inexplicable fears
my friend
chelsea has an inexplicable fear of sidewalk performers. i thought that was pretty funny. perhaps you will find my inexplicable fears funny as well. here's my top ten*:
1. movies with talking babies
2. balloon animals
3. really long sideburns
4. animals dressed up like other (different) animals
5. skinny knees (think about it - it's the only think holding together your femur with your tibia and fibula. and your femur essentially props up the rest of your body. one swift kick and you could end up faceplanting the concrete covered in shattered glass and dirty hypodermic needles)
5.5. shattered glass and dirty hypodermic needles
6. really cold hands
7. noisy eaters
8. that i won't think that i'll hurt myself and actually do something that will hurt myself (i.e. jump off a roof)
9. vomit
10.
this[shudder]
*note: i fear many(many) other things - these are just the ones that you may gain pleasure just from knowing and most likely use them against me in the near future.
you've probably seen it already
but in case you haven't, go see
wedding crashers. owen wilson is funny (as usual) but vince vaughn takes it to a whole new level with perfectly timed and impeccably delivered sardony laced rants. it is hands down the funniest movie of the year.
canto vi
i'm getting deeper into the land of bloggers. it's sick and i hate/love/hate myself for being this way. i now actually jot things down as they occur, thinking, "this would be great fodder for an evening post." and of course, like any other self-accepting self-proclaiming blogger, i also read other people's blogs religiously. it's actually quite easy to get lost in the maze of links. however, woe is me tonight when i stumbled upon
this. talk about meta. and then within that site there's a list of bloggers, grouped by a-list to c-list. and then there's
this. i have - no words to - i, um, what? seriously? you're not - ok... yeah.
i'm not being hypocritical, i'm just drawing the line. a little to the left... yeah, right there.
dry spell
so after my spectacular display of champagne-fueled idiocy last night, i've decided to play it low key tonight with dinner and a movie:
[dinner]
[movie]
i know, it's pretty pathetic, but you don't understand (well, maybe some of you do). last night was ba-a-ad. here's what i can remember: 1. on the way home i got in a fight with a garbage truck. 2. i walked up five flights of stairs (even though i live in an elevator building), apparently thoroughly convinced that i was on some sort of mountain climbing expidition because i basically pulled myself up by the railing the entire time. 3. i brushed my teeth while sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor. 4. (here's the kicker) i tried to write down all the stupid stuff that i did that night so that i could (entertain you and) blog about it later and this is what i wrote: "mouthguard funny specimen of womanly grace [line break] kicked my heel knee sleep sounds good." (and how).
announcement: jade is henceforth on the wagon until further notice.
isn't it ironic
my 11th favorite canadienne will soon be shilling for the gap. i know that the gap has recently revamped its image and now it's a lot more edgy/trendy, but honestly, nothing is going to look good with alanis's
new haircut. those short choppy bangs just don't work unless you're a. four years old and just tall enough to reach the scissors or b. audrey tatou.
and joining mrs. jagged little van wilder are ghetto hat cocked right jason mraz, coolest. penn. grad. ever. john legend, whitechocolatespacesellout liz phair, mr. nicole kidman aussie/country superstar luke wilson lookalike keith urban, i'm the one who can't really sing but my legs still look sick in a mini skirt michelle williams of destiny's child, and i'll actually be sporting gap kids because i'm such a troubled waif brandon boyd of incubus fame. these new commercials will be centered around these stars' favorites (music and gap clothes, of course) and are slated to hit mtv's laguna beach: the real oc (my ass) viewers next month. i can't wait. my eyes roll in anticipation.
brrr... nevermind
the office is colder than normal. good thing i have my short-sleeved jacket that i left here the other day because it was too damn hot to wear anything outside other than a single wifebeater lest i melt into a puddle and proceed to get trampled on by the hoardes of molasses in january times square tourists who can't seem to angle their large midwestern heads any lower than 15 degrees from looking straight up. stupid fashion over function ideology (i know, i still love it).
random randomings
bill nye goes to aa - a drunk science project...
hypothesis: i [speaker] am smart
procedure: start with one part obvious, add two and a half parts stupidity
results: hopefully you won't remember what you just said
conclusion: we're definitely laughing at you, not with you
bringing your two year old to the office because it's a half day - very cute...
