I know. I need to get out more. But it's hard. You know, with all the doormen and all the thinking...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The resentment begins
You're probably going to want to smack me for what I'm about to say. I would want to smack me for what I'm about to say. But whatever, it's on my mind, so I'm just going to say it.
At first I was excited about fixing up this apartment. I ran around saying, it's going to be so great! It's going to be so much fun! I get to fix it up however I want, paint it any colors I want, put in a new kitchen and new light fixtures and it's going to be SO MUCH FUN!!
You know what? This shit isn't fun. At all.
As a matter of fact, it's so not fun that I really haven't even started yet. I put a rug over the huge stain on the ugly carpet, replaced the sheets and pillowcases on the sofabed, got a new tablecloth and threw a blanket over the ugly-as-shit-but-comfortable-as-fuck chair. I hung a few random pictures in spots that already had hooks in the wall. After that, the home-improvement project came to a screeching halt.
I look at the carpet and it depresses me and I think, oh, I should go to the hardware store and get a big knife and a pair of hedge clippers and tear that shit up and throw it away. Then I could at least sweep and polish the lovely hardwood floor underneath, and eventually have someone re-sand and re-finish it for me. But then the thought of actually DOING that depresses me even more and I want to go back to bed.
I should remind you here that I'm really lazy, people. Really, really lazy. I hate doing shit that requires me to, you know, move, unless it's something I personally find enjoyable and rewarding, like riding my bike or climbing around on mountains and shit like that. Tearing up a carpet and painting my apartment don't qualify.
I need to call a fucking painter to come over here before I rip out the carpet though, because there's no way in hell I'm painting it myself, and picking colors gives me a headache. Once they start painting my life will be thrown into upheaval until they are done, and I'm sick of my life being in fucking upheaval. I've been living in a state of upheaval since JANUARY when this whole mess started.
But I can't stand the way it looks for much longer, so there you go. I'm kind of fucked for a while, no matter what.
We're not even going to talk about the kitchen right now.
One of my biggest problems is that I can clearly see the finished result in my head, and I really can't seem to wrap my head around the concept that it's a "process" as they say, and that it will "take time and patience (and lots of fucking money, of course) to complete but will be so rewarding once it's finished!" Yeah, I know it will be rewarding. But if I know what I want it to look like, why can't it be done tomorrow? Why can't I just leave town for a couple of days and get a team in here and have it be magically and beautifully finished upon my return? Isn't that how it works on all those TV shows?
So yeah, I'm feeling resentful over having to direct my time, money and energy towards all this crap right now when I have better things to do with my time, money and energy. Much better things. Like, you know... write this blog, or see what people are doing on facebook. Or ride my bike around the park, or sleep. Or eat pizza, or sit in bars and talk to strangers...
Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole, aren't I?
At first I was excited about fixing up this apartment. I ran around saying, it's going to be so great! It's going to be so much fun! I get to fix it up however I want, paint it any colors I want, put in a new kitchen and new light fixtures and it's going to be SO MUCH FUN!!
You know what? This shit isn't fun. At all.
As a matter of fact, it's so not fun that I really haven't even started yet. I put a rug over the huge stain on the ugly carpet, replaced the sheets and pillowcases on the sofabed, got a new tablecloth and threw a blanket over the ugly-as-shit-but-comfortable-as-fuck chair. I hung a few random pictures in spots that already had hooks in the wall. After that, the home-improvement project came to a screeching halt.
I look at the carpet and it depresses me and I think, oh, I should go to the hardware store and get a big knife and a pair of hedge clippers and tear that shit up and throw it away. Then I could at least sweep and polish the lovely hardwood floor underneath, and eventually have someone re-sand and re-finish it for me. But then the thought of actually DOING that depresses me even more and I want to go back to bed.
I should remind you here that I'm really lazy, people. Really, really lazy. I hate doing shit that requires me to, you know, move, unless it's something I personally find enjoyable and rewarding, like riding my bike or climbing around on mountains and shit like that. Tearing up a carpet and painting my apartment don't qualify.
