Date: 12.9.04
Genre: Butterflies
NOTE: This is a cover of Big Star's "Thirteen" from the album #1 Record which was released in 1972. This is one of my favorite songs ever.
Description:
Some technical notes: I did this in one hour. I rushed this because I am afraid that if I don't record it now, I never will because the butterflies will be replaced by more venom towards men.
Yes, I know, I know, you're saying "tempo issues!" The original song changes tempo, so there!
The bridge bites. I've actually never liked the bridge in the song - it doesn't go with the rest of the song - but I appreciate that as an issue, as Lollybanger had the same issue on many occasions. The bridge, however, sounded infinitely worse on piano than on guitar, so I just threw something not-as-complex but equally dumb in there on this recording.
I have not done this song justice. This is the cutest song ever written and I have butchered it in my attempt to capitalize on my temporary good mood. I am sorry, Big Star. I really love the song. Please forgive me.
I recorded this song because I currently feel very cute towards someone, which is something I haven't experienced in a very long time. I haven't felt this way in nearly ten years. It is noteworthy and deserves a song. It is hard, however, to depart from my usual hateful, spiteful, vengeful writing style. I'd love to write a song about having an innocent crush, but the last time I did that I wrote "Big Dipper" and all hell broke loose over the course of the next few years.
I would write a song if I felt at all optimistic, but I don't.
I will, however, enjoy feeling like I am "Thirteen" until everything gets ruined.
(Cute sidenote: I've been toying with the idea of recording this for a while, and the other night he said "What is your feeling on The Rolling Stones?" and I said "Overrated," and he gave me the nod of approval and then said "Except Paint It Black, of course." Sigh.)
Lyrics:
Won't you let me walk you home from school
Won't you let me meet you at the pool
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you
Won't you tell your dad "Get off my back"
Tell him what we said bout "Paint It Black"
Rock n roll is here to stay
Come inside now its okay
And I'll shake you
Won't you tell me what you're thinking of
Would you be an outlaw for my love
If its so then let me know
If its "no" well, I can go
I won't make you
Thursday, December 09, 2004
You Can't Take Them Back
It's Thursday. I just said to someone "Man, am I tired!" and she said "I know! And it's only Wednesday!" I nearly started to cry. Then I said "Please, please, please tell me its Thursday..." and she said "Oh, yeah, it is."
So its Thursday.
Last night, Wednesday night, I went to see Closer.
My thoughts include:
The movie flew by. It was a little over an hour and a half and when it ended I thought "Wait, isn't there another hour?"
The acting was amazing.
The actressing was not.
Jude Law is beautiful, as is Clive Owen, who was the best part of the film. Good acting is delicious.
It was provocative. We couldn't stop discussing it. We couldn't stop discussing it because we didn't understand any of the characters' motivations other than the Clive Owen character. Does that mean the movie was bad? Possibly. But it was still enjoyable, and it had Jude Law. Wearing glasses. Growl.
I still hate Natalie Portman. I just can't get over her bad dancing from years ago. I also can't get over the fact that she looks exactly the same as she did when she was in The Professional, which was an amazing movie. It disturbs me when men say "Natalie Portman is hot," because I think "Did they think that she was hot when she was 12?, because she looks exactly the same!" She looks like a child. Her head-to-body ratio doesn't help things. Every time she spoke in this movie I cringed. I didn't understand her character at all. R, who is in love with her, said she "was amazing," but when I asked him what her character's deal was in the movie, he had no idea. He must have thought it "was amazing" when she stripped.
I adore Julia Roberts, but she wasn't particularly good either. Really inconsistent aside from her first scene, in which she was overflowing with sexy tension.
The lovely thing about my viewing this movie was that I had no personal reaction to it. Had I seen this movie two years ago I'd most likely have left the film numerous times to cry like an idiot in the restroom. Time really does help things.
After the movie I went to N's birthday party at a drag bar. It was fun. The Hostess for the evening referred to our table as "The United Colors of Benetton, with their Token Black Friend." I'm not really sure how I feel about that, but I contributed money to the Save A Queen Fund anyway. I had a decent time. I was tired. And feeling a little moody. I don't know why. There was karaoke going on downstairs but everybody wanted to make trains or call their girlfriends who were acting weird.
A friend was telling me last night that the girl's he been dating for 3.5 months told him that she loved him, to which he responded "thank you." There has been all sorts of fallout - sabotage on her part, communication breakdown, etc. He doesn't see what the big deal is. He doesn't understand why she's acting weird. He doesn't understand why she's being emotional. I got really mad at him.
Once those words are out there, you can't take them back.
I'm wondering, today, if its worth it, then, to put it out there at all. Like when is it worth it? Is it ever worth it?
The consequences can be disastrous.
And if you have feelings for someone, should you tell them? What makes it worth it? What if you tell them and they can't handle it and you've ruined everything? Is it worth ruining everything just to get something off your chest? For the chance?
I'm so bad at receiving and making confessions of this nature. I suck.
How many opportunities are missed because people are wimps?
And how many situations are ruined because someone wasn't?
Sigh.
I feel bad for this girl I don't know, because I can imagine how she must feel.
I am also grieving with a friend today who lives in MA, and its killing me that I can't be there.
I want to cry for everyone else's feelings around the holidays because I am too overwhelmed to have any of my own this year.
Maybe that's why I'm moody.
I have no plans tonight and I am psyched. I am going to work on music. I'm doing a cover. I want to write a cute and happy song about butterflies while they're still alive but can't because I am pessimistic and disaster-izing already, so I'm stealing one. Which reminds me that I have to print out lyrics.
Until tomorrow.....
So its Thursday.
Last night, Wednesday night, I went to see Closer.
My thoughts include:
The movie flew by. It was a little over an hour and a half and when it ended I thought "Wait, isn't there another hour?"
The acting was amazing.
The actressing was not.
Jude Law is beautiful, as is Clive Owen, who was the best part of the film. Good acting is delicious.
It was provocative. We couldn't stop discussing it. We couldn't stop discussing it because we didn't understand any of the characters' motivations other than the Clive Owen character. Does that mean the movie was bad? Possibly. But it was still enjoyable, and it had Jude Law. Wearing glasses. Growl.
I still hate Natalie Portman. I just can't get over her bad dancing from years ago. I also can't get over the fact that she looks exactly the same as she did when she was in The Professional, which was an amazing movie. It disturbs me when men say "Natalie Portman is hot," because I think "Did they think that she was hot when she was 12?, because she looks exactly the same!" She looks like a child. Her head-to-body ratio doesn't help things. Every time she spoke in this movie I cringed. I didn't understand her character at all. R, who is in love with her, said she "was amazing," but when I asked him what her character's deal was in the movie, he had no idea. He must have thought it "was amazing" when she stripped.
I adore Julia Roberts, but she wasn't particularly good either. Really inconsistent aside from her first scene, in which she was overflowing with sexy tension.
The lovely thing about my viewing this movie was that I had no personal reaction to it. Had I seen this movie two years ago I'd most likely have left the film numerous times to cry like an idiot in the restroom. Time really does help things.
After the movie I went to N's birthday party at a drag bar. It was fun. The Hostess for the evening referred to our table as "The United Colors of Benetton, with their Token Black Friend." I'm not really sure how I feel about that, but I contributed money to the Save A Queen Fund anyway. I had a decent time. I was tired. And feeling a little moody. I don't know why. There was karaoke going on downstairs but everybody wanted to make trains or call their girlfriends who were acting weird.
A friend was telling me last night that the girl's he been dating for 3.5 months told him that she loved him, to which he responded "thank you." There has been all sorts of fallout - sabotage on her part, communication breakdown, etc. He doesn't see what the big deal is. He doesn't understand why she's acting weird. He doesn't understand why she's being emotional. I got really mad at him.
Once those words are out there, you can't take them back.
I'm wondering, today, if its worth it, then, to put it out there at all. Like when is it worth it? Is it ever worth it?
The consequences can be disastrous.
And if you have feelings for someone, should you tell them? What makes it worth it? What if you tell them and they can't handle it and you've ruined everything? Is it worth ruining everything just to get something off your chest? For the chance?
I'm so bad at receiving and making confessions of this nature. I suck.
How many opportunities are missed because people are wimps?
And how many situations are ruined because someone wasn't?
Sigh.
I feel bad for this girl I don't know, because I can imagine how she must feel.
I am also grieving with a friend today who lives in MA, and its killing me that I can't be there.
I want to cry for everyone else's feelings around the holidays because I am too overwhelmed to have any of my own this year.
Maybe that's why I'm moody.
I have no plans tonight and I am psyched. I am going to work on music. I'm doing a cover. I want to write a cute and happy song about butterflies while they're still alive but can't because I am pessimistic and disaster-izing already, so I'm stealing one. Which reminds me that I have to print out lyrics.
Until tomorrow.....
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Hair Cut!
I have made an appointment to get my hair cut.
It will be very expensive but will be downstairs at the salon featured on some show called What Not To Wear that I've never seen.
You can get haircuts with the stylists-in-training for 1/5 the price of the master stylist.
Master stylist!
I went in, made my appointment, and the woman at the desk said "Your appointment will be with C. She's here if you'd like to meet her."
"Cool."
C appeared and said "OK, why don't you sit down for your consulation!"
Consultation?
I was like "Wait, I didn't want a consultation..."
"You said you wanted to meet with me."
"Yes... but... well... you see... do I have to pay for this?"
Nope. You don't. You have a consultation a couple weeks before so the stylist can be thinking about your hair in the meantime.
Now I don't feel so bad about paying an exorbitant amount of money for a haircut, because it included a consultation!
I love the lighting in hair salons - it makes your hair look all shiny and perfect and appealing. C just ran her hands through my hair for two seconds and made it look the best its looked ever. How do they do that?
I said "You see, I'd like for the new haircut to make my hair always look like this even though there's no way I'll ever be able to make it look like this again."
She promised to "show me" how to do it.
Then I walked outside and the wind blew and my hair looks awful. But it looked really good and extremely shiny for two minutes.
It will be very expensive but will be downstairs at the salon featured on some show called What Not To Wear that I've never seen.
You can get haircuts with the stylists-in-training for 1/5 the price of the master stylist.
Master stylist!
I went in, made my appointment, and the woman at the desk said "Your appointment will be with C. She's here if you'd like to meet her."
"Cool."
C appeared and said "OK, why don't you sit down for your consulation!"
Consultation?
I was like "Wait, I didn't want a consultation..."
"You said you wanted to meet with me."
"Yes... but... well... you see... do I have to pay for this?"
Nope. You don't. You have a consultation a couple weeks before so the stylist can be thinking about your hair in the meantime.