and thank god it's a half day (two year olds are best enjoyed in no more than 10 minute intervals with intermittant periods of meditation and overall chi-centering)
wearing my hair in two buns - the princess leia comments never get old...
or do they?
reading other peoples blogs all morning - makes me realize that i'm on not nearly enough prescription medications
bizarro italy
as i was walking home from an exciting night of cheesetastic nachos, hiptastic revelers, vibetastic sextoys, and the best. gelato. ever. (and not necessarily in that order), i stumble upon my hood-gone-disney. mulberry between broome and spring had become this bizarro italy. mulberry street late at night is normally lit by a couple streetlamps here and there and the occasional restaurant glow, but this two block stretch was abnormally (and excessively) bright from many lighted arches and floodlights placed every ten or so feet, separated by carny game trucks and funnel cake stands (and naturally, there was a guy selling knockoff sunglasses at the corner). it felt like a high wattage low budget times square. granted, this is a mere apertif of what will be the san gennaro festival in september, but it's still a little weird to walk through "it's a small world" on my way home.
what struck me as the most odd, however, is walking by the closed sausage and peppers truck and then immediately passing a lone albino pony that was tied up to a street meter. i'm pretty sure i did a doubletake/backstep/jawdrop/look around to see if anyone else noticed it just chilling there. and of course, i had neither my camera nor my phone (nor my camera phone) to capture the evidence. it might as well have been a unicorn standing there smoking a cigar and talking to a tap dancing street meter. i was floored, but only for a second because, after all, this is new york.
cheapo/skato
if you're an nyc-er and you like free things then check
this out.
loved by wallets, loathed by livers.
homage to the grub monkey
i like salads. let me rephrase that - i like a huge pile of random foods with a little lettuce sprinkled on it. today's defiance of my compartmental tendency: black olives, kidney beans, chick peas, grilled salmon, bacon (lots and lots), mushrooms, crispy chinese noodles, artichoke hearts, mandarin oranges, broccoli and a couple pieces of tofu (just for the illusion of health consciousness) proceeded by a tsunami of sesame vinagrette. yum. yeah, i love salads.
i also love apple pie. ooh and now i love the new fudge hersheys kisses. indeed, i am a food slut.
'tude
yo, i don't need it.
people are on the edge today. between the scowling woman in the subway who kept teethsuck/sighing repeatedly (honestly, this is the new york subway system - people hardly care when somebody falls into the tracks, let alone your own personal problems) and the snappy security guards in the building who kept yelling about "keeping lines" and "orderness (yep, not a word) in the lobby", there must be something in the water.
to all of you with the attitude...
will you just get a blog where you can vent your frustration online so i don't have to hear it?
thank you in advance.
you whine, i plead
somebody please teach the indie kids how to dance.
last night i took danny-go-go out for his belated birthday concert. we saw
the head set and
the harlem shakes at pianos. it was a great show and i have the ruined pedicure and damaged ear drums to prove it. but my point - these indie kids dance like an epileptic cyndi lauper/madonna/pat benetar on hallucinogens. girls and guys abound were vogueing, shimmying, self-touching to the beat (almost)... truly, it was everything but wall-licking. a particularly energetic young lad had a penchant for alternate foot stomping as his form of musical expression. he happened to be right in front of me. and instead of the requisite chuck taylors (gasp! what was he thinking?) he was sporting heavy black boots, most likely of the passive-aggressive-type-combat persuasion. yes, congratulations, you master of deduction - indeed he was the culprit of my smashed toes.
other than that, it was lotsa lotsa fun. here's some audio, i'll leave the video up to your imagination...
late for the show by the head set
pure convenience by the head set
(shakes mp3s can be found on their
website)
p.s. i heart drummers (reaffirmation, i know).
vid-yo
wow. i'm actually busy. so i'll leave you with some music videos...
the coast is always changing by maximo park
coffee & tv by blur
lighten up by morcheeba
work, work, work (pub, club, sleep) by the rakes
bon appetit!
bring the pain
know thy limits.
