Ashtray

I love my boss but she smells like an ashtray. And she often hovers. But she's so nice that I don't want to tell her. I have to get on a plane with her -- the next month is a series of plane rides with my boss. YIPPEE!!

Jessica is going to miss me. So will you all promise to send her emails and call her and amuse her so she won't be a wingy pain in the ass every time I call her from the road? Thanks. I appreciate it.

I will intermittently be back in New York this month. So don't forget about me.

I never remember to pack everything. I'm pretty sure I forgot to pack socks. It's always something like socks... or underwear. Fuck, did I pack underwear?

No wishing wells

I went to the first baby shower that I actually liked today. My friend Anne-Laure is having a baby girl in April -- she calls the bump Gabrielle, let's hope that will be what she calls the baby. She is so sweet and her husband made such a fuss out of her baby shower. That was the best part -- there were men and kids at the party, not just women oohing and aahing over baby strollers. I think I have made it abundanty clear that I am not a fan of all things domestic but when there's champagne and pate and not a giant paper mache wishing well to be found anywhere, I can have as good a time as the next guy.

I am leaving for Chicago tomorrow. Who's gonna miss me? It's even colder there than it is here which sucks. I felt like the wind was going to blow the skin off of my face this afternoon when I was outside so colder than that is gonna kill me. After Chicago, I go to Detroit and then Cincinnati. I come back on Thursday and then on Saturday I leave for Paris. I am tired just thinking about it but I know I will be okay once I'm in the midst of it.

I wish I could just lie in bed and sleep for a while before I leave but other than tonight, I am pretty much going going going for the rest of March.

Does anyone know who won Project Runaway? Somehow I missed the last episode.

Kids these days

When I was little people treated me a bit like I was insignificant. I mean I got birthday parties and Christmas presents but if I was watching TV and an adult wanted to know what the baseball score was they would just change the channel on me. If my aunts and uncles were all sitting around the table having coffee and talking and I interuppted because I wanted one of them to play checkers with me, they would have looked at me like I had 3 heads, as if to say "Don't you know you're a CHILD? You don't speak unless spoken to." Now kids tell YOU what they want, they scream if they don't get to sit down when they want to, talk when they want, watch The Wizard of Oz 600 times when they want to. And to stop this screaming --- which could very often peel paint right off the walls -- adults very often hit the rewind button and let them watch The Wizard of Oz again. Obviously, I am speaking about specific children I know, children I would rather not name because they are related to me and I truly love them. But jeez they're bratty.
I wonder which method of child rearing is better. Sure, my generation was taught to value politeness. It was more important to my mother that I kiss my smelly step-grandfather and say "thank you" when he gave me $5 than that I have the ability to express my feelings about him. It was more important to her that I become a respectful member of society who knows when and where to express my opinions. (She wasn't entirely successful in this pursuit because I'm a raving bitch a lot of the time now, let me tell you, but still that was her goal.)
These kids today might not have that but they are certainly more confident than we were, more certain of their place in the world, more sure of the fact that they have a RIGHT to want to play checkers RIGHT NOW, they have a RIGHT to interuppt you while you are on the phone, they have a RIGHT to scream in public because you won't buy them ice cream. Because of this they might have better jobs, better spouses, better lives than people who were raised like me will. But I am not sure I will want to know them and that worries me.
Anyway, I'm not a parent so I have no idea how hard it must be to raise one of these little evil minions. I really like kids -- I just don't like their parents. I think they're lazy and want to find the path of least resistance. Which -- as one of the laziest people on the planet -- I might find myself doing someday as well. But I certainly hope not.

Snowball

Someone I know embezzeled $50,000 from her employer. Isn't that amazing? Do you know how she did it? She started small by borrowing $20 at a time for things like cab rides and Fed Exing her demos to record companies. She would put it back and then do it again and then put it back and then do it again. Eventually she started taking money out of other office accounts to put into the checking account that she was pilfering from. It kind of snowballed out of control. It took 2 years or so for her boss to notice. Her boss went to get some money out of the office account to pay a plumber and a check for $300 bounced because she was overdrawn on an account that she used to have $10,000 in it. When she checked the savings account she found out exactly how much was missing and fired the thief. How crazy is that? I didn't know shit like this actually happened to people I know.
I
stole gum once. And when I was 8 I tried to steal a jar of apple sauce and got caught by the supermarket cop. He took me by the arm and marched me over to my grandfather who was sorting his way through those bins of hard candy they used to have at the supermarket looking for the root beer flavor. My grandfather thought it was pretty funny, which I thought meant he understood and wouldn't tell my mom. I was very wrong.