Now I don't feel so bad about paying an exorbitant amount of money for a haircut, because it included a consultation!
I love the lighting in hair salons - it makes your hair look all shiny and perfect and appealing. C just ran her hands through my hair for two seconds and made it look the best its looked ever. How do they do that?
I said "You see, I'd like for the new haircut to make my hair always look like this even though there's no way I'll ever be able to make it look like this again."
She promised to "show me" how to do it.
Then I walked outside and the wind blew and my hair looks awful. But it looked really good and extremely shiny for two minutes.
Flannel
I don't have much to say today.
So here are some things I'm thinking about.
The flannel sheets are ON. Very exciting. Unfortunately the change machine in my building is broken, so I couldn't wash the sheets that were on my bed previously so my guests this weekend will have to bring their own sheets. I suck.
I talked to my mother last night, and we talked about Christmas, and she told me not to stress about gifts. She said "We're all grownups - we don't need gifts," but it would be weird to celebrate Christmas without there being any gifts. The thing is that I am the person in the family who's always prepared - I always bring gifts, I'm always on time, I'm always on top of things. This year isn't like that. I have no idea what's going on. And what if nobody else does? There would not be any presents!!! I asked my mother what she wanted, and she wants some crazy insane hardcore knife. It is weird that I will be giving my sweet mother a knife for Christmas. She also wants a new Cuisinart. I wasn't entirely sure what a Cuisinart was but was too ashamed to ask her. No sense in disappointing her even more - I have no babies, no husband, and I don't know what a Cuisinart is. I checked the Cuisinart website this morning, and apparently Cuisinart is a company! I said to Bench Buddy, "If someone said they wanted 'a Cuisinart,' they mean they want a food processor, right?" and Bench Buddy said "Yes, indeed, they do." I said "Dude! Cuisinarts are $100!" thinking that was way too much for a food processor, to which Bench Buddy responded "That's cheap!" Hmmm.
Last night was phone call night. I made 2 of the 20 phone calls that are in the queue. While I was making the second phone call, my friend O from CA called. I didn't answer it. I figured he'd just go in the queue with everyone else. I haven't talked to him in months. In the message he said there is exciting news that doesn't impact my life in any way and that he misses me. I'll probably never find out what the news is. I owe phone calls to people in CO and CA, not to mention people in upsate NY and people in NYC I've been meaning to call who I haven't seen in months. Then there's my brother in St. Loo, and tons of people in MA I haven't talked to since I moved. I am trying not to let it stress me out, but I hate being one of those people who doesn't return phone calls. Again, I suck.
As do men. Roommate had a minor meltdown last night. It wasn't pretty. She brought wine home for the both of us, but I had to turn it down by saying "Dude, I can't function right now, so I really can't drink... again..." but she got a wine glass out anyway and said she'd appreciate it if I put water in it just so she didn't feel like she was drinking alone. I listened, and offered up advice that she actually listened to and followed and said this morning that she felt better. I have so much advice for people who aren't me.
Prescription safety glasses have arrived! Mine are awesome. They look very cute and dorky. Bench Buddy started singing "Wee-oooh I look just like Buddy Holly..." when I put them on. The sideguards are infuriating. I don't see how they can expect us to wear them all day and not go completely insane.
Blog Boy posted on his blog last night that he's questioning his blogging practices. "A friend of mine had an existential freak-out when she read about herself in my blog. I didn't write anything (too) bad about her. But people aren't supposed to question their identities in the world after reading my blog (unless, of course, you're a Republican). They're supposed to say 'Hmmm ... interesting' or, if I've succeeded, have a good laugh. Since the incident, I've been thinking a lot about what is and isn't appropriate to write in my blog." The thing with this dude is that some of the stuff on his blog is true and some is not. I'll probably never talk to him again, but I want him to continue with his blog because the blog is good! This newest post was about his not being sure if he should have the blog anymore, since this is, like, the third time in the blog's existence that someone has been offended by something said about them in his blog. I am assuming that the post was part of the writing that isn't true, but now I am starting to feel bad if he does, indeed, stop writing. That would suck. But he's probably just writing fiction, so whatever.
I am not going to class tonight because I liked the book too much and don't want my feelings about it to be destroyed by overanalysis. I'd much rather go to the movies and then to a birthday party.
The Real World isn't new for three weeks and there is no explanation!!! Wtf!??!?!
I really need a haircut and have no idea when or where I will get one.
OK. Now lunch.
Until next time...
So here are some things I'm thinking about.
The flannel sheets are ON. Very exciting. Unfortunately the change machine in my building is broken, so I couldn't wash the sheets that were on my bed previously so my guests this weekend will have to bring their own sheets. I suck.
I talked to my mother last night, and we talked about Christmas, and she told me not to stress about gifts. She said "We're all grownups - we don't need gifts," but it would be weird to celebrate Christmas without there being any gifts. The thing is that I am the person in the family who's always prepared - I always bring gifts, I'm always on time, I'm always on top of things. This year isn't like that. I have no idea what's going on. And what if nobody else does? There would not be any presents!!! I asked my mother what she wanted, and she wants some crazy insane hardcore knife. It is weird that I will be giving my sweet mother a knife for Christmas. She also wants a new Cuisinart. I wasn't entirely sure what a Cuisinart was but was too ashamed to ask her. No sense in disappointing her even more - I have no babies, no husband, and I don't know what a Cuisinart is. I checked the Cuisinart website this morning, and apparently Cuisinart is a company! I said to Bench Buddy, "If someone said they wanted 'a Cuisinart,' they mean they want a food processor, right?" and Bench Buddy said "Yes, indeed, they do." I said "Dude! Cuisinarts are $100!" thinking that was way too much for a food processor, to which Bench Buddy responded "That's cheap!" Hmmm.
Last night was phone call night. I made 2 of the 20 phone calls that are in the queue. While I was making the second phone call, my friend O from CA called. I didn't answer it. I figured he'd just go in the queue with everyone else. I haven't talked to him in months. In the message he said there is exciting news that doesn't impact my life in any way and that he misses me. I'll probably never find out what the news is. I owe phone calls to people in CO and CA, not to mention people in upsate NY and people in NYC I've been meaning to call who I haven't seen in months. Then there's my brother in St. Loo, and tons of people in MA I haven't talked to since I moved. I am trying not to let it stress me out, but I hate being one of those people who doesn't return phone calls. Again, I suck.
As do men. Roommate had a minor meltdown last night. It wasn't pretty. She brought wine home for the both of us, but I had to turn it down by saying "Dude, I can't function right now, so I really can't drink... again..." but she got a wine glass out anyway and said she'd appreciate it if I put water in it just so she didn't feel like she was drinking alone. I listened, and offered up advice that she actually listened to and followed and said this morning that she felt better. I have so much advice for people who aren't me.
Prescription safety glasses have arrived! Mine are awesome. They look very cute and dorky. Bench Buddy started singing "Wee-oooh I look just like Buddy Holly..." when I put them on. The sideguards are infuriating. I don't see how they can expect us to wear them all day and not go completely insane.
Blog Boy posted on his blog last night that he's questioning his blogging practices. "A friend of mine had an existential freak-out when she read about herself in my blog. I didn't write anything (too) bad about her. But people aren't supposed to question their identities in the world after reading my blog (unless, of course, you're a Republican). They're supposed to say 'Hmmm ... interesting' or, if I've succeeded, have a good laugh. Since the incident, I've been thinking a lot about what is and isn't appropriate to write in my blog." The thing with this dude is that some of the stuff on his blog is true and some is not. I'll probably never talk to him again, but I want him to continue with his blog because the blog is good! This newest post was about his not being sure if he should have the blog anymore, since this is, like, the third time in the blog's existence that someone has been offended by something said about them in his blog. I am assuming that the post was part of the writing that isn't true, but now I am starting to feel bad if he does, indeed, stop writing. That would suck. But he's probably just writing fiction, so whatever.
I am not going to class tonight because I liked the book too much and don't want my feelings about it to be destroyed by overanalysis. I'd much rather go to the movies and then to a birthday party.
The Real World isn't new for three weeks and there is no explanation!!! Wtf!??!?!
I really need a haircut and have no idea when or where I will get one.
OK. Now lunch.
Until next time...
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Kinsey
I went to see Kinsey last night.
The part of me that dug working in the sex lab in college has been obsessing about seeing this movie since I heard about it. Scientists! Sex! Yeah!
It was, however, awful. Please do not see it.
Very one-dimensional, cheesy, and not at all flattering to scientists. Oh well. I apparently missed the only funny part of the movie when I was in the bathroom.
And then I only slept for about two hours last night.
This was due to the perfect combination of caffeine, wine, and butterflies.
The part of me that dug working in the sex lab in college has been obsessing about seeing this movie since I heard about it. Scientists! Sex! Yeah!
It was, however, awful. Please do not see it.
Very one-dimensional, cheesy, and not at all flattering to scientists. Oh well. I apparently missed the only funny part of the movie when I was in the bathroom.
And then I only slept for about two hours last night.
This was due to the perfect combination of caffeine, wine, and butterflies.
Monday, December 06, 2004
The Weekend And Then Some In List Form
1. I didn't get as much sleep as I'd have liked to on Friday night.
2. Getting up at 6:30am on a Saturday, which is earlier than I get up during the week, is just plain wrong.
3. The man seated next to me on the bus on my way up to Boston thought Jersey Girl was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
4. Boston seems small.
5. And white.
6. And the dogs don't seem as well-groomed.
7. And more people wear sweatshirts in Boston than in NY.
8. Anna's Burritos are still heaven. I haven't been eating well/right but my bean and rice burrito with cheese/guac/sour cream/and minor hot sauce reset everything. Yum!
9. Man do I miss my former roommates. They are a blast. We were punchy from the moment I walked into my former home. One doesn't get to be as punchy in a new life where one doesn't know people well enough to be punchy.
10. It is nice when other people help you with your unmanageable hair.
11. I had really good eye-shadow for the party. And fabulous purple pants. Purple pants. I wish I could wear them every day.
12. I miss having close girlfriends.
13. I miss having my sister nearby.
14. I miss having close friends at all, really. It's weird when you live in a place where nobody knows you well.
15. I miss everyone, dammit.
16. I don't have enough time for anything. I want people to visit but there is not time. I want to visit people but there is not time. I want to talk to each person I know in Boston, for at least three hours per person, but there is not time.
17. Carols on a Keyboard are just as good as Carols on a Piano.
18. During the party, M said "H has something to tell you!" She was all frantic and smiley so I knew it would be good. (And please note, I was drunk-ish when this transpired so this may not be the most accurate account!)
H said, handing me $20, "I owe you money."
I said "For what?"