there once was a girl who recently moved to another department. in her jobless interim, she managed to break her arm in three places because of an undisclosed personal weekend mishap (we all have our outlandishly humiliating suspicions but none have been actually confirmed). so she starts her new position and she's off to a good start. and by good i mean heavily sedated by various (and most likely multiple) pain meds. she calls me twice in ten minutes wondering how to turn on her screen saver because she didn't want anyone to see her computer while she goes to the bathroom. mind you, she schlurred every schingle... multischyllabic... word that... she schaid (yeah, it's kinda like that). she then e-mails many of her ex-department co-workers asking where the drinking party is. i can just imagine her in her new office spinning around in her new chair, playing loud and offensive music and allthewhile drooling. the worst part about it is that she was actually promoted to this new position. oh, the shame!
designaroo
i like to make hypothetical t-shirts...
[geek + guitar] girl, you know it's true
[lie to me] because that's the way (uh huh, uh huh) i like it
[tease] you're so vain, you probably think this shirt is about you
[ride me] back seat, windows up...
[blogaholic] i'm bad, i'm bad, you know it
and then there's my
favorite one out there.
barely breathing, barely making sense
i went to jess's friend chris garneau's show last night at the living room. he's a pretty talented singer/songwriter who plays mellow piano driven pop with a slightly annoying faux brit twang. i forgave him though because there was a cello involved. and i, like the judes, totally heart the cello. he also had a backup vocalist who played the guitar and/or this other instrument that involved blowing into a tube and playing a mini keyboard. i'm not sure what it's called (and i'm too lazy to look it up) but it was a bit amusing to watch him really get into it (eyes closed, leaning in and out, head wavering). but who am i to judge - it could very well be an emotion arousing instrument.
oh yeah, duncan sheik (of barely breathing fame) played back up guitar - and he kept effin it up too.
so after chris's set finished, duncan stayed on stage to play with his new yet to be named band (himself plus two other guys who switch off playing bass and acoustic guitar). they were ok... not fantastic, not terrible, just plain yogurt ok. there was this one song, however that was a little cringeworthy. it began each line (not verse -- line) with "love is." i can't remember the exact lyrics, but one line was "love is an umbrella" and another was "love is a flower." i immediately had visions of bette midler and tried my hardest not to laugh out loud. there were other problems though: they all were playing off different setlists. they had to start a song over because of poor tuning. they dealt with broken strings and missing capos. they had between song banter that only elicited pity laughter. it was a pretty shoddy operation, but i concede on the premise that it was only their second show playing together. on the whole, the harmonies were pretty but uninventive, the lyrics were more miss than hit and the staging needed a lot of work. other than that i give it one half-hearted thumbs down and one anticipatory (and generous) thumbs up.
curiouser and curiouser
i had quite an interesting commute...
i run out of my apt building and on my walk to the subway i see a row of men sitting on the curb (maybe 4 or 5 of them) playing with their bananas. i'm not being dirty, they each had a banana and the were playing catch with them. of course, i giggled like a little schoolgirl at the thought of it.
then i get into the subway at canal and i see a crowd of people standing much closer to the tracks than the wall, yet they're all looking back towards the wall. i get closer and they're actually looking at this guy who was walking towards the front of the platform. lo and behold, behind this guy was a small-dog-sized rat. i'm not talking maltese/yorkie, i'm talking westie/beagle. it was just walking along, in no apparent hurry to get anywhere, and honestly i wouldn't have been surprised if it was carrying a newspaper and a briefcase. the train came before i could dig through the abyss that is my workbag to get out my cameraphone (honestly, i'm completely useless).
so then i get out at times square and i see three crimes of fashion in a line walking up the stairs. one: a girl with a pretty cropped green blazer, chunky coral jewelry, gold ankle wrap sandals, and white pleat front single cuffed long shorts with capri length black leggings underneath. why the leggings? the outfit was perfect sans leggings? and if you must wear the leggings for some orthopedic reason then don't wear shorts over them! ok, two: messy ponytail, gold aviators, tastefully embellished sheerish breezy white tunic top with a three sizes too large denim trumpet flared skirt. she looked like the clothes were attacking her otherwise trendy self. and last but certainly not least, three: really cute red woven open-toed wedges and camo cropped pants cinched at the knee held up by a pink studded belt with (get this) plaid boxer shorts underneath. she was sagging the pants so that about 3 inches of plaid boxers were showing. what the hell? it's like she somehow switched torsos with a skater circa 1995. needless to say, i was appalled. danny-g, you would have been too.
and how.
mouth beach diet
so i had the mistake of eating lunch with the
hens and some other poultrylike females. so there i was, eating my smorgasbord of deep fried goodness (chicken strips and onion rings) amongst the salads, yogurts and low-salt turkey wraps, when somebody mentioned the word diet. normally it goes unsaid that most women are practicing some sort of taste constraining masochism, but this turned into an all out preach session. here's an excerpt:
"squak squak squak, squak squak, squak squak. squak?"
