Folks.
Have you seen the premier episode? Roommate and I watched it last night and man. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. Nor have I felt so awkward. Nor have I clung to my pillow for deal life due to someone else's being utterly humiliated.
You must ALL watch it.
Preliminary observations:
1. I am worried about Verne Troyer (Mini Me). I am afraid that after he sees this show, he might, well, be mortified to the extent of, well, harming himself. Man. You should have SEEN this. Mini Me got trashed to the point of complete and utter insanity. I can't even explain it. Like he was moaning and touching Peter Brady's arm repetitively while saying nothing and then driving around his little transport while naked. Then he started to pee on the wall, and Da Brat found him, and she had to ask Peter Brady for help because, well, wtf!? You just have to see it. Please.
2. Peter Brady is HOT. Roommate and I were both looking at him and finally she said "Dude, I'm afraid to admit this, but I'm a little attracted to Peter Brady" and I was like "DUDE! I KNOW! He got HOT!" I don't know what it is. He's cut, and has perfect teeth, and is funny, and cute, and... how can I have a crush on Peter Brady? He's 48!!! Peter Brady!!! I was definitely a Greg Girl in my youth, but now, I'm all about Peter.
3. The Surreal Life, done by VH1 and not Fox, is the best idea for a show ever.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Metro Update
OK kids.
Everyone's all crazy about the Metro.
The Metro actually started in Europe, I believe. Something like Sweden or Switzerland.
There has been talk of the Boston Globe buying the Metro for a while. I didn't realize the New York Times was thinking of buying the New York franchise.
Either way, I looked at AM New York again last night and yes, there are allegations against the Metro for racist comments being said during board meetings. The specific examples they gave were the "n" word and jokes about the male sexual anatomy of certain races. I guess there's a representative in NY (Harlem) who is demanding at least an apology from The Metro. The Metro claims that it's all a misunderstanding and its because of the translation.
I don't know. Again, I was delirious when I re-read it, but I'm not going to read the Metro anymore.
Everyone's all crazy about the Metro.
The Metro actually started in Europe, I believe. Something like Sweden or Switzerland.
There has been talk of the Boston Globe buying the Metro for a while. I didn't realize the New York Times was thinking of buying the New York franchise.
Either way, I looked at AM New York again last night and yes, there are allegations against the Metro for racist comments being said during board meetings. The specific examples they gave were the "n" word and jokes about the male sexual anatomy of certain races. I guess there's a representative in NY (Harlem) who is demanding at least an apology from The Metro. The Metro claims that it's all a misunderstanding and its because of the translation.
I don't know. Again, I was delirious when I re-read it, but I'm not going to read the Metro anymore.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Strangers
I am bitchy and moody and utterly exhausted today.
I need to be diligent about getting more sleep. I am too old to keep such hours.
Thankfully happy hour is not happening tonight. Lack of interest. Or maybe everyone is bitchy and moody and utterly exhausted. Regardless of the cause, it is a relief. Were I happier or wide awake, I'd have the energy to be slightly annoyed with people for not being motivated, but I can't rally today. There is also a party tonight. And a competing happy hour. I will do none of these things, because I can't quite string together words in sentence form.
Instead, I will pick up my dry cleaning, which has been clean for weeks.
Anyway.
Before lunch I could barely function. Generalized delirium, cloudiness, apathy. I commuted from a new location for the first time this morning, and forgot to pick up a paper to read at lunch.
Normally I read The Metro. I don't know why. I guess its some homage to Boston or something. Can't change everything. The Metro in NY is different than the Metro in Boston - it has a slightly different format in the world/local news areas, and also has a Style section, and a section called The Word, which has celebrity gossip and local celebrity sightings.
There were no Metro's remaining at the stand near work, so I had to get an AM New York, which is actually bigger and better and more buff in the area of local news, which is good because I seriously have no idea what's going on in NYC other than what Kate Hudson was wearing when she was spotted shopping in Soho!
The AM New York box was tricky. Nothing like the Metro one or the Village Voice or apparently any other free paper I've ever picked up. I was too delirious to deal. Like it was heavy and opened from the top and then out, and I was holding things in my hands and was just off balance and confused and bitchy and wanted to cry because why was getting a freaking free paper an ordeal?
This whole episode was about two seconds, but in those two seconds a very nice man intervened and said "Let me help you" and I said "Oh, no, thanks, I got it" and he said "No, I'd like to" and then he opened it up for me and also handed me a paper.
Who does that?
How nice was he?
It made my day.
What did not make my day, however, was the article I read in AM New York about the Metro!!! Apparently the Metro is under attack for racism? Something about racial slurs at meetings? Possibly in Boston? I was delirious when I read it and need to go back and look at it again tonight. Because I can, because I am not going out. Thank god.
