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.

Our lady of snuff films

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Inappropriate

Every once in a while I realize that I don't have it all figured out. That might seem like an obvious statement and those of you who actually know me might be thinking right now, "Louise, when exactly did you think you had it all figured out? Because you're a freaking mess." But I did. I do. I give my friends advice about men and love and women and sex. WHAT THE HELL DO I KNOW?!? I fall for the wrong people all the time. I always had this wonderful capability -- if I met someone who was "inappropriate" I could turn off my attraction to them. So if they were married, gay, one of my co-workers, roommates, friends of my cousin I could actually STOP myself from thinking they were cute. I had this friend in high school, Todd, that all my friends thought was hot. It turns out he was hot. But I never saw it because I turned off my ability to see that because he was my friend and I didn't want to fuck with that.

Anyway, I think I've lost this ability. In the past week I've become attracted to people who are completely inappropriate for me. And I think I got my friend mad at me in the process. But I don't know... I never really like anyone. If I like someone, shouldn't I go for it? Shouldn't I at least try? You wanna know the funny part -- all the advice I give, it's so easy for me to see the right way to do things when it comes to someone else. But I just can't figure out what the next step should be for me.

On a non-weepy wingy moanyhole note, hi Rob and Gregg! I love when people I haven't seen in years find me on My Space. It's so cool.

I leave for France tomorrow so I might go out tonight but I have to spend most of the day packing and cleaning my apartment. Anyway, try to live without me, 'kay? Don't stick your heads in the oven or slit your wrists for missing me. I would feel terrible.

Not a stupid flake

What is the different between a cafe au lait and a cafe latte? And why is one of them $1 more expensive at Dean & Deluca? Just wondering...

I am so behind with everything that I have to do that I think people around me think I'm a flake. Well... I am a flake, I think. I'm just not a STUPID flake. I just can't seem to keep my desk neat, my bag neat, my mail in order. Everything is all chaotic and crazy with me lately. I just got used to spending time in New York and now it looks like the travel crazies are starting up again. Ugh. I love to travel, I really do. But I hate when my ears pop and I hate unpacking. These are 2 neccessities of travel unfortunately. I DO love the little movie screens at each seat in the newer airplanes, foreign money and the multitude of magazines and foreign candy at airports. So I will try to concentrate on that. Anyone want me to bring them back a Lion Bar or something? Anyone going to be in Paris on June 3 and want to spend the day entertaining me?

I want to make out with someone

Baked Lays are the best food ever invented. I don't like to admit that I eat hydrogentically improved foodstuffs but whatevs. They're yummy and they have very little fat.

I am soooooooooooooooooooo tired and unneccessarily so. I read somewhere that the first sign of insanity is when you start thinking that your work is really important. Unless you work for the American Cancer Society or Doctors Without Borders or something your work is probably not THAT important. Meaning no one will die if you don't get shit done. It's good to do a good job, it's nice to give 100% but I should NOT be crying in my office. NEVER. NEVER EVER.

I have to go to France this weekend. Every time I have to go away I worry. I don't know exactly what I worry about but I start to feel like a knot in my stomach and I have little panic attacks. Not proud of that. But I love to travel. So riddle me THAT. I mean it's not like I ever DON'T have fun on these trips. I'm such a jerk.

You know what I could use? A crush. I would love to have a crush on someone right now. I would love to have someone that I actually WANT to make out with. I keep making out with my friends. That's just stupid.

I like the new Nelly Furtado song. It's produced by Timbaland so of course it's stuck in my head.

Edison New Jersey makes good vodka

I went to a party last night at something called Club 301, which is basically someone's apartment in an industrial building in the garment district. My friend's band According to Wendy was playing and I saw some people that I haven't seen in a while. There was a keg! I haven't been to a party with a keg since college. Ah, keg stands. At some point the keg was kicked, because UNLIKE every frat party I've ever been to, no one seemed to know that you are supposed to have 1 keg per 20 guests (there were like 60 people there). So I started drinking Coke and vodka -- vodka, which we later found out was bottled and distilled in Edison, New Jersey. That did not bode well so I went home.

I'm leaving for France next week. I'm going to miss most of Memorial Day Weekend because of it. So sad. I was invited to go out to the Hamptons that weekend. I've actually never spent the weekend in the Hamptons. I'm always happy to be going to France but I am NOT happy to be working on Memorial Day.

