But I digress

I was 104 degrees when I was in Vegas. It didn't really bother me. I guess I like Vegas. Well, we already knew that. I like cities that never sleep. Great slogan, huh? I should work in tourism. Oh, wait... I do.

The only hitch of the trip was my return flight. I had to take a red eye with one connection in Chicago. When I got to O'Hare the flight to LaGuardia was delayed because... wait for it, wait for it... the crew didn't show up. I have no idea how that happened but that was the excuse the gate agent gave me.

The best thing about O'Hare is that EVERYTHING is open at 5:30 in the morning so I had three cups of Starbucks and bought a stack of magazines and listened to some old skool on my MP3 player and all was well with the world. (The new issue of Elle with Lindsay Lohan on the cover has a great interview with the little brat where she acts and talks like... a little brat. Will wonders never cease.)

Airports aren't so bad. Not sleeping for 24-hours before you end up in sitting around an airport is bad. Having the bitch behind you kick your seat the whole flight back to New York is also bad. But I digress.

I don't have much planned this weekend. I'm catching up on some work and I'm going to hang out with a friend later and that's about it. Any of my New York friends who want to do something fun tonight or tomorrow let me know. I'm just sitting here, recovering from semi-jet lag, watching SFW in my PJs. Call me. You won't be disturbing me, I promise.

Hypocritical rant

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Katherine for calling me Lauren Bacall all day. When she wasn't calling me Lauren Bacall she was asking me to sing Janis Joplin songs. I lost my voice over the weekend. I normally come in on Monday with a slight rasp but it's still here today and -- apparently -- it sounds really funny. This tickled her pink. But then she went out and got me a giant iced coffee so I forgive her. At least until she has something wrong with her and then I will make fun of her until she cries. La la la!

Does anyone else think that the guy who says he killed JonBenet Ramsey is making it up to get attention? Does anyone else think it sucks that he got to fly Business Class? They should have put him in the last row of Coach next to the bathroom and bumped all the people who had purchased seats next to him up to First. Instead he got champagne and shrimp and a hot towel for his face. If you've ever flown Business Class you know about the hot face towel. It rocks! But be forewarned -- it's hot. They don't call it the hot face towel for nothin'. They mean it. It's hot.
Here's what I don't like about New York. This morning I was walking up Madison Avenue behind this pretty girl and I watched her walk over to another girl and compliment her dress. Girl #2 looked like someone had smacked her. I wanted to grab her and scream, "She complimented your dress, you nitwit. She's not going to follow you home and kill you. She didn't offer to give you the plague. She complimented your DRESS!"

I felt very sad about the state of the city I live in. What kind of world is it when people take compliments the same way they take their flu shot? And then I was at the coffee shop in my office building waiting for my caffeine fix, mindlessly scratching the mosquito bites on my ankle when the guy standing there waiting for his coffee leaned in and very sweetly said, "You wouldn't believe it but calomine lotion actually works." And I looked at him like he was nuts. Can you say hypocrite, Louise?

I'm leaving for Vegas tomorrow morning. I'll be back on Friday morning. If anyone is going to be in the vicinity of Vegas over the next two days give me a call. I have a great big hotel room that someone else is paying for and I am bound to be lonely. I'll explain why I'm going there when I get back. That ole jinx again.

And to sign off I will leave you with a line from David Sedaris: "Everyone looks retarded when you set your mind to it." I just love that.

Droolers!

So I missed Chris' show at Common Ground but I did make it to CBGBs to see District 9. (By the way, Happy Birthday Todd!) I haven't been to a NYHC show since... well, since I stopped hanging out with Todd. It was a blast from the past. The guy standing behind me at the bar broke his thumb while trying to push someone who was knocking into him by the stage. Injuries sustained at a hardcore show are fun to explain at work the next day. I say this from experience. Todd, bless his heart, used to have a proclivity for jumping into the crowd and kicking his friends in the face. Never on purpose mind you. His big ole shitkicker boots were like two friend-seeking-missiles and would always manage to clock the one person in the audience that was there to see him, which was once his girlfriend and twice yours truly. I never sustained any permanent damage but I did walk home with a big footprint on my face. Ah, to be 18 again.