The woman I know who stole all the money made her boss feel guilty when she got caught. She doesn't believe she did it. She thinks it's some kind of mistake. I wonder how I would feel if I did something like that. How bad does something have to be that you've done where you truly don't believe it happened? Now she has no job and she owes someone $50,000 and she keeps talking about how her dogs are going to starve because she's divorced and unemployed. It's pretty freaking crazy.

Kettle corn & perfume

I'm broke. Like pauper broke. Like digging-change-out-of-the-couch-for-coffee broke. Ah well. It's only money.

Did anyone see Madonna on the cover of Bazaar? She looks awesome. Why does she get to be 47 years old and hot?

I want to read that book "Not Feeling Myself" that was written by a former drag queen. I saw the review in Metro, the newspaper for cheap people on the run. ("Hello strange man with free reading material. Why yes, I would love one!") The author was the queen with the plastic boobs filled with water and goldfish. Remember when drag queens were everywhere in New York? I remember going to Limelight and seeing RuPaul. He wasn't famous yet and no one knew he was called RuPaul but he was there. He was good dancer.

I'm boring today, guys. I'm really sorry. I've been planning press trips all day and wishing for one of those Acme things to fall out of the sky and flatten me like in a Roadrunner cartoon.
I am musing over the little things. Lately I've been enjoying them -- a nice cup of tea at 3:00, fat free microwave kettle corn, the smell of the perfume I have recently decided is my signature scent. I've been enjoying them because I am waiting for the big things. They are bound to be on the horizon, right? I'm bound for something bigger than another drunken night in Manhattan, another bad date, another load of laundry waiting to be done, right?

I've been dreaming a lot about people that I used to know. I wonder if they're okay.

Blech. I hate when I get like this. Someone tell a joke.

Fuscia

I promised Fuscia I would dedicate my post-Vegas blog to her, hence the title. Hi Fuscia!
So what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas BUT I can certainly allude to things, can't I?
Jessica is not too fond of velvet ropes. She feels that the entire club should be a VIP section hence the rope should come down. This led to us almost being removed from a certain night club. This in turn led to an altercation on an elevator which in turn led to me waiting in a Keno lounge while Jessica was questioned by casino security and then kindly asked to leave. I will give her credit -- no amount of gin ingested apparently has any effect on her being able to scream "MISOGYNIST" at the top her lungs. Considering that she couldn't remember what hotel we were in while she was screaming it, I was fairly impressed. I wish I could tell you the whole story, but you know the rules...
Prostitution is not legal in the city of Las Vegas. However, one would think it is based on the sheer volume of advertisements for escort services. Unless those girls really plan to escort you somewhere. Someone I know -- who shall remain nameless -- was probably in need of "escorting" somewhere. Yeah, that must have been it. Maybe he didn't want to go somewhere alone... like Denny's or the 7-11. Yeah, I'm sure it was something completely innocent like that. Again, I could probably flesh this out a bit better for you if we were still IN Vegas, but we're not...
We met a lot of people. Most of them were 22 and in the military and inexplicably attracted to me. Then there were the two "winners" who thought we would be impressed that they lost $200 at a time at the $10 black jack tables at O'Shea's. 'Cuz it takes a real man to do that. I have to say the most attractive person I met was an Argentinian bartender at Harrah's named Anna. (I told you people that I was going to become a lesbian in 2006). She could flip bottles like nobody's business -- you have to know how to flip bottles without hitting yourself in the head if you're going to make any tips in Vegas.
Oh and it snowed. Yeah, it snowed in Vegas. I have no idea when that happened -- between the lack of clocks and the blackout shades in every hotel room, I have no idea what happened when because I never knew what time it was nor what day. It is going to take me a few days to get over that. And to get over the withdrawal from first-thing-in-the-afternoon bloody marys and slots at noon.

Tired

My boss made me come with him to a breakfast meeting this morning at like 8:30. I don't do 8:30 people. At 8:30 free breakfast is just not enough of an incentive. Especially since "breakfast" to me is three cups of coffee and an ulcer.