Weird, though. Like did they print this in the Metro and did I just miss it? Or did they not print it? Sketchy. Very very sketchy. I think, though, that it is in my best interest, on principle and just for content, to switch to AM New York.
I digress. Random acts of kindness. Why is it so meaningful when a stranger is nice to you? I swear, I could be smothered with affection by people I know and feel like shit, but the second a stranger compliments me or asks me how I am doing, I feel like gold.
I think it restores my faith in humankind, which doesn't really make sense, because what motivates strangers to be nice? You don't know. You can't know. It shouldn't mean anything, but it does.
Bench Buddy was telling me about how he was going up an escalator the other day, and coming down the escalator on the other side was a really attractive woman. The dude behind him on his side of the escalator shouted to her "You're beautiful!" and she was so happy.
Can you imagine? Would you not melt?
I said to him that I'd like to compliment strangers more often, and that I should, but he said that it would freak people out. Would it? Sometimes it does. How can you distinguish?
I don't know. I'm moody and some random dude on the streets of New York made me blissfully happy for a second by handing me a newspaper.
Or maybe I'm just tired.
I need to be diligent about getting more sleep. I am too old to keep such hours.
Thankfully happy hour is not happening tonight. Lack of interest. Or maybe everyone is bitchy and moody and utterly exhausted. Regardless of the cause, it is a relief. Were I happier or wide awake, I'd have the energy to be slightly annoyed with people for not being motivated, but I can't rally today. There is also a party tonight. And a competing happy hour. I will do none of these things, because I can't quite string together words in sentence form.
Instead, I will pick up my dry cleaning, which has been clean for weeks.
Anyway.
Before lunch I could barely function. Generalized delirium, cloudiness, apathy. I commuted from a new location for the first time this morning, and forgot to pick up a paper to read at lunch.
Normally I read The Metro. I don't know why. I guess its some homage to Boston or something. Can't change everything. The Metro in NY is different than the Metro in Boston - it has a slightly different format in the world/local news areas, and also has a Style section, and a section called The Word, which has celebrity gossip and local celebrity sightings.
There were no Metro's remaining at the stand near work, so I had to get an AM New York, which is actually bigger and better and more buff in the area of local news, which is good because I seriously have no idea what's going on in NYC other than what Kate Hudson was wearing when she was spotted shopping in Soho!
The AM New York box was tricky. Nothing like the Metro one or the Village Voice or apparently any other free paper I've ever picked up. I was too delirious to deal. Like it was heavy and opened from the top and then out, and I was holding things in my hands and was just off balance and confused and bitchy and wanted to cry because why was getting a freaking free paper an ordeal?
This whole episode was about two seconds, but in those two seconds a very nice man intervened and said "Let me help you" and I said "Oh, no, thanks, I got it" and he said "No, I'd like to" and then he opened it up for me and also handed me a paper.
Who does that?
How nice was he?
It made my day.
What did not make my day, however, was the article I read in AM New York about the Metro!!! Apparently the Metro is under attack for racism? Something about racial slurs at meetings? Possibly in Boston? I was delirious when I read it and need to go back and look at it again tonight. Because I can, because I am not going out. Thank god.
Weird, though. Like did they print this in the Metro and did I just miss it? Or did they not print it? Sketchy. Very very sketchy. I think, though, that it is in my best interest, on principle and just for content, to switch to AM New York.
I digress. Random acts of kindness. Why is it so meaningful when a stranger is nice to you? I swear, I could be smothered with affection by people I know and feel like shit, but the second a stranger compliments me or asks me how I am doing, I feel like gold.
I think it restores my faith in humankind, which doesn't really make sense, because what motivates strangers to be nice? You don't know. You can't know. It shouldn't mean anything, but it does.
Bench Buddy was telling me about how he was going up an escalator the other day, and coming down the escalator on the other side was a really attractive woman. The dude behind him on his side of the escalator shouted to her "You're beautiful!" and she was so happy.
Can you imagine? Would you not melt?
I said to him that I'd like to compliment strangers more often, and that I should, but he said that it would freak people out. Would it? Sometimes it does. How can you distinguish?
I don't know. I'm moody and some random dude on the streets of New York made me blissfully happy for a second by handing me a newspaper.
Or maybe I'm just tired.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Nothing To Say
Ummmm.
There's not much going on these days. I am trying to get settled in again. Being back in MA for a week made me feel like I'd never moved. I'm still delirious from coming back right before New Year's.
The weekend was good. Did I write about the weekend?