I saw The Da Vinci Code the day before it opened. I went to a screening put on by Eurostar. It wasn't as bad as everyone said it was. I thought it was fairly entertaining. I have an odd crush on Tom Hanks. Kind of like the crush you might have on a professor in college. At one point in the movie Audrey Tatou puts her hands on his head and his head looked so giant -- like a St Bernard or something. Anyway, it was fun. I saw literally everywhere the movie was filmed when I took my Da Vinci Code press trip back in March so that was cool. I could even tell you where the fake stuff was -- like, for instance, they did not film any of the movie in London, not even the Westminster Abbey bit. We'll all go see it together and I'll tell you all the secrets.

Secrets

Knowing how to speak a foreign language is like being let in on a secret. I love that. I speak French quite badly and I mostly only understand Spanish but its still better than knowing nothing. At least I know the secrets. I would like to learn Arabic or Japanese. I would like to learn a language that my face would imply that I should NOT know. Like, "Hey, why does that white girl speak Mandarin?" Something like that.

I wonder if people really remember people they see on the subway, or people they overhear talking in ladies' rooms or bars. I do but I've long ago figured out that the things I do are not the same things other people do. There is a guy on the subway. He sings Bob Marley songs on the N train. I've literally seen him singing these same songs for years. I know what he looks like, what he says to get people to give him more money. But he doesn't know me. He doesn't remember me. Isn't that interesting? It's one of the most interesting things about New York. Or any big city really. You make impressions on people -- well, I don't. I don't think strangers remember me. But I remember them. I remember their faces and I write stories about them. Sometimes I dream about people I don't know and I have to assume they are people I saw once on the subway or on an airplane or at a restaurant and I just don't remember it. That's a little bit like being let in on a secret, too. I see these people. I know them even if other people don't.

I don't know where all these thoughts came from.

Every man for him- or herself

Here's what annoys me about men -- and I use that term loosely to mean "people with male sex parts". Let's say you're out with your friends and there are guys there and you happen to be female. Let's say your friends -- who can be bitchy and combative when they want to be -- notice that the "guys" present (and I even use THAT term loosely because these are BOYS if anything and maybe not even that) are in the midst of arguing with you about something that you, as a female, are not expected to know anything about -- say sports, or music, or something involving testosterone. Anyway, you stand up for yourself, because you're smart, you know you have a point, you know what you're talking about. And he's pissed.

When no one else is around this guy does what all "guys" do. He waits for his chance to find the one thing that is wrong with you --- maybe you're fat, maybe you're gawky, maybe you have a big nose, maybe you're just a girl and therefore the term "bitch" will suffice. And he throws it at you. He throws it at you like a dart. Because he KNOWS that you will lose it. You are female after all. You are prone to emotional outbreaks. You will tell him where to go and in front of everyone. And you will cry. And you will end the night embarassed because just GUESS what you're friends are gonna do? They're gonna tell you they didn't hear it so they don't know he said it. They're gonna say you're embarassing them. They're gonna ask you to calm down before you get kicked out.

Here's my problem. If my friend -- male or female -- told me that someone I barely knew, someone who wasn't related to me or didn't drop everything everytime I got dumped or needed someone to walk my dog -- if that someone I barely knew called my FRIEND anything that made them so upset they were literally screaming in public, there would be no question. I WOULD KICK THEIR ASS. Because you do not make my friends cry in public. You do not in my presence call my friend a liar.

I am going to break myself of that habit. I am going to become the kind of friend (and relative) that my friends and relatives have become. I am going to turn off that knee jerk loyalty that makes me actually angry on their part. And I'm going to just go about my life not caring what people do to them. Because apparently it's every man for him- or herself.

Not in a dirty way

I twisted my ankle like 3 times today while sitting at my desk. It takes a special kind of retard, I tell you what. I can't really complain about it out loud because Katherine, who sits across from me, has ACTUAL crutches for her ACTUAL sprained ankle. She has been hobbling all over the place. It's so sad. What's sadder is she twisted her ankle dancing in high heels. I would so do that. Poor Kitty.

So last night I went to a cool party for the ETC at the Roberto Dutesco Gallery. For once, even though it was a work event, people I like to talk to were there. And the editor of my favorite free "grab it on your way out the door of the bar and read it on the subway" magazine, GO NYC, was there. So we chatted and she dissed The L Word but that's okay. I'm not bitter.

