some days are just like that

snowflake this

when i was an intern at that national organization for women, everyone had to take their turn working at the now store where we sold t-shirts, buttons, bumper stickers and the bitter, man-bashing attitude was free with purchase. i had heard stories about "the mad masturbator" who would come into the store, whip off his pants and pleasure himself right there in the store in front of whomever happened to be working at the time.

i did not expect to witness it first hand, however, as is my luck, i did. he came into the store and the woman who i was assisting quitely said, "oh shit," stepped to the back and called the police leaving me alone with the mad masturbator.

when the police arrived they hauled him out in handcuffs assisting him to walk, since, y'know, his pants were still around his ankles. we stood outside and the cop couldnt help but laugh as he called it in and said where he was. if i recall correctly, his quote was "this guy had no idea where he was walking into!"

but lets be honest. he did know, and he did it on purpose. maybe he wanted to humiliate the evil feminist lesbians in the store, or, maybe he likes humiliating himself in front of a captive and disgusted audience. everyday we face people who catcall, who call us snowflake (which lets face it is actually kind of cute, and downright charming compared to ignorant white bitch), who think that being a single female walking alone down the street, waiting for a bus, sitting at the bar, or dancing at a show is an invitation to talk to us, or touch us, or offer commentary on our outfits or our bodies. or, in the case of the homeless man who approached me at sparky's, offer to sell your hair or your body (it was unclear which he had a buyer in mind for).

well, hollabackdc, and let these fools know that men can be dicks, and women can have balls.

impeach this bush

because this is d.c., every television in our office was tuned to cspan on friday watching the valerie plame hearing. though, our offices are always tuned to cspan. ive appeared in the crowd on cpsan twice, and both times my phone was flooded with calls from friends who had seen me on t.v. i wonder what its like to live somewhere where seeing a senator at starbucks doesnt qualify as a celebrity sighting.

anyway, i didnt think to blog about the 20 minute conversation my coworkers and i had debating what kind of tranny the pink shirt "impeach bush" woman in the back of the crowd was, but im glad michael k did. god lord i love dlisted.

ramblings from a fevered mind

do i understand this correctly?

is reverend mohler saying that if homosexuality were determined to be genetic, he would be in support of pregnant mothers wearing a hormone patch which would reverse their child's sexual orientation? and he believes that this is necessary because good god-fearing christians would abort their gay fetuses, because, despite the fact that god made them gay, it is also a sin against god? can someone explain to me why god would create and give life to something so sinful and offensive? and dont we hate the gays? so whats the problem?

if you believe that you should live your life according to the bible which is an exact translation of god's word, then, why stop with the gays? leviticus lists a whole host of sins punishable by death which are no longer enforced. lets bring back the stonings, and the burnings and the cutting people off from their people, whatever the hell that means.

leviticus 20:9 "for every one that curseth his father or his mother shall be surely put to death: he hath cursed his father or his mother; his blood shall be upon him." -- so, we should probably all be dead.

leviticus 20:10 "and the man that committeth adultery with another man's wife, even he that committeth adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death." -- note that in 2 samuel when david slept with bathsheba, not only were they both spared, but they conceived a child, who ultimately died. which is, by the way, my favorite biblical story (yes, i have a favorite biblical story, and no, its not as morbid as it sounds).

leviticus 20:11 "and the man that lieth with his father's wife hath uncovered his father's nakedness: both of them shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them."

leviticus 20:12 "and if a man lie with his daughter in law, both of them shall surely be put to death: they have wrought confusion; their blood shall be upon them."

leviticus 20:13 "if a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. -- so, we are saving the little gay fetuses so we can potentially kill them later?

leviticus 20:14 "and if a man take a wife and her mother, it is wickedness: they shall be burnt with fire, both he and they; that there be no wickedness among you. --im glad god is finally getting specific as to how these sinners should die.

leviticus 20:15 "and if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast. -- clearly the animal should also be put to death since, y'know, he totally wanted it, and was hoofing around his pasture all seductive like.

leviticus 20:16 "and if a woman approach unto any beast, and lie down thereto, thou shalt kill the woman, and the beast: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them."

leviticus 20:17 "and if a man shall take his sister, his father's daughter, or his mother's daughter, and see her nakedness, and she see his nakedness; it is a wicked thing; and they shall be cut off in the sight of their people: he hath uncovered his sister's nakedness; he shall bear his iniquity." -- so, i guess lot got off on a technicality when he impregnated his daughters since the incest rule doesnt specifically forbid sleeping with your own child. way to find a loophole.

leviticus 20:18 "and if a man shall lie with a woman having her sickness, and shall uncover her nakedness; he hath discovered her fountain, and she hath uncovered the fountain of her blood: and both of them shall be cut off from among their people."

i got bored, so, im skipping ahead to the part where we stone everyone who read harry potter.

leviticus 20:27 "a man also or woman that hath a familiar spirit, or that is a wizard, shall surely be put to death: they shall stone them with stones: their blood shall be upon them.

lets be honest: lots of things in the bible are a sin, including eating bacon. until the southern baptist start keeping kosher, i dont want to hear anymore about the gays.

