Too tired

I have been too tired to write my blog lately. Which is sad. Well, sad for me. I don't think anyone reads this thing most of the time. Then I will randomly see someone I haven't seen in a while and I'll try to fill them in on my life and they'll cut me off with "Oh right, like in your blog." So people read it. And then they mock me. Bastahds.

I have discovered two things in the last 2 minutes that cannot possibly be interesting to anyone else but me but bear with me. 1) we are out of Diet Coke which means I have to go out in the wet weather because I'm thirsty but I'm already in my jammies but I want Diet Coke so I'm gonna stop whining. 2) Take my advice. Mix 1 scoop of fat-free chocolate ice cream with 1 teaspoon of fat-free peanut butter. You won't regret it.

I need a vacation guys. Or a massage. Or a diversion of some kind. Can you help? Any and all ideas, please send them my way.

I was in a car going down Queens Boulevard yesterday and there was a huge orange billboard that said "Clowns hate tangelos." If anyone has any explanation for that, I would greatly appreciate it. It's been eating at my brain since I saw it.

If this gives you any idea how deep I have dropped into my own pit of malaise, what did I do tonight besides get stuck in the rain and invent the aforementioned fat-free pb/ice cream concoction? I watched The Wedding Date. Now I will be the first to admit that Dermot Mulroney is a fine piece of man candy (his voice, dude. Soooooo very sexy. And he's married to awesome, rocking Catherine Keener, otherwise known as "who I want to be when I grow up.") But these movies are insulting to our intelligence as women. Yes they are, too! NO MALE ESCORT WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU. Your boyfriend may well sleep with your sister or your friend or your brother or your cousin. This is reality people. No I am not bitter. Two people I know just fell in love... not with each other but still. I try not to gag when people go and do that but I think it might be involuntary at this point. I wish I was more of a Harlequin-reading, waiting for my Prince Charming, can't wait to wear a white dress kind of chick. Just not. Can't help it. Meant to be miserable. There was a great column about this in Metro this morning. If I hadn't thrown it out while I was dragging my retard ass up Fifth Avenue to work this morning I would tell you more about it.

I'm still holding out for John Frusciante so it's not that I've given up on love (cute photos of him here and here and here. Tell me you don't love him, too.)

I'm glad we had this time together. I have to put a bra on and go on a Diet Coke run now.

No baseball, no Pride

I had a very disappointing weekend. First of all, I didn't have time or money to go to any Pride-related festivities. Second, as a season ticket holder of the New York Yankees I had tickets to Old Timers Day and the regular game on Saturday, and then the game on Sunday. Well, Saturday got rained out -- what do you do waiting through a rain delay at a major league ballpark? Eat until you burst. I'm never eating again -- and Sunday it was raining all morning and when it stopped no one wanted to go with me in case it started again. Well, except Alison. Who would have come just to root AGAINST the Yankees and I could not allow that, much as I love her.

In good news, I watched my first World Cup soccer match with my friends from work on Friday and, lo and behold folks, I am hooked on a new sport. And I am also hooked on this guy. And this guy is not too bad either. Cute boys in shorts, people. Cute boys in shorts.

In other news, a friend was kind enough to invite me to go to a screening of You Me & Dupree this evening. I like screenings. I feel very special when I get to see things before other people. I think I have a superiority complex. Anyway, I'll tell you how the movie is tomorrow.

Oh oh oh oh oh -- as part of my new feature "Louise is too cheap to buy a newspaper so she gets all her blog fodder from Metro" did you guys see the thing about the drunk pelican? Apparently a pelican flew through someone's windshield on PCH because he was intoxicated from chemicals he ingested on Laguna Beach. Bad things happen in Laguna Beach, man. Bad reality shows, bitchy girls and birds who can't hold their drink. Truthfully, I would love it if the drunk bird craze caught on and everyone could stop oohing and aaahing over Kristen Cavaleri.