So what is everyone doing this weekend while I'm in Vegas? Anything fun that I am gonna miss? Eleanor is having an anti-Valentine's party -- something about blood and darkness. I LOVE THAT! Anyhoo, if you go tell me how it is, 'kay?

I have a 6:00 am flight because I'm cheapo and that was the most bargain basement flight I could find. I so can't wait to become rich and famous. It's gonna happen, too. Yes it will, too! Shut up! You're not the boss of me!

I have to go now. I'm at work. I should be working. But I won't be blogging from Vegas so enjoy!

Bridget Jones explains it all...

I wonder if people are scarred for life after Simon insults them on American Idol? Perhaps I am just too sensitive but I think I might be. He's so mean!
You know who else is mean? GIRLS man! They are sooooooooo mean to each other. And usually they are mean to each other over GUYS. Better yet, usually over a guy they met in a bar or at a party or something. Don't you think if he was the guy you were gonna marry you wouldn't have to be mean to someone else to get him? I mean, how can that be the way it works.
I can say all this about girls because I'm a woman now. I'm thirty -- in case you missed the memo. (By the way, party people, the bar where I had my birthday sent me photos from my party. If I haven't sent them to you already and you want to see them, let me know.) Anyway, we women stay above the fray and watch the girls we know act like jackasses. It's about the only good thing I can say about getting older. I certainly can't say, "Well, now that I'm 30 I can certainly hold my drink," a la that line from Bridget Jones. Right after she said that, she fell out of a cab. That sounds a little like me.
I'm going to Vegas on Friday. Who wants me to play a number for them? Let me know, beotches! Who wants me to call them drunk from a casino at a questionable hour? You got it, muthafuckas! 'Cuz you so money, baby. You're money and you don't even know it!

Anyone?

My friends and I are going to French Tuesdays' Valentine's Day party tomorrow night. http://www.frenchtuesdays.com/ It's me and three other single girls. Three beautiful single girls. Should be super successful for me in the pick up department. Or not. But it will be fun. I usually have fun at parties. I very rarely don't. So it's all good. Anyone wanna come? There might still be tickets left.

My job is slowly killing me. I literally have two brain cells left and they are at war. I wish everyone at my job would forget my name. That's pretty much all I hear all day. I am surely exaggerating, you're thinking? Well, I am the only English-speaking American who knows anything about press. And I work in the press department at Maison de la France. So just imagine how often someone has a question for me. My boss (who is an awesome lady) used to run the press department but now she's Director so she has all this other shit to do. If we worked for like Doctors Without Borders or the American Cancer Institute, if we were saving LIVES instead of planning cocktail parties, I would be okay with the stress, ya know?

Pretty much the whole month of March I am going to be on a plane. Who's gonna miss me? Anyone? Anyone? I am leaving for Cincinnati, Detroit and Chicago on February 28; March 4-12 I am in Paris, London, Lincolnshire and Edinburgh; March 13 I go to Boston, DC and Philly, and March 21 I go to San Diego, LA and San Fran. It's all over at the end of March. I love to travel but I am also easily confused. Let's see how much sense I'm making by March 25.

Anyone else get stuck in their apartment this morning because their screen door was frozen shut? No? Just me? Good to know.

Anyone else wear high heeled boots and fall three times on the corner of Mott and Broome? No? Just me? Good to know.

Anyone else get all the way to the subway without any money and have to borrow 20 bucks from their sister? No? Just me again? I'm on a roll.

I wish I had some beer in the house.

Law & Order (Archive from December 25, 2005)

What does it say about me that I get so much comfort from Law & Order? I like every version of this show but Criminal Intent -- this one confuses me because they screwed with the format by showing you who committed the crime at the beginning of the show. But the regular one, and SVU, oh my God I love them both. If there is a Law & Order marathon on I am always tempted to stay in bed all day and watch it. I extract a lot of comfort from the characters, especially the cops on SVU. It seems like they are the least perverted people on the planet. They don't have any patience for depravity. Since I think all people -- including myself -- are at least a little depraved, I love that about them. I wish I could just be that kind of shining example of humanity who wants nothing more than to protect children and innocent victims.

