Crazy Catholic Mel Gibson has always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Now I have a reason. (Please note: I am not seeking to insult Catholics with this tirade because I was raised Catholic. I will from hereon in be making disparaging comments about CRAZY CATHOLICS, the kind who build their own church in Malibu because the local churches already in existence in their area aren't strict enough.) Never mind the fact that the man made millions making a snuff film about Jesus. Never mind the fact that his father is an established Holocaust denier and rampant anti-Semite. I realize that it is not fair to judge a person by the behavior of their parents (if it were, I would still be apologizing for my dad's screaming match with an Air France gate agent sometime in the 1980s and his debaucherous behavior from 1970 until today). However, you know what they say about apples and trees.
I would like to point out, in an attempt to be fair, the original source for this story was TMZ, which, if I am not mistaken, is not the most reliable source for entertainment news.
Of course, my favorite coverage of this whole debacle are the comments from US Weekly blog. I'm so glad that Mike from Sheboygan (which is probably spelled wrong and guess how much I give a crap?) still likes Mel "as an actor". My favorite quote -- and I'm sure you will all agree with me on this one -- is "Forget you ignorantes!" It's been a while since I took my SATs and my vocabulary isn't what it used to be so let me check the dictionary. Yep, not a word.
Completely off the topic but I am addicted to Youtube and find something new to entertain me on there EVERY SINGLE DAY. How did ANYONE, let alone Sharon Osbourne not know that Lance Bass was gay? Look at the little dog he is holding when he answers the door?
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Sweet sixteen failure
The Yankees won today. Which means I was drunk by about 2:00 pm. I love Sundays at Yankee Stadium. Sunshine and 50,000 people who love baseball as much as Jess and I do. Woo hoo! We got seated next to a group from a mental institution or a halfway house or something. They were actually really sweet and entertaining. The guy next to us kept offering us a bite of his hot dog.
I don't normally read advice columns but here's an exception. I am so impressed that someone could manage to stay a virgin until they were thirty-eight. I'm kind of less-than-impressed that the advice columnist told the woman to address the guy in question and tell him how distressed she is. Yeah, that's gonna work. Why doesn't she tell her to grow a brain and stop sleeping with her co-workers? I mean you waited thirty-eight years and you give it up to the guy in the next cube? Being a virgin doesn't make you brainless, does it?
Do you guys watch Bridezillas? I freaking love this show although I think everyone on it is certifiable. I never used to be a reality TV fan but I never cease to be amazed by what people will allow themselves to be filmed while doing, like throwing a tantrum over centerpieces or calling their mother a bitch. Between Bridezillas and My Super Sweet Sixteen (another show I am ashamed to be addicted to) a new reality has been created. People think they DESERVE to be famous for doing nothing. Fifteen year-olds also think they DESERVE celebrities at their birthday parties and to get a Mercedes before they even get their learner's permit. I think the producers of these shows probably created them because they found the neuroses of their subjects to be amusing and ridiculous but the effect has been profoundly different, I imagine. If I was 16 today I would probably be depressed if I didn't look like the chicks on Laguna Beach and have Ciara performing at my birthday party because, according to television, that is what you are supposed to have. Or your parents don't love you.
Jessica and I were discussing this while being squished on the uptown 4 train this afternoon, which led to reminiscing about our Sweet Sixteen, which consisted on a limo and us and six of our friends having dinner sans parents at the newly opened Planet Hollywood. We thought that was awesome. We felt like total grown-ups because we got to be on our own in the city. And I got what I thought was the best gift, a copy of Achtung Baby, which became my favorite album for the rest of high school. I guess by today's standards I would be considered a total loser.
Hey, speaking of feeling like a loser, did you guys hear that a 25 year-old law student bought The New York Observer? When I think that I don't own anything that's worth more than $200 (with the possible exception of the computer that I am typing this on, which depreciates in value every time I download another kitten video), I realize that my Sweet Sixteen memories are the least of the reasons I am such a loser.
I can't sleep. I am going to go watch the rest of True Romance. I love this movie. Gary Oldman is just FANTASMAGORIC in it. The scene with the "Is it white boy day?" speech is freaking classic. Maybe all the murder and mayhem will make me sleepy. At least until the point where James Gandolfini beats the hell out of Alabama. Then I'll have to change the channel.
I don't normally read advice columns but here's an exception. I am so impressed that someone could manage to stay a virgin until they were thirty-eight. I'm kind of less-than-impressed that the advice columnist told the woman to address the guy in question and tell him how distressed she is. Yeah, that's gonna work. Why doesn't she tell her to grow a brain and stop sleeping with her co-workers? I mean you waited thirty-eight years and you give it up to the guy in the next cube? Being a virgin doesn't make you brainless, does it?
Do you guys watch Bridezillas? I freaking love this show although I think everyone on it is certifiable. I never used to be a reality TV fan but I never cease to be amazed by what people will allow themselves to be filmed while doing, like throwing a tantrum over centerpieces or calling their mother a bitch. Between Bridezillas and My Super Sweet Sixteen (another show I am ashamed to be addicted to) a new reality has been created. People think they DESERVE to be famous for doing nothing. Fifteen year-olds also think they DESERVE celebrities at their birthday parties and to get a Mercedes before they even get their learner's permit. I think the producers of these shows probably created them because they found the neuroses of their subjects to be amusing and ridiculous but the effect has been profoundly different, I imagine. If I was 16 today I would probably be depressed if I didn't look like the chicks on Laguna Beach and have Ciara performing at my birthday party because, according to television, that is what you are supposed to have. Or your parents don't love you.
