get in my belly
2 gulps of flat gingerale (gets me started in the morning)
half a pint of horchata (definitely a rare occasion for that to be in the fridge)
a greasy bacon, egg & cheese on croissant (so so heavenly)
a cup of milk (does a body good)
4 dunkin donuts munchkins (2 chocolate, 1 glazed, 1 coconut)
2 bottles of water (and counting)
... and there's a fuji apple staring at me as it perches on my desk
looks like it's going to be a fatty mcsecondhelpings day. yessss.
new music friday
this new music friday is brought to you by the letter "m"... bon appetit!
check out matt pond pa. it's a beautiful melancholy from philly. and there's a cellist. here are a couple mp3s:
grave's diseaseclosermeasure 3this is
m83. or what i like to call sweet creamy dreamy lazy afternoon music.
and last but not least, meet
M.I.A. brit maya arulpragasam sounds like nelly furtado meets post-gavin gwen with ethnic beats and poppy hooks.
new york, new york
you're high maintainance, impatient, and often belligerent. you're unattainably hip and you play it off so well. you're a thief of hearts (and wallets). you're a substance abuser recovering from depression. you take and take and give and give, but it's still a fucked up system. you hate the poseurs and mock the failures. you wine and dine with the latest and the greatest. you're pretentious with an tinge of amiable. you kick me when i'm down, chuckle to yourself and then help me up again. you're an arrogant bastard but you like to do favors. you're always keeping up "good apperarances" but i know you're muttering curses under your breath. you're artsy and musical and you know it. you're superficially compassionate. you say "i love you" but never completely mean it.
i heart thunderstorms
but not so much at work.
it's pouring rain in new york city. when the first clap of thunder shook our building my boss shrieked and my co-worker walked by and said "shit!" - quite loudly, might i add. classic.
girl talk
had a cute little talk with the girls last night about boys (of course). with her newfound love for londonites and all their british quirks and questions, new hotness karen asked us to choose 3 qualities in a guy that would guarantee our interest in him. jude started with non-asian, creative and funny. nhk seconded with tall, dark and nerdy. i came up with tall, smart and then had a really hard time thinking of the third one. the first thing that came to mind is jerky. yes, i tend to be drawn to jerks. i think it's the emotional arrogance that i find attractive. why is that?
after what seemed like 7 minutes with my mouth open (because that's how i think) i said musical. but i really still meant jerky.
remember this later
i like the name olivia.
waste your life
like me.
doing
this.
glory days
i miss the days of sitting on big floor cushions, watching rainbow brite episodes that my mom taped for me and eating cold ravioli with my fingers. i miss going to bed before 9pm and trying my hardest to stay awake as long as possible on saturday nights but never making it past 10:30.
i miss fighting with my brother and locking myself in the bathroom as to avoid his noogies. i miss playing kickball and thinking it was a real sport. i miss trading stickers with my friends and never actually using them. i miss playing with my little ponies and wishing that unicorns were real (and just as cute and colorful).
i miss sitting in the backseat of a car and not paying attention to traffic rules. i miss creating imaginary borders between my brother and myself. i miss getting my very first cassette (beach boys) and cd (rhythm nation). i miss my mom waking me up every morning with her cold hand treatment.
i miss the feeling of wanting to be grown up so i could finally break free from the chains of my adolescence. i miss measuring my height and marking it on the wall (and cheating a little too). i miss ayso soccer games and ballet recitals because we'd always get to celebrate afterwards.
i miss getting yelled at for getting rainbow sherbet when we went out for ice cream with my dad always saying "it's just sugar water!" i miss going on errands with my parents and falling asleep in the car.
i miss having only 2 pairs of shoes to choose from. i miss my white roller skates with yellow wheels and stopper. i miss getting really excited for mcdonalds. i miss making up songs and singing at the top of my lungs without a care in the world. i miss jumping headfirst into a pile of stuffed animals on my bed.
i miss my dad kissing me on my sleeping forehead before he left for work. i miss not having a wallet, keys and cellphone to worry about losing. i miss sunday mornings when my brother and i would fight over who gets the comics first. i miss not understanding doonsbury and the life of id.