I just ate a hot pepper by accident so I have to cut this short because my eyes are tearing and I'm choking a little bit. I will say one thing before I sign off, and this is in honor of my poetic and charming sister -- "Yankees Rule, Red Sox Drool!"

Smack me and I'll smack you back

We went out last night for Laura's birthday. She kept asking us if we were trying to put her in the hospital. I guess she felt she was being forced to drink too much. She was still standing when I left so all's well in the world of Laura and I believe she just texted me which she couldn't do if she was in the hospital.

My sister's friend Dave is an asshole. I feel the need to put that out there in print somewhere. He's the the kind of asshole who smacks you and then gets mad when you smack him back. Then he cries like a little bitch. Funny to watch but thoroughly annoying and quite the buzzkill.

I'm supposed to go to Common Ground tonight if anyone wants to come. Chris might be playing there around 7:00 pm. After that my old friend Todd is playing with District 9 at CBGBs. They go on at 10:00 so come meet me, muffins, because I think I'm going to have to go alone. The only person I know there will be on stage so I might get lonely.

You know what's fun to watch? The BMX Finals. How do they spin in the air and land right back on their bike? Amazing. I can't even walk up a long flight of stairs in high heels.

Double secret probation

Jessica just told Patti on the phone that she was on "double secret probation" and she didn't know what that meant and that made Jessica and I very sad for Patti, who, although she has not seen many "good" movies is more than a little familiar with Uncle Buck. And that's even sadder. ("Patti, I do not know Uncle Buck. I am a lover of film!")

Do you know what my favorite phrase in the English language is? "Three and half games out of first." I also love the phrase "double header sweep". Yankee fans know what I'm talking about. I would also like to state for the record -- never underestimate Jorge Posada. Never ever ever.

I am probably going to be at Brother Jimmy's Bait Shack on the Upper East Side tonight for my friend Laura's birthday. The venue was chosen because she lives down the block and we like alcohol served in fishbowls. (I think I've mentioned that before.) I'm not doing much till then. But if anyone is gonna be in that neck of the woods, come out!

Brave new penis

There is chocolate in my office. I forgot it was here. I'm so happy.

My birthday is really far away but will someone please remember and get this cake for me? I usually ask for cupcakes (because they are the world's most perfect dessert -- cute and sweet just like me... you know, if I was wrapped in a crinkled piece of paper and covered with icing, which, let's face it, sometimes I am.) But I will make an exception for this cake. Because I'm a big SLJ fan. Even though I get a lot of pleasure out of watching Joe Pesci shoot him in the back of the head in GoodFellas. That's not because I don't like him. It's just 'cuz I'm sick.

(NOTE TO READERS: In college, Jessica and I were often known to do a shot and then start yelling "And you will know my name is the LORD when I lay my VENGANCE upon thee." You wanna know funny? Two white girls drunk in a bar in Hempstead trying to sound like Sam Jackson is FUNNY.)

Did you guys see this story about this advice to uncircumcized men? Most Americans are circumsized anyway. French men -- not so much. It's kind of weird actually. I mean I'm kind of an equal opportunity fan of the wee-wee but it looks like it's wearing a little turtleneck if it hasn't been snipped. It would kind of make me happy if all the un-circumsized had to get cut to slow the spread of AIDS as per this article. Might make up in some small part for them never having to go through childbirth or menstrual cramps.

(NOTE TO READERS: Sometimes I read things right after I write them and I'm shocked at myself. Mandatory circumcision? What?!? Maybe in a past life I was a character in an Aldous Huxley book.)

I don't have much in the way of exciting plans tonight. I'm kind of tired. I stayed up watching Cold Case Files on A&E and scaring myself to pieces. How can anyone get married when there is always the possibility that said spouse could kill you and make it look like a foiled burglary attempt? Shit like that keeps me up at night.