Jessica and I were discussing this while being squished on the uptown 4 train this afternoon, which led to reminiscing about our Sweet Sixteen, which consisted on a limo and us and six of our friends having dinner sans parents at the newly opened Planet Hollywood. We thought that was awesome. We felt like total grown-ups because we got to be on our own in the city. And I got what I thought was the best gift, a copy of Achtung Baby, which became my favorite album for the rest of high school. I guess by today's standards I would be considered a total loser.
Hey, speaking of feeling like a loser, did you guys hear that a 25 year-old law student bought The New York Observer? When I think that I don't own anything that's worth more than $200 (with the possible exception of the computer that I am typing this on, which depreciates in value every time I download another kitten video), I realize that my Sweet Sixteen memories are the least of the reasons I am such a loser.
I can't sleep. I am going to go watch the rest of True Romance. I love this movie. Gary Oldman is just FANTASMAGORIC in it. The scene with the "Is it white boy day?" speech is freaking classic. Maybe all the murder and mayhem will make me sleepy. At least until the point where James Gandolfini beats the hell out of Alabama. Then I'll have to change the channel.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Three wishes and Vincent Gallo
Did another tornado hit New Jersey? Let me check... yep, it did. Isn't that weird? Every time one of these weird weather things happen I think the world might be ending and I start to panic. Then I watch this video of the sleepy kitten and I feel a little better.
I went out last night to FuelRay, where the cool NYU kids go. Slowest waitresses in New York. I wouldn't have chosen it but it was a friend of a friend's birthday party. Nice people. At some point the conversation filtered to what we would do if we won the $1000 a Week for Life game. The girl sitting next to me wants to be a yoga instructor. I want to be Jessica Alba but I think that will only happen if I win the ever illusive Three Wishes from a Genie game. (The other two wishes would probably involve being able to fly and the New York Yankees winning the World Series every year.)
Remember how I said that I would try to be less vapid about the news items that I choose to read and regurgitate here? Okay, I promise to do that... after I tell you about this little nifty item I read in the Post this morning. Lindsay Lohan got busted. I love that! I don't know why. She is powerful and beautiful and all of like 13 years old and I am feeling a little bitter about people like her lately. So sue me. I did really like Mean Girls though.
Katherine went to an interesting event Thursday night. (On a side note, she was hungover from hanging out with ME the night before so she was a virtual mess on Friday and wore her boyfriend's shirt to work. I love Katherine but she knows I am insanely jealous of her consistent cuteness. Yes, Winona, I love you but it's true. So I was happy to see that hangovers affect even her.)
Anyhoo, the event she went to was too funny for words. The Cocky Awards. The best part is that her friend Oliver WON in his category. And I think he beat Vincent Gallo doing it. Mr. Gallo didn't show up. He was probably busy making out with some 18-year old model -- details to be found here-- or making up new excuses to insult Anthony Kiedis. (If anyone would like a story about VG and a friend of a friend of mine I'll tell you in person. I don't want to write about it here and possibly get sued. So instead what I will write here is that I loved Buffalo 66.)
My favorite PAPER Magazine editor and all-around cutie pie in glittery mocassins Mickey Boardman, was the host. I'm kind of sorry I missed it. Maybe if I had cockier friends I would have been invited. Mickey was a guest at my friend Diane's wedding last year. He's just adorable.
So I'm going to my friend Mike's birthday party at Mr. Dennehey's if anyone wants to come meet me. If I have to work my way through a crowd of snotty college kids again tonight I might get cranky. But Mike and his wife, Jade (who I've known since college) normally live in Florida so it's kind of exciting that they're here. I'll try starting that "what would you do if you didn't have to work anymore" conversation there and see how it goes.
I went out last night to FuelRay, where the cool NYU kids go. Slowest waitresses in New York. I wouldn't have chosen it but it was a friend of a friend's birthday party. Nice people. At some point the conversation filtered to what we would do if we won the $1000 a Week for Life game. The girl sitting next to me wants to be a yoga instructor. I want to be Jessica Alba but I think that will only happen if I win the ever illusive Three Wishes from a Genie game. (The other two wishes would probably involve being able to fly and the New York Yankees winning the World Series every year.)
Remember how I said that I would try to be less vapid about the news items that I choose to read and regurgitate here? Okay, I promise to do that... after I tell you about this little nifty item I read in the Post this morning. Lindsay Lohan got busted. I love that! I don't know why. She is powerful and beautiful and all of like 13 years old and I am feeling a little bitter about people like her lately. So sue me. I did really like Mean Girls though.
Katherine went to an interesting event Thursday night. (On a side note, she was hungover from hanging out with ME the night before so she was a virtual mess on Friday and wore her boyfriend's shirt to work. I love Katherine but she knows I am insanely jealous of her consistent cuteness. Yes, Winona, I love you but it's true. So I was happy to see that hangovers affect even her.)