i miss being proud of my ugly art projects like handprint turkeys and misshapen clay pots. i miss walking my dad to the couch after he falls asleep at the dinner table. i miss farting and giggling to myself. i miss "helping cook" dinner by handing things to my mom or dad.
i miss climbing trees and scaling fences. i miss taking night walks with my dad because i got to bring along a flashlight. i miss crying in my closet because nobody understood my complicated life. i miss my vivid imagination, which often was the only thing i needed.
when did i become so jaded?
i love my job
in the most sarcastic sense of the phrase.
on another note: please leave me comments. sign your name, keep it anonymous, i don't care. just validate my overeducated and underutilized existence. thank you.
google image search: picnic
in honor of this past cloudy cold spring weekend, punctuated by sheets of rain, i will pay homage (and thusly poke fun at) all the picnics of the world...
butch was such a promising high school student. he played junior varsity football and graduated in the top 65th percent in his class. then he had this crazy idea of patenting and selling beef jerky-flavored water. now he performs dentistry for the uninsured.
this is the worst 6 month anniversary ever. at least i have my spiked orange juice to ease the pain of my total loser boyfriend's so called special surprise. i'm cold and i'm squatting in sand eating a junior bacon cheeseburger. smile my ass. thanks to him i'm now a raging alcoholic. and possibly a lesbian. i'm so dumping him when we get home.
this is the life. i got my beer, my hoes and my camel. yeahhh, i'm the shit.
.JPG)
sure dad, take me to picnics and let me get painted like a little fairy and then curse at me 10 years from now when i'm a flaming queen with a heroine addiction. don't say you didn't see it coming. now where is that fucking clown who did this to me?
i swear she's just a old friend.
bullshit. i saw you checking out her saggy-ass 25 cent trailer park booty through your bifocals.
bitch, please.
put your right hand on your left knee and slouch over 3 degrees. this is looking really good. now, just imagine you're weightless, in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses. yesssss.
this safari totally blows. i'm eating lunch knee deep in water. i'm covered in mosquito bites and, oh great... there's an elephant. now i'm going to be trampled to death over a stupid peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
worst morning ever
well ok, not ever, but it was bad. i wake up just a little too late to go to the gym, but too early to get ready for work so i decide that i'll sleep for a little longer. however, the radiator isn't seeing things my way. its incessant banging (like a shovel to metal) keeps me lying in my bed, staring at my ceiling and cursing myself to numbness. 7:42.
so then i miss the express by 2 feet (after i hurdled the family of 4 holding hands on the stairwell). i get on the local and move up in cars at each stop only to stand by the door that not only closes on my purse (thus smashing my otherwise perfect banana) but also is completely shattered and haphazardly duct taped back together. i'm glad that the mta fare hikes are really being put to good use. 9:28.
i get off at times square (my favorite place in the world), run up the stairs, blaze through the turnstile (did i mention that i'm late, again?) only to be socked in the face by a woman spastically putting on her backpack. i can only assume that she's a tourist because to my pathetic wimper she responded, "oh honey, ahm sooo sawrry." i put up a forgiving hand and ran out to try and catch the blinking red hand across 42nd street. i play sidewalk frogger for 2 blocks and make it into the building by 9:32.
i get into the elevator by myself, grinning as the doors close, only to be halted by a rogue swinging newspaper causing the doors to reopen. who should get in but the annoying it guy from my department (that's IT, not "it") who proceeded to talk my ear off for the next 30 floors. bah. come on elevator, go faster. 9:34.
ok. i'm at my desk. evp's assistant calls. evp needs a car. evp needs a digital camera. evp wants you to meet her downstairs in 10 minutes. boss needs an out of office notice. other boss needs a list proofed. co-worker needs a spreadsheet. stomach needs food. 9:37.
in the words of the illustrious
chickenlittle, fuck you friday!
random rants on a thursday afternoon
i hate it when guys try to be nice and they hold the door open for you when you’re still like fifty feet away and then look you in the eye so that he knows that you know that he's holding it for you and then you have to run/walk in order to get to the door fast enough to accept the polite gesture without seeming like a meandering bitch. damn chivalry.