Auditioning wives

I went to China Club last night for French Tuesdays. I still can't believe I was in China Club but there I was. In China Club. Jamie's moving to Italy has forced me into these outings... She plays the "But this might be the last time we get to go out together" card A LOT. I'm gonna miss her so I fall for it every time.

All in all it wasn't a bad night. At any French event, I end up working. Someone wants to talk to me, someone needs to get my business card so they can email me about a project they think I'd be interested in. Sometimes I am interested. Mostly I'm flying from all the champagne, though, and I don't really remember talking to them the next day.

Someone told me he was auditioning wives. Could you die? He is AUDITIONING American girls to marry him. I just could not get over that. I don't think he was auditioning me. I think he has a few lined up already. I mean WHAT do you SAY to that?

I'm going to a White Party tonight. Who wants to bet that I spill something all over my white outfit before I even get to the party?

On a completely unrelated note, does this photo of John Frusciante NOT make you want to reach through the computer and hug him? I swear if I met him, I would probably pinch his cheeks and make him a sandwich. He doesn't look like he eats very well. Cute little musicial genius urchin. I just love him.

Limping again

Just to prove that I am officially the most retarded person ever, I fell the other night walking home from the bar. I blame Rob and Greg. Alcohol pushers. Every time I looked down at the table, there was a fresh beer in front of me. On the way home I tripped over my own flip-flop and down I went. I have a great big bruise on my knee. I wish I played sports or something so I could pretend I got injured playing racquetball or something. Perhaps I should start playing racquetball so I have an excuse for all of my drinking-related injuries.

I'm supposed to be at the Beer Garden right now but most of my friends bailed on me or are going over later. I am not planning any more outings. They always fall flat. My friends cannot be trusted to act as a cohesive group.

Two of my favorite people are getting married next week and I can't go to the wedding. I hope John and Jenna aren't mad at me. The wedding is in Rhode Island and I can't get there because I don't drive. I grew up in New York so I never bothered to get a license. I keep saying I will get one someday but the couple of times I tried to drive I always managed to hit something. I think it is important to recognize one's own limitations.

So I will attempt to get over to the Beer Garden with or without my friends, I think. I think everyone who reads this should just meet me there. I'll be the one limping with two beers in her hand.

Gay scientologists and tarantulas, oh my!

Interesting tidbits from today's edition of Metro, "the newspaper for cheap people on the go". (Okay, I made up that tag line but if anyone from Metro is reading this and would like to pay me for it, I would be happy to sell it to them in exchange for a job writing their gossip column and a lifetime supply of mass-produced coffee drinks. I've thought long and hard about these demands but please be advised that I would also accept cash.)

1) A 16-year old girl met a guy on Myspace and flew to Jordan to be with him. Her parents did not know she was gone. According to the mother of the young man, "She wanted to convert to Islam and wear the head covering and live with us and adopt our culture." Do I even HAVE to insert a wisecrack here about the fact that technology enables parents to know what their kids are watching on cable and searching for on the internet and yet THESE PARENTS somehow did not know their daughter had purchased a ticket to JORDAN? I didn't think so -- surely you can create your own wisecrack for this situation.

2) A British man resigned from his job at Marks & Spencer yesterday but not before having a Mexican red-kneed tarantula delivered to a co-worker he didn't like. Way to get the most out of that inter-office mail service on your last day. Marks & Spencer has yummy chocolate but apparently they don't screen for mental wellness during the hiring process.

Is it offensive to anyone that I desperately want this t-shirt and plan to wear it proudly if I do get it? Scientologists are mean to gay people. That is why all of the gay Scientologists pretend not to be gay. Therefore it is funny to CALL them "gay"? No? Plus I just like that picture of John Travolta from Staying Alive, which is possibly the worst dance movie ever made but I watch it EVERY time it's on. That and Mommie Dearest. I can't help myself. I think I need professional help.