Anyhoo, the event she went to was too funny for words. The Cocky Awards. The best part is that her friend Oliver WON in his category. And I think he beat Vincent Gallo doing it. Mr. Gallo didn't show up. He was probably busy making out with some 18-year old model -- details to be found here-- or making up new excuses to insult Anthony Kiedis. (If anyone would like a story about VG and a friend of a friend of mine I'll tell you in person. I don't want to write about it here and possibly get sued. So instead what I will write here is that I loved Buffalo 66.)
My favorite PAPER Magazine editor and all-around cutie pie in glittery mocassins Mickey Boardman, was the host. I'm kind of sorry I missed it. Maybe if I had cockier friends I would have been invited. Mickey was a guest at my friend Diane's wedding last year. He's just adorable.
So I'm going to my friend Mike's birthday party at Mr. Dennehey's if anyone wants to come meet me. If I have to work my way through a crowd of snotty college kids again tonight I might get cranky. But Mike and his wife, Jade (who I've known since college) normally live in Florida so it's kind of exciting that they're here. I'll try starting that "what would you do if you didn't have to work anymore" conversation there and see how it goes.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Learning new things
Four things that I have recently learned while taking the subway in New York City:
1) Just because I have earphones in my ears does not mean that the whole subway car can't hear me singing along to the Scissor Sisters. It just means that I probably can't hear myself.
2) No amount of clearing my throat and sighing heavily will get someone to stop leaning on the pole while I am holding onto it.
3) Certain men will not talk to me during my morning commute but they WILL read the jacket cover of the book I'm reading with their faces right up close to it, and then proceed to stare at me until I change cars. (This has happened to me twice. I wonder what my reading material says about me? Maybe it says I'm a latent serial killer or an undercover sex kitten and he can't look away for fear I will attack him while he's not paying attention. D'ya think?)
4) Certain OTHER men will also not talk to me during my morning commute but will that make that little clicking sound or, better yet, that hissing sound that either means they like what they see or they are from the Congo and never learned modern forms of communication.
I like learning new things.
Katherine has a seemingly endless supply of funny things to tell me that make it into this blog. She just found this on the internet and for that I thank her profusely. If you've got a hot twat and you're not afraid to brag about it, buy this t-shirt. Woo-hoo!
Something embarassing that I did at a party the other night just flashed in my brain this morning as I was banging on my incessantly beeping smoke detector. I have this thing where I kiss people on the nose. It all started with Jamie during some drunken night at Kemia and it has continued as part of my pathological drunk behavior. It means that I think what you just said to me is funny or cute or something like that. It is also indicative of the fact that I tend to lose my sense of reasonable physical boundaries after I have imbibed a certain amount of alcohol. Anyway, someone I had just met said something that for the life of me I cannot remember. I leaned in to kiss his nose and he moved and I kissed his mouth. And I think I scared the hell out of him. So if he is reading this (which is highly unlikely) and remembers this little incident I would like to say the following specifically to him, although it might be good for all of you to read it since it is conceivable that I will owe you a similar apology in the future. So here goes:
a) I was aiming for your nose and yes, I am aware that is very weird
b) I am so sorry that I scared you
c) I left right after that and never had the chance to apologize.
Don't you love when embarassing behavior comes back to haunt you like 3 days too late? Or does that only happen to me?
1) Just because I have earphones in my ears does not mean that the whole subway car can't hear me singing along to the Scissor Sisters. It just means that I probably can't hear myself.
2) No amount of clearing my throat and sighing heavily will get someone to stop leaning on the pole while I am holding onto it.
3) Certain men will not talk to me during my morning commute but they WILL read the jacket cover of the book I'm reading with their faces right up close to it, and then proceed to stare at me until I change cars. (This has happened to me twice. I wonder what my reading material says about me? Maybe it says I'm a latent serial killer or an undercover sex kitten and he can't look away for fear I will attack him while he's not paying attention. D'ya think?)
4) Certain OTHER men will also not talk to me during my morning commute but will that make that little clicking sound or, better yet, that hissing sound that either means they like what they see or they are from the Congo and never learned modern forms of communication.
I like learning new things.
Katherine has a seemingly endless supply of funny things to tell me that make it into this blog. She just found this on the internet and for that I thank her profusely. If you've got a hot twat and you're not afraid to brag about it, buy this t-shirt. Woo-hoo!
Something embarassing that I did at a party the other night just flashed in my brain this morning as I was banging on my incessantly beeping smoke detector. I have this thing where I kiss people on the nose. It all started with Jamie during some drunken night at Kemia and it has continued as part of my pathological drunk behavior. It means that I think what you just said to me is funny or cute or something like that. It is also indicative of the fact that I tend to lose my sense of reasonable physical boundaries after I have imbibed a certain amount of alcohol. Anyway, someone I had just met said something that for the life of me I cannot remember. I leaned in to kiss his nose and he moved and I kissed his mouth. And I think I scared the hell out of him. So if he is reading this (which is highly unlikely) and remembers this little incident I would like to say the following specifically to him, although it might be good for all of you to read it since it is conceivable that I will owe you a similar apology in the future. So here goes:
a) I was aiming for your nose and yes, I am aware that is very weird
b) I am so sorry that I scared you
c) I left right after that and never had the chance to apologize.