there must be some kind of unspoken new york elevator code of conduct that i don't know about. when people get on, they immediately assume the 4 corner position. if a 5th and 6th person gets on, they would stand somewhere in the middle, equidistant from the other passengers almost to a geometric preciseness. is it because we as americans value personal space as a high priority in potentially claustrophobic situations? or is it more of a subconscious physics issue employing the logic of balance for just in case the cables should snap and the relatively equal spread of weight would somehow prevent the car from plummeting 30 floors.
another thing: why do people turn around and face the front? when we park our cars we don't back it in so that we could peel out forwards. so why not face the back of the elevator? is it because we are so self-conscious that we must see everyone who gets on and off before our own departure? perhaps the our time spent in elevators is really a metaphor for life - people come and go and we make it a point to notice their presence but in the end, barring some serious situation (i.e. do you want to get off at 7 and grab some ice cream? ok!), our destination remains the same.
ha. i hope you didn't believe a word of that. (it's the 5 o'clock bullshit hour)
what? no tigers? no dragons?
i saw kung fu hustle last night with the judester. it was funny, but if you asked me why, i really couldn't tell you. i can't repeat any of the (subtitled) lines, nor can i really describe a scene that vividly. it was just... funny. like what the hell is going on funny. or maybe it was the half of a beer that i guzzled beforehand.
rating:
sing along suicide
the [girl in the] cube next to me has been playing dashboard confessional for the past hour and a half. and for my next trick, i will kill myself.
waste your time with me
and learn a lesson in animated child abuse.
this is an iq game and here are the rules:
everybody has to cross the river:
1. only 2 people on the raft at a time.
2. the father can not stay with any of the daughters without their mother's presence (or he will beat them).
3. the mother can not stay with any of the sons without their father's presence (or she will beat them).
4. the thief (striped shirt) can not stay with any family member if the policeman is not there.
5. only the father, mother and policeman know how to operate the raft.
6. to start click on the big blue circle on the right.
7. to move the people click on them. to move the raft click on the handle.
if you can't solve it, don't fret, just go back to eating your crayons.
dating at the gym
the following is my analysis on getting picked up at the gym:
pro: he's hot and sweaty
con: you're hot and sweaty (and smelly)
pro: he sees you w/o makeup and still thinks you're dateable
con: he expects you to look waay hotter on the date
pro: he thinks you're in pretty good shape
con: he'll assume that you're in pretty good shape
pro: you can be gym buddies
con: if you break up, you'll see him constantly (while hot and sweaty and smelly)
so what's the verdict?
and of course, this is all hypothetical because i didn't actually get picked up at the gym. however, this was running through my head this morning as i stared at cute gym guy (who i see regularly). he was stretching right above me while i was doing crunches on the mat. he was so close that i had to restrain myself from a fly-by ass grab. yes, girls do that too.
man i need to go out this weekend.
smile
answer phone
raise intonation
assume faux joviality
chuckle if needed
transfer to voicemail
hang up, scowl, bang head on desk
repeat throughout the day. welcome to my life.
destructing kings of leon
funny accents... check
shaggy and grizzly... check
thrift store blazers... check
same last name... check
humble semi-sordid past... check
big in london... check
indiemusicblog appeal... check
catchy and annoying song that gets stuck in my head and no matter how hard i try i can't get that twangy chorus to go away... arrrgh! (check)
all kidding aside, the
album is pretty good.
rating:
spring is in the air
i heart vectors.
and i need a tan.
hey it's 4/20
and you know what that means...
yep, staying at work til 10pm (again) and then going home and promptly passing out on my bed. i'm such an animal!
for the love of all things interesting and relatively useless
sweet german pope i'm bored. so i decided to surf. not wanting to succumb to the familiar lure of my favorites list, i felt the need to type random words into google and see what came of my e-exploration. so here are a few items of current intrigue:
this is a vititar. yes, akin to the (n)ever-so-cool keytar of devo fame. it controls the visual background that is usually projected onto a screen behind the band. lucky is the nerd who rocks this baby on stage with the rest of the band.