birthday, birthday extravaganza

wednesday, following the great toilet flood of 2007, was a rough day. i was unable to sleep all night and at 4 a.m. when i was still wide awake, i decided that if at 5 a.m. i was still up, i would give up on sleep and go to the gym. going to the gym (at any hour) is not something im known for, and wouldnt you know it, 5 a.m. and im still up. so, i tro
dded down to the gym where i was suddenly not so awake anymore, and it was all i could do to not fall asleep on the treadmill.

i had an 8 a.m. breakfast meeting for work. mornings, like going to the gym and eating non-fat ice cream, are not something usually associated with me.

the rest of the day was a general fog of misery and that unnamed feeling of being so tired you feel drunk.

unfortunately, the night didnt end after work. i had two birthday dinners and a concert to go to. the first dinner with l.f. was great. the service at mimi's was more than a little surly, but, the food was excellent and the company more than made up for what the service lacked. except for their inability to serve me the drink i ordered; for that, there is never an excuse! besides, if youre going to have an entire page of specialty champagne drinks, doesnt it make sense to stock champagne? just a thought.

the next dinner was at etete with j.k. and the girls, followed up the good the bad and the queen show at 930. despite drinking wine that tasted like dirt smells, dinner was incredible and the service charming (especially considering we were a loud, rowdy group of 10 girls). unfortunately, none of us and bothered to check the schedule for the show; i assumed tgtbatq would take the stage around 10:30. sadly, that wasnt so. when we arrived at the show at 10:15 - which by the way was possibly the most crowded sold out show ive ever been too. i blame americas obesity epidemic - they were in the middle of their last song. i thought, surely, they must have another set, right? right!?! they came back for about 20 more minutes, which was plenty for me. i was dead on my feet and the throng of people was too much for me. the show was over by 10:40 and i was free to go home. exceeeept... the 10 coffee's id consumed during the day were finally kicking in and my second wind was in mid-swing.

while rounding up the troops i stumbled upon my friend's husband and his friends who joined us for a round of drinks and an all pixies sing along at the downstairs at the 9:30 club.

all in all, it was a great night. not only did i have a fun time celebrating two of my favorite girls birthdays, but i left early enough to catch the last metro home (which is often the mark of a good financial night), got to spend some quality time with a friend-crush (not my friend's husband, for the record), and drink some really disgusting wine.

by the time i got on the metro, i was so congested i couldnt breath. secretly, i hoped it was a reaction to the wine but alas, i woke up thursday with the funk. when i went to my doctor and he looked down my throat he said, and i quote: "ew! youre all red and infected and mucusey back here." awesome. im thinking of having shirts made that say that.

*update* i have esp

silly me. i thought the most embarrassing moment of my professional life would be me at 19 working as a cocktail waitress by night (intern at the national organization for women by day, which frankly ratchets the story up to a whole new bracket) and having to wear - as part of my uniform - two strategically placed glow in the dark buttons that read "i glow when im horny."

turns out, i was wrong.

the most embarrassing moment of my "professional" life came at 27 when i was forced to clean a mix of green beer and vomit out of the elevator at 8:20 pm on st. patty's day while wearing a cheap polyester uniform and a name tag.

plagiarism isnt pretty

great minds, and all chick-lit writers, think alike.

a total waste of makeup
kim gruenenfelder

p. 358

"there should be a phone service that turns off your phone between midnight and six a.m. every night. and if you want to make a call, you have to pick up the phone and talk to an operator: put me through to aaa. my car battery's dead.

yes, ma'am.

put me through to pink dot. i need vanilla haagen-dazs toute de suite!

yes, ma'am.

put me through to my ex-boyfriend...

i'm sorry ma'am, the operator would say. that would be a bad idea. now you go to bed before you do anything stupid."

its pretty much a given that i will be cleaning green vomit out of the elevator tonight

i really, really hate st. patty's day. really, really, really. i cannot stand drunken thirty-something frat boys wearing green, plastic mardi gras beads who are wasted, obnoxious assholes by 5 p.m. and dont even get me started on the green shamrock headbands.

mind you, i didnt feel like this last year when st. patty's day was on a friday night and i got to be one of the drunken masses wondering around drinking green beer and singing irish folk songs, instead of having to deal with them while im at work.

actually, a year ago tonight is when i met velveeta. he bought me many, many shots at dans cafe where they give you shots in a liter-sized tupperware bottle and two shots are more like eight. i "broke-up" with him in october when i thought things were going really well with dewey decimal; oh those salad days when i was green in judgement and cold in blood. now, im lucky if dewey answers his phone when i call, and velveeta has a girlfriend. ive tried to work myself up into a frenzy of pity and righteous indignation, but, i cant seem to muster the energy. i blame the cold medicine. well, that and the fact that im relieved that velveeta and all his cheesy freakishness is now someone else's problem.

this would have made an excellent tidy bowl commercial

tuesday night, after changing into my jammies and washing my face, right before tucking myself into bed, i made an emergency trip to the bathroom. yes, this is an overshare, but unfortunately, im going somewhere with it. when i went to