She said "For the Smashing Pumpkins concert in 1996 that you, me, and M went to at UMass."
"What?"
"My father owes you money."
"For what?"
"The Smashing Pumpkins."
"We went to see the Smashing Pumpkins?"
"Yes, so I owe you $30."
"Why?"
"Because my dad got you the tickets and you guys wrote him a check but he wanted it to be part of my birthday present, so he owes you money."
"Sweet!"
M said "I'm giving mine to charity."
"Wait - what?"
"My father owes you money. He told me at Thanksgiving to give you and M $30 each, but I only have two $20's and some ones."
"Sweet!"
Now. I don't understand why
a. H's father just didn't cash the checks back in 1996 or
b. why he remembered or
c. why he just didn't let it go, but
I was PSYCHED. And I wasn't going to donate it to charity, because H's father wanted me to have the money! So I used it to finance the party. Woo hoo!!!
H said "Look, all I have is $27 so I owe you $3 next time I see you."
"No you don't!" M and I said, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she'll give me $3 from her father next time I see her. Bizarre but....
Awshummmmm......
19. Sleeping in a sleeping bag with a hot water bottle is heaven. Heaven. Best sleep I've had in ages, despite being on a pull-out couch, because I was the warmest I've been in ages. Hmmmmm.
20. The bus driver on the bus ride home said things like "Don't ask me what time it is throughout the ride - if you do not own a watch, it is clear that you don't care about time, so don't bother me" and "The bus is temperature controlled - if you get warm, take off your coat - if you get cold, put on your coat - don't tell me about it" and "If you fall asleep, please make sure your valuable belongings are put somewhere secret - depending on what country you're in, different things are of value - such as your spouse, children, or significant other - so if you fall asleep, make sure they are hidden - someone might take them" and "The scheduled arrival time is 6:30 - it could be 6:50 or 7:30 or 9:00 - I do not know - so don't ask me - whenever we get there is when we get there and it will have nothing to do with me."
21. Desperate Housewives was not on. Sadness and weeping.
22. Roommate's cat is really sick and I am surprisingly distraught.
23. This morning in the subway a man was singing "I'm dreaming of a black Christmas."
24. It is Monday.
25. That is all.
2. Getting up at 6:30am on a Saturday, which is earlier than I get up during the week, is just plain wrong.
3. The man seated next to me on the bus on my way up to Boston thought Jersey Girl was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
4. Boston seems small.
5. And white.
6. And the dogs don't seem as well-groomed.
7. And more people wear sweatshirts in Boston than in NY.
8. Anna's Burritos are still heaven. I haven't been eating well/right but my bean and rice burrito with cheese/guac/sour cream/and minor hot sauce reset everything. Yum!
9. Man do I miss my former roommates. They are a blast. We were punchy from the moment I walked into my former home. One doesn't get to be as punchy in a new life where one doesn't know people well enough to be punchy.
10. It is nice when other people help you with your unmanageable hair.
11. I had really good eye-shadow for the party. And fabulous purple pants. Purple pants. I wish I could wear them every day.
12. I miss having close girlfriends.
13. I miss having my sister nearby.
14. I miss having close friends at all, really. It's weird when you live in a place where nobody knows you well.
15. I miss everyone, dammit.
16. I don't have enough time for anything. I want people to visit but there is not time. I want to visit people but there is not time. I want to talk to each person I know in Boston, for at least three hours per person, but there is not time.
17. Carols on a Keyboard are just as good as Carols on a Piano.
18. During the party, M said "H has something to tell you!" She was all frantic and smiley so I knew it would be good. (And please note, I was drunk-ish when this transpired so this may not be the most accurate account!)
H said, handing me $20, "I owe you money."
I said "For what?"
She said "For the Smashing Pumpkins concert in 1996 that you, me, and M went to at UMass."
"What?"
"My father owes you money."
"For what?"
"The Smashing Pumpkins."
"We went to see the Smashing Pumpkins?"
"Yes, so I owe you $30."
"Why?"
"Because my dad got you the tickets and you guys wrote him a check but he wanted it to be part of my birthday present, so he owes you money."
"Sweet!"
M said "I'm giving mine to charity."
"Wait - what?"
"My father owes you money. He told me at Thanksgiving to give you and M $30 each, but I only have two $20's and some ones."
"Sweet!"
Now. I don't understand why
a. H's father just didn't cash the checks back in 1996 or
b. why he remembered or
c. why he just didn't let it go, but
I was PSYCHED. And I wasn't going to donate it to charity, because H's father wanted me to have the money! So I used it to finance the party. Woo hoo!!!
H said "Look, all I have is $27 so I owe you $3 next time I see you."
"No you don't!" M and I said, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she'll give me $3 from her father next time I see her. Bizarre but....
Awshummmmm......
19. Sleeping in a sleeping bag with a hot water bottle is heaven. Heaven. Best sleep I've had in ages, despite being on a pull-out couch, because I was the warmest I've been in ages. Hmmmmm.
20. The bus driver on the bus ride home said things like "Don't ask me what time it is throughout the ride - if you do not own a watch, it is clear that you don't care about time, so don't bother me" and "The bus is temperature controlled - if you get warm, take off your coat - if you get cold, put on your coat - don't tell me about it" and "If you fall asleep, please make sure your valuable belongings are put somewhere secret - depending on what country you're in, different things are of value - such as your spouse, children, or significant other - so if you fall asleep, make sure they are hidden - someone might take them" and "The scheduled arrival time is 6:30 - it could be 6:50 or 7:30 or 9:00 - I do not know - so don't ask me - whenever we get there is when we get there and it will have nothing to do with me."
21. Desperate Housewives was not on. Sadness and weeping.
22. Roommate's cat is really sick and I am surprisingly distraught.
23. This morning in the subway a man was singing "I'm dreaming of a black Christmas."
24. It is Monday.
25. That is all.
Friday, December 03, 2004
Blogs Etc. - An Update
Muppet News Flash:
The writer of the blog from two posts ago - the one in response to which I am experiencing existential agita associated with being reduced to a character in the online saga of someone I don't know well - sent me an email.
To paraphrase:
"wondering how much of my blog you read.... friend was angry with me for sending you the link because, well, you're on the blog... she said it would make you feel weird and that i should delete the posts but i don't want to hide things..."
He then proceeded to tell me how to find the entries about me and then apologized for being "lame" and reducing me to "some impersonal label." He said I could feel free to ask him to clarify things, etc. etc. etc.
Wow.
Had I done that, I'd have been cowering in my mind thinking "Shit! He's going to hate me, awkward, should I say something? What should I say? Does he hate me? What is he thinking?" and the I'd have avoided confronting it altogether.
I respect the preemptive strike. Good for him! I, for the first time in a long time, respect a man.
I emailed him and said that I had, indeed, already read the posts and explained a bit of my angst. I assured him that I am not mad, only extremely, utterly, and pyschologically weirded out.
I then copied my blog post from yesterday into an email and sent it to him.
Since we're being honest.
Right.
Now he will know me for the overthinking psychopath that I am, and he can write a blog post about how Comic Girl #3 turned out to be insane, which was luckily revealed early on through a series of zany blog hijinks!
And then people will comment:
"We knew she was bad news in the making!"
"She seemed like a proto-lesbian, anyway!"
"Glasses? Obviously it was doomed from the start!"
The writer of the blog from two posts ago - the one in response to which I am experiencing existential agita associated with being reduced to a character in the online saga of someone I don't know well - sent me an email.
To paraphrase:
"wondering how much of my blog you read.... friend was angry with me for sending you the link because, well, you're on the blog... she said it would make you feel weird and that i should delete the posts but i don't want to hide things..."
He then proceeded to tell me how to find the entries about me and then apologized for being "lame" and reducing me to "some impersonal label." He said I could feel free to ask him to clarify things, etc. etc. etc.
Wow.
Had I done that, I'd have been cowering in my mind thinking "Shit! He's going to hate me, awkward, should I say something? What should I say? Does he hate me? What is he thinking?" and the I'd have avoided confronting it altogether.
I respect the preemptive strike. Good for him! I, for the first time in a long time, respect a man.
I emailed him and said that I had, indeed, already read the posts and explained a bit of my angst. I assured him that I am not mad, only extremely, utterly, and pyschologically weirded out.
I then copied my blog post from yesterday into an email and sent it to him.
Since we're being honest.
Right.
Now he will know me for the overthinking psychopath that I am, and he can write a blog post about how Comic Girl #3 turned out to be insane, which was luckily revealed early on through a series of zany blog hijinks!
And then people will comment:
"We knew she was bad news in the making!"
"She seemed like a proto-lesbian, anyway!"
"Glasses? Obviously it was doomed from the start!"
We Thought It Was Really Funny Last Night
But today it isn't.
But it seemed really funny last night.
We have this every-Thursday-happy-hour thing where the bar rotates, so every week somebody different chooses the bar. Basically our criteria are: happy hour specials and pub fries for R. This girl, M, chose the bar last night based on cheese fries and proximity. When we checked the website, we were horrified to see skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts, but whatever. They have cheese fries.
We were slightly worried about the sorority girl quotient, but realized, the second we got there, that there would not be an issue. We were the only people there.
Three hours later, it was us and about 75 aging dudes. I am thinking it was a frat reunion, and they chose that bar because of the skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts on the website.
One of the dudes had a piece of paper sticking out of his collar. We thought this was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. We think he forgot to take the cardboard out of the shirt, which he just purchased for the reunion. We whispered and pointed for 15 minutes and wrestled with whether we should tell him or just sneak up behind him and pull it out but eventually decided that the best thing for us to do would be to put pieces of paper in our collars and walk by him repetitively. We ripped up pieces of paper placemat and stuck them in our shirts.
I swear. It was really funny last night.
D's father was randomly in town last night because he missed a connecting flight, and I was like "D! I want to meet your father! I must see your father! I love parents! I want to see people's parents the way normal people want to see people's babies! People's parents are so cute!"
D finally caved in and said his father would "stop by." Sometimes I forget that people's parents are older than mine because my parents are relatively young to have a child my age. D's father came in and he was like mid-to-late-60's and scared to death of us. I felt really bad. But he was, of course, adorable and D looks just like him only like 7 inches taller and not wearing a suit.
D introduced each of us to his father and was then awkwardly like "Well, I guess we'll be going..." and he turned around and started walking out with a piece of paper sticking out of his shirt. We were like "D! Wait!" and were gesturing towards our pieces of paper. He heard us, turned around, and, mortified, removed his piece of paper. His poor father. He's going to report to D's mother that D's friends are a bad, insane influence on their son.