this is a clock. it's supposed to be 12:34, but to me it just looks like piet mondrian-o'clock. all art history analojokes aside, those crazy people at
thinkgeek.com are indeed uh... crazy. like a fox! ok, moving on.
it turns tv's off. marketed for use in restaurants, bars, and even laundromats to get people to pay attention to other people and/or the task at hand. apparently it's supposed to jolt us eye-swirling zombies out of our tv trances so that we won't waste 10 years of our lives on mindnumbing programming. yeah whatev. to whoever said that television is dumbing down america, i should sick alton brown and those two guys from mythbusters on you to show you who's dumb. and the cast of the o.c. (who will just make you feel bad about your superficial inadequacies). so there.
it's like
acid-lite. upload a song or choose one from the library already on the site and see what shape it takes. definitely too cool for school. i suggest going for something other that your standard pop file.
that's it for now. until next time pseudo-nerd... out.
me-ow!
this post is dedicated to cats and websites about cats. i would say that some people have waay too much time on their hands, but that would make me the kettle.
now would this be considered as art imitating life? or just plain creepy?
actually,
this site has a bunch of crazy kitty pictures to keep you awwing for hours. the button doesn't work so you have to refresh using your browser.
then there's
the infinite cat project where users submit a picture of their cat looking at the computer that has an image of the previous cat looking at the previous cat, and so forth. here's a good example:
cute, no? and the cat's name is vodka red bull. almost as good as the 2 pound teacup chihuahua i met named kate moss. seriously, naming your pet is half the joy of having one. and on that note, stella is the new jennifer, and unless your name is ben affleck, that's not a good thing.
which brings me to my favorite kat:
germans are having the best day ever
i can't make fun of this picture. that would be sacreligeous. so don't even think about what i would say (because you know me so well). He knows.
you can buy your way out of prison
but you can't buy your way out of ugly.
i think martha's great. but this bag isn't. it looks like a cross between my dad's 1970s briefcase and my mom's 1970s gardening bag. ew.
now this is a bag...
i love evil
i love advertising. perhaps it's the cognitive dissonance of being what i studied in college, but there's something else about a great ad campaign that really makes me weak in the knees. however, we all know that advertising is evil. therefore (go transient property!), i love evil.
i was in the gym this morning watching not one, but two tv's that were both showing two different spanish language stations (shrug). usually i just space out to my ipod, but the fact that two spanish channels were on was so mind boggling that i had to watch. so i tried reading the captions but my lack of high school spanish retention coupled with my arctrainer-induced wobbly eyesight forced me to try to understand it based on the image alone. they were pushing very commonplace products - tylenol, health insurance, gatorade, bally's gym membership - wait, a different gym? i was in a gym, being marketed to by a different gym. i felt guilty for watching the commercial, but it was so good. flashy images of toned women and really good looking and ripped men really made me want to join bally's, or at least check out the hot guys who supposedly go there. then i thought, maybe it's my brain's increase in endorphins that is making me more susceptible to advertising. in which case, maybe it's a good idea to put more advertising at gyms or ball games or racetracks or pretty much anywhere people may be potentially excitable. maybe we should fill the world with advertising, but in a way that we don't actually know that it's there. product placement, sponsorship, sweepstakes, street teams... the possibilities are endless.
man, i'm totally going to hell.
the double kiss
what's up with the faux euro double kiss that we all as hip new yorkers have adapted as the standard greeting? fine, color me frigid, but i think that the double kiss is totally an invasion of face. especially since it's fast becoming the introductory norm - like, the handshake is so last year. first of all, you never know which way to go first. is it my right or your right? with a 50 50 chance that you could be wrong, you end up hesitating with your eyes darting around to try gauge the other person's direction, thus making the situation completely awkward. not to mention the fact that you look like a nervous pigeon. further along the process, perhaps as a direct result of the initial awkwardness, you may not remember pull away enough to facilitate the other cheek kiss and end up in quite an uncomfortable, albeit split second, nose on nose contact. seriously, i'm stressed just thinking about it. we shouldn't have to put ourselves in that kind of emotional strain. plus, really, what are we kissing? the air in the vicinity of the recipient's ear? is that area so special as to warrant my feigned symbolic act of love? so, in conclusion, the double kiss is just a waste of endorphins. save it for your saturday nights... you know what i mean.