Ugly (Archive from December 22, 2005)

I think I may be ugly. I am on one of those dating sites and, please rest assured, that I picked the hippest one I could find, the only one that seemed a little irreverent, a bit less drastic and sad than the others. But, although I have added people to my hot list, no one has added me to theirs since August. I think it's because I'm ugly. Not Elephant Man ugly, or Joan Rivers ugly, but like uninteresting ugly, the kind of person who you wouldn't notice walking down the street, the kind of person who doesn't make waves, doesn't stir emotions. I always wanted to be Rita Hayworth when I grew up. I think instead I'm Maude.

When I think of the men -- and women -- that I've hooked up with in my life, it makes it even harder for me to accept the nothing I have evolved into. I used to be fabulous. Well, if not fabulous at least attractive. Beautiful men have slept with me. Beautiful men, with great big penises and sexy accents, and they came onto me first. But you would never believe it to look at me.

All the chocolate I ate today didn't do much for my feeling of self worth. Try again tomorrow.

Bad Day (Archive from December 20, 2005)

Today was a bad day. I'm not even that upset about the transit strike, although it pissed me off. Are these MTA workers serious? Their starting salary is $50,000 and they do a shitty job. I almost hope that they all get fired. Do you know what they are upset about? Having to pay 6% into their pension and 1% of their healthcare benefits. I pay 50% of my healthcare benefits, and I don't get a guaranteed raise every year. I mean come on! And they all sound like idiots when they are interviewed on TV especially that Toussant guy. Arrogant prick. They are making it hard for every union that strikes in the future with real complaints.

Anyway, I woke up with a fat cheek. It turns out I have an infection in a tooth and it either needs to be extracted or I need to get a very expensive root canal followed by an even more expensive cap. I am quite poor because of Christmas but my mom offered to lend me the money so I can at least get the root canal. The extraction is cheaper but I don't want a tooth missing in the front of my mouth and look like I escaped from Appalachia during the depression. I have enough aesthetic difficulties.

I came home from this humbling appointment, armed with penicillin and a six-pack only to find a letter from the IRS telling me that I owe them $1200. I paid my 2004 taxes quite late and I had to pay something like $4500 (another loan from my mom.) No one -- not my accountant, not the IRS rep that I spoke to when I had some questions -- told me that I would owe more money. More money that I don't have.

So tomorrow, after I walk over the bridge to Manhattan -- thanks again Mr. Toussant and Merry Christmas, by the way -- I will have to beg my accountant for an appointment during the holidays and figure out a way to come up with this money, which by the way is due on the exact same date as the next installment of my 2005 taxes are due. YAY! The one thing that I can hope is that I lose weight from all this walking and I win the lottery before the New Year.

The Exes (Archive from November 16, 2005)

I have been thinking a lot lately about my ex-boyfriends. Well mostly just one of them. He's a wee bit retarded actually. It makes me nuts that I dated him for almost two years. He was a very nice guy. Very nice. But he had no conviction. He didn't believe in anything. And, again, he was retarded.

About 1 month before we broke up (which was 6 months ago) my friends were over at his place watching a movie, Kill Bill. Anyone who's seen this movie would know that there are lots of subtitles in Kill Bill because she goes to Japan pretty early in the movie. Because he had borrowed the DVD from Netflix and copied it, for some reason the subtitles didn't show up, which he knew before he put it on for us to watch. So I was a little perturbed that he didn't tell us this before we started watching the movie but oh well.

My friend Diane and her husband had to leave early so he offered to lend her the movie to watch at home.

Lo and behold we break up. Not a great heartache. That's just life. I totally forgot that Diane had his DVDs. A month or so after we break up, she mentions them to me, like "What should I do? Should I call him to return his DVDs?" I'm like, "You know what? They were copies and they sucked. I'm sure he'll just borrow the movie from a friend and make another copy. Why would he want them anyway? The subtitles aren't there. They're crap."

I go away on a business trip. When I come back, Diane calls me hysterically laughing because the day I left, the idiot emailed her about the DVDs. He actually started the email with the line," Dear Diane, I know you must hate me for what I did to Louise." I thought that was pretty freaking funny. I wish I could say I gave a fuck that we broke up but, um... I don't. I'm a little callous that way.

