Children at play

There's a preschool, complete with playground, behind my apartment building.  My apartment faces the back of the building, which is usually a blessing because it's nice and dark and quiet back here.  Except when the children are at play.

It's not a problem on the weekends, when the school is closed.  It's not a problem on holidays, or when it's snowing or there's an ice storm.  It's not a problem on days I have to be at work early.  But on days that I'm trying to sleep in, it's very much a problem.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate children?  I think I have.

It's a never-ending fucking cacophony of screaming, shrieking and laughter.  It echoes off the sides of the buildings and makes you want to kill yourself.  Lately they start around 10:15, two separate groups, ending around noon with a ten minute break in between.  This is when I lie desperately in bed with a pair of useless earplugs, constructing elaborate murder fantasies in my head.

Some days I imagine a six-ton anvil dropping from the sky directly onto the playground, instantly killing all stray children and bringing immediate peace and silence to the neighborhood.  These are the days I'm really tired and just want to get the fuck back to sleep.

Other days I imagine going down to the playground with a scythe and swinging it wildly about, terrifying the children and causing them to run about in circles, crying in terror.  The gate will be locked though, and there will be nowhere for them to go.  One by one, their heads will be chopped off, and I will stack them in a neat pile next to the swings.  Then I will go back upstairs and go back to sleep.

I also imagine tying all the children together with fishing line and forcing them to lie on the ground in a straight line.  I will then, one by one, go down the line with an aluminum baseball bat, smashing their skulls in until the ground is pink with blood and brains.  This would be messy, yet extremely satisfying. 

In today's fantasy, a group of invisible goblins came to slowly strangle the children while they played.  Their wails of agony and fear were extremely satisfying, as they could not see their attackers and therefore had no idea why it was suddenly so difficult to breathe.  I imagined their faces, twisted in horror and pain, their bodies flailing helplessly about.  This made me happy and I drifted back into a pleasant sleep, visions of invisible-goblin-assassins dancing in my head.

Why yes, as a matter of fact I have...

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...

Shadow Shot Sunday

 New York, NY
Lincoln Center

Visit Shadow Shot Sunday here.   

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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...

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.

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.

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...