Went out with work posse on Friday night. We intended to drink at some swanky place in the East Village, but it was mysteriously closed when we got there. We ended up wandering around and ended up at some cheesy place that claimed to have barbecue (food is now one of our criteria). Once we got in there, we soon realized there was no food. But, the beauty of New York is that you can have things delivered to bars that don't have food, so we got pizza delivered to us. But we had no plates. Or utensils. Or napkins, so it was kind of a disaster. The waitress couldn't deal. There were maybe 20 people in this place, and she kept getting all huffy when we'd order a drink. At one point she said "Ummm, so the bartender just put your drinks on the bar and you can just go get them because I'm too swamped," then "Oh, you're ordering drinks AGAIN?" and then "Look, I want to settle your bill but I can't really deal right now so you have to open a tab." This place felt like Louisiana. The music sucked and there was tons of plaid and a dude with a tail, Jordan Knight style.
Since that place sucked, we ended up walking around the East Village and ended up at Bouche Bar, which happens to be downstairs from Certain Someone's apartment, which was trippy. I felt a bit awkward about going there, and begged to find somewhere else to go, but P from upstairs said "If we see him, don't worry - there's more of us than him, we'll just beat him and then duct tape him to a car, and since its cold out, you know he'll stick to that shit."
I drank too much and got moody instead of happy dull, and D kept saying things like "I just want to make you happy" and "the past is the past" while Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend kept calling my cell phone since he was on the loose somewhere in NYC. I didn't care at all, which was new. D said jokingly "Is someone booty calling you?" and I said nothing, because, well, two months ago I'd have said "yes."
The entire time we were out I was dying for people to disappear so I could get a moment alone with D. Secrets suck.
Saturday was warm and fuzzy and lovely. D washed dishes unprompted while I downloaded songs for him. We (how did I become we?) went to two movies. We were supposed to go to the Brooklyn museum, but it was dreary and the perfect day for a double feature and burritos.
Sloth Sunday was laundry and drawing and TV and phone calls.
Today at lunch I had scrambled eggs and, instead of home fries, french fries. I was thinking to myself "I should have put All-Day-Breakfast in the happiness song, because, really, what is better than breakfast all day? Life just does not get better!" Then I went to squeeze ketchup out of the packet and squeezed it all over my hand and all over the Village Voice. Ugh. It somehow got on the front of the Village Voice, so every time I went to turn a page my fingers got smothered in ketchup. Fantastic. The good news is that it didn't get on my pink coat.
Yesterday in the elevator there was some sort of drunk-ish dude (stoned?) after work and he looked at me and smiled and slurred "Pinnnnnkkkkk....."
Also yesterday I gave D the song I wrote for him as a Christmas song. This was the first time I've written, completed, and handed a song to someone. I was having, predictably, a million fits. Sister convinced me that D would not think me insane. I told him I wasn't sure if he would think it insane or cute, and he said "I can't believe it even crossed your mind that I would think this was insane. What is insane is people eating turnips."
While I was at dinner with E, D called and left a message that said "You are the most awesome girlfriend in the world."
Sigh.
I called him after my dinner, which was Thai food that appeared 30 seconds after being ordered and which had tofu that was indistinguishable from a potato. E and I discussed jury duty and then whether there exists an evidence-proof way to dispose of a dead body. During the phone call D told me that the smurfs represent the Aryan race (his song made reference to a smurf). Ummmm. Thoughts? Azreal = Israel? I don't know about this.
Which reminds me that I have other songs for people in various stages of decelopment. If I hadn't moved, I'd have finished so many songs.
I might play an open mic next week. Bench Buddy happened upon one randomly on Monday night on the upper west side that has a piano, and at which Norah Jones used to play. I am nervous, but I have a long weekend to practice.
I am looking forward to the weekend. I actually have plans. And it is long. Yes.
And I am looking forward to tonight, because D is making crepes!
Which reminds me that I should stop blogging and go eat crepes. So many projects, so little time. R is starting an internet radio station and wants me to DJ one night a week. That will be awshummmm, but do I have time? No. Will I do it anyway? Yes. Because it will keep me off the streets one night a week! And save me money, which needs to happen.
Right. Nothing to say. NEVER!!!!!!!!
There's not much going on these days. I am trying to get settled in again. Being back in MA for a week made me feel like I'd never moved. I'm still delirious from coming back right before New Year's.
The weekend was good. Did I write about the weekend?