"squak."
the worst was when somebody started explaining the benefits of the south beach diet. apparently this is the only one that works because it's the only one that's created by a cardiologist and its the only one that let's you eat carbs--i beg to differ, my diet lets me eat carbs and it's called the eat-whatever-you-want-because-you-only-live-once (but get your fat ass to the gym once in a while) diet. it turned into a 45 minute lecture on the virtues of counting nuts and jump starting your metabolism. i wanted to jump start myself out of there but i was trapped. i hadn't yet finished my gluttonous lunch and i had no work excuse because my boss was sitting at the table with us. i felt like a guy watching oprah. man, it was painful.
i'm in love... pt. 4
[i am kloot] hi. i am kloot. pleased to meet you.
i-scream, i-ball, i-pod,
i am kloot... qui? despite having a band name that makes me giggle, this brit trio plays warm and punchy music with insightful lyrics and headbopping beats. and best yet, they're playing a free show at the south street seaport with my favorite kelly clarkson coverer, ted leo & the pharmacists, on friday august 26th. have a little listen:
over my shounderto youmorning rain
[jeremy enigk] funny, he doesn't look emo to me
former sunny day real estater
jeremy enigk released a solo album in 96 called
return of the frog queen. it's a great album - don't worry, it's much more orchestral than emo.
lewis hollow
[kleenex girl wonder] indeed, they are a band
kleenex girl wonder is songwriter graham smith's outlet of emotion, real or fake. his songs are inventive and catchy, if not catchy and inventive. this review makes no sense, but some of his songs do... kinda.
ameliatendency right foot forwardthe nearest future (live)
[the layaways] it ain't easy being... why do i even bother?
the layaways make sweet pop. i'm tired. just listen.
silencethe long nightya basta!
another one bites the dust
--actually, my leg. for a grand total of 7 ill-placed mosquito bites. i know that's not a lot (compared to the one time in malaysia where i was graced with a little over 50 bites) but i'm indoors for 95% of the day. those crafty sons of beeyotches. i honestly think they're getting smarter. they must confer with each other as to which spot on the human body is the absolute worst place to have a bite. so here are my top five suckiest places for a mosquito bite (and yes, pun very much intended):
1. the exact spot in the middle of your back that without double jointedness or gymnastlike flexibility is physically impossible to reach - i'm currently sporting this lovely mofo. this one's fun because you have to rely on other people or objects in order to satisfy the itch. i'm a personal fan of the covert rub on the back of my chair. yeah ok, it's less covert when i'm obscenely cursing all mosquitos and the spiteful God that put them on this earth while writhing uncontrollably like an epileptic under a strobe light, but that was just that one time.
2. the bottom of your foot. if it's on top or in the arch or near the side you can use a pen and shove it in your shoe repeatedly but if it's bottom you're doomed to doing impromptu hoe-downs in the middle of the office.
3. anywhere on your face. because, let's face it, we're all superficial and bites on the face look like giant living breathing beginning of an entire ecosystem pimples. that's right class, pimples are ugly.
4. back of the knees. for the same reason that it sucks to be sunburt there - it's sensitive and it's always in motion.