There was also this guy who looked nothing like Macauly Culkin at the bar who we were convinced looked just like Macauly Culkin. We kept pointing at him and creating scenes so he'd turn around so we could decide just how much he did or did not look like Macauly Culkin. After ten minutes of this Macauly and his friends left the bar, but on their way out we got a really good look at him and he did, indeed, look like a dark-haired-not-as-cute-Macauly-Culkin-with-a-totally-different-shaped-head-but-the-same-dough-boy-lips.
Awshummm.....
But it seemed really funny last night.
We have this every-Thursday-happy-hour thing where the bar rotates, so every week somebody different chooses the bar. Basically our criteria are: happy hour specials and pub fries for R. This girl, M, chose the bar last night based on cheese fries and proximity. When we checked the website, we were horrified to see skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts, but whatever. They have cheese fries.
We were slightly worried about the sorority girl quotient, but realized, the second we got there, that there would not be an issue. We were the only people there.
Three hours later, it was us and about 75 aging dudes. I am thinking it was a frat reunion, and they chose that bar because of the skanky blonde girls with mardi gras beads and almost-exposed breasts on the website.
One of the dudes had a piece of paper sticking out of his collar. We thought this was the funniest thing we'd ever seen. We think he forgot to take the cardboard out of the shirt, which he just purchased for the reunion. We whispered and pointed for 15 minutes and wrestled with whether we should tell him or just sneak up behind him and pull it out but eventually decided that the best thing for us to do would be to put pieces of paper in our collars and walk by him repetitively. We ripped up pieces of paper placemat and stuck them in our shirts.
I swear. It was really funny last night.
D's father was randomly in town last night because he missed a connecting flight, and I was like "D! I want to meet your father! I must see your father! I love parents! I want to see people's parents the way normal people want to see people's babies! People's parents are so cute!"
D finally caved in and said his father would "stop by." Sometimes I forget that people's parents are older than mine because my parents are relatively young to have a child my age. D's father came in and he was like mid-to-late-60's and scared to death of us. I felt really bad. But he was, of course, adorable and D looks just like him only like 7 inches taller and not wearing a suit.
D introduced each of us to his father and was then awkwardly like "Well, I guess we'll be going..." and he turned around and started walking out with a piece of paper sticking out of his shirt. We were like "D! Wait!" and were gesturing towards our pieces of paper. He heard us, turned around, and, mortified, removed his piece of paper. His poor father. He's going to report to D's mother that D's friends are a bad, insane influence on their son.
There was also this guy who looked nothing like Macauly Culkin at the bar who we were convinced looked just like Macauly Culkin. We kept pointing at him and creating scenes so he'd turn around so we could decide just how much he did or did not look like Macauly Culkin. After ten minutes of this Macauly and his friends left the bar, but on their way out we got a really good look at him and he did, indeed, look like a dark-haired-not-as-cute-Macauly-Culkin-with-a-totally-different-shaped-head-but-the-same-dough-boy-lips.
Awshummm.....
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Blogs, Bizarreness, Bad News In the Making, Batman
I have a blog. You all know this because you are reading it. I write about my readers. I write about people who don't read it. The people who don't read it are sort of like characters. They're New York people who are real to me but fiction to the people who read the blog. I don't worry about it, because I am mostly certain that nobody will ever see this.
Now. Imagine that you've met someone and they say "I'll send you the link to my blog."
You think "Rad! I don't know this person well and their blog will give me insight into their personality!"
Then you read the blog because you are doing everything in your power to procrastinate doing work because you know your data will be bad and because the entire week has been a wash scientifically. Your immediate response is "This blog is GOOD!" so you read more, wishing your blog could be as good. But you're not concerned, because you are a scientist and the writer of the good blog is, well, a writer.
You read more, and you learn more about this person. Questions are answered. You start to like the writer more and more, because you can identify with the writing. More importantly, you can identify with why the writer writes.
You read on, and then you find an entry about you.
Which is weird, because suddenly you've become a character in someone else's blog.
You wonder "Does the author realize I've seen this?" or "Did the author want me to see this?" or "What does the author mean by this?"
In the entry, which is bizarre because it mimics an entry in your own blog, the author is excited to have met you but describes you as "bad news in the making" because you very much remind the author of someone named "J."
You are compared to "J" because you both have "the nerdy glasses and the big words." There are more comparisons.
Now.
It's just weird.
Being on someone's blog.
And having what's said about you on someone's blog be uninterpretable.
It brings up this cascade of questions and thinking-too-much:
1. Who is "J?" Is she real? If you met her, would you think that she was just like you? How do people perceive you, anyway?
2. In the entry, you are referred to as Comic Girl #3 - there are entries about #2 - but who is #1? Are there other people on the planet who are just like you? Did these other Girls look like you? And why are you #3? And why is someone other than you writing about your glasses? How bizarre is that? How should you feel about this?
3. Are people drawn to other people because they remind them of something comfortable? Do people only hang out with new people because the new people are substitutes for someone else? Is that what life is all about? Are you just a genre? Are you just "a type?"
4. Being a character. Weird. People wrote comments. Which is fine, because we all do it, but still weird.
5. Should you be flattered or horrified? If you make enough of an impression on someone to appear as a character in their blog, then that's cool. But its almost like you're a shadow of another character. Would you be noteworthy in someone's life if someone didn't already set the precedent for your type?
Bizarre. It's not traumatic or anything. It's just an interesting experience to have. People are always talking about information being readily available on the internet (man, I talked about the Internet being a Super Villain in my very own blog!) and this is just an example of that. When asked what superpower people would like, some people who haven't really thought things through will say "The ability to read minds." The ability to read thoughts is the worst superpower ever.
It's just weird to be distilled down to a character in someone's cryptic online story. Which I guess is deserved, as I am writing my own cryptic online story. Except its not really cryptic. Is it?
Man. This is weird. Maybe I shouldn't have a blog anymore. No. Maybe I'll just never talk about people again. But I like to tell stories about people doing cute or ridiculous things. What's more entertaining than people?
Holy Blog Crisis, Batman.
Now. Imagine that you've met someone and they say "I'll send you the link to my blog."
You think "Rad! I don't know this person well and their blog will give me insight into their personality!"
Then you read the blog because you are doing everything in your power to procrastinate doing work because you know your data will be bad and because the entire week has been a wash scientifically. Your immediate response is "This blog is GOOD!" so you read more, wishing your blog could be as good. But you're not concerned, because you are a scientist and the writer of the good blog is, well, a writer.
You read more, and you learn more about this person. Questions are answered. You start to like the writer more and more, because you can identify with the writing. More importantly, you can identify with why the writer writes.
You read on, and then you find an entry about you.
Which is weird, because suddenly you've become a character in someone else's blog.
You wonder "Does the author realize I've seen this?" or "Did the author want me to see this?" or "What does the author mean by this?"
In the entry, which is bizarre because it mimics an entry in your own blog, the author is excited to have met you but describes you as "bad news in the making" because you very much remind the author of someone named "J."
You are compared to "J" because you both have "the nerdy glasses and the big words." There are more comparisons.
Now.
It's just weird.
Being on someone's blog.
And having what's said about you on someone's blog be uninterpretable.
It brings up this cascade of questions and thinking-too-much:
1. Who is "J?" Is she real? If you met her, would you think that she was just like you? How do people perceive you, anyway?
2. In the entry, you are referred to as Comic Girl #3 - there are entries about #2 - but who is #1? Are there other people on the planet who are just like you? Did these other Girls look like you? And why are you #3? And why is someone other than you writing about your glasses? How bizarre is that? How should you feel about this?
3. Are people drawn to other people because they remind them of something comfortable? Do people only hang out with new people because the new people are substitutes for someone else? Is that what life is all about? Are you just a genre? Are you just "a type?"
4. Being a character. Weird. People wrote comments. Which is fine, because we all do it, but still weird.
5. Should you be flattered or horrified? If you make enough of an impression on someone to appear as a character in their blog, then that's cool. But its almost like you're a shadow of another character. Would you be noteworthy in someone's life if someone didn't already set the precedent for your type?
Bizarre. It's not traumatic or anything. It's just an interesting experience to have. People are always talking about information being readily available on the internet (man, I talked about the Internet being a Super Villain in my very own blog!) and this is just an example of that. When asked what superpower people would like, some people who haven't really thought things through will say "The ability to read minds." The ability to read thoughts is the worst superpower ever.
It's just weird to be distilled down to a character in someone's cryptic online story. Which I guess is deserved, as I am writing my own cryptic online story. Except its not really cryptic. Is it?
Man. This is weird. Maybe I shouldn't have a blog anymore. No. Maybe I'll just never talk about people again. But I like to tell stories about people doing cute or ridiculous things. What's more entertaining than people?
Holy Blog Crisis, Batman.
Free Sangria
The things you will tell someone as you're trying to get to know them are bizarre and unpredictable.
For example, I found myself soliloquizing this evening about my arch-nemesis from high school.
Now.
I don't often talk about my arch-nemesis. I am unsure whether I've even mentioned his existence to some (most? any?) of my best friends. I never, ever consciously think about him. He has been stricken from the record.
He doesn't exist until I am trying to explain who I am to someone who knows nothing about me, and for some reason I end up talking about my arch-nemesis from high school.
Why is that? Is it to explain what annoys me about the world without directly saying "It annoys me when smarmy people get ahead of qualified people by cheating and because they are better looking?" Is it to remind myself that I have a past? Is it because the term "arch-nemesis" isn't used enough and because it makes for good conversation to share stories about enemies? Why did I even bring this up? I have no idea.
The arch-nemesis conversation occurred this evening over Mexican food. The restaurant was very non-New York. This means that it was not scene-y. It reminded me of Boston and made me feel warm and fuzzy. I did not feel warm and fuzzy about the price of Quesadillas, though. I was made, however, to feel extremely warm and fuzzy when the waiter brought over two glasses of sangria. We were like "We didn't order..." and he smiled adorably and said "It's on the house."
I have no explanation for this. Nobody else in the restaurant got free sangria. More data must be collected....
In other news, finally!!! someone at work did an impression of Ja Rule. Again, warm and fuzzy. It's been far too long since someone in my life imitated Ja Rule. My new Bench Buddy did it and it was fantastic. I became giddy, which prompted him to do more hip hop impressions, including doing all three parts (Ja Rule included) of that Fat Joe / Ashanti "What's love got to do... got to do... got to do wtih it...." song. These impressions most likely resulted from my declaration of "We have to get a Snoop Dogg action figure as a mascot for our bay!"
This new guy rocks. He also said, unprompted, "Well, if you want some cute indie pop boys to hang out with, you should meet my friends."
Yes, Bench Buddy, you said the magic words. Cute. Indie. Pop. Boys.