(that was for you)
loserville, usa
i'm the mayor.
it's friday night, 10:45pm. let's backtrack a little, shall we? i have dinner with my roommate and two of her buddies from work. good. she leaves for philly, they go back uptown -- bad. i call other roommate. she's out with other friends -- bad. i call my inner circle. they're either staying in, spending time with significant other, or not picking up the phone -- worse. i even call the ex-bf with lame excuse of rounding up friends to go see a show (hoping that he'd round up a few of his cute friends to go with him). celebrating current gf's birthday -- i think i have a straight razor here somewhere. so then i admit defeat and convince myself that a night alone in the apartment will be a nice change of pace. i can practice my drums, butcher janis joplin songs on my guitar, and lounge around in my underwear. fantastic! so i'm checking out my undie-cladded self in the mirror (hawaii is 1 month away), walking back and forth between my room and the kitchen (checking if i have any missed calls -negative- going for the pint of ben and jerry's), when i look out my window and see middle aged neighbor man walking around in his underwear. that's when i realized: i'm a total loser. lights off, blog on -- cry through my fingers.
help!
honesty is style
don't you think?
i love music and whine
i would give up bacon to go to
this.it's sold out. not to mention that it's all the way across the pond.
i'm missing coachella too. wah wah wah.
damn you slow connection
i tried getting tickets to beck's apparently not so secret show tomorrow night at hiro. damn this office firewall. i couldn't even get to ticketweb.com. as it is 12 minutes after it went onsale, i'm sure it's now sold out and being hawked on craigslist for millions of dollars and first born children. damn damn damn. and as the defeatist that i am, i'll just sit here and wallow in my box of girl scout cookies, listen to guero (awesome) on my itunes, and accept that the only place i can see the spaztastic beck is on ovation (a much underrated channel, might i add).
now if i were him, where would my afterparty be?
i'm a mess
i read an e-mail today that made me cry... at work. face flushed, tears welled, and i pretended that i had something in my eye.
so, to the writer of said e-mail, if you're reading this, i totally understand. do what you have to do. i'll be here.
somewhere on a new york subway platform, the tiniest violin is playing... with a cello.
fatty mcsecondhelpings
i was good today. until about 40 minutes ago. woke up early and went to the gym (saw cute boy from work doing bench presses - ok, so that's 50% of my motivation to go there). packed a snack of an orange and some crudite. had a bowl of kashi for breakfast. resisted the m&m machine despite walking by there with quarters in my pocket... twice. went to the lodge for lunch to get a nice healthy salad with fat free vinagrette. on my way back i stopped by our floor's pantry to refill my water bottle when (gasp) i saw a mountain of take out containers filled with pasta, veal, calamari, eggplant, ravioli, chicken, grilled vegetables, bread, etc. it was like italy catered a royal wedding and brought it to the wrong place. still holding my pathetic container of salad, i was torn. but i made the right decision. i dumped the salad out and replaced it with dreamy italian goodness. and now i'm sitting at my desk, clutching my stomach, cursing my gluttony. feck.
wake up (mofo)
i like these commercials in a can't take my eyes off carwrecks and plastic surgery shows way. my roommates can attest to the fact that i watch it whilst screaming (everytime). those minds at crispin porter + bogusky are sick... and awesome.
OMG - i'm swooning
OH MY GOD (and i never use caps that liberally). a writer on curbed.com confirmed that trader joes, my grocery dreamboat, is coming to union square. now i definitely can't move too far away from that food slut paradise. anyone have a rent-stabilized studio in gramercy that they want to hand over in august or september?
oh man. this is big. salsa verde and pita and cheap wine and mud pie and granola... here i come! my heart is doing a metaphorical hoedown.