Flirting four year-olds

Today's "let's avoid work and talk about anything else under the sun" convo was about kiddie beauty pagents, inspired of course by the recent onslaught of JonBenet murder mystery coverage. I told Katherine about this documentary that I have seen several times (I believe it was originally run on HBO). It's like a freaking train wreck -- I can't NOT watch it if it's on. It's so disturbing. I don't like horror movies but anything involving a true life freak show and I'm hooked.

Today's discussion led to what seemed to us to be an obvious question -- Why is this phenomenon solely found in America? We spend most of our day working with foreign people, teaching Americans about a foreign culture so it is only natural that our mind would wander in this direction.

My theory on the subject? We have become a culture that champions two things that the rest of the world doesn't seem to embrace quite as heartily -- mediocrity and quick-fixes. So why spend your money on your child's future education? She can be pretty and sweet and adored NOW if you pay thousands of dollars for her to be a living Barbie Doll. And maybe she'll win a scholarship!

And won't you feel better about yourself -- you, who are probably overweight, suffering from a lack of higher education (something that is still a luxury in this country rather than the federally funded RIGHT it is in other countries), working a dead-end job, old before your time -- won't you feel better about all of that if people are looking at your BEAUTIFUL CHILD, who is so much prettier than you will ever be? So what that you are practically putting a bullseye on her back, attracting pedophiles and child pornographers the world over. So what that she is not mature enough to understand that batting her eyelashes at three middle-aged male judges is setting her up for a lifetime of doing not much else. It feels good now and there isn't much to look forward to anyway.

At least if she had been born a boy in this country she could always hope to go to Yale, get straight Cs and still manage to get a great job someday.

Lonely level of stupid

I've reached a very high level of stupidity. I was late for work this morning because I couldn't find my keys. So I pulled up couch cushions, emptied out my bag, looked under the bed, in the refrigerator (I once left my cell phone in there so it's not as weird as it sounds). Finally I decided to retrace my steps. I went to the front door to pretend like I was walking in again and there they were, still dangling from the front door. I went to sleep last night with my keys hanging out of my front door. And I don't live in an apartment -- I live in a three-family house in Astoria and I am on STREET LEVEL. I could have been killed. After I found my keys I looked in all the closets and under the beds to make sure that whatever killer might have broken in last night wasn't still hiding out and then I went to work.

This level of stupid is pretty lonely. I think I'm the only one up here.

Katherine and I ended our day with an argument over Canadian news anchors working for American broadcast outlets. Apparently Katherine felt betrayed when she found out that Peter Jennings was Canadian. She just found out today that my boyfriend Pat Kiernan is also Canadian. For some reason this really bothers her. Somehow this led to a conversation about Molly Ringwald starring in French movies and then she went home.

In sad news, my Dad's friend Bruno Kirby died. I don't know if they were really friends but they grew up in the same neighborhood. I like almost all the movies he was in -- he was the best part of When Harry Met Sally, by far. I think the only movie that I didn't like that he was in was Sleepers, not because it was a bad movie but because my cousin Barbara went to grammar school with Lorenzo Carcaterra and she said he made the whole story up. Anyway, RIP Bruno.

What day is it?

I haven't been able to sleep very much at night. Which is causing me to oversleep for work. Which is not causing me very much distress but it is a bit confusing. I keep waking up and not knowing what day it is. And noooo, Smart Ass, it's not because I'm hungover. Well, not everyday anyway...

Anyway, as I meander around my apartment between 1:00 and 3:00 am attempting to make myself sleepy I have discovered a few diversionary activities that, while not particularly sleep-inducing are fun, such as:

1) Leaving random and slightly bitch comments on people's MySpace pages complaining that I am not in their Top 8. I think this is funny. I don't know if people know that I am kidding but it is especially funny when someone I barely knows puts me in their Top 8 just to shut me up.