Don't you love when embarassing behavior comes back to haunt you like 3 days too late? Or does that only happen to me?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Confessions of a flawed hangover...
Remember how I told you guys vodka gets me all wired? I went out last night -- to a book party for a new book called Covergirl: Confessions of a Flawed Hedonist, which looks super cool -- and there was an open bar, which I took full advantage of and still I managed to wake up at 5:30 am. With ANOTHER EYE INFECTION,just byyyyyyy the way! Why are my eyes so pissed off at me? Second eye infection in like three weeks.
The book looks awesome -- it was written by Maura Moynihan, who used to hang out with Andy Warhol and apparently spends most of the year in Kathmandu. Those two clauses are unrelated but don't they sound funny together? (Truthfully, they probably don't sound funny at all but I am awake at an ungodly hour, I have been watching bad morning TV for the last two hours and my perception is a tad off. Mea culpa.) In actuality she has spent the last few years fighting genocide in Tibet. She's also Daniel Patrick Moynihan's daughter which, to a native New Yorker like myself, kind of makes her like royalty. She's also very sweet and friendly. I think she literally thanked every person who came to her party.
I am very embarassed to admit that I did not know that Nazareth had been bombed, which happened last Wednesday, until like three days after it happened. I also only heard about the UN observers being killed in Israel yesterday and that happened on Tuesday. BUT I did know that Lance Bass came out like the MINUTE it happened -- actually I knew that little tidbit already because someone I know saw him with an unnamed boy at a party in L.A. a few weeks ago -- and I knew about President Bush feeling up the German chancellor. I knew that last bit because Jon Stewart told me. And I pay attention when Jon Stewart talks because he is conceivably the coolest man alive and, let's face it, he's cute as a button. My point in telling you this is that apparently I have become a vapid asshole and I think I need help. I have become the kind of person who is paying more attention to Perez Hilton than to Anderson Cooper and I am smart enough to know that THIS BEHAVIOR MUST STOP. I'll work on it and report back to you on my progress.
The Yankees swept the Texas Rangers. YAY! I don't have anything else to say about that. YAY!
Oh my God, did you guys hear that Beyonce fans are circulating a petition to get her to reshoot the "Deja Vu" video? Could you die? (Yes, yes, I realize that by writing about this I have not progressed very far in my quest to become less vapid. Get off my back, it's a process.) It is a ridiculous video. At various points throughout she is standing next to what looks like a swampy pond, wading through a field of high grass and running through the woods, all the while wearing couture gowns. 'Nuff said. She's weird. But I love Jay-Z. Have any of you ever carefully listened to the lyrics to "Dirt Off Your Shoulder"? He's one funny mutha.
I don't have much else to tell you this morning. I am developing a headache and I have to methodically retrace my steps and figure out if I did anything embarassing last night. Or inadvertently insulted someone. Someone spilled red wine on my Donna Karan blouse but I don't think I reciprocated or anything. I think I was fairly pleasant and adorable last night actually. Thank God for vodka.
The book looks awesome -- it was written by Maura Moynihan, who used to hang out with Andy Warhol and apparently spends most of the year in Kathmandu. Those two clauses are unrelated but don't they sound funny together? (Truthfully, they probably don't sound funny at all but I am awake at an ungodly hour, I have been watching bad morning TV for the last two hours and my perception is a tad off. Mea culpa.) In actuality she has spent the last few years fighting genocide in Tibet. She's also Daniel Patrick Moynihan's daughter which, to a native New Yorker like myself, kind of makes her like royalty. She's also very sweet and friendly. I think she literally thanked every person who came to her party.
I am very embarassed to admit that I did not know that Nazareth had been bombed, which happened last Wednesday, until like three days after it happened. I also only heard about the UN observers being killed in Israel yesterday and that happened on Tuesday. BUT I did know that Lance Bass came out like the MINUTE it happened -- actually I knew that little tidbit already because someone I know saw him with an unnamed boy at a party in L.A. a few weeks ago -- and I knew about President Bush feeling up the German chancellor. I knew that last bit because Jon Stewart told me. And I pay attention when Jon Stewart talks because he is conceivably the coolest man alive and, let's face it, he's cute as a button. My point in telling you this is that apparently I have become a vapid asshole and I think I need help. I have become the kind of person who is paying more attention to Perez Hilton than to Anderson Cooper and I am smart enough to know that THIS BEHAVIOR MUST STOP. I'll work on it and report back to you on my progress.
The Yankees swept the Texas Rangers. YAY! I don't have anything else to say about that. YAY!
Oh my God, did you guys hear that Beyonce fans are circulating a petition to get her to reshoot the "Deja Vu" video? Could you die? (Yes, yes, I realize that by writing about this I have not progressed very far in my quest to become less vapid. Get off my back, it's a process.) It is a ridiculous video. At various points throughout she is standing next to what looks like a swampy pond, wading through a field of high grass and running through the woods, all the while wearing couture gowns. 'Nuff said. She's weird. But I love Jay-Z. Have any of you ever carefully listened to the lyrics to "Dirt Off Your Shoulder"? He's one funny mutha.