5. the palm. and since scratching just aggrevates it even more, the only way to quell the itch is to smack something. or someone. just make sure it's not a cop.
and now that you've read this and really have thought about it, aren't you a little itchy? perhaps on your shoulder or your right leg? what's that? psychosomatosis? i'm sorry.
truly, i am.
itchy. but not that kind of itchy.
stupid effin mosquitos. so in addition to the one on my wrist, i have discovered bites on my shoulder, my knee and best of all, the exact spot in the middle of my back that i cannot reach with either hand. anything worse would be a pretty little case of west nile.
update
that's what it looks like (in case you were wondering).
uninspired
i've been feeling quite lethargic lately. is it the weather?
i was walking by the new hard rock cafe this morning in times square and witnessed the calvin klein cruel and unusual punishment campaign. so it was really a street promotion for ck1 with 10(ish) man and women dancing on the two balconies above the hard rock sign. i actually felt sorry for those poor writhing waifs. if you're in the new york area you know how wickedly disgusting the weather is right now (90degrees/90humidity). to top that off, they were dressed in all black and were in direct view of the rising sun. that royally sucks.
and speaking of sucking, i have a mosquito bite on my wrist. ew.
hazy lazy monday mixtape
the sky wants me to fall asleep at my desk.
here's today's soundtrack. put the ambien away, this is all you need...
tigers by
dovemani will internalize by
martha wainwrightcalifornia by
lowrise by
innawayfilamented by
timoniumswandiving by
the glasstaetir raekja by
stafraenn hakonbetween the bars by
elliot smithand if that's not enough, take some sigur ros with bit of whiskey and call me in the morning.
i laughed. i cried. i went to the hamptons
it was nice to get away from the city.
i'll post pictures as soon as i can get my hands on the camera of the judes.
reschmuckie
i just found out that my position is being restructured. apparently in addition to quasi-assisting an evp, two directors, and three senior managers, i will also be doing work for the design department for special events. they conceive, contract and execute the production of the sets for events like the vma's, the holiday party, the upfronts, etc. this may or may not be a good thing. i know i'll be less bored out of my mind (and probably will be blogging less) but i hope it's not tedious invoice shite. apparently i was sold to their department (really, like an indentured servant) because i have a supposed degree in finance (i don't) and data entry is right up my alley (it's not). so hope for the best for me. and maybe, just maybe i'll get to design some terribly insignificant detail for the vma's that i will repeatedly point out for years to come.
watch out world... ... ... ... eh, forget it.
tempzilla
i know. i complain about the temp
all the time - and i have no shame in doing so. but it just dawned on me why i am bothered so much by her mere presence. she walks like she is about to raze tokyo. so whenever she comes up to my desk to give me work or ask me a question i have a minor hallucination of her breathing fire and aggressively knocking over my beautiful new
computer as i shout poorly dubbed expletives (with subtitles, of course). it's not only the way that she walks but also the way that she stands (and the way that she comes around the back of my desk, totally invading my space). it's what i can only describe as an appetite for destruction posture. and indeed, she destroys my sanity. can't you tell?
alias
scissor sisters playing under the names "bridget jones diarrhrea" and "megapussi" and "portion control" -- tre cool.
me not knowing and actually looking up the names to see who they are -- uncool.
in conclusion, bands with aliases for "secret shows" are awesome... just so long as i'm privvy. and free tickets wouldn't hurt either.
bonjour!
here are some holiday spiritastic drink recipes:
marie antoinette
1 splash strawberry liqueur
1 splash cointreau
1 splash calvados
1 splash fresh lemon juice
4 oz. champagne
combine all ingredients, except champagne, in a shaker filled with ice. strain into a flute and slowly add the champagne.
mon cherie
4 tsp. cherry brandy
4 tsp. light creme de cacao
1 1/2 oz. heavy cream
shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. garnish with thin chocolate shavings.
the parisian
1/2 oz. gin
1/2 oz. dry vermouth
1/4 oz. creme de cassis
shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.
french revolution
1 oz. brandy
2 oz. framboise
3 oz. champagne
mix ingredients in a flute and garnish with a lemon twist.
and if you don't have all these fancy ingredients then drink a bottle of wine, smoke a pack of unfiltered cigs and act like you truly don't care.
[happy bastille day!]
au revoir et bonne nuit.
i'm in love... pt. 3
i think i left off on f. and f is for foo. you should know that already. (my itunes lover has all the albums, b-sides, imports, live tracks, acoustic tracks, etc). it's like a library of foo. and a great library it is. anyway, moving on...
[frausdots] german for too cool for school.