2) Organizing CDs. I don't even listen to CDs anymore but it's fun to see what I used to spend money on. Like every CD Tori Amos ever made. And Super Sounds of the Seventies. And the free band CDs, of which there are plenty. Because, with few exceptions, every straight guy I know is in a freaking band.

3) Taking clothes out of the closet, putting them in shopping bags to take to Goodwill and then realizing that I can't part with any of them and putting them right back in the closet. I will too wear that crushed velvet baby doll dress from 1994 again someday. You don't know! And combat boots are totally making a comeback.

4) Googling my exes. This must stop.

5) Going through books that I read years ago to figure out why I highlighted certain things. Like I highlighted the word "jazz" in one book by Jack Kerouac. Do you have any fucking idea how many times Kerouac uses the word "jazz" in any given book? What could I possibly have been trying to accomplish by highlighting that?

So now I'm at work and not particularly awake after two coffees and a long talk with my boss. The most interesting thing I accomplished was finishing the book I have been reading on the subway all week (which was awesome and weird and macabre and I highly recommend it). I would love to be home watching Oprah and getting ready to have my third cup of coffee while nestled comfortably in the overstuffed chair in my living room. But I'm not. I'm here. Getting paid to blog.

Toxic Tylenol and changes

Here's a hint folks -- taking more than the prescribed dosage of Tylenol is toxic to your liver. If you take the prescribed dosage and it doesn't work do not take more. Suck it up and wait for it to work. Someone I love just had a nasty experience with this. I'll be happy to fill people in on an individual basis. Anyway, hospital visits have basically been taking up all of my time which is why I was MIA this weekend. Did anyone miss me?

I was supposed to go to AC to hear Tiesto spin. Didn't work out. Sucks.

I was supposed to meet Katie for dinner on Saturday. Didn't happen. Sucks.

I was supposed to go to the Yankee game, which they lost anyway. Sucks.

So what's on for this week -- besides more hospital visits -- you ask? Big change in my life. Not ready to talk about it but BIG CHANGE. So instead I will tell you Oren's "big secret": When a person -- seemingly any person, even himself -- puts their finger in his bellybutton deep enough, his wee-wee twitches. I just found out this little tidbit last Thursday while he was flirting with my sister and I've been BURSTING to share it with someone. I love ya, Oren! You are consistently good blog fodder.

Oh, and my friend Belinda saw Jon Stewart in front of her building yesterday pushing a baby stroller. Could he BE any cuter? There is just something about him. Him and John Frusciante. I think I'm beginning to like little men.

Things that don't scare me

I am scared to death. So today's blog is dedicated to things that don't scare me that are supposed to.

1) Bugs. Much smaller than me. Can be killed easily with a piece of tissue. Can be squished which, in itself, is the least scary word (say it with me "squiisshhhhhhh") in the English vernacular. Can be flushed down toilet never to be seen or heard from again. Consensus -- NOT SCARY.

2) Mice. Also much smaller than me. Cannot easily be squished because they have bones and stuff. But will most likely run away if confronted with bright lights and not smart enough NOT to eat a big piece of bread stuck to a glue pad. Consensus -- creepy and I don't want them around but NOT SCARY.

3) Dogs. People who are scared of dogs are weird. Who doesn't want to pet and hug and say cutie pie things to a doggie? I mean unless you've been attacked by a pit bull at some point in your life. Or you know someone who has. Okay, I amend my earlier statement. People who are scared of dogs who have not been attacked by a dog or know someone who has been attacked by a dog are weird. Consensus -- dogs are cute and loveable and decidely NOT SCARY.

4) Ghosts. Ghosts are freakin' awesome. Have you ever seen Ghost Hunters? I love that show! I don't really want to SEE a ghost but knowing they exist? That's pretty rockin'. Consensus -- NOT SCARY and if you are privy to a haunting you could write a book, that might get turned into a movie that might make you rich so it could be NOT SCARY and possibly profitable.