Damn sangria. I am simultaneously exhausted and spastic so....
More on the topic of getting to know new people...
Sometimes when you find yourself getting to know new people, you will not only tell them bizarre things about yourself that you never tell anyone and relay ancient anecdotes and say things like "oh yeah? well my hometown has COWS!", you might find yourself allowing them to hear your original songs on your Ipod.
This might weird you out because nobody other than you has actually heard these songs in crisp, raw, non-audio-blogged form. And because nobody in your new life knows about this part of you.
It might weird you out even more because you have to watch this person listen to your music, which is basically like watching someone read your diary, and all you want to do is scream "Well, do you hate it?" but you don't, because you are truly afraid that they do.
And it might make you pause when you realize that the only reason you allowed them to listen to the songs is because they were adorable when they stuttered "Why can't I talk around you?"
And it might embarrass you even more than you are already embarrassed when they say, after listening, something like "You seem really nervous" as you blush uncontrollably.
And it might frustrate you to no end because you just did something you never do, and because for you, having someone listen to your music while you are there is more intimacy than you know how to handle. It's more than you're used to. It makes you feel like a freak and makes you want to yell "I am nervous because I feel like you just saw me naked or something!" but instead you just take your Ipod back and don't ask if the music was good or not.
And then its the next day at work and you look up and unexpectedly see this person and they look different to you.
And you smile differently.
Because you feel like he saw a part of you that nobody else sees and for some reason he still smiles at you.
It's weird - that moment when you see someone differently and you think "Happy" and then "Oh shit" and then "Maybe its time to find a therapist here."
For example, I found myself soliloquizing this evening about my arch-nemesis from high school.
Now.
I don't often talk about my arch-nemesis. I am unsure whether I've even mentioned his existence to some (most? any?) of my best friends. I never, ever consciously think about him. He has been stricken from the record.
He doesn't exist until I am trying to explain who I am to someone who knows nothing about me, and for some reason I end up talking about my arch-nemesis from high school.
Why is that? Is it to explain what annoys me about the world without directly saying "It annoys me when smarmy people get ahead of qualified people by cheating and because they are better looking?" Is it to remind myself that I have a past? Is it because the term "arch-nemesis" isn't used enough and because it makes for good conversation to share stories about enemies? Why did I even bring this up? I have no idea.
The arch-nemesis conversation occurred this evening over Mexican food. The restaurant was very non-New York. This means that it was not scene-y. It reminded me of Boston and made me feel warm and fuzzy. I did not feel warm and fuzzy about the price of Quesadillas, though. I was made, however, to feel extremely warm and fuzzy when the waiter brought over two glasses of sangria. We were like "We didn't order..." and he smiled adorably and said "It's on the house."
I have no explanation for this. Nobody else in the restaurant got free sangria. More data must be collected....
In other news, finally!!! someone at work did an impression of Ja Rule. Again, warm and fuzzy. It's been far too long since someone in my life imitated Ja Rule. My new Bench Buddy did it and it was fantastic. I became giddy, which prompted him to do more hip hop impressions, including doing all three parts (Ja Rule included) of that Fat Joe / Ashanti "What's love got to do... got to do... got to do wtih it...." song. These impressions most likely resulted from my declaration of "We have to get a Snoop Dogg action figure as a mascot for our bay!"
This new guy rocks. He also said, unprompted, "Well, if you want some cute indie pop boys to hang out with, you should meet my friends."
Yes, Bench Buddy, you said the magic words. Cute. Indie. Pop. Boys.
Damn sangria. I am simultaneously exhausted and spastic so....
More on the topic of getting to know new people...
Sometimes when you find yourself getting to know new people, you will not only tell them bizarre things about yourself that you never tell anyone and relay ancient anecdotes and say things like "oh yeah? well my hometown has COWS!", you might find yourself allowing them to hear your original songs on your Ipod.
This might weird you out because nobody other than you has actually heard these songs in crisp, raw, non-audio-blogged form. And because nobody in your new life knows about this part of you.
It might weird you out even more because you have to watch this person listen to your music, which is basically like watching someone read your diary, and all you want to do is scream "Well, do you hate it?" but you don't, because you are truly afraid that they do.
And it might make you pause when you realize that the only reason you allowed them to listen to the songs is because they were adorable when they stuttered "Why can't I talk around you?"
And it might embarrass you even more than you are already embarrassed when they say, after listening, something like "You seem really nervous" as you blush uncontrollably.
And it might frustrate you to no end because you just did something you never do, and because for you, having someone listen to your music while you are there is more intimacy than you know how to handle. It's more than you're used to. It makes you feel like a freak and makes you want to yell "I am nervous because I feel like you just saw me naked or something!" but instead you just take your Ipod back and don't ask if the music was good or not.
And then its the next day at work and you look up and unexpectedly see this person and they look different to you.
And you smile differently.
Because you feel like he saw a part of you that nobody else sees and for some reason he still smiles at you.
It's weird - that moment when you see someone differently and you think "Happy" and then "Oh shit" and then "Maybe its time to find a therapist here."
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Obsessive Entry of the Week
I want a Snoop Dogg action figure. I looked at some on the web, and there are
apparently three different ones, but I don't love any of them enough to pay $35. If they were $15, maybe. I want one for work. And one for the loft. And one to carry with me at all times.
In the spirit of Snoop, please enjoy the following:
http://www.asksnoop.com/
I will always love this website.
In other news, I went to see The Machinist last night.
The writer saw Fight Club and Memento and thought "Wow! Those were great movies! You know what would be awesome? If I take all the crappy stuff from both of those movies, combine them, and then have a grotesquely thin protagonist to trick people into thinking I've written a good movie!"
The only good thing about this movie was that it was pretty.
Christian Bale, however, was not pretty. I didn't think it was possible. He is my longest-lasting celebrity crush.
(Breaking news: Someone in the lab just said to the pregnant woman "But isn't your stomach itchy? I remember my stomach being really dry and itchy. Did you try the cocoa butter thing?")
I've loved him since Newsies. I have been rabid. I haven't seen too many of his recent endeavors, but have seen Swing Kids about 10,000 times. If I had to marry someone, it would be Christian Bale. Well, not Christian Bale at 119 pounds. Plump, adorable, perfect Christain Bale.
He is pretty much the only celebrity crush who has endured the test of time. I've gone through every phase - Corey Haim, Jon Knight, William Baldwin, Ralph Fiennes, Brad Pitt, Dave Grohl, Jude Law. Christian Bale has always been there.
Yum.
And I liked him before everyone realized he was super hot after American Psycho.
And how excited are we for Christian Bale to be Batman in Batman Begins?
I cannot contain myself.
The only thing with Christian Bale, though, is that he is very serious. He never smiles. Which will be good for the Batman role. But not good in a boyfriend, which is the only reason I'll never date him.
Heh.
apparently three different ones, but I don't love any of them enough to pay $35. If they were $15, maybe. I want one for work. And one for the loft. And one to carry with me at all times.
In the spirit of Snoop, please enjoy the following:
http://www.asksnoop.com/
I will always love this website.
In other news, I went to see The Machinist last night.
The writer saw Fight Club and Memento and thought "Wow! Those were great movies! You know what would be awesome? If I take all the crappy stuff from both of those movies, combine them, and then have a grotesquely thin protagonist to trick people into thinking I've written a good movie!"
The only good thing about this movie was that it was pretty.
Christian Bale, however, was not pretty. I didn't think it was possible. He is my longest-lasting celebrity crush.
(Breaking news: Someone in the lab just said to the pregnant woman "But isn't your stomach itchy? I remember my stomach being really dry and itchy. Did you try the cocoa butter thing?")
I've loved him since Newsies. I have been rabid. I haven't seen too many of his recent endeavors, but have seen Swing Kids about 10,000 times. If I had to marry someone, it would be Christian Bale. Well, not Christian Bale at 119 pounds. Plump, adorable, perfect Christain Bale.
He is pretty much the only celebrity crush who has endured the test of time. I've gone through every phase - Corey Haim, Jon Knight, William Baldwin, Ralph Fiennes, Brad Pitt, Dave Grohl, Jude Law. Christian Bale has always been there.
Yum.
And I liked him before everyone realized he was super hot after American Psycho.
And how excited are we for Christian Bale to be Batman in Batman Begins?
I cannot contain myself.
The only thing with Christian Bale, though, is that he is very serious. He never smiles. Which will be good for the Batman role. But not good in a boyfriend, which is the only reason I'll never date him.
Heh.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Bad Mood Be Gone!
Today during lunch I went to pick up my hemmed purple pants, which look fabulous. I cannot wait to wear them this weekend.
On my way back from the pants mission, I stopped at Subway for lunch. I love Subway because they say "Our sandwiches have only three grams of fat!" and then harrass you at the cash register until you buy a soda, a cookie, and chips.
Fine with me! I asked for a white chocolate chip cookie. No chips. Take that!
I sat down to eat and realized they had given me two white chocolate chip cookies! Apparently two cookies is the equivalent of one bag of chips in the meal deal. I bit into cookie 1 and it was pure bliss. Why? Because this cookie, for whatever reason, tasted exactly like a Lucky Charms marshmallow.
And I had two of them.
Yes.
Bad mood officially thwarted by a white chocolate chip cookie.
Word.
On my way back from the pants mission, I stopped at Subway for lunch. I love Subway because they say "Our sandwiches have only three grams of fat!" and then harrass you at the cash register until you buy a soda, a cookie, and chips.
Fine with me! I asked for a white chocolate chip cookie. No chips. Take that!
I sat down to eat and realized they had given me two white chocolate chip cookies! Apparently two cookies is the equivalent of one bag of chips in the meal deal. I bit into cookie 1 and it was pure bliss. Why? Because this cookie, for whatever reason, tasted exactly like a Lucky Charms marshmallow.
And I had two of them.
Yes.
Bad mood officially thwarted by a white chocolate chip cookie.
Word.
Going Home
Now I know what "going home" means. I've never gone home from anywhere but the same state that home was in. Going home is very romantic and exciting when you don't live near home. You feel the climate changing and see grass and trees and get to ride in a car. You receive looks of awe from your family members because you now live "somewhere else." You have an neverending arsenal of things to talk about and, more importantly, things to feel nostalgic about.
Going home was, of course, an ordeal. Getting to Boston from NYC was agony. Penn Station was more chaotic than usual. There were wall to wall people, the air was stagnant, it was about 100 degrees, people were irritable and running over one another with luggage. People were yelling and screaming and hostile. Once on the train, it was delayed for about an hour and a half due to "traffic on the tracks" and "weather." We inched down the tracks - and waited like two seconds away from 128, which is where I was getting off, for a half hour without explanation.