Have some wine and listen to Nina

I totally forgot to tell you guys this story. The other night a couple of my friends were walking down a well-lit, busy street in Astoria and some guys started a fight with them. The N-word was used. And there was a baseball bat. Can you fucking believe that? While they were telling me this story I kept looking around for any signs that we had accidentally been transported back to the 1950s. RACIAL SLURS? Are you KIDDING me? Hitting people with BASEBALL BATS? When was the last time that happened? Then I read that story in the newspaper about Kevin Aviance getting beat up and I was like, "No! Really? Someone beat up a gay guy in the East Village, of all places? Didn't those assholes get the memo? That's not supposed to HAPPEN anymore. Because we've evolved." But no, there it is, in black and white. Apes still roaming Manhattan free and wielding weapons.

Anyway, if you happen to be in Astoria, stay away from the St. James Deli on the corner of 34th and 34th. Because when my friends went running in there for help they were turned away. Which is just as bad as if the guy in the deli had ran after them with a bat, too.

If only everyone with all this pent up rage could just go home, have a glass of wine and listen to some Nina Simone, the world would be a calmer place, dontcha think? Kind of pithy and simplistic to think that wine and Nina Simone can cure racism but nothing else is working so it's worth a shot.

Come to the beer garden

Work is crazy. My mom is out of the hospital. I am having Chinese food for dinner.

As you can see I am only capable of short declarative sentences today.

Who's coming to the Beer Garden with us on Saturday? If you live in Queens, you should TOTALLY come. If you don't live in Queens, you should jump on the N train and quit your bitching about it and TOTALLY come. It will be so fun!

Tina and Tough Tom got married

My friends Tina and Tom got married yesterday. It was a very nice wedding -- she did the whole princess thing, with the sparkly strapless gown and the intricate up do. She looked beautiful -- she's just the type for that sort of thing so she pulled it off quite well. The best man gave one of the best toasts I have ever heard. It was a story about Tom going to Shea Stadium with his brothers and accidentally being left on the subway. When he realized he had gone one stop too far (he was six at the time, mind you) he got off, jumped down onto the tracks and started walking back. Could you die? Tom's pretty funny.

It was a really fun time because I saw people that I literally haven't seen in a year. My friends Jade and Mike moved to Florida last year and my friend Lisa and her boyfriend Jason are about to move down there, so it was a chance to have one last night of too-much-to-drink with them. There was also a chocolate fountain, which, I have to say, is one of the greatest inventions of modern times.

I think I offered use of my womb to several of my gay friends. Ricky said something about liking my coloring and maybe I could have a baby for him and Anthony? I like Ricky -- he's near the top of the list of "my gays" -- and I had had a few vodka cranberries at this point so I think I said yes. I don't think he was serious. They don't even have a place to live yet so hopefully by the time they think of having a baby again he'll forget about this little convo because I don't think the world needs another ME, do you? Then again, I'm not really using my womb at the moment and if they could get some USE out of it, who am I to stand in their way?
The Yankees have lost four games in a row and I am very sad. I was so happy not a week ago when Melky made "the catch" and now I don't know what to do with them. ("The catch" being when he reached his little 21 year old arm over the wall and ROBBED Manny "Obnoxious Asshole" Ramirez of a home run. The look on that fat fucker's face -- I will tell my children about it. I hate him. I hate him the way you hate someone who killed your dog, I swear. And yes, I know it's unhealthy.) I think the Yankees need a stern talking to and I am just the woman to do it. I mean really. Is it that you don't get PAID enough? No, that can't be it. So hustle people, hustle!

I don't have much else to report. Oh, yeah, I'm tired of seeing that picture of al-Zarqawi. Can't they just report on his death? Do we have to be inundated with photos of his bloated corpse head? Ick.