Okay, this is a shout out to all the people who are currently mad at me. I think the list is longer than I want to admit to myself. If we are actually friends and I pissed you off, I won't know unless you talk to me. Apparently I've been utterly rude and insensitive lately and I didn't know it OR the truth is out -- I suck and people are just realizing it now. Which do you think it is, dear reader? Do you still love me? You do? Well, I love you, too! But not in that way, you understand. I love you like a BLOGGER loves a READER. Not in that dirty way. Don't walk away. Keep reading. Wait, now what? Are you mad at me, too?

Looking out for da girls

One of my good friends is mad at me. Again. You know who you are. Stop being mad. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

On to other stuff. I had an eventful weekend. One of my friends threw up in my presence in an almost LEGENDARY way on Saturday evening. I mean she was so cheerful while she was doing it but truly she should not still be ALIVE and STANDING after all the stuff that came out of her. I just grossed all of you out, didn't I? Well if I have to have this information in my head, you alllllllll do! So there! Anyway, I didn't get to go everywhere I promised to be on Saturday night. So that sucks. But I was happy to see her although I wish I hadn't seen quite so much of her innards. Ew. I just said "innards". Ew.

My friend Tina is getting married. Her bridesmaids organized a pub crawl -- ingenious! Candy necklaces were involved. It was funny. I asked some guy to eat one of the candies off -- we were SUPPOSED to be doing this, don't judge me! -- and he bit the string and the candy went everywhere. I was like you had better be carefulllll if a girl ever asks you to... ahem... eat anything else. He didn't think that was very funny -- apparently he thought I was disparaging his SKILLS in that arena -- but I'm just looking out for the girls of the world, know what I'm sayin? Someone with that little control over his teeth is DANGEROUS.

Adriana is such the good friend that she gave me a brand new necklace and bit off the 6 pieces that I had already had bitten off me so that I would be all caught up and not have to start from scratch. There were fishbowls of liquor involved in this evening and glitter sticks, in addition to the candy. And Tina was still standing when I was poured into a taxi and sent home so go TINA!

Worrying about worrying

I worry a lot. I don't want to but I do. I wake up like three times a night, usually because I'm worried. Or because I have to pee. Usually it's the worried thing, though. If someone I know doesn't call me back sometimes I worry that they died. That's retarded, right? Or if my sister goes out on a date I worry he's gonna turn out to be a serial killer. Serial killers are not that common but I watch Law & Order A LOT. So they're kind of top of mind for me. Now I'm kind of worried that I'm such a worrier. My mom always tells this story that she was scared that I would be the only 9 year-old with an ulcer because I used to worry about the ozone layer and homeless people. Anyway, I would like to worry a little less. Just a little. Just enough to sleep for like three hours in a row. That would be awesome.

Last night was fun.Well, the night before I got a little tipsy and forgot my mom's mother's day present at Tir Na Nog. Karen told them to hold it for me behind the bar. TNN is like on the other side of midtown from my office but I walked there after work. Abby called me as I was on my way over to tell me that she was going out for drinks at Bliss, which is like 3 blocks from my office. Just my luck. So after I picked up the present I walked all the way back and I was so proud of myself because in total I walked like 2 1/2 miles BEFORE I started drinking for the evening, which means I'm healthy and stuff right? And then Abby told me that she's started taking kickboxing classes which sort of makes my walking across town look... well, pathetic. But I got the present back at least. I got her a satellite radio. She's gonna be so happy!

I kind of helped with an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen. It was on this week. It was the saddest episode so far. Watch and tell me what you think. Don't you feel sorry for that girl? I mean not only is she being raised in a culture that thinks you have to be on a reality show to get anywhere in life but her party did not go well. Everyone together now... AWWWW! Poor little rich girl with her chateau in France. You've got it so rough.

Oh my God, did everyone see The Office? I'm so happy with way it ended but I just saw it today because I Tivod it so if you're like me and you haven't seen it yet I don't want to give it away but if you HAVE and you want to discuss, lemme know!

Chris is celebrating his birthday AGAIN tonight. (Yeah, yeah we're really happy you were born a hundred years ago, now get over yourself!) Anyway, According to Wendy is playing at Pussycat Lounge, the only strip club I've ever heard of where people would pay the girls to get down, put their clothes on and start a conversation rather than keep dancing. Come on down. Could be fun.

David Blaine and the little blue pill

So David Blaine couldn't hold his breath for 7 minutes and he had to be taken to the hospital all pruny and corpse-like. WHY does he think that torturing himself in public is magic? What's his next trick gonna be? Taking lots of Viagara and seeing if he can survive that 4+ hour erection the commercials are always warning you about?