Being at home was nice, although not as relaxing as I'd have liked. Thanksgiving Day itself was lovely - lots of carbs, lots of stories, lots of appreciation of relatives although I feel very distant from them now that they literally have no comprehension of what my life is like. Before they could at least picture where I was even though they don't know much about me.
I felt very romantic on Thankgiving Day because my father forced us to watch the Concert for George, which immediately had me smitten with George Harrison's son Dhani, who looks exactly like George. Freakishly like him. Uncanny. You would think it was George himself if you didn't know what you were watching.
I thought "Wow, I would totally date him," and then I started thinking about George Harrison himself, and how he was such a good man and amazing musician. Eric Clapton organized the concert, and he's amazing as well. And still attractive, despite his age. Then I was thinking "Would I have left George for Eric Clapton like Patti did?" and then I started wondering if she was still sort of in love with George after she left him, because how could she not be? And then I felt all romantic and tragic projecting myself onto Patti Boyd, who was with Eric Clapton but must have still loved George. Sigh. I am so deranged. I couldn't quite deal with the idea of being in love with Eric Clapton and George Harrison at the same time. It's enough to make you explode, but in a good way.
Aside from the fact that my folks are still cheap and therefore refuse to put the heat up to survivable levels thereby necessitating the wearing of two blankets in the house at all times which has caused me to now be sick again, visiting with them was lovely. Turns out I miss them. Tons.
Some highlights from my mini-holiday:
1. My sister got a guinea pig! His name is Tony and he makes her happier than she's ever been. He is adorable, and she is adorable with him.
2. Went out for dinner and ice cream with M and N (and Sister), who were kind enough to journey out into the sub-suburbs to spend time with me. Even though we were fairly full and slightly buzzed after dinner, we had to have sundaes at Friendly's. Fortunately a new Friendly's just opened up within walking distance of where we ate dinner, so we were all set! Friendly's has the best hot fudge on the planet. What they also have, and you did not know this!, is the funniest artwork ever created. Sister looked up and said "Look... there's ice cream in that picture for no reason" and then "See the one next to it? There's a sandwich in the backyard." Yes, folks, for whatever reason, this particular Friendly's decided to adorn its walls with photographs of New England-y scenes - such as covered bridges, sailboats, barns, seascapes, landscapes - with gratuitous Friendly's food items thrown in rather randomly. After we finished eating, we walked around the restaurant, gallery-style, and took in each of these scenes. I couldn't stop laughing at the sandwich in the backyard or the conehead sundae on the tall ship.
3. My sister exposed me to Curb Your Enthusiasm and mark my words! Whenever I have a functional DVD player I'm so renting them! There was an episode in which Larry David goes to the doctor's and is outraged by the sign-in policy. Basically, you make an appointment but once you get there its first come/first serve based on who's signed in first, thus rendering the pre-made appointment pointless. He tries to drum up outrage and support from the other patients in the waiting room, but everyone ignores him. This exact thing happened to me yesterday on the train on my way home to Brooklyn - there was this woman who was absolutely outraged by the train service - like the express train wasn't coming and she kept trying to rally everyone on the train by saying things like "Doesn't anyone think this policy is ridiculous? Why aren't there more express trains? Ridiculous. How can we stand for this?" but everyone ignored her because nobody cared. We are all used to this. It was awesome.
4. My hometown is all developed. There is now a McDonald's, Starbucks, Walgreens, Star Market, and other nonsense. It's just not right.
Getting back yesterday, as usual, too forever. LBF dropped me off in Harvard Square at about noon and I got to South Station at about 12:40 for my 1:00 train, which didn't come until 1:30. We were then delayed due to "slippery tracks" as well as "increased passenger volume" and then "engine issues." I got into Penn Station at about 7:30.
Right now I am exhausted, sick, and desperately want to decompress. I have a huge pile of phone calls to make, songs to write/record, errands to run, gifts to purchase, Christmas songs to practice just in case I have to play them this weekend. The world doesn't let me forget, either - Christmas carols are already on non-stop. Solid rotation. The station that was playing in tissue culture this morning actually boasted of their "Uninterrupted Holiday Music!" Instead of putting me in the spirit it just makes me anxious. Because I suck at "Let It Snow" and have no time to practice. And because I don't know what to get anyone, or where to get it, or who I'm getting things for.
Blech. This is just fatigue talking. Or maybe its having been away from where I want to be that's talking. When you find where you want to be, suddenly its hard to be away from it. I really missed New York while I was in MA. I had dreams starring my New York friends. It's good to be back, but I won't really feel like I'm back until after the holidays. Hope you all had stellar Thanksgivings. I will report back tomorrow when I am in a better mood and when hopefully I will no longer suck at "Let It Snow."
Word.
Going home was, of course, an ordeal. Getting to Boston from NYC was agony. Penn Station was more chaotic than usual. There were wall to wall people, the air was stagnant, it was about 100 degrees, people were irritable and running over one another with luggage. People were yelling and screaming and hostile. Once on the train, it was delayed for about an hour and a half due to "traffic on the tracks" and "weather." We inched down the tracks - and waited like two seconds away from 128, which is where I was getting off, for a half hour without explanation.
Being at home was nice, although not as relaxing as I'd have liked. Thanksgiving Day itself was lovely - lots of carbs, lots of stories, lots of appreciation of relatives although I feel very distant from them now that they literally have no comprehension of what my life is like. Before they could at least picture where I was even though they don't know much about me.
I felt very romantic on Thankgiving Day because my father forced us to watch the Concert for George, which immediately had me smitten with George Harrison's son Dhani, who looks exactly like George. Freakishly like him. Uncanny. You would think it was George himself if you didn't know what you were watching.
I thought "Wow, I would totally date him," and then I started thinking about George Harrison himself, and how he was such a good man and amazing musician. Eric Clapton organized the concert, and he's amazing as well. And still attractive, despite his age. Then I was thinking "Would I have left George for Eric Clapton like Patti did?" and then I started wondering if she was still sort of in love with George after she left him, because how could she not be? And then I felt all romantic and tragic projecting myself onto Patti Boyd, who was with Eric Clapton but must have still loved George. Sigh. I am so deranged. I couldn't quite deal with the idea of being in love with Eric Clapton and George Harrison at the same time. It's enough to make you explode, but in a good way.
Aside from the fact that my folks are still cheap and therefore refuse to put the heat up to survivable levels thereby necessitating the wearing of two blankets in the house at all times which has caused me to now be sick again, visiting with them was lovely. Turns out I miss them. Tons.
Some highlights from my mini-holiday:
1. My sister got a guinea pig! His name is Tony and he makes her happier than she's ever been. He is adorable, and she is adorable with him.
2. Went out for dinner and ice cream with M and N (and Sister), who were kind enough to journey out into the sub-suburbs to spend time with me. Even though we were fairly full and slightly buzzed after dinner, we had to have sundaes at Friendly's. Fortunately a new Friendly's just opened up within walking distance of where we ate dinner, so we were all set! Friendly's has the best hot fudge on the planet. What they also have, and you did not know this!, is the funniest artwork ever created. Sister looked up and said "Look... there's ice cream in that picture for no reason" and then "See the one next to it? There's a sandwich in the backyard." Yes, folks, for whatever reason, this particular Friendly's decided to adorn its walls with photographs of New England-y scenes - such as covered bridges, sailboats, barns, seascapes, landscapes - with gratuitous Friendly's food items thrown in rather randomly. After we finished eating, we walked around the restaurant, gallery-style, and took in each of these scenes. I couldn't stop laughing at the sandwich in the backyard or the conehead sundae on the tall ship.
3. My sister exposed me to Curb Your Enthusiasm and mark my words! Whenever I have a functional DVD player I'm so renting them! There was an episode in which Larry David goes to the doctor's and is outraged by the sign-in policy. Basically, you make an appointment but once you get there its first come/first serve based on who's signed in first, thus rendering the pre-made appointment pointless. He tries to drum up outrage and support from the other patients in the waiting room, but everyone ignores him. This exact thing happened to me yesterday on the train on my way home to Brooklyn - there was this woman who was absolutely outraged by the train service - like the express train wasn't coming and she kept trying to rally everyone on the train by saying things like "Doesn't anyone think this policy is ridiculous? Why aren't there more express trains? Ridiculous. How can we stand for this?" but everyone ignored her because nobody cared. We are all used to this. It was awesome.
4. My hometown is all developed. There is now a McDonald's, Starbucks, Walgreens, Star Market, and other nonsense. It's just not right.
Getting back yesterday, as usual, too forever. LBF dropped me off in Harvard Square at about noon and I got to South Station at about 12:40 for my 1:00 train, which didn't come until 1:30. We were then delayed due to "slippery tracks" as well as "increased passenger volume" and then "engine issues." I got into Penn Station at about 7:30.
Right now I am exhausted, sick, and desperately want to decompress. I have a huge pile of phone calls to make, songs to write/record, errands to run, gifts to purchase, Christmas songs to practice just in case I have to play them this weekend. The world doesn't let me forget, either - Christmas carols are already on non-stop. Solid rotation. The station that was playing in tissue culture this morning actually boasted of their "Uninterrupted Holiday Music!" Instead of putting me in the spirit it just makes me anxious. Because I suck at "Let It Snow" and have no time to practice. And because I don't know what to get anyone, or where to get it, or who I'm getting things for.
Blech. This is just fatigue talking. Or maybe its having been away from where I want to be that's talking. When you find where you want to be, suddenly its hard to be away from it. I really missed New York while I was in MA. I had dreams starring my New York friends. It's good to be back, but I won't really feel like I'm back until after the holidays. Hope you all had stellar Thanksgivings. I will report back tomorrow when I am in a better mood and when hopefully I will no longer suck at "Let It Snow."
Word.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
One More Thing....
I saw a teenager on the train today who was wearing this bizarre Donald Duck Nascar jacket. Interesting. I thought "Does that particular city teenager have a thing for Donald Duck or is this the newest in hip hop fashion?"
Then, on my way to and from the glasses place, I saw two more kids with these jackets, but they were Mickey Mouse!
So apparently this is the new trend in hip hop fashion.
I am thoroughly confused by it. Disney characters? On jackets in 2004? For $200? Wtf?
To see the jackets please visit:
http://www.abasleatherjackets.com/micmous.html
Now I'm really leaving.
Then, on my way to and from the glasses place, I saw two more kids with these jackets, but they were Mickey Mouse!
So apparently this is the new trend in hip hop fashion.
I am thoroughly confused by it. Disney characters? On jackets in 2004? For $200? Wtf?
To see the jackets please visit:
http://www.abasleatherjackets.com/micmous.html
Now I'm really leaving.