5 dudes, 1 chick, subpop label...
frausdots are nice bunch. mellow sounds - i know, seems to be a theme - at work... totally apropos.
the extremistsdead wrong
[fruit bats] funny, they just look like geeks to me.
i was first introduced to
fruit bats by a irish bartender. he also took me to a franz ferdinand show (this was back in 2003 - yeah, waay back when) so i trusted his taste in music (i also loved his accent, but that's a different story altogether). so anyway, he was right. pop you can tap your chuck taylors along to.
lives of crimea bit of windslipping through the sensors
[gang of four] one, two, three... how quaint.
gang of four are not great men. but they are newly revived heroes of the punk/new wave genre. they were the inspiration of all the bravery/killers-esque bands out there right now.
listen to them live on
kexp
[the heavenly states] that kangaroo plays a mean tambourine
the heavenly states are touted as the first us band to play in libya (indeed, rocking the casbah). they're also mentioned in this month's spin mag as "new music to hear now". now i know that neither of those two facts establish any credibility so go to your local record store and check out their latest album, black comet, which came out yesterday.
aye basta! hasta luego.
hot cooter?
no, haute couture. fresh from paris...
[christian dior] i don't know why i love this. i just do.
[elie saab] i think i have a sick addiction to all things tulle.
[jean paul gaultier] i like to flounce. (and how!)
ciao bella
i'm coveting milan's fall rtw. particularly...
[giorgio armani] this would be my "i love drama" coat
[alessandro dell'acqua] dresses with pockets are a lady's best friend
[alessandro dell'acqua] because i dress up so much
[d&g] i dig the urban ballerina look
[emporio armani] so cute with that hat
[gucci] i normally don't like gucci, but this neckline is gorgeous
[moschino] 86 the necklace, add short purple leather gloves
[roberto cavalli] because judes hearts cavalli. because this dress is beautiful. just because.
white or wheat or...
whole wheat or multi grain or 7 grain or 9 grain or 12 grain or health nut or honey wheat or honey nut or oat nut or...
now that you've made your selection, would you like your grains/wheat/nuts stoneground or classic?
natural or brick oven?
regular, carb counting or bakery light?
organic, extra fiber, omega-3 dha/epa or sugar free?
so i was in the grocery store buying bread yesterday and i was faced with all of these choices. and that's just for one brand. what is going on? do we really need to distinguish between 7 grain and 9 grain? was there someone who saw the 9 grain bread and said, "this simply will not do. i don't want those 2 extra grains. where's the manager?" or how about the difference between classic and stone ground? does it really change the taste? honestly, this is ridiculous. it's like the r&d department was on hallucinagens when they made up the product list.
don't believe me? check
this out.
packing tape
have you experienced packing tape? do you know the excruciating sound that is made by ripping long strips of packing tape? do you know what it feels like to listen to every single inch of surface area of 8 rather large boxes get covered in packing tape only a mere two feet away from your desk? do you know if insanity caused by packing tape can be a valid defense for a case of death by letter opener? no really, do you?
of course it was the
temp. did you even have to ask?
jess loves ray
it was also jess's birthday this past saturday.
and like any good friend, i bought her shots.
and like any good recipient of too many shots, jess hates me.
i'm not sorry jess. not one bit.
(sucker)
mmm... cupcakes.
jess loves ray. ray loves to close his eyes.
megs got a little distracted. and that's not water she's holding.
happy birthday jess! i love you!
new hotness
new hotness loves the straw. the straw loves new hotness.
alex loves the sauce. i'm not sure if the sauce loves alex.
apt 22 expats.
soft lighting and a group of friends... what more can a girl ask for?
oh right... cake.
new hotness faceplants my left boob.
alex is a proud boyfriend.
happy birthday new hotness! i love you!
say it ain't so
if i plotted my drinking on a curve, i think it would look like this:
so here's the problem, my nights tend to plateau at what i call the "lucid drunk stage". it's probably the worst stage of consciousness because of my complete consciouness combined with my somewhat lack of self control. in other words, i do/say/make/think stupid things and yet i am still very much aware of it. it's almost like an out of body experience where the sober me sees the stupid me and then palm to forehead action ensues (repeatedly).
here's a sample "lucid drunk stage" scenario:
stupid me wholeheartedly believes that all jokes are funny. even lines that aren't jokes are funny -- sober me thinks, "stop laughing, ass."
