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