Went out with work posse on Friday night. We intended to drink at some swanky place in the East Village, but it was mysteriously closed when we got there. We ended up wandering around and ended up at some cheesy place that claimed to have barbecue (food is now one of our criteria). Once we got in there, we soon realized there was no food. But, the beauty of New York is that you can have things delivered to bars that don't have food, so we got pizza delivered to us. But we had no plates. Or utensils. Or napkins, so it was kind of a disaster. The waitress couldn't deal. There were maybe 20 people in this place, and she kept getting all huffy when we'd order a drink. At one point she said "Ummm, so the bartender just put your drinks on the bar and you can just go get them because I'm too swamped," then "Oh, you're ordering drinks AGAIN?" and then "Look, I want to settle your bill but I can't really deal right now so you have to open a tab." This place felt like Louisiana. The music sucked and there was tons of plaid and a dude with a tail, Jordan Knight style.
Since that place sucked, we ended up walking around the East Village and ended up at Bouche Bar, which happens to be downstairs from Certain Someone's apartment, which was trippy. I felt a bit awkward about going there, and begged to find somewhere else to go, but P from upstairs said "If we see him, don't worry - there's more of us than him, we'll just beat him and then duct tape him to a car, and since its cold out, you know he'll stick to that shit."
I drank too much and got moody instead of happy dull, and D kept saying things like "I just want to make you happy" and "the past is the past" while Former Favorite Ex-Boyfriend kept calling my cell phone since he was on the loose somewhere in NYC. I didn't care at all, which was new. D said jokingly "Is someone booty calling you?" and I said nothing, because, well, two months ago I'd have said "yes."
The entire time we were out I was dying for people to disappear so I could get a moment alone with D. Secrets suck.
Saturday was warm and fuzzy and lovely. D washed dishes unprompted while I downloaded songs for him. We (how did I become we?) went to two movies. We were supposed to go to the Brooklyn museum, but it was dreary and the perfect day for a double feature and burritos.
Sloth Sunday was laundry and drawing and TV and phone calls.
Today at lunch I had scrambled eggs and, instead of home fries, french fries. I was thinking to myself "I should have put All-Day-Breakfast in the happiness song, because, really, what is better than breakfast all day? Life just does not get better!" Then I went to squeeze ketchup out of the packet and squeezed it all over my hand and all over the Village Voice. Ugh. It somehow got on the front of the Village Voice, so every time I went to turn a page my fingers got smothered in ketchup. Fantastic. The good news is that it didn't get on my pink coat.
Yesterday in the elevator there was some sort of drunk-ish dude (stoned?) after work and he looked at me and smiled and slurred "Pinnnnnkkkkk....."
Also yesterday I gave D the song I wrote for him as a Christmas song. This was the first time I've written, completed, and handed a song to someone. I was having, predictably, a million fits. Sister convinced me that D would not think me insane. I told him I wasn't sure if he would think it insane or cute, and he said "I can't believe it even crossed your mind that I would think this was insane. What is insane is people eating turnips."
While I was at dinner with E, D called and left a message that said "You are the most awesome girlfriend in the world."
Sigh.
I called him after my dinner, which was Thai food that appeared 30 seconds after being ordered and which had tofu that was indistinguishable from a potato. E and I discussed jury duty and then whether there exists an evidence-proof way to dispose of a dead body. During the phone call D told me that the smurfs represent the Aryan race (his song made reference to a smurf). Ummmm. Thoughts? Azreal = Israel? I don't know about this.
Which reminds me that I have other songs for people in various stages of decelopment. If I hadn't moved, I'd have finished so many songs.
I might play an open mic next week. Bench Buddy happened upon one randomly on Monday night on the upper west side that has a piano, and at which Norah Jones used to play. I am nervous, but I have a long weekend to practice.
I am looking forward to the weekend. I actually have plans. And it is long. Yes.
And I am looking forward to tonight, because D is making crepes!
Which reminds me that I should stop blogging and go eat crepes. So many projects, so little time. R is starting an internet radio station and wants me to DJ one night a week. That will be awshummmm, but do I have time? No. Will I do it anyway? Yes. Because it will keep me off the streets one night a week! And save me money, which needs to happen.
Right. Nothing to say. NEVER!!!!!!!!
Monday, January 10, 2005
Blade - Friend to Science
I saw Blade 3 this weekend.
I have many thoughts, but I am going to save them for, well, a song!
I do, however, want to mention that the Blade franchise is all about science.
In the original Blade, we were thrilled to learn that our very own EDTA can be used to kill vampires!
I saw Blade 2, and remember nothing other than the facts that it sucked and that someone said "Smells like neurotoxin!" Shout out to neurotoxins, which, incidentally, do not smell.