stupid me says to friends (more than once), "i'm a little drunk" and then sheepishly smiles -- sober me rolls eyes and smacks stupid me in the head... hard.
stupid me dances like nobody's watching -- sober me knows that people are watching... and most likely pointing and laughing as well.
stupid me walks out of the club with an air of "kiss my sass" (lift head, sway hips) -- sober me mumbles, "don't fall. don't fall. watch out for the car! don't fall. don't fall."
stupid me gets indignant with inanimate objects, a la keys, elevator, and wallthatcameoutofnowhere ("fuck you wall!") -- sober me sighs and shakes her head in defeat.
stupid me thinks that she can brush her teeth and pumice her feet at the same time -- sober me and bruised knees think that's not such a great idea.
stupid me wants to blog at 4am -- sober me shouts, "go to bed, ass!".
stupid me sleeps in -- sober me wants coffee.
oh stupid me.
i'm out.
i read somewhere that people in new york find dates by going to bars. i, however, must be an exception. i know i gravitate towards jerks (although i must clarify that there is a delicate balance of puppy dog and tool that i tend to melt for), but last night was too much. after purchasing and carrying a tray of seven shots (i was at a birthday celebration), i was approached by a pair of melancholy-ridden thirtysomethings. in a pathetic attempt to either gain my twentysomething adoration or gain free shots, one guy tells me that they are there celebrating the other guy's birthday. and i normally would believe this, except he said it with a tone that one would use to say "i'm going to kill myself." i responded with faux-jovial "hey! happy birthday!" followed by a prompt 180. birthday guy - strike one.
then there was couple of guys who were celebrating a friend's recent release from riker's for fraud. i made a smarmy comment about the state of his ass. i think he got a little offended but his friends definitely thought i was funny. uncomfortable filled the air, so then i left fraud guy and his friends. yeah, i know how to pick 'em - strike two.
and last, and perhaps even least, there was guy. at least it started out with just guy. soon progressed to pretty nice guy. i'm thinking, "score!" he touched my shoulder. i touched his arm. and then his girlfriend came. of course she did. girlfriend guy - strike three.
so now my proposal to myself. i need to go on a date. not a group thing, not meet up for drinks, not a post prison celebration, not an interim something. a real date. one where i get dressed up. one where i get nervous. one with genuine smiles. one with awkward silences. one with a goodnight kiss. or three.
never grow up
if you live in nyc and you have 10 bucks, a water gun, and a penchant for guerilla warfare, this
game is for you.
i verily (yes, i do love that word now and will continue to abuse it, and often incorrectly) will not join in the madness because if you knew me freshman year in college, i do not play by the rules when it comes to assasin. plus, i'm a lazy bastard.
guh.
yes, i am a technophile. i'll admit it. but i am also a bit impatient, which often bites me in the ass when it comes to new technology. for example, we just got podcasts loaded onto our itunes at work. i tried them out. i really did try. i gave it a full 10 minutes of my time (i know you know that i'm not that busy and i have plenty of time to waste - it's the principle). so apparently i am not able to fast forward through a preview so i have to be bored out of my mind listening to people talk at the beginning of each podcast, telling me what they think of the music that they're about to play. if i wanted to hear people talk, i'd listen to the newscasts or pay a visit to the
pen. i want to listen to music and not be bothered by talk. stupid podcasts. can someone just tell me which ones i would like so i can bypass previewing and just subscribe to them?
now back to my regularly scheduled program of rolling my eyes and sighing out loud.
moment of silence
[stupid effin terrorism]
i'm in love... pt. 2
where did i leave off? oh yeah... a. so now there's beck, belle and sebastian, bloc party, blur...