5) Motorcycles. Because secretly I wish I lived in the movie Grease. Which stars Olivia Newton-John. Who is probably the least scary actress EVER. Consensus -- NOT SCARY and you can ride along singing "Cool Rider", which is actually from Grease 2, but whatever.

I feel a little bit better now, don't you, muffins?

It's vodkay time

Things that amused me today...

Someone I just met told me he enjoyed the "vodkay time" we spent together the night we met. Since I was drinking vodka that night, I assume he meant "vodka time" OR he has just invented a phrase that I will co-opt and repeat ad nauseum until my friends tell me to stop. I am going to run with the latter. Your votes in this matter are welcome but will most likely be ignored. It's vodkay time!

Katherine and I spent a good portion of this morning trying to explain to someone we know that the excuse "I plan to be vile and bitter throughout your bridal shower but if you really want me to come I'll be there" might not be a good response to an RSVP event.

My friend Belinda and I met for drinks with some people we used to work with at Senor Swanky's. Belinda came to the conclusion that she can only Senor Swanky's while speaking with her version of a Mexican accent. She then tried to explain to our friend Mathieu, who has a fairly think French accent, how to say it the same way. It was cute. He really tried.

Just at the moment that I noticed that the umbrellas at the outdoor tables at Senor Swanky's have the words "Celebrity Hangout" written on them, Katie Couric walked by us -- not once, but twice. I think she was waiting for someone to say "Hey, that's Katie Couric." It took me a minute but eventually I was that person. That made her happy and she moved on. So not so much a "celebrity hangout" as a place that celebrities like to walk by. Interesting.

Grey feet are funny

It's my father's birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad. I got you a questionable birthday gift. For the record, I thought it was very funny.

Did you guys hear that Gene Simmons is going to have his own reality show? Would anyone like to hear the story about how my sister told him he was ugly when we were two years old? You're intrigued, you say? Well, here goes... My dad used to be a recording engineer back in the swingin' 70s for a bunch of different rock stars -- Aerosmith, Grand Funk Railroad, Talking Heads -- and one of them was Kiss. One day we were visiting him at work with my mom and one thing led to another and Jessica just decided to tell him how very ugly he was. He just loooooooooovvvvvvvvvvvved that. In fact, I think he complained to my father about it, something that still tickles my father to this day. Like what was he supposed to do? Kick the 2 year-old -- who happened to be his daughter -- out of the studio?

I saw DMB last night and remembered how very much I like them. I don't like most DMB fans and I'm not all about the hacky-sack culture, but they are an AMAZING jam band, specifically my boyfriend Boyd, who bops around like a little jumping jack. He's such a cute little alien. You can just tell they all love each other and they love to play music and they just go for it. Every song takes like 12 minutes but it's awesome. And they played "Say Goodbye", which in all the times I've seen them I've never heard live.

One tip. If you happen to go to a concert at Randall's Island anytime soon, wear sneakers and socks. Emily and I wore flip flops and we came home with GREY FEET from all the dirt and dust flying around. I made up a little song about them to the tune of "Grey Street. I have a first verse done but the chorus needs some work.

So in addition to reporting to you (all three of my readers) about gossip I hear via credible sources, I like to report on the items that I glean from my six degrees of "who knows a celebrity" network. Someone I know knows someone else who works on that Supernova show and apparently Tommy Lee is ADORABLE (as I guessed that he would be in a past blog) and Dave Navarro is an annoying pain in the ass. But he writes a blog very similar to mine -- the first line was "Airports argghh" which sounds a lot like me -- although his is full of famous people he actually KNOWS whereas mine is full of stories of me watching Paris Hilton fall off of a speaker and not helping her up.

Happy things

I had a pretty rough night last night. I went to the Liberty game, which was fun up until the point where things went to shit. I left before the end but I'm told they won. Anyway, I don't want to think about the bad night I had -- although I would like to take this opportunity to encourage basketball fans in New York to support the Liberty, and basketball fans across the country to support the WNBA. They play their little hearts out and it's really fun to watch. And the bar at the Garden serves $2 drafts on game night, which doesn't happen while the Knicks are playing, if that is an incentive for other alkies such as myself.