Blade 3 was the most science-y of all! The plot crucially rested upon the engineering of a retrovirus that could take out vampires! Apparently Natasha Lyonne, blind and thin again, singlehandedly engineered a virus without a lab? but bit it before the final step, which involved the hybridizing of the virus to Dracula's blood!!! Yes! SCIENCE!!! She also said things like "Taq polmerase" and "genetic cloning enzymes."
Most people were getting excited about the weaponry and violence, but I geeked out completely over polymerase.
That is all.
I have many thoughts, but I am going to save them for, well, a song!
I do, however, want to mention that the Blade franchise is all about science.
In the original Blade, we were thrilled to learn that our very own EDTA can be used to kill vampires!
I saw Blade 2, and remember nothing other than the facts that it sucked and that someone said "Smells like neurotoxin!" Shout out to neurotoxins, which, incidentally, do not smell.
Blade 3 was the most science-y of all! The plot crucially rested upon the engineering of a retrovirus that could take out vampires! Apparently Natasha Lyonne, blind and thin again, singlehandedly engineered a virus without a lab? but bit it before the final step, which involved the hybridizing of the virus to Dracula's blood!!! Yes! SCIENCE!!! She also said things like "Taq polmerase" and "genetic cloning enzymes."
Most people were getting excited about the weaponry and violence, but I geeked out completely over polymerase.
That is all.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Validation
I was in a bad mood today. I wasn't sure why. You know how it is. General malaise, moodiness, questioning everything, questioning happiness, doubting things. Thinking about Boston. Wanting friends. Wondering if you made the right decision. Thinking you look like shit even though people like your new haircut. Experiencing a mood because for the first time since you moved you have time to experience a mood.
I thought "Why ever am I in a bad mood?"
I looked at my calendar. Right. PMS.
Of course.
As M says, usually the acknowledgment of PMS's existence is enough to combat PMS, but this time it wasn't.
D asked me on the phone "How are you doing?" and I said "I don't know, I'm in a bad mood, but I think it might be PMS."
He said "How do you know?" and I said "Well, I don't." I explained that sometimes its hard to tell, especially in times of major life transitions.
Because I was in a bad mood, he said "Well, I should probably let you go..." and because I was in a bad mood I was like "Yeah, I guess..." even though I didn't want to get off the phone. Darn PMS! Where has my mind gone? I am psychotic. I wanted to cry. Why? No freaking idea.
When I got off the phone with him, I checked my email. I'd been checking neurotically all weekend for some sort of confirmation of the receipt of my comic, which I'd sent in rough form for feedback. I hadn't heard back from the dude all weekend (I sent it on Friday) and was concerned that he hated it and was trying to figure out a polite way to tell me that it sucked and that he never wants to hear from me again.
But! This time there was an email from him! And he liked the comic! He had some suggestions, and said it was "great" and "funny." YEAH!!!! My bad mood was conquered! Maybe all I needed was validation for all the work I've been doing, and strife I've been experiencing, and uncertainty I've been wrestling with about this project.
I called D back immediately to announce that my bad mood was indeed a bad mood and not PMS, and that it was over!
D wasn't as excited as I was.
We talked for two seconds, and now I am moody again. And want to cry for no reason at all.
Which is because I obviously have PMS.
I thought "Why ever am I in a bad mood?"
I looked at my calendar. Right. PMS.
Of course.
As M says, usually the acknowledgment of PMS's existence is enough to combat PMS, but this time it wasn't.
D asked me on the phone "How are you doing?" and I said "I don't know, I'm in a bad mood, but I think it might be PMS."
He said "How do you know?" and I said "Well, I don't." I explained that sometimes its hard to tell, especially in times of major life transitions.
Because I was in a bad mood, he said "Well, I should probably let you go..." and because I was in a bad mood I was like "Yeah, I guess..." even though I didn't want to get off the phone. Darn PMS! Where has my mind gone? I am psychotic. I wanted to cry. Why? No freaking idea.
When I got off the phone with him, I checked my email. I'd been checking neurotically all weekend for some sort of confirmation of the receipt of my comic, which I'd sent in rough form for feedback. I hadn't heard back from the dude all weekend (I sent it on Friday) and was concerned that he hated it and was trying to figure out a polite way to tell me that it sucked and that he never wants to hear from me again.
But! This time there was an email from him! And he liked the comic! He had some suggestions, and said it was "great" and "funny." YEAH!!!! My bad mood was conquered! Maybe all I needed was validation for all the work I've been doing, and strife I've been experiencing, and uncertainty I've been wrestling with about this project.
I called D back immediately to announce that my bad mood was indeed a bad mood and not PMS, and that it was over!
D wasn't as excited as I was.
We talked for two seconds, and now I am moody again. And want to cry for no reason at all.
Which is because I obviously have PMS.
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