I don't have much else to tell you this morning. I am developing a headache and I have to methodically retrace my steps and figure out if I did anything embarassing last night. Or inadvertently insulted someone. Someone spilled red wine on my Donna Karan blouse but I don't think I reciprocated or anything. I think I was fairly pleasant and adorable last night actually. Thank God for vodka.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Just a classless fool
So a couple of weeks ago after I got back from the Hamptons I realized that I gave myself a profound eye infection with suntan lotion. Because I am certifiably retarded. Thank God for the huge Chanel sunglasses my cousin sold me a few weeks ago, which were very helpful in covering up the bunny eyes I developed as the afternoon progressed. (Important aside here: If anyone would like to buy designer sunglasses at a 25-30 % discount, let me know. Not fakes. Real, straight from the manufacturer -- Chanel, Versace, Bulgari, Coach, Dior.) Anyway, now it would appear that I have an infection in my OTHER eye. Oh woe is me. My contact is about to jump ship which means that I will be left blind and stumbling in high heels at some point this afternoon.
So I like someone. I wish I could tell you guys more about this but he falls into the "inappropriate" category that I have mentioned in previous blogs. Plus, I don't want to jinx it. It's not like he's married or anything. Just inappropriate. It doesn't mean I'm not still out there dating other people. Well, sometimes anyway. Mostly I just make out with my friends in public places. Everytime you think I might be something other than a classless fool, I revert right back to type, don't I?
People keep suggesting that I try Speed Dating but something about it smacks of desperation, even though I know perfectly wonderful, non-desperate people who have done it. Most of the people who keep suggesting that I try it are my friends who are in serious relationships. I think I make them uncomfortable. Any feedback on this would be helpful.
So I like someone. I wish I could tell you guys more about this but he falls into the "inappropriate" category that I have mentioned in previous blogs. Plus, I don't want to jinx it. It's not like he's married or anything. Just inappropriate. It doesn't mean I'm not still out there dating other people. Well, sometimes anyway. Mostly I just make out with my friends in public places. Everytime you think I might be something other than a classless fool, I revert right back to type, don't I?
People keep suggesting that I try Speed Dating but something about it smacks of desperation, even though I know perfectly wonderful, non-desperate people who have done it. Most of the people who keep suggesting that I try it are my friends who are in serious relationships. I think I make them uncomfortable. Any feedback on this would be helpful.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Guys with digits
Someone just called my sister. The girl who called asked for someone else, asked my sister for her name and then hung up. At that moment I knew. I told Jessica that whoever she was, she found Jess' number in her boyfriend's phone. I was right. The chick called back. Some guy Jessica hasn't seen in like two months is MARRIED to this girl. This leads to my rant of the moment. 1) WHY ARE MARRIED MEN picking up chicks in bars? This is a question with a lengthy answer so I won't bother. 2) Why do girls call the girls they find in their man's phone? What will this accomplish? Guess what? If you think he's cheating on you, he probably is. If you find a bunch of girls phone numbers in your husband's phone, they are girls he has picked up. I'm sorry -- use the brain God gave you beotch! WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE COLLECTING GIRLS' PHONE NUMBERS? Is there any explanation he could give you that would make sense?
Speaking of silly people in relationships, does anyone else watch the train wreck of a show My Fair Brady. Do Adrianne Curry and Christopher Knight think their marriage is actually gonna work? Are they on drugs? They met while filming The Surreal Life, for crying out loud? But no matter how ridiculous I know it is, I can't look away. I watch it every freaking time it's on. Everyone on the show is always drunk. They would fit in really well with my friends probably.
Speaking of silly people in relationships, does anyone else watch the train wreck of a show My Fair Brady. Do Adrianne Curry and Christopher Knight think their marriage is actually gonna work? Are they on drugs? They met while filming The Surreal Life, for crying out loud? But no matter how ridiculous I know it is, I can't look away. I watch it every freaking time it's on. Everyone on the show is always drunk. They would fit in really well with my friends probably.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Wakey wakey
Lately the consumption of cocktails does not make me sleepy. It wakes me up. Tonight Cosmos were $5 during happy hour at Blackstone's. Maybe it's all the sugar in the fruit juice that did it, but I'm wired. So I thought I would make a list of things that are irritating me lately. Ready? OK!
1) Guys who make me feel guilty for not doing more than making out with them EVEN AFTER they know that I have found out that they have a girlfriend. A cute, nice girlfriend. WHY DO MEN DO THIS? Wouldn't it just be easier to stay single than to find a girlfriend just to cheat on her? I have absolutely no patience for this.
2) The Toronto Blue Jays. Who the fuck told them they could win baseball games while I'm watching?
3) Men who cheer for the team that is playing the Yankees just because they know that I am cheering for the Yankees and they want to see if I'll get mad. I realize that all men everywhere are insanely jealous of Derek Jeter but get a hold of yourselves.
4) Men who try to shame me into drinking more by calling me a "lightweight". Are you kidding me? When was the last time that worked? The guy who tried this last was 23. As I told him, the last time I gave a flying fuck what a 23 year-old guy thought of me I was 12.
5) People who say "that's hot" when I tell them I'm a twin. Ew. We're not the Barbie Twins. Ew.