All Bow to the German-ator
Blog Reference: Karma Officially Trampled (11.16.04); comment by German:
"hi leah,
if you still have problems with your new glasses after
the prescription is fixed, make sure that you take with
you your old specs, and bend the frame with the same angles
as your old one.
I actually had major headaches with my new glasses, then
I went back and the person there just said, oh, we need
to bend them the way your used to. I don't know if I'm
describing it well enough.. but the frames' bent position
can make a HUGE diference.."
I just went to the eyeglasses place.
I threw no fit.
When asked how I was doing ("LEAH! HOW ARE YOU?! We thought you were leaving today for Thanksgiving!" because now we are old friends), I said "I am quite cross, actually." I explained what was now wrong, how I felt about it, and said "I'd like my money back."
They said "Well, we already did two re-do's for no charge."
"The re-do's were not my fault."
"I know, I know, maybe we can give you a store credit..."
"That won't do."
They gave my glasses to the lens-making-man to look at. He claimed that the new glasses were the same exact prescription as the old glasses. I said "No, because I can't see out of the new ones and get crazy headaches."
He gave them to the doctor, who also said "These are the same prescription."
"But I can't see!"
"But its the same."
"But I can't see. See, I get bad headaches. And everything is wavy. And I can't see."
"I don't know. They are the same."
"BUT THEY DON'T WORK!"
"Maybe you need a different frame or something. We'll get a new frame." For the love of god. The lenses with the chip in that exact frame worked fine.
Then... like magic... a German shaped puppet appeared in my mind (think Team America)and I thought "Wait! German said that maybe... just maybe... if you bend your glasses a certain way, they will magically work!"
Just as I thought this, the doctor said "Or, perhaps its the angle..."
"Might you try to bend them?"
"We'll see what we can do."
He disappeared for about five minutes, returned, and voila! I could see.
They said "You're just very sensitive to your prescription."
Yes. I am very sensitive to being able to see appropriately. They said "Make sure you don't drop those because then you won't be able to see" as though its my fault that the angle was weird.
Whatever.
At least now I won't have to ever go back there or hopefully to any eye type place for the next few years.
And it has been confirmed, once more, that German is brilliant.
And that blogs are useful.
"hi leah,
if you still have problems with your new glasses after
the prescription is fixed, make sure that you take with
you your old specs, and bend the frame with the same angles
as your old one.
I actually had major headaches with my new glasses, then
I went back and the person there just said, oh, we need
to bend them the way your used to. I don't know if I'm
describing it well enough.. but the frames' bent position
can make a HUGE diference.."
I just went to the eyeglasses place.
I threw no fit.
When asked how I was doing ("LEAH! HOW ARE YOU?! We thought you were leaving today for Thanksgiving!" because now we are old friends), I said "I am quite cross, actually." I explained what was now wrong, how I felt about it, and said "I'd like my money back."
They said "Well, we already did two re-do's for no charge."
"The re-do's were not my fault."
"I know, I know, maybe we can give you a store credit..."
"That won't do."
They gave my glasses to the lens-making-man to look at. He claimed that the new glasses were the same exact prescription as the old glasses. I said "No, because I can't see out of the new ones and get crazy headaches."
He gave them to the doctor, who also said "These are the same prescription."
"But I can't see!"
"But its the same."
"But I can't see. See, I get bad headaches. And everything is wavy. And I can't see."
"I don't know. They are the same."
"BUT THEY DON'T WORK!"
"Maybe you need a different frame or something. We'll get a new frame." For the love of god. The lenses with the chip in that exact frame worked fine.
Then... like magic... a German shaped puppet appeared in my mind (think Team America)and I thought "Wait! German said that maybe... just maybe... if you bend your glasses a certain way, they will magically work!"
Just as I thought this, the doctor said "Or, perhaps its the angle..."
"Might you try to bend them?"
"We'll see what we can do."
He disappeared for about five minutes, returned, and voila! I could see.
They said "You're just very sensitive to your prescription."
Yes. I am very sensitive to being able to see appropriately. They said "Make sure you don't drop those because then you won't be able to see" as though its my fault that the angle was weird.
Whatever.
At least now I won't have to ever go back there or hopefully to any eye type place for the next few years.
And it has been confirmed, once more, that German is brilliant.
And that blogs are useful.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Rage
I rarely get mad. I'm more of a sad type. When I do get mad, I freak out, a lot, and yell about whatever's making me mad to people who aren't involved with the madness-inducing incident or person. People generally think this is cute and don't take me seriously, which makes me even more mad.
Because I don't get mad often, when I do get mad I can't really deal with it. Especially when I'm mad to the point where I feel like I should probably deal with it. And then I get freaked out, because I feel really mad and pissed and victimized and can't deal with that on top of knowing that I need to confront something in order to feel better.
Tonight I am extremely pissed off. Livid. Going fucking nuts. It's not serious. It's my fucking glasses. Again. I am pissed off because I gave these glasses people a ridiculous amount of money and they can't do their job. If your job is to cut lenses, then just cut lenses!!!!
The sequence of events:
Monday - purchase two pairs of glasses
Tuesday - pick up glasses but both glasses are incorrect prescription (and, both are different incorrect prescriptions, which is weird, because they're supposed to be cut from the same glass)
Friday - pick up glasses again and they are correct prescription!
Saturday - have to to back because glasses were incorrectly adjusted and are crooked
Sunday - have to go back again because noticed a chip in one lens and glue on other lens of one pair
Monday - pick up new glasses, again... note: this is the THIRD PAIR
Tuesday - packing for Thanksgiving and want to see self in third pair of conservative pair, start watching TV, and realize right eye is fucking WRONG PRESCRIPTION AGAIN
Now.
I have been to this place, which is nowhere near where I work or live, 6 out of the last 9 days.
I gave them tons of money.
Fucking inexcusable.
I went last week knowing that I'd be able to wear my new glasses which actually fit and are not disintegrating home for Thanksgiving.
I don't have time for this!!! Who has time for this!??!? And I paid LOTS OF MONEY for this!!!!
So now, tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving, I have to go back AGAIN. I will not be able to wear conservative pair home for Thanskgiving. I am pissed about having to do this, as it is going to rain tomorrow and as I will be rushing around trying to finish IP's and tissue culture in order to leave by 3 pm to get to my train in time.
I have to go there and force myself to throw a fit. I should have thrown a fit last time. I just couldn't do it because Roommate was there and I felt calm. Some people are good at fit-throwing. I am just not the type. I try to be patient. Right now I am impatient. How do you good fit-throwers do it? You don't back down. You rule.
I have to demand my money back. I think what I am going to do is pay for the frames and demand the money back on the lenses and just have lenses made somewhere else, because this is fucking absurd. Hopefully they'll then say "No! Don't do that - we'll give you the money back on the lenses and we'll make them again for you. In fact, we'll give you the money back on the frames, too, for all your inconvenience."
Right.
I have to be firm.
Man am I pissed.
Because I don't get mad often, when I do get mad I can't really deal with it. Especially when I'm mad to the point where I feel like I should probably deal with it. And then I get freaked out, because I feel really mad and pissed and victimized and can't deal with that on top of knowing that I need to confront something in order to feel better.
Tonight I am extremely pissed off. Livid. Going fucking nuts. It's not serious. It's my fucking glasses. Again. I am pissed off because I gave these glasses people a ridiculous amount of money and they can't do their job. If your job is to cut lenses, then just cut lenses!!!!
The sequence of events:
Monday - purchase two pairs of glasses
Tuesday - pick up glasses but both glasses are incorrect prescription (and, both are different incorrect prescriptions, which is weird, because they're supposed to be cut from the same glass)
Friday - pick up glasses again and they are correct prescription!
Saturday - have to to back because glasses were incorrectly adjusted and are crooked
Sunday - have to go back again because noticed a chip in one lens and glue on other lens of one pair
Monday - pick up new glasses, again... note: this is the THIRD PAIR
Tuesday - packing for Thanksgiving and want to see self in third pair of conservative pair, start watching TV, and realize right eye is fucking WRONG PRESCRIPTION AGAIN
Now.
I have been to this place, which is nowhere near where I work or live, 6 out of the last 9 days.
I gave them tons of money.
Fucking inexcusable.
I went last week knowing that I'd be able to wear my new glasses which actually fit and are not disintegrating home for Thanksgiving.
I don't have time for this!!! Who has time for this!??!? And I paid LOTS OF MONEY for this!!!!
So now, tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving, I have to go back AGAIN. I will not be able to wear conservative pair home for Thanskgiving. I am pissed about having to do this, as it is going to rain tomorrow and as I will be rushing around trying to finish IP's and tissue culture in order to leave by 3 pm to get to my train in time.
I have to go there and force myself to throw a fit. I should have thrown a fit last time. I just couldn't do it because Roommate was there and I felt calm. Some people are good at fit-throwing. I am just not the type. I try to be patient. Right now I am impatient. How do you good fit-throwers do it? You don't back down. You rule.
I have to demand my money back. I think what I am going to do is pay for the frames and demand the money back on the lenses and just have lenses made somewhere else, because this is fucking absurd. Hopefully they'll then say "No! Don't do that - we'll give you the money back on the lenses and we'll make them again for you. In fact, we'll give you the money back on the frames, too, for all your inconvenience."
Right.
I have to be firm.
Man am I pissed.
Procrastination
I have never been the type to procrastinate. I've been accused of being "too productive." I always had the paper written weeks in advance and started studying for finals a month before finals.
I do, however, procrastinate one thing and one thing only. Packing. I can't stand it. I just did millions of dishes to procrastinate packing. I am now sitting on my bed blogging, submerged in a pile of socks and lip sticks and books I might bring and way too many shirts for four days, in order to procrastinate.
I don't know what it is about packing. I loathe it. I despite it above all else. And its only packing for trips. I didn't have issues with packing to move. I was all over it. I did it gradually over weeks so it never really got out of control.
But man. Packing for a few days is torture. I think its because you have to limit what you bring, and as a girl this is infuriating. I'd love nothing more than to bring three different pairs of shoes and all forty three pairs of glasses and every possible skin product and enough clothing options to cover whatever happens with the weather. Like sweaters, shirts, blouses, and two different coats just in case.
But no. It all needs to fit in one bag and can't weigh too much.
It's much easier in the summer because the clothes are smaller and there's not much variability with the weather.
OK.
Now I am going to, ahem, pack.
One more thing: Theo from The Cosby Show got HOT. I know this because I was watching the 80's Retrosexual nonsense on VH1 to procrastinate.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all if I don't blog tomorrow, and hope to see some of you this weekend!