SWEET!
boredom begets banality
he likes hugs.
and bacon.
only in new york
i got out of work late today (again). thank the sweet lord for overtime. anyway, i get onto a not-so-crowded local train and sit and listen to my ipod/pretend to read the new yorker. at the next stop, these two guys get on the train whilst deep in conversation. one guy sits down to the right of me, leaving less than six inches of space for his friend to either sit across from him or suck it up and remain standing. nope. he did neither. in fact, still exchanging wit with freshly sitting friend, he proceeds to aim for sitting in the six inches of remaining space and ends up landing in my very suprised lap. upon realizing his metroblunder, he jumps up (replacing his previous conversation with slight embarrassment) and gives me a quick look that i read as "pardon me miss, if you don't mind me asking you to move over just a little bit so i can sit here and talk with my cherished childhood friend whom i haven't seen (or sat next to) in many years nor will i ever see him again because he's moving to uzbekistan tomorrow and all i have is until prince street." but what actually came out of his mouth was, "hey yo, couldya - " i scooted before he could finish.
attitude is the new courtesy.
simma don nah!
i went to the save the music concert last night with a gimpin (less pimpin) matty. performing was alicia keys, john legend, rob thomas, robert randolph, josh groban, joss stone, rod stewart and donna summer. it was great - i was able to learn so much. for instance, i didn't know that not only was josh groban fluent in melodic italian, but he also rocks out (as much as a light opera singer can) on the drums. ok, i'm not giving him enough credit here - he's a pretty good drummer. another revelation - heidi klum is vapid. sorry matty, but i knew from her project runway show that she's no master orater, but this was pathetic. i'm not being i-hate-her-because-she's-skinny-and-gorgeous-ly unkind, i know a few guys who will attest to that fact (and they'll subsequently qualify their statement with a "but she's totally hot"). also, rob thomas is totally awkward without his band. he can't dance - and it looked like his part was choreographed too. he sings marginally well, but he was suffering from "i wear my sunglasses at night" (and inside for that matter) syndrome... so sad. furthermore, joss stone is a british ditz - but i still think she's amazingly talented - and alicia keys gives great live performances. she and john legend should get married. then they can have ridiculously good looking musical genius babies. finally, rod stewart is actually made of wax and donna summer shops at strawberry (circa 1997). oh yeah, i also learned a new word that i will anachronistically continue to abuse (ha!). whew. my brain hurts.
anyway, watch the show this sunday night (april 17) on vh1. i won't be on tv because the camera crane couldn't reach the nosebleed section. but watch it anyway.
save the music is a great cause that funds music education programs in schools. learn more at http://www.vh1.com/shows/events/save_music/2005/foundation.jhtml
go fish
damn these shoes are cute.
somebody new
i'm tired of the current me. something needs to change, but i'm not sure what. i've been quite uninspired lately and i think it's because i'm stuck in life-limbo. i tried coloring my hair but the black dye from last time wouldn't have any of it. i tried shopping for new shoes but even that didn't help. this is serious. i think i need to meet somebody.
drinking wine through a crazy straw
quote of the day
coworker 1: if you had three wishes, what would they be?
coworker 2: winning the lottery, never having to work again and a monkey on my shoulder to punch you in the face for asking stupid questions.
yesssss.
i need your help
in the process of self-reinvention. step 1: read more. i'm always the schmuck on the subway who just sits/stands there and listens to her ipod while everyone else is buried in text (educational or not, nevertheless reading). so i'm forced to stare at people and judge them based on their outfits. damn i'm superficial. help!
i need a suggestion of a good book to read.
wait, seriously?
i admit that i'm a bit of an e-friend whore. i'm a closeted member of such fine online organizations as friendster, facebook and myspace. but besides posting an ever-so-witty profile and some stupid pictures of myself, i'm not exactly proactive in making my e-friends. i like to tell myself that people just want to be friends with me out of sheer initial attraction (don't burst my bubble).
so anyway, i get a handful of messages every week, and they're all either from local bands that want me to come to their show or local boys suffering from ennui and egregiously bad grammar. even though i have come to expect nothing better than these two categories, i still immediately log on every time i get a message notice in my e-mail. much to my non-surprise, i received a message this morning from random local boy saying something in response to my profile (linebreak) telling me his aim screenname (linebreak) and then asking if he could lick my clit (end message). now i'm far from prudish, but wtf was that?