I remember when he froze himself in a block of ice a few years ago. He was dating that Maybelline model at the time and everytime a camera was anywhere near her she would turn on the waterworks and pretend to be so worried about him. But I was there and the rest of the time she looked bored. It must be so weird to be David Blaine's girlfriend. I mean someday he is going to do something to get himself maimed and if you think dating him now looks hard, imagine what it will be like when he loses all his appendages and he's just a stump? Because that's in the cards for you, David, if you keep submerging yourself underwater, burying yourself alive, hanging from a bridge and standing on poles on one foot. No life led in constant peril ends well.

THE YANKEES WIN! THE YANKEES WIN! I was supposed to go meet some people at Dave & Busters but just as I was about to leave Jason Giambi hit a 2-run homer and then Alex Rodriguez -- otherwise known as ARod, or, as my sister calls him, "the reason hot dogs are now $8 at Yankee Stadium" -- actually earned a little bit of his gargantuan paycheck tonight. Thank you, ARod! Anyway, I didn't go out. I feel like I abandoned them last night and they lost miserably. I know I don't have all that much power... well, actually I don't know that. It could all be thanks to me. You don't know!

I went out to Coda last night to see Chris' friend play. She was pretty good. I wish I'd paid better attention but instead I was watching the game with no sound at the bar and I think I scared him a little. I try not to scream out my death wishes for the Red Sox. I hear them in my head and then they come streaming out of my mouth.

Did anyone watch CNN this afternoon? It was on while I was standing on line at the bank during my lunch break. News story after news story were like live video streams from CRAZY TOWN. It was like someone was doing a spoof on the news or something. The first story I saw was about an internet sex sting. The police fooled this guy into thinking he was coming to a strip mall in New Hampshire to meet a 14-year old girl. When he got there -- carrying flowers with a condom and marijuana in his pocket -- the police and some TV cameras were there. First, why were the TV cameras there? Have the police started doing PR for themselves? Are they trying to get coverage for these stings? Seems odd. Then the guy kind of threw himself on the floor or maybe the cops did it for him, I don't remember which. But this reporter puts her mike in his face and starts asking him questions. So there he is -- he's caught, he's a pedophile, America knows it AND he's facedown on the cement -- and he's being all SNOTTY to her. She said, "So you thought you were coming to meet a 14-year old girl, didn't you?" And he says, somewhat like Napoleon Dynamite, "Uh, I don't THINK so!" I was laughing out loud in the bank. The guy ahead of me in line thought I was very uncouth, you could just tell.

The next story was about a priest who is on trial for killing a nun in 1980. I didn't get to hear the end of that one but that is a Dan Brown book waiting to happen, dontcha think

Yummy Moroccan vegetables

Moroccan vegetable wraps from Pax are goooooooooddddd! And good for you. And go well with the stale cup of coffee that has been sitting on my desk since early this morning.

Can someone explain to me why every movie I like becomes a crappy Broadway play? Is there really a play about The Wedding Singer? And I heard the Weinsteins are producing a Broadway version of Crouching Tiger,Hidden Dragon. I'm sure that will work out splendidly.

I am apparently the only person who did not know that Rosie O'Donnell is joining The View How weird. I wonder if her and Star Jones will come to fisticuffs -- Ms. "I'm fat and I'm proud" vs. Ms. "Surgery? What surgery?" I heard Star might be leaving anyhoo. Did I ever tell you guys my Star Jones story? Remind me if we ever hang out again. I can't reprint it here.

I made you a cookie but I eated it

I found this little cartoon with a little sad guy with a big head and it says "I made you a cookie but I eated it." For some reason that freaking tickles me like you wouldn't believe. I ran around all day yesterday randomly saying that to people and laughing like a retard. I worry about me sometimes.

I am a terrible friend who did not go out for her friend's birthday party last night. Because I suck. I really really suck. Some of my other friends who live in Harlem were in my 'hood yesterday afternoon which NEVER happens so I went to meet them and figured I had plenty of time to go out with said birthday friend later. Not realizing that beer + no food = drunk Louise. Drunk embarassing Louise. Drunk embarassing grabbing people and saying "I made you a cookie but I eated it" Louise.

Stories like this are occuring far too frequently in my life. So the new rule is (and those of you who drink with me and care about my karma will be asked to enforce this rule) I will have 1 drink followed by 1 water or 1 diet soda. Then if I want a 2nd alcoholic drink I may purchase one. But only after ingesting the non-alcoholic water or soda. Get it? This may lessen the chances of my missing any future birthday parties OR more importantly, showing up to your birthday party and making you wish that I would forget your phone number.