[british sea power] do they even have boy scouts in the uk?
british sea power are indeed british. and once upon a time the british indeed were known for their sea power. good for them. i tried to liken them to someone other than [insert wholly common british band here], but i couldn't. so i scoured reviews in attempt to plagarize and this is what i found: "think david lynch hosting a sleepover in kew gardens. think tim robbins guiding berlin-era bowie around the set of jacob's ladder..." um, even if i were british i still don't think i would understand. you try:
it ended on an oily stagenorth hanging rockoh larsen b
[the clientele] like abbey road, but with less polyester, less lennon, and less symmetry... so actually, just three guys and a crosswalk
the clientele are another uk band with mellow melodies. atmospheric pop you could call it. whatev. just listen.
house on fireeverybody's gonereflections after janefive day morning
[elf power] if only all
picnics could be this fun
elf power is not a advocacy group for the vertically challenged. they're just a couple of people with a couple of instruments that play music that make you happy. they'll be touring with dinasour jr. later in the year. i don't have any mp3s, but here's a super duper cool video from their website:
never believei knew your were going to say, "hey! you skipped d!" yes. yes i did. i skipped d because i didn't want to post about bands you (may) already know (unless you're
chickenlittle, because she know's everything). but if you must know, here's a snippet of fab d bands: damien jurado, death cab, decemberists, destroyer, & doves (note: no "the")
end scene.
damn i'm lazy today. my sincerest apologies.
i'm in love... pt 1
so now that we all have been upgraded to new imacs, the whole department is sharing their music on itunes. and i'm in love with this guy's playlist. so in alphabetical order, here are some rather grand bands that you should check out...
i'll break it down over the next few days and attempt to get more info on the bands, mp3s, photos and such. eff me, i guess i am a music blogger. [and if you didn't know before, if you wanna keep the song forever... right click and save as or control click and download linked file for mac-ies]
[+/-] no names, no bodies either
+/- are like radiohead with a little less crazy and a little more symbol. smooth lyrics, oddly beautiful melodies and a little electronics make this band the soundtrack to just lounging around.
surprisei've been lostsetting your head on fire
[acid house kings] supercuts models circa 1975
acid house kings are apparently sweden's number 1 guitar pop band. they're self described as like "the smiths for summmer days." yes, that's summmer with 3 m's. their bio also describes their latest album as "easy, breezy, beautiful"... i'm not sure if they've seen the cover girl commercials.
do what you wanna dosunday morningthis and thatthis heart is a stone
[athlete] too hot to handle
oh
athlete, why must you name yourself something so mundane, so ungoogleable. why don't you just name yourself "red" or "blog" or something like that... oh wait, you say you're the first entry when i google the word "athlete"? ok then. i retract all my previous statements. that doesn't change the fact that you don't post any mp3s. i'll wait here and pout until you prove me wrong. oh yeah, they're like coldplay/keane/all piano driven britpop.
until next time...
yo, check it
oh snap
i heart
this even more than i heart craft corner death match.
live8
was fun but there was nothing of consequence. blah blah every day i love you less and less blah blah blah fresh prince of bel air blah blah it's my life blah blah blah pour some sugar on me. that's pretty much it. add sun, sweat and beers and you get the picture.
land of the (not quite) free, home of the ballsy
july 4th is supposed to be about celebrating our country. and how. our country's love of capitalism, that is. special holiday fares on the greyhound are not only double the price but also include sucker punching you square in the temple. apparently there's no subtlety in raising prices anymore. in fact, there was no subtlety at all this weekend. i was in a bar/club/lounge/bar in philly, casually talking to my fabulous friend nina, when two guys come up to us on either side and one suddenly throws his arm between us, in attempt to bring our attention to his friend across from him, and says--no--shouts, "meet my friend tyler!" we both give him a look that says--no--shouts, "no thanks!" they both defeatedly walk away, but the original shouter comes back a minute later and says, "is it something i said?" to which we respond something along the lines of "although we understand your intent, the delivery was all wrong." as he stood there and talked to us, one by one his friends come over and a couple of them turned out to be quite interesting (and by quite interesting i really mean mildly interesting and rather good looking, but you know i'm not that shallow). after about 20 minutes, nina gives me the pinch signal to jet so i finish conversing with a cute and overconfident med student and we leave for our philthadelph manahatta (aka plan b), loie. loie was a bust... the dj was an asshole and the crowd was ubercreepy. and for the first time in my life, i was glad that last call came at 1:45.
brothel no more
apartment 22 has lost two girls to allure of more space/less rent. the brothel is no more. all that remains is a practically betrothed new hotness and a guy's guy, if you know what i mean. judes moved to chelsea last night, with the promise of dog, cat and
girl.