Malibu and pineapple is a perfectly acceptable drink

As per Leigh and Abby's instructions, I will write about the surreal moment we experienced last night at Desmond's. At some point (and Abby will have to correct me and/or fill in the points I missed) the bartender made a snotty face when Abby ordered a Malibu and pineapple. (She likes sweet rum and fruit juice. So sue her.) Then he didn't even make the freaking drink. And somehow this led to our two testosterone-riddled friends nearly getting into a full-fledged RUMBLE. I think at some point in this brohaha (which wasn't particularly interesting, and went on in rather small increments for over an hour) the bartender pointed to his own arm as if to insinuate that he will beat someone up and then says, "If you want to throw down, talk to the owner." He then points to someone we can only assume is the owner, a geriatric sitting at a table near the far wall. Surrrrrrrrr-ealllll. We left shortly after that.

As usual I oversold my services last night. Told several people I would meet them when truthfully I had to get up early to buy pantyhose because I have to go to a wedding today. (I know, how hot am I. Up at 10:00 to go buy pantyhose. Don't you wish you had my life?) Anyway, I didn't go to Katie's party because I went out last night wearing a t-shirt and no jacket and it started to rain on me and I am just not very smart. So anyone I told that I would meet out last night that I did not meet I'm sorry, especially Emily because I haven't seen her in FOREVA.

I would also like to ask a favor of everyone who knows me or meets me in the future. There is NOTHING -- let me stress this -- ABSOLUTELY NOTHING more insulting than someone who has met you many, many times and pretends to like you and enjoy talking to you CALLING YOU THE WRONG NAME. As an identical twin, this happens to me often -- people call me Jessica regularly. And it's annoying, especially when they only know Jessica through me. Okay, I feel a little better now.

I'm baaaaaaccckkkkk

So I just got back from Paris this morning. My plane left Paris at 8:25 am and got into New York at 10:25 am but I had already had two meals. Isn't that wild? No matter how much I travel I never cease to be amused by that.

It was a great trip. We went to the Auvergne, which is not a very well-known region of France. The best parts were the unplanned bits. For instance, our local representative had a friend in Vichy (you know, home of the mineral water and former home base for the Petain government during World War II -- they're not too proud of that last part). Anyway, this lady actually hung out with our press group just to be nice -- she even invited one of the journalists into her home for a drink. We also met this guy in Herisson, a tiny town next to a tiny river, the name of which means "hedgehog" (could you die from how cute that is?). His name was Mr. Balthazar and he makes MOONSHINE. He doesn't speak a word of English but he makes what he calls "straight whisky". He's a retired stage actor who learned how to make moonshine from a visiting musician friend of his from North Carolina. So he makes this whisky and puts it in little bottles and sells it from a little shop in town that is only open on weekends. He was the cutest, crusty old guy, complete with cigar and fedora, that you ever saw. His girlfriend takes his whisky and makes flavored liqueurs out it in the storefront next to his. Even though it was a Wednesday they both opened their shops and let us buy their whiskey and hung out with us and talked to us. Only three of us in the group spoke French but it didn't seem to make a difference -- the others had a great time with both Balthazar in Herisson and Jacqueline in Vichy. As a representative for the French tourist office, people like these two make my job so much easier. The French are really misunderstood. Just like anywhere else, if you go out to the country you meet nice country people. And these people were awesome.

If you are ever in that part of the world, do me a favor and stay at my new friend's Alain and Monique's B&B, Domaine de Gaudon. They don't speak English either but trust me, it won't matter. They're freaking awesome.

So now I'm back. My suitcase is so much heavier than when I left but I have no idea why. I think I accidentally packed a French midget in there and just forgot about it. He must be dead by now.

I forgot to put an away message on my cell phone, and just to prove that no one listens when I talk, there were several messages from people who were told I was leaving the country. One of them was told several times but her paraonid little mind still left me three messages asking if I was avoiding her. Awwww.

It's noon in New York but its like 6:00 at night for me now and all I want to do is go to sleep. Call me tomorrow, 'kay? Unless anyone is going out or something. Then call me today.