1) Guys who make me feel guilty for not doing more than making out with them EVEN AFTER they know that I have found out that they have a girlfriend. A cute, nice girlfriend. WHY DO MEN DO THIS? Wouldn't it just be easier to stay single than to find a girlfriend just to cheat on her? I have absolutely no patience for this.
2) The Toronto Blue Jays. Who the fuck told them they could win baseball games while I'm watching?
3) Men who cheer for the team that is playing the Yankees just because they know that I am cheering for the Yankees and they want to see if I'll get mad. I realize that all men everywhere are insanely jealous of Derek Jeter but get a hold of yourselves.
4) Men who try to shame me into drinking more by calling me a "lightweight". Are you kidding me? When was the last time that worked? The guy who tried this last was 23. As I told him, the last time I gave a flying fuck what a 23 year-old guy thought of me I was 12.
5) People who say "that's hot" when I tell them I'm a twin. Ew. We're not the Barbie Twins. Ew.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
No more plastic cups
I live in Astoria but we didn't have any power outages, thank the good lord. Well, our cable went out at about midnight. But Dog the Bounty Hunter was already over so I was cool with that. (Honestly, I have the oddest white trash crush on his son Leland. He's oddly endearing with his little head and giant arms.)
The most interesting part of the night for me was when the umpire at the Yankee game called a rain delay on the last out of the 9th inning of a tied game. Um, can you stick it out for like one more minute and see if someone wins? The Yankees won after a 2-hour delay and 11 innnings. I was probably sleeping and simultaneously getting eaten alive by mosquitos at that very moment so I missed it.
Did you guys hear that Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra are getting divorced? Isn't that sad? Didn't you think that their freak asses were in it for the long haul? My dad and I were just discussing him yesterday because we were talking about that show Rock Star on CBS where like three washed up rock stars and Dave Navarro decide who will get to be in a band that doesn't yet exist. My dad said that Dave Navarro was the only person on the panel that he respected, a comment I found extremely strange. But my dad has a personal history with one of the other people on the panel so I can see why he would have more respect for Dave Navarro than the others. If you want me to tell you about it, let me know. I'm sure it wouldn't be appropriate to write about here. I kind of like Tommy Lee myself. He's like a big doofy kid. A big doofy kid with a 12-inch penis. A big doofy kid with a 12-inch penis and a drinking problem.
Hey, speaking of Tommy Lee's penis, did you also hear that Pam Anderson and Kid Rock are getting married? Wasn't this same story on the news in 2003? I could have sworn they were engaged a couple of times before.
The only other interesting tidbit of the day is the bar that my sorority sisters and I used to hang out at college is closing. (Close your mouths, yes, I was in a sorority. It's not that surprising.) On the website, I found pictures of my sorority sisters from back in the day, drunk and bleary-eyed with plastic cups of beer in their sights. Remember how simple things were in college, when you drudged throught the week just waiting for happy hour, $5 for all the beer you could drink before you lost your plastic cup and had to pay $5 for a new one. It's so different now. Actually, sadly, it isn't. Other than the fact that most of my drinks come in real glasses now, not much as changed. Happy hour is often still my onnly reason for waking up on Fridays.
The most interesting part of the night for me was when the umpire at the Yankee game called a rain delay on the last out of the 9th inning of a tied game. Um, can you stick it out for like one more minute and see if someone wins? The Yankees won after a 2-hour delay and 11 innnings. I was probably sleeping and simultaneously getting eaten alive by mosquitos at that very moment so I missed it.
Did you guys hear that Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra are getting divorced? Isn't that sad? Didn't you think that their freak asses were in it for the long haul? My dad and I were just discussing him yesterday because we were talking about that show Rock Star on CBS where like three washed up rock stars and Dave Navarro decide who will get to be in a band that doesn't yet exist. My dad said that Dave Navarro was the only person on the panel that he respected, a comment I found extremely strange. But my dad has a personal history with one of the other people on the panel so I can see why he would have more respect for Dave Navarro than the others. If you want me to tell you about it, let me know. I'm sure it wouldn't be appropriate to write about here. I kind of like Tommy Lee myself. He's like a big doofy kid. A big doofy kid with a 12-inch penis. A big doofy kid with a 12-inch penis and a drinking problem.
Hey, speaking of Tommy Lee's penis, did you also hear that Pam Anderson and Kid Rock are getting married? Wasn't this same story on the news in 2003? I could have sworn they were engaged a couple of times before.
The only other interesting tidbit of the day is the bar that my sorority sisters and I used to hang out at college is closing. (Close your mouths, yes, I was in a sorority. It's not that surprising.) On the website, I found pictures of my sorority sisters from back in the day, drunk and bleary-eyed with plastic cups of beer in their sights. Remember how simple things were in college, when you drudged throught the week just waiting for happy hour, $5 for all the beer you could drink before you lost your plastic cup and had to pay $5 for a new one. It's so different now. Actually, sadly, it isn't. Other than the fact that most of my drinks come in real glasses now, not much as changed. Happy hour is often still my onnly reason for waking up on Fridays.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Stupid not mean
Happy day-after-Bastille Day, folks. I did not do anything even remotely French yesterday but I did get the day off. I was supposed to go to the Bastille Day Ball at the Puck Building but it was $20 to get in and that DID NOT include drinks. So I went out for beer at a bar in my neighborhood and watched the Yankee game instead. Nice way to spend the Fete Nationale, huh? At the end of the day I'm all American. Can't help it.