I do, however, procrastinate one thing and one thing only. Packing. I can't stand it. I just did millions of dishes to procrastinate packing. I am now sitting on my bed blogging, submerged in a pile of socks and lip sticks and books I might bring and way too many shirts for four days, in order to procrastinate.
I don't know what it is about packing. I loathe it. I despite it above all else. And its only packing for trips. I didn't have issues with packing to move. I was all over it. I did it gradually over weeks so it never really got out of control.
But man. Packing for a few days is torture. I think its because you have to limit what you bring, and as a girl this is infuriating. I'd love nothing more than to bring three different pairs of shoes and all forty three pairs of glasses and every possible skin product and enough clothing options to cover whatever happens with the weather. Like sweaters, shirts, blouses, and two different coats just in case.
But no. It all needs to fit in one bag and can't weigh too much.
It's much easier in the summer because the clothes are smaller and there's not much variability with the weather.
OK.
Now I am going to, ahem, pack.
One more thing: Theo from The Cosby Show got HOT. I know this because I was watching the 80's Retrosexual nonsense on VH1 to procrastinate.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all if I don't blog tomorrow, and hope to see some of you this weekend!
Monday, November 22, 2004
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Genre: Emo Drama!
Date: 11.22.04
Description:
I think the song speaks for itself. I'm still sad about this so wrote a song that involves some really bad singing. Things got a little messy (complicated) when I recorded this. The high end is a little too high, and the low end is a little too low so sometimes inaudible. The actual version on an actual piano is much better than the recording. At some point I'll have to go back and record it live. Nevertheless, thanks ladies for listening, and special thanks to N and M for your advice and for, ahem, some of the lyrics.
Lyrics:
Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't tell
Remain delusional
We're chatting, we're sickening, one thing leads to another like it always does
From the way you're behaving I don't think to ask if there's anyone involved but us
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Ten years ago I was your world
Now I'm just a notch in your belt, some skanky girl, a story to tell
From the rooftop I told you I loved you
Then crawled into his bed knowing I'd never say those words to him
Still I pretended he didn't exist
I didn't let myself see your face but I still thought of you in his embrace
You must think I'm desperate, pathetic
I take back all the loving things I said and especially what I did
I trust noone else but you but not today
You're losing me
By forcing me to be who I used to be
Give me the choice, let me decide
I can't believe its come down to this
I never imagined something could end us
We're bad at being friends, cuz we can't be just friends
Lying and lying in a fight
To maintain this bullshit in our lives
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Date: 11.22.04
Description:
I think the song speaks for itself. I'm still sad about this so wrote a song that involves some really bad singing. Things got a little messy (complicated) when I recorded this. The high end is a little too high, and the low end is a little too low so sometimes inaudible. The actual version on an actual piano is much better than the recording. At some point I'll have to go back and record it live. Nevertheless, thanks ladies for listening, and special thanks to N and M for your advice and for, ahem, some of the lyrics.
Lyrics:
Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't tell
Remain delusional
We're chatting, we're sickening, one thing leads to another like it always does
From the way you're behaving I don't think to ask if there's anyone involved but us
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Ten years ago I was your world
Now I'm just a notch in your belt, some skanky girl, a story to tell
From the rooftop I told you I loved you
Then crawled into his bed knowing I'd never say those words to him
Still I pretended he didn't exist
I didn't let myself see your face but I still thought of you in his embrace
You must think I'm desperate, pathetic
I take back all the loving things I said and especially what I did
I trust noone else but you but not today
You're losing me
By forcing me to be who I used to be
Give me the choice, let me decide
I can't believe its come down to this
I never imagined something could end us
We're bad at being friends, cuz we can't be just friends
Lying and lying in a fight
To maintain this bullshit in our lives
I don't know why this happens every time
Over and over we both fucked up
It's hard to let go of your first love
Never Will I Get Used to This (or I Am Absolutely Star Struck)
So after having a quick lunch today and dropping my purple pants off to be hemmed, I arrived back at work to see the street blocked off in front of my building and a bunch of bystanders standing around, not knowing what was going on.
I thought "Well, I might as well stand around for a bit since I'm in an incubation, and whatever it is will probably be more exciting than Freddie Prinze, Jr."
A jeep drove by with some cameras in it...
Followed by a bunch of NYPD and various other vehicles including...
A gigantic truck on which sat U2.
Now.
I am not a fan of U2, but Bono is a superstar, megastar, star star star.
The truck, which had a huge open bed and the entire band set up with instruments etc., stopped right in front of my building for a minute, during which U2 chatted with us.
Bono said "Hi" to us and I said "Hello" and the Edge nodded at me and sort of tilted his guitar in my direction.
And then they left. They were about 5 feet away. Freaking bizarre. Apparently they are filming at TV spot under the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon.
It's all very surreal, because this happened while I was at work.
Again, not a fan, but I'd like to say that Bono (and the rest) is larger than life (even in person) and is just a nice guy. They didn't need to stop and talk to us. They didn't even need to let people know that they were there. Instead, they decided to make a bunch of people's days and be friendly.
Many people were giddy (literally squealing) in the elevator after this happened.
This is the first time I ever thought "Why don't I have a camera phone!?"
New York rocks.
I thought "Well, I might as well stand around for a bit since I'm in an incubation, and whatever it is will probably be more exciting than Freddie Prinze, Jr."
A jeep drove by with some cameras in it...
Followed by a bunch of NYPD and various other vehicles including...
A gigantic truck on which sat U2.
Now.
I am not a fan of U2, but Bono is a superstar, megastar, star star star.
The truck, which had a huge open bed and the entire band set up with instruments etc., stopped right in front of my building for a minute, during which U2 chatted with us.
Bono said "Hi" to us and I said "Hello" and the Edge nodded at me and sort of tilted his guitar in my direction.
And then they left. They were about 5 feet away. Freaking bizarre. Apparently they are filming at TV spot under the Brooklyn Bridge this afternoon.
It's all very surreal, because this happened while I was at work.
Again, not a fan, but I'd like to say that Bono (and the rest) is larger than life (even in person) and is just a nice guy. They didn't need to stop and talk to us. They didn't even need to let people know that they were there. Instead, they decided to make a bunch of people's days and be friendly.
Many people were giddy (literally squealing) in the elevator after this happened.
This is the first time I ever thought "Why don't I have a camera phone!?"
New York rocks.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Storm Troopers
I think I feel settled after this weekend.
I spent Friday night being "productive" after I got a bit sidetracked by a movie being filmed on the streets of Williamsburg starring Freddie Prinze Jr., who is not at all attractive in real life. I cleaned the apartment, wrote a song, and got nearly 13 hours of sleep.
On Saturday I completed writing the song and then went to the movies with E. We went to see "Ray," which I didn't particularly want to see, but had to see because E is a film student and sees everything the minute it comes out. One work to describe Ray: Amazing. I didn't expect to like it, but it blew my mind away. Jamie Foxx was exquisite. You should all see it. It was very powerful. We didn't go to dinner because the movie was really long and I had to get back to the Burg for a show at Galapagos. It was surf rock show that was supposed to begin at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and the show didn't start until around 9:45, which was agony because I was by myself just sitting there for an hour. The show began with a god awful "film" set to music by the opening band. More agony. It was an art film with scenes that not only didn't make any sense, but just went on and on forever. Like a bride in black and white on a swing set for 10 minutes. And then two brides! And then THREE!!! The film ended and they needed to set up for the opening band, which took about an hour. The opening band wasn't bad - they were sort of a not-as-developed Low - but I realized three seconds into the set that going to a show when you have an ear infection is a bad idea. I left three songs into it and called my friend D, who "met me" at the show but didn't actually meet up with me because he and his friends wanted to chill near the bathroom (where there were less people) and I didn't want to because I had a sweet spot with a chair. Yay adult rock show. D and his two friends came over and we hung out in the loft for a bit. It was nice to have visitors.
And today I slept late again and then went to the Comics Expo with Roommate. It was very overwhelming and full of wonderful toys, all of which we wanted. We decided that we will have to find loads of money before the next Expo, which is in January.
I was disappointed, though, because I really wanted to get a Flava Flav clock for cheap, but they did not have it. Nor did they have a Snoop Dogg action figure. They did, however, have Nelly. But I don't want Nelly.
On our way out, we met some storm troopers! We were so smitten and just generally flustered after having met them that we took the train uptown instead of downtown. Luckily we realized it and just backtracked. I wanted to go back up and get the storm troopers' phone numbers since we had to go back there, but we decided to go home instead. And now we are home, looking at the photo. Sigh.
I spent Friday night being "productive" after I got a bit sidetracked by a movie being filmed on the streets of Williamsburg starring Freddie Prinze Jr., who is not at all attractive in real life. I cleaned the apartment, wrote a song, and got nearly 13 hours of sleep.
On Saturday I completed writing the song and then went to the movies with E. We went to see "Ray," which I didn't particularly want to see, but had to see because E is a film student and sees everything the minute it comes out. One work to describe Ray: Amazing. I didn't expect to like it, but it blew my mind away. Jamie Foxx was exquisite. You should all see it. It was very powerful. We didn't go to dinner because the movie was really long and I had to get back to the Burg for a show at Galapagos. It was surf rock show that was supposed to begin at 8:30. I got there at about 8:45 and the show didn't start until around 9:45, which was agony because I was by myself just sitting there for an hour. The show began with a god awful "film" set to music by the opening band. More agony. It was an art film with scenes that not only didn't make any sense, but just went on and on forever. Like a bride in black and white on a swing set for 10 minutes. And then two brides! And then THREE!!! The film ended and they needed to set up for the opening band, which took about an hour. The opening band wasn't bad - they were sort of a not-as-developed Low - but I realized three seconds into the set that going to a show when you have an ear infection is a bad idea. I left three songs into it and called my friend D, who "met me" at the show but didn't actually meet up with me because he and his friends wanted to chill near the bathroom (where there were less people) and I didn't want to because I had a sweet spot with a chair. Yay adult rock show. D and his two friends came over and we hung out in the loft for a bit. It was nice to have visitors.
And today I slept late again and then went to the Comics Expo with Roommate. It was very overwhelming and full of wonderful toys, all of which we wanted. We decided that we will have to find loads of money before the next Expo, which is in January.
I was disappointed, though, because I really wanted to get a Flava Flav clock for cheap, but they did not have it. Nor did they have a Snoop Dogg action figure. They did, however, have Nelly. But I don't want Nelly.
On our way out, we met some storm troopers! We were so smitten and just generally flustered after having met them that we took the train uptown instead of downtown. Luckily we realized it and just backtracked. I wanted to go back up and get the storm troopers' phone numbers since we had to go back there, but we decided to go home instead. And now we are home, looking at the photo. Sigh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