Cinco de Mayo

¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo todos! Es hora para el tequila y la cerveza y Chris robará un sombrero para mí. (Translation available here.)

So it is Cinco de Mayo (1) which is great! And it is my friend Shara's birthday (2) which means she is 29 and can stop throwing my old age in my face by saying, "Well, I'm only 28... blah blah blah." And it is almost time to leave work (3). So those are the three reasons to be happy at this hour, minute and second in time. Are you all happy? Yes? Well, good. You follow instructions well.

I am tired and my back hurts. I cancelled a date for tonight because I just can't handle romance tonight. Does that make sense to anyone but me and Katie? I just can't handle the whole "Where did you grow up? What do your parents do? How many sisters and brothers do you have?" I don't KNOW why so stop asking me people. But I like the person I was going to go out with so hopefully I will be able to reschedule. I just can't do it tonight.

Chris owes me some tequila so I have to run and meet him before he changes his mind. And then I will be galavanting all over the city. And wondering if I made a mistake cancelling my date.

Now as my friends and blog readers it is your job to assure me that I did NOT make a mistake and that you love me, idiosyncracies, foibles, neurocies and all. 'Cuz you do, right?

Bye bye Garofalo

When a celebrity becomes a scientologist (I am not capitalizing that word because I don't capitalize the names of CULTS) I am forced to stop liking them. I am sorry to say that I have to add Janeane Garofalo to that group. She joins other celebrities that I used to like and respect -- Beck, Jason Lee, Danny Masterson, Leah Remini. Why Janeane? Why? Why has thou foresaken me and all of your other intelligent fans who used to look to you for wisdom and political insight? Bastard scientologists. They fucking ruin everything.

If Kate Moennig or John Frusciante get lured away I'm leaving the country, I swear. Because that means no one is safe.

Whiny assed people

Here is what annoys me. When people phrase questions like this:

"You wouldn't want to go to the store and get me cigarettes?"

"You don't want me to come back in today, right? I mean by the time I get there it will be time to come home." (Co-worker who left to go to a doctor's appointment.)

Please people, don't phrase questions this way! Just ASK for what you want. "Will you go get cigarettes for me? Would you mind if I didn't come back to work?" It sounds so WHINY the other way.

I heard about this singer that I will supposedly like called Rachael Sage. Anyone know her stuff? Anyway she is playing in Brooklyn tonight at Pete's Candy Store. I might go check it out. I might ALSO be bringing a date. Stay tuned for how that goes.

Tough talking to hats

So anyone who was sitting anywhere near me at the Yankee game yesterday may have heard me scream "Catch that ball, you son of a bitch or I will come down there and kick you in the testicles." Yes, I did say that. No, I had no intention of actually kicking Johnny Damonin the balls. But I would like to point out that he did catch the ball and the Yankees won. Ah well, my friends Diane and Anthony thought it was pretty funny. It was even funnier when these Toronto fans behind me (yeah, I didn't know they existed either!) started to yell, "We love BJs!" (I assume as in Blue Jays but you know where their dirty minds were headed.) Some little kid behind us started to yell, "BJs suck!" He did not have a dirty mind because he was like 8 years old. It was so sweet... and twisted. He was just trying to be a loyal fan and he inadvertently said something very naughty. All together now... AWWWWWWW!!!

Work today was so quiet but I was really tired anyway and not making much sense. I spent like 15 minutes of this afternoon having a nonsensical conversation with Chris over IM. Something about my hat saying "hello" and then I think I called the hat a slut. I don't really know where that conversation was going.

Was anyone affected by the protests? There was like NO ONE working at Au Bon Pain. They had all the slow cashiers on duty, the ones who can't make change, I think because no one else showed up. I wanted to see the human chain but no one seemed to know where it was. I heard it went all the way to Queens. Is that true? Did any of you take part? Did any of you take off of work? I would have if I had remembered. Or if anyone from my office would have noticed that I was gone.

The other exciting news of the day is that Tara Jarmon is coming to Target. Is anyone else excited but me? Field trip to Target everyone!

I promise to be a little bit more exciting the next time I choose to write something. Actually, scratch that. I don't promise anything of the kind. I don't owe you people anything. You're not the boss of me! I mean, what can you do? Force me to be interesting. You and what army...

I have a feeling that last paragraph was headed in the same direction as the aforementioned slutty hat convo so I am going to end this here.