I have nothing exciting to talk about. It is so hot today that I may melt. There may be nothing left of me but a puddle soon. Ick.
I don't know if I told you this, but my trip to Ireland that I was supposed to go on in September got cancelled. I then found out that I have to go to Deauville for a meeting. Afterwards, I got permission from my boss to hang out in Europe a little longer so I think I am going to fly to Dublin from there. I've never been to Dublin so if anyone has any suggestions for me, or if anyone would like to MEET me there that would be awesome. I should be going there sometime after September 23.
I'm probably going out tonight. I have no idea where. I am a little out of sorts this weekend and I have no idea what plans I might have made. Lately I can't seem to remember anything unless I write it down and guess who left her datebook at work? So if I made plans with any of you and I have now forgotten about them, please don't it personally. I'm stupid, not mean.
I have nothing exciting to talk about. It is so hot today that I may melt. There may be nothing left of me but a puddle soon. Ick.
I don't know if I told you this, but my trip to Ireland that I was supposed to go on in September got cancelled. I then found out that I have to go to Deauville for a meeting. Afterwards, I got permission from my boss to hang out in Europe a little longer so I think I am going to fly to Dublin from there. I've never been to Dublin so if anyone has any suggestions for me, or if anyone would like to MEET me there that would be awesome. I should be going there sometime after September 23.
I'm probably going out tonight. I have no idea where. I am a little out of sorts this weekend and I have no idea what plans I might have made. Lately I can't seem to remember anything unless I write it down and guess who left her datebook at work? So if I made plans with any of you and I have now forgotten about them, please don't it personally. I'm stupid, not mean.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
People leaving me
My intern is moving back to France at the end of the month. People keep leaving me. It is the nature of what I do, I guess. Working for a foreign government I meet a lot of people who are just passing through. They come into my life, I love them, they leave. So anyway we are taking her to lunch today at Montparnasse. Aren't we brilliant? She's moving back to France and we're taking her out for French food in New York. They have great cocktails there but I will be with my boss so I plan to behave.
So far this year, one of my friends moved to Barcelona and another to Tuscany. Last year, one friend moved to Tokyo and another to Sydney. In a few months, a good good friend is moving to London (she doesn't know that I know that yet.) And another of my friends is threatening to move to Ireland and another to Los Angeles. Who else thinks its time for me to move?
Well, to anyone who is STILL living in New York, want to meet me for a drink tonight? I might be meeting my friend Melissa at Katwalk after work. I desperately need a drink.
So far this year, one of my friends moved to Barcelona and another to Tuscany. Last year, one friend moved to Tokyo and another to Sydney. In a few months, a good good friend is moving to London (she doesn't know that I know that yet.) And another of my friends is threatening to move to Ireland and another to Los Angeles. Who else thinks its time for me to move?
Well, to anyone who is STILL living in New York, want to meet me for a drink tonight? I might be meeting my friend Melissa at Katwalk after work. I desperately need a drink.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Headbutting and explosions
Viva Italia! What was going through Zidane's mind when he headbutted that guy? Speculation (according to this article and this one) is that Materazzi said something pretty bad to get him so upset, possibly something racial. Zidane has a temper but he doesn't usually HEADBUTT people. Still, he's been playing professional football for a long time now. That CANNOT be the first time someone said something stupid and offensive to you on the field. The French are big on shame but it seems they are standing behind him, and he did win The Golden Ball. I rooted for Italy but I still have a soft spot for the French team. They played their freaking hearts out and I nearly cried for David Trezeguet when he missed that goal in the PK shootout at the end.
A building exploded this morning on 62nd between Park and Madison. Did you guys see all the smoke on your way to work, too? Lately, every time I'm walking to work something explodes.
Two weeks ago it was a taxi -- the driver didn't put water in his radiator and a small fender bender turned into one of those exploding attractions at Universal Studios. It was unbelievable. Maybe I'm like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter and things are going to blow up wherever I choose to get off the subway in the morning.
A building exploded this morning on 62nd between Park and Madison. Did you guys see all the smoke on your way to work, too? Lately, every time I'm walking to work something explodes.
Two weeks ago it was a taxi -- the driver didn't put water in his radiator and a small fender bender turned into one of those exploding attractions at Universal Studios. It was unbelievable. Maybe I'm like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter and things are going to blow up wherever I choose to get off the subway in the morning.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Mature musings
So there is a survey going around the internet that promises you free Red Hot Chili Pepper tickets. The band went on VH1 to warn people not to fill it out. I got it sent to me by email but I didn't fill it out because the picture of the band that was in the email was from like 1999 so I knew it wasn't official. Also, I'm lazy. Apparently, the survey assists people in stealing your identity so don't fill it out if you get it. I already have tickets to go see them in October so I'm all set. I will be in the vicinity of the actual cute musicial genius urchiness that is John Frusciante -- witness cute urchin here. He's little but he's fiesty.