Anyway, emails are exchanged, they decide he can come pick up the DVDs at her apartment. She's keeping me out of it because I am cringing with embarassment that my ex is shaking my friends down for crappy DVDs. Crappy DVD copies that every single one of the three members of his group of loser friends also owns, so he could easily borrow them from him and recopy them. I mean is he trying to recoup his losses for the blank DVDs? The ones I know he stole from his office? The best part of this is that I have an actual DVD of his and he has never called to get it back. I think he's afraid of me. I consider it my parting gift from a failed relationship. Sorry it didn't work out, but hey I have an unblemished copy of Ocean's Eleven to enjoy for a lifetime.

He goes to her house, gets the DVDs, she's rushing him out the door (now that we're broken up, Diane confides that she finds him "creepy") and he asks her to do him a favor. "What is it?" she asks hesitantly, as her husband stands in the hallway holding the door open for the idiot to pass through and out of the their lives. "I have something of Louise's that I think she will want back," he says sheepishly. "So give it back to her," says Diane, fighting the urge to push him out the door. "Can you give it to her for me?" he says, running out door to his car and coming back with a little plastic bag.

"I bet you will never guess what's in the bag," she says to me on the phone, literally 5 minutes after he leaves her place. "Oh I know what's in it. Deodorant and tampons." She is flabbergasted that I know this. Yes, ladies and gentleman, my ex-boyfriend who I practically lived with for nearly 2 years harassed my friend about a crappy DVD copy and went to a lot of trouble to return a 1/2 used box of OB tampons and a bottle of no-name deodorant that I bought at the 99 cent Store. Oh, and a white Hanes t-shirt with spaghetti sauce on the front and a pair of pajama pants with a rip in the leg. As Diane said to me, "Why would you want these things back?" The answer is.. I wouldn't! The shit you leave behind in someone's apartment is the shit you never plan to see again. Doesn't he think that I bought new tampons and deodorant since we broke up back in May? Did he think I was just sitting in my apartment, bleeding and stinking, wondering when he was going to return my stuff?

So it's official -- I'm keeping his copy of Ocean's Eleven. I've earned it. Because the whole thing made me realize that if he left deodorant in my apartment, two things would happen:
1) He would actually want it back rather than have to spend another 1.29 on a new bottle.
2) He would not have the guts to ask me for it back.

So until he calls me and asks me, he cannot have Ocean's Eleven. And I will invite all my girlfriends over to watch it and we will drool over George Clooney and Brad Pitt and wonder why we continually waste our vast feminine powers on idiots.

I told Diane to make sure to throw the bag of crap out in a public garbage bin. Perhaps it will do a homeless woman some good.

Friendster (Archive from November 15, 2005)

I'm a little addicted to Friendster. I've decided that it is the wave of the future. You never again have to actually get together with people to be friends with them. Now more than ever virtual friendships are everywhere. You can find out someone's birthday and send them an electronic greeting. You can send them a wink or a smile or whatever your website of choice offers. You can add new people to your stable of virtual friends based on taste in music or movies or books or the school you both went to where you didn't know each other.

I think the world might be ending. That's a bit of a disconnect. The world ending has nothing whatsoever to do with Friendster. But there was an earthquake in Japan yesterday. Another earthquake. Another natural disaster. What if the whole spinning orb that we're floating around on just falls to bits?If the world ends and I have not improved my life at all, I will float off into eternity a very pissed off soul, let me tell you. As it stands, I am 29 and alone which anyone will tell you is not a good thing. Not really alone alone since I have friends and family and I feel like I know everyone in New York sometimes. But alone in the sense that I don't have a "special someone". When is that going to come back and bite me in the ass, I wonder?

Truthfully, I don't really mind that I'm single. No one ever believes me when I say that. I know I'm supposed to so sometimes I pretend to bemoan my singleton state. But mostly I like that I don't have to bring someone to every event I'm invited to and I don't have to watch TV shows I don't like and go see movies that make me feel intellectually superior. (One of these days I will dedicate a post to the wonders that are my ex-boyfriends and this statement will make more sense. Today is not that day.)