i want you now
wow, there's nothing more titillating than seeing businessmen on the street yelling into their cellphones. they must be so powerful and everyone within earshot knows it. they just exude strength and manliness with every exclamation. added points for noticeable teeth clenching or wild arm gesticulations. another bonus for repetitive explitives used in various forms. it makes me totally horny just thinking about it. and by horny, i mean disgusted.
things that suck.
the weather was absolutely beautiful today. too bad i stayed at work til 7:30. that sucked. here are more things that suck as well:
3 girls sharing a 700 sq ft apartment, working out next to a smelly person, tons of finely chopped cilantro ruining otherwise yummy guacamole, dropping my cell phone (again and again), not remembering someone's name (after you've asked at least twice already), broken cd cases, spiral staircases.
getting my heel stuck in subway grates, stifling a coughing fit during important meetings, men who bathe in cheap cologne, getting sweaty in the elevator, red wine stains, close talkers, slow walkers.
otherwise normal sized people assuming double-wide position on the escalator, "back in 5 minutes" signs when you're in a hurry, server maintainence at most inopportune times, unattended cell phones incessantly ringing, people who shoulder-hover.
illustrator freezing my computer, peeling an orange and then dropping it on the floor, slamming my wrist into doorknobs (or knees into desk corners), people who don't know what they're talking about but insist that they're right, losing an earring.
photocopier warm up time, people bending over backwards for executives (and kissing major ass), buttons falling off my coat, and having to stop writing my blog because i have to get lunch for my boss.
suit now, sweat later
this morning i was on a pretty crowded local train (i just missed the express because of a clogged stairwell - don't you hate that?) and i was standing next to a mid-twenties guy wearing a dark grey pinstriped suit. the suit - oh the suit - was gorgeous. it must have been a blend of wool, silk, and little piece of heaven because when the train jerked and i brushed my hand against his back, i honestly felt shivers - the really good kind. i felt such a connection with the suit. it made me curious about the guy inside. so at the 34th st drop i was able to maneuver to the front of said suit. i was not even the slightest bit coy about it. i sized him up like a horny guy who sees a skirt in the middle of winter (whatever - i was getting off on the next stop anyway). any other day, he would have been just plain decent looking, but there was something about that suit and the crisp white shirt beneath it. and the shoes - black leather, square toed, matte yet still shiny. i'm breathing heavily just thinking about it.
yum.
my favorite things
the sun is really trying to kick the clouds' collective ass today. and i love it. so, as a homage to weather phenomena that i love, i will share other things in this crazy crazy world that makes it all worthwhile. so here we go:
beams of sunlight you can actually see, tangerines that have no seeds, catching the train just as you make it to the perfect spot, when other people say "sucker" or "kiss my ass" and mean it, emotionally unavailable semi-alcoholics, fresh out of the oven bread pudding (sans raisins).
when my ipod on random matches my mood, when people name inanimate objects (to a certain extent), kissing a guy with whiskey breath, singing while walking down the street, my just shaven and lotioned legs, edamame.
dark chocolate anything, putting away clean laundry, mom calling just to say hi (and that's it), chick peas, getting on and off the subway at the same stations as a really cute guy (ok, and then following him for a few blocks until it becomes really out of my way).
dancing to hip hop in my cowboy boots, sneaking lots of food and candy into the movies and making everyone jealous, big juicy medium rare hamburgers for breakfast, walking around for no particular reason, sitting on the roof.
6foot plus guys (extra height facilitates nestling), shopping for shoes while wearing new shoes, sharing new music with other people, texas steaks, and jeff buckley.
gotta get back to work. the filing cabinet is calling my name. sucker.
me me me
birthday: november 4, 1982 (scorpio, baby)
born: (and raised) upland, ca
residing: new york, ny
edumacation: upenn
job: indentured servant, mtv networks
blood: brother, 25
i rock at: rocking
i suck at: contract killing
9 things to love
beautiful delicious food
drum solos
jeff buckley
kiehls lip balm
purposefully doing nothing
meaningful hugs
taking crazy pictures with my crazy friends
vintage furniture
kissing whiskey breath
9 things to loathe
dirty looks
gawking tourists
horror movies
overexplainers
paper cuts in between my fingers
pretentious accessories
soggy bread
sweating on the subway platform
watermelon flavored candy