So the plan is that I am going out to Neptunes with Shara this afternoon. She's been harassing me to do this for like YEARS so she'll be pretty happy. I will probably be the oldest person there which is troubling. Well, not really TROUBLING so much as something that SHOULD trouble me. But I have all the maturity of... well, someone not very mature. I am currently wearing jammies with little pictures of socks on them and watching The Fairly Odd Parents. Yeah, look up mature in the dictionary and you'll find a great big picture of someone else.
Jessica and I got a great movie last night on Pay-Per-View, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. It was so cute. It didn't do very well when it came out but I LOVED it. Robert Downey, Jr. and Val Kilmer (whose head has become UNUSUALLY large in the last couple of years) were both in it. It's kind of an odd story -- guy winds up in L.A., murder and mayhem ensues. But it's done in a kind of campy way. Anyway I recommend it. Although, truthfully what the hell does someone else's recommendation mean. Everyone on the face of the planet recommended A HistoryofViolence to me when it came out and I thought it was the worst piece of dreck I'd ever seen. I am STILL tempted to write the producers to get my $10 back.
So the plan is that I am going out to Neptunes with Shara this afternoon. She's been harassing me to do this for like YEARS so she'll be pretty happy. I will probably be the oldest person there which is troubling. Well, not really TROUBLING so much as something that SHOULD trouble me. But I have all the maturity of... well, someone not very mature. I am currently wearing jammies with little pictures of socks on them and watching The Fairly Odd Parents. Yeah, look up mature in the dictionary and you'll find a great big picture of someone else.
Jessica and I got a great movie last night on Pay-Per-View, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. It was so cute. It didn't do very well when it came out but I LOVED it. Robert Downey, Jr. and Val Kilmer (whose head has become UNUSUALLY large in the last couple of years) were both in it. It's kind of an odd story -- guy winds up in L.A., murder and mayhem ensues. But it's done in a kind of campy way. Anyway I recommend it. Although, truthfully what the hell does someone else's recommendation mean. Everyone on the face of the planet recommended A HistoryofViolence to me when it came out and I thought it was the worst piece of dreck I'd ever seen. I am STILL tempted to write the producers to get my $10 back.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Lost: One Gaydar. If Found Please Return to Owner
Bonjour friends, it's been a while. There is not much new with me. I'm very excited that France beat Portugal (Zidane is HOT and not too old, thank you very much) but now I must cut my ties with my co-workers and root for Italy because my mom is Italian. Yes, she's Italian-American but I remember my Nonna fondly and she was off the boat from the boot so I gots to show some loyalty. Anyone coming out to watch the game on Sunday? I've been invited to several different bars but I think I have chosen to be on the Upper East Side because I have been assured that not everyone there will be rooting for the same team and I won't get beat up by Gaetane (who I love but who is staunchly pro-France) when I root for my Guinea brethren. Come with me, 'kay?
I can't believe its already July. I have been meandering through the city, completely oblivious to the passing days, weeks, months. I'm always tired. I guess its the heat. Katherine's advice was that I try sleeping with the window open so as to allow the circulation of oxygen. I now have a GIANT MOSQUITO BITE ON MY UPPER LIP. Thanks Kitty. It's not ACTUALLY her fault but I like to have someone to blame. I get bit by mosquitos more than most people I know. My mom used to tell me it was because I was so sweet. But EVERYONE knows I'm a raving bitch -- so much for that theory, Mommy.
I would like to make an earnest plea to all of my gay male friends to please hang out with me. I used to be quite the fag hag but in recent years I have started hanging out with more straight guys. Due to this drastic change in my environment -- and by relation, the vernacular I am exposed to, i.e. I have recently more often been quoted as using the vulgar, straight man "muthafucka" rather than the queeny "bitch" when referring to my friends/enemies/random strangers I meet on the street -- I have lost my GAYDAR. It is very sad. Very tragic. Keeping me up at nights. I need help. I need to get back to my roots. I come from a long line of fag haggy women with a deep respect for gay culture, gay-friendly politics and men who like Madonna. I cannot lose my gaydar. It's a matter of principle.
I can't believe its already July. I have been meandering through the city, completely oblivious to the passing days, weeks, months. I'm always tired. I guess its the heat. Katherine's advice was that I try sleeping with the window open so as to allow the circulation of oxygen. I now have a GIANT MOSQUITO BITE ON MY UPPER LIP. Thanks Kitty. It's not ACTUALLY her fault but I like to have someone to blame. I get bit by mosquitos more than most people I know. My mom used to tell me it was because I was so sweet. But EVERYONE knows I'm a raving bitch -- so much for that theory, Mommy.
I would like to make an earnest plea to all of my gay male friends to please hang out with me. I used to be quite the fag hag but in recent years I have started hanging out with more straight guys. Due to this drastic change in my environment -- and by relation, the vernacular I am exposed to, i.e. I have recently more often been quoted as using the vulgar, straight man "muthafucka" rather than the queeny "bitch" when referring to my friends/enemies/random strangers I meet on the street -- I have lost my GAYDAR. It is very sad. Very tragic. Keeping me up at nights. I need help. I need to get back to my roots. I come from a long line of fag haggy women with a deep respect for gay culture, gay-friendly politics and men who like Madonna. I cannot lose my gaydar. It's a matter of principle.
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