Anyway, as I said, I don't want to dwell on the shitty night I had and would like to think about happy things. So I have compiled a list of "10 things that make me happy" that I would like to share with you. (I usually limit my lists to "5 things that..." but I am feeling ambitious and particularly shitty so today it's 10):

1) The movie Arthur-- although real alcoholics are sad and tragic, Dudley Moore is hilarious and he falls in love with Liza Minnelli, which I find even more hilarious. (Best line: "Arthur, will you take my hand." "But that would leave you with one!")

2) The Superfly, performed entirely by Curtis Mayfield, specifically the song "Pusherman". (If this is not available, may be substituted with Hot Buttered Soul by Isaac Hayes or anything at all by Marvin Gaye.)

3) Sangria.(Recipes to be found here) I think I've extolled the virtues of this before. It's booze with fruit. Come on. It's awesome. And nutritious. (I also love mojitos. Minty and refreshing.)

4) John Frusciante. He's actually probably number one. But my friends say I am beginning to sound obsessed and I want to maintain the facade of normalcy. I don't making the Froosch number four is gonna do that but it's worth a shot.

5) Tetris. I've downloaded it to my cell phone which has inadvertently led to my missing my stop many times on the subway. But I've had fun doing it.

6) Hot chocolate. This is mostly seasonal because the idea of hot chocolate right now makes me want to cry. Unless its Frrrrozen Hot Chocolate from Serendipity. The best hot chocolate is made with chili pepper in the Mexican style and can be found at Jacques Torres. I hiiiiiiiiiiiiighly recommend it.

7) They Might Be Giants. 'Cuz they're funny.

8) Drinking coffee in my pajamas while working from home. I don't mind work when it is done in my jammies. The ones with the little socks on them are best and softest.

9) My cat. Squish.

10) The book Little Women. I haven't read it since I was 12 or so but I remember it made me happy so I may go get a paperback copy and keep it on me at all times to fight the "the mean reds"..

I feel the need to link this article as well, while I have your attention. It does not fit in with the "happy things" theme -- in fact, it could be selected for "reasons the world is pissing me off" theme -- but it is a good analysis of the rampant intolerance that has been recently exhibited by some notable public figures -- Mel Gibson, Ann Coulter, Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney. When did we become so intolerant? When did being a dedicated public servant and environmentalist become synonymous with being a "total fag"? And why is that an insult? (By the way, I used to work at a store that Ann Coulter shopped at. If anyone wants to know what she's realllly like, just ask me. A lot can be ascertained about a person's character by how he or she treats a lowly shop girl.)

Okay, I am going to go finish watching Arthur now and get ready to go see Dave Matthews with Emily. I love outdoor concerts. I probably should have put that on the list.

Burnt sienna would be cool

Do you ever watch Office Space and suddenly want to figure out a way to stop working by stealing large amounts of money from where you are working? No? Just me? Okay, whatevs. I couldn't embezzle money from my job anyway. I work in tourism for France. And someone might notice if I stole millions of Euros from the French government. Especially because I never get the conversion rate right.

Something very exciting happened to me today but I can't talk about it for fear of the almighty jinx. If it develops the way that I think it will, you best believe it will be the subject of a blog. But not now, muffins, not yet.

Welllllllllllllll so what we cannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn we talk about, you ask? How about if I read one more of these kinds of articles about what to change to bring love into your life I might kill someone? Changing the color of your interior walls will not bring love into your life. Unless you change the color of your vagina walls or something. Which might get you attention but it might not make people love you. But it would be cool if you could change it to like burnt sienna.