Being 23

I saw my best friend from college last night. It was so good to see him. I have been friends with him for 12 years. Can you fucking believe that? He and I have been through so much. For a while he lived with my mom. Actually, I call him brother. He leaves me messages "Hey it's your brother..." I think of him that way. My mom thinks of him that way. My whole family does. The thing is that for the first time in a long time last night I had an actual conversation with someone that was sappy and sentimental but it wasn't fueled by alcohol or bullshit, it was real. We talked about how we feel about each other and how hurt we've been in the past few years and it was just awesome. It was awesome to see him and know he's healthy and not hurting himself anymore. There has been a lot of shit in my life that I haven't told anyone and I told him. And I felt better. I felt better knowing that someone knew what was going on. I didn't think I would feel that way. I'm like a guy sometimes --- keep it to yourself, hold it in, get over it. I tell people the little embarassing things, I tell people the big embarassing things. I tell people the nubbin stories, the headbiter stories, the falling down stairs at my birthday stories. But I keep the big shit to myself because partly I feel like people use the bad shit that happens to them as a crutch. They can then go the rest of their lives saying "I'm fucked up because of my father, my mother, my ex-boyfriend" and never have to be responsible for the crap they do because they were hurt once. I hate that. No one else is responsible for you but you. Stuff happens to you -- get over it. Well I've been so busy with this credo that I have forgotten that shit eats you up inside. So even if I get it off my chest I am not gonna be one of those assholes who's all "Woe is me. Poor me. Bad stuff happened to me. Now I am going to be retarded and not responsible for anything I do and you have to let me because I've been wounded." At least I hope I won't be. You guys will tell me if I do become that, right? Thanks.

Okay that was a rant.

Who wants to go to New Orleans with me in April? They could use the tourism. Come on, let's go! Jazz Fest!

I remember being 23 so vividly it's killing me today. I remember being grungy and braless in overalls and a tank top, wishing I could meet Ethan Hawke, running around New York and skipping the lines at night clubs and watching bands play in LES and BEING HAPPY. I was mostly high at the time. But still...

Okay, I will be a lot more fun to read once I clean my apartment and do something good for me, like yoga. First another cup of coffee.

Random

Reply to all is a dangerous button. Lately I've been accidentally hitting it willy nilly. I'm sure that everyone on those specific email chains were all really anxious to read my witty response of "LOL".

Why do I continually buy hip hugger jeans? Is it that I secretly want the whole world to see my underwear but I've decided to be passive aggressive about it?

Why do major league sports have all-star games? What is the point of these events?

Why does my sister ask me questions like "Why did Susan Lucci get a nose job?" and then seem upset that I don't have an answer? How the hell should I know?

Why did Shane cheat on Carmen on "The L Word"? I am DEVASTATED!

The Love Toilet

This is a classic, revived by Alev. http://snltranscripts.jt.org/91/91gtoilet.phtml
Does anyone else but me remember this SNL skit? It's from the 80s. HILARITY. It's almost as funny as the Bass Master. Does anyone remember that one?

It does beg the question -- "Isn't this so funny because there are people in your life who you could imagine actually USING a product like this?" How many couples do you know that make you LITERALLY want to barf? Most of the ones in my life make me want to barf because they are pretending to be in love. They are pretending to actually be excited about picking out china patterns and stuff like that. OR they are really and truly excited about china pattersn and that makes me even sicker. I'm a little catty and unloveable today, huh? All of you people who annoy me to update my blog must be soooooo happy that you did it today when I am this cranky and cantankerous.

So apparently I didn't do anything too embarassing at my birthday party. Who's happy? I AM! I polled several very trustworthy friends (one of whom stuck pretty close to me seeing as he is usually after me to introduce him to my friends) and they all said that other than tripping over some steps (steps that were lit up so as to avoid people tripping over them, but that's beside the point) and then ending the night by falling on the floor (I kind of slid down the wall while someone was talking to me, which illicited repeated cries from Patti of "Louise is down! Louise is down!" that my sister is still laughing about) I was a perfect angel. A drunk, slightly trashy-looking, over-hyped angel but an angel nonetheless. Again, thanks for coming everyone. My sister keeps saying things like, "It was so nice of Ronnie to come?" to which I reply "Ronnie was there? Did I see him?" Generally the answer is yes that I did see all of you, that I seemed awfully happy to see you and as far as you could tell, I looked happier than last year. (That last bit might have something to do with the absence of a certain odious boyfriend who shall remain nameless -- but that's just a theory.)

I have press releases to write and other work to do, but this is actually more fun and I am technically on my lunch break so whatevs with work.