I need to call a fucking painter to come over here before I rip out the carpet though, because there's no way in hell I'm painting it myself, and picking colors gives me a headache. Once they start painting my life will be thrown into upheaval until they are done, and I'm sick of my life being in fucking upheaval. I've been living in a state of upheaval since JANUARY when this whole mess started.
But I can't stand the way it looks for much longer, so there you go. I'm kind of fucked for a while, no matter what.
We're not even going to talk about the kitchen right now.
One of my biggest problems is that I can clearly see the finished result in my head, and I really can't seem to wrap my head around the concept that it's a "process" as they say, and that it will "take time and patience (and lots of fucking money, of course) to complete but will be so rewarding once it's finished!" Yeah, I know it will be rewarding. But if I know what I want it to look like, why can't it be done tomorrow? Why can't I just leave town for a couple of days and get a team in here and have it be magically and beautifully finished upon my return? Isn't that how it works on all those TV shows?
So yeah, I'm feeling resentful over having to direct my time, money and energy towards all this crap right now when I have better things to do with my time, money and energy. Much better things. Like, you know... write this blog, or see what people are doing on facebook. Or ride my bike around the park, or sleep. Or eat pizza, or sit in bars and talk to strangers...
Yeah, I know. I'm an asshole, aren't I?
Friday, September 10, 2010
The Dude abides
New York, NY
215 Thompson, between Bleecker and 3rd.
My friend told me about this store and how bad ass it was. So I went, and yeah. It was pretty bad ass. The Dude who owns it even wears a bathrobe all day. Seriously. You should go check it out.
215 Thompson, between Bleecker and 3rd.
My friend told me about this store and how bad ass it was. So I went, and yeah. It was pretty bad ass. The Dude who owns it even wears a bathrobe all day. Seriously. You should go check it out.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
WHO DAT!!
Oh yeah baby. It's that time of year again. It begins tonight.
Some might say it began a few weeks ago, but I say pre-season, shmee-season. I believe pre-season exists solely to make me paranoid about injuring our starters. I was especially concerned about Drew, what with that whole Madden curse thing. But I have faith in our boy. I mean, this is the same quarterback who led us to the Superbowl. The Saints. To the Superbowl. I still can't believe it...
Jenelle and I have a date tonight with the rest of the Who Dat Nation down at Bar None, a Saints stronghold in NYC. I've heard that Vikings fans like to hang out there too, so tonight should be especially fun. I am so excited my stomach is turning upside down. Or maybe I'm just hungover. Either way, I'm ready to STAND UP AND GET CRUNK!! WHO DAT!! WE DAT!! YEAH YOU RIGHT!!
Some might say it began a few weeks ago, but I say pre-season, shmee-season. I believe pre-season exists solely to make me paranoid about injuring our starters. I was especially concerned about Drew, what with that whole Madden curse thing. But I have faith in our boy. I mean, this is the same quarterback who led us to the Superbowl. The Saints. To the Superbowl. I still can't believe it...
Jenelle and I have a date tonight with the rest of the Who Dat Nation down at Bar None, a Saints stronghold in NYC. I've heard that Vikings fans like to hang out there too, so tonight should be especially fun. I am so excited my stomach is turning upside down. Or maybe I'm just hungover. Either way, I'm ready to STAND UP AND GET CRUNK!! WHO DAT!! WE DAT!! YEAH YOU RIGHT!!
Well said
"Now look, baby. I don't never wanna see you cryin' behind no man, ya heard me? Lissen-ta-me, now. A man is like a bus, OK? There's another one comin' along every fifteen minutes."
~Dolores Bourgeois, 1998
She definitely had a way with words. I didn't want to hear it at the time, but I never forgot those words. I've repeated them to myself countless times over the years, and I've discovered she was right, as usual. Life goes on. Next!
~Dolores Bourgeois, 1998
She definitely had a way with words. I didn't want to hear it at the time, but I never forgot those words. I've repeated them to myself countless times over the years, and I've discovered she was right, as usual. Life goes on. Next!
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