I work down the street from this disaster and I didn't even notice this. But I hate the American Girl Place. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I hate all the families standing online outside. I hate all the little girls who cry and whine until they get the $100 doll they just don't need. (My kids are sooooooooooo gonna hate me but they are NOT getting some $100 doll unless they promise to give half their allowance to charity and do volunteer work. Kids today suck.) I wonder how many of their parents told them about the evils of crossing a picket line? Can't imagine it was very many.

Do you know why I hate the American Girl Place? The people who stand outside American Girl are the same people who walk down Sixth Avenue in a line of five across with no consideration for the people walking behind them. They are the same people who flock to the plaza outside the freaking Today Show to hear Shania Twain's new song. They are also the same people who take six HUNDRED pictures of the freaking Rockefeller Center tree and block all the foot traffic to and from the falafel place I like.

If the exciting thing that I was alluding to earlier works out I hope it will make me less bitter. Probably not but you never can tell.

Monkeys in Ziploc bags

Did you guys hear about the people in the Bronx who slept on a city bus? Apparently the generator at a cooling station went out after the power outage and the city sent up three MTA buses for the local residents to sleep on. Can I ask why these power outages keep happening in poor and working class neighborhoods? Don't the rich people on Fifth Avenue use their air conditioners too much, too? Can't they suffer a little? They're all probably at their summer homes so they wouldn't even notice. (Just a little aside to God. Make bad things happen to rich people for once.)

I would like to commend the tough-as-nails investigative journalists at Good Morning America for the following piece on what happens while sitting in a hot car. Was Taylor Hicks (or some other insipid celebrity) not available for a heart-to-heart yesterday? Was there no family of septuplets in Des Moines to tell their uplifting story of perserverence available for a live remote? I think the point is you shouldn't sit in a hot car for too long.

This is the most interesting story I read today. Some barely known actress in L.A. befriended booby-cutting serial killer Wayne Adam Ford. He cut off women's boobies. That's right, their boobies. I mean I like boobies as much as the next person but don't they look better ATTACHED to the person then, say, in a Ziploc bag? The most ironic part is that Victoria Redstall, the actress in question (who referred to Ford as having "such a kindness to him, such a conscience") used to be a spokesperson for breast enhancement supplements! I probably found that funnier than you all did because you are probably still trying to get the image of the booby in the Ziploc bag out of your head. Think happy thoughts... puppies, kittens, cute little monkeys... No, not cute little monkeys in Ziploc bags, you freak! What the hell is the matter with you?

It's just a manicure

You know you are losing your mind when you have an actual HEART ATTACK because your manicure went wrong. Sigh. At least I know I'm crazy. And knowing is half the battle.

So I am slightly ashamed to admit that I have been literally EATING UP a free copy of Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis. It is oddly fascinating. He talks in detail about what sex was like with each of his different girlfriends, some of whom are slightly famous (Ione Skye, Sinead O'Connor). I wonder if these women had to sign a release before he could say something like "She told me she never had an orgasm except when she was in the bathtub with the shower head." (Okay, that little nifty tidbit was about a not-famous-girl but he gives her first and last name and there are pictures of her taken WHILE SHE WAS STONED ON HEROIN throughout the book. What would you do if your now-famous but formerly-dirty-and-homeless ex-boyfriend asked you to sign off on letting him write about your relationship and give details about your naked body? I might smack him over the head with the book. Or ask him to mentally photoshop me until I looked like Heidi Klum -- coincidentally ANOTHER one of Mr. Kiedis' former girlfriends, although I haven't gotten to her section in the book, yet.

How much do you love this headline about Fidel Castro? Those Aussies. They're a regular riot.
Okay, so its so hot here that people are actually collapsing. So hopefully my fellow New Yorkers are sitting in the dark with the shades drawn and an iced coffee in their greedy little mits.
Meanwhile I am at work trying not to commit hari kariover my smudged manicure. Who else thinks I need a vacation? I'll be at Coliseum Books after work trolling the travel section if anyone wants to meet me for a literary discussion or to make fun of the grownups buying Harry Potter books. Come on, they're pretty funny.