Perhaps I will do an internet search and see if I can find that Bassmaster clip. It's awesome!

Alcohol is bad

To everyone who came to Jessica and my birthday party last night, thanks for coming. I'm sure I was happy to see you. And oh, also, let me extend to you my sincere apologies. This apology is just IN CASE I did something that you found embarassing, inappropriate, debaucherous, retarded or in any way offensive. I don't remember a fucking thing. Seriously. I have snatches of memory but I can't figure out if they happened or not. This was apparently what happened to everyone who drank the gin at that freaking bar. I usually stick to Bombay Sapphire but all my lovely friends kept buying me drinks and I didn't want to specify that they buy me the more expensive version of a gin and tonic so I drank well gin all night. There was crack in that gin, let me tell you. One of my friends took a cab all the way to Hoboken and didn't realize until she got there that her bag, keys and cell phone were still back at Crime Scene. That started quite an interesting phone chain, which took place while I was vomiting into a bucket that my sister was kind enough to place next to my bed after she carried me out of the cab.

Um... maybe I won't have a birthday party next year.

Here's an interesting story, completely unrelated to my birthday. http://www.nerve.com/screeningroom/tv/teentv/ As a HUGE FAN of My Super Sweet 16 and the Gilmore Girls and various other teen-driven shows (I don't watch Laguna Beach or The O.C.) I am happy that I am not alone. I definitely agree with one line from the article: "Maybe we've spent so much time with our gay friends that we've absorbed a camp aesthetic — like them, many of us weren't totally out in high school, so now we get to reimagine it with ourselves in all the best roles." I totally think this is it! What do you all think?

Cuddle pile

Katherine always finds the most interesting articles on the internet. Here's another one ... http://www.newyorkmetro.com/news/features/15589/.

This article is so fascinating to me because in my day (I can say that now, I'm turning 30 tomorrow) people didn't experiment with bisexuality until college. I know I didn't. In fact, even though I went to an all girls high school where you would expect homosexuality to run rampant, we were so FREAKED OUT about the possibility of even being considered a les that we even learned how to get changed after gym class without showing any skin. It's complicated but it can be done.

(Quick tutorial: You unbutton the shirt a little, pull the gym t-shirt over your head, keep unbuttoning while simultaneously pulling the t-shirt down. Now you have your gym shirt on and no one has even seen your bra.Then you pull the gym shorts under the skirt, pull them up, unbutton the skirt and you're ready for gym. It's an art form really.)

The worst thing you could say about another girl at my high school was to call her a lesbian. It was like scarring her face or something. If you even insinuated that she was a rug muncher, the rest of the school would be whispering about that forever. It was really kind of fucked up. Girls really do suck at that age.

Anti-social

I am avoiding human contact tonight. Which means I am probably not going to my friend Chris' show. http://www.accordingtowendy.com/(Chris, if you're reading this, I feel like crap but I hope you have a good show.) It's hard to completely avoid human contact seeing how I live with my twin sister. Allow me to reiterate -- my twin sister is my roommate. How's that for dysfunction? We fight like cats and dogs... or Greeks and Turks... or Israelis and Palestinians... whatever, we fight. But we love each other. It's fun living with her most of the time. Right now, it's great that I don't have to deal with a regular roommate who would want to know why I am so anti-social.

I think if I hibernate and recuperate I will stop being so freaking depressed about something that is not that depressing to begin with.

On an unrelated note, I'd love to know what people think of this -- http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1155844,00.html. I am a huge supporter of free speech-- mostly for selfish reasons, seeing how I tend to write every stupid thought that comes into my head on this blog. But the cartoons kind of make me uncomfortable as well. If an Arab newspaper published anti-Jewish or anti-Catholic cartoons there would be a HAIL STORM of shit thrown at them. But no matter what you think about the cartoons, props to the European newspapers who went ahead and reprinted them -- on their front pages, no less - -as a way of saying "Freedom of the press is more important than what the masses say." Can you imagine USA Today doing that? Not bloody likely.

There is no back bone or rebelliousness in American journalism today. There aren't even any ethics. They just rerun the press releases they get or run wire service text anyway. They regurgitate what the White House feeds them, what the lobbyists feed them, what the military feeds them. Woodward and Bernstein would have been fired if they tried that shit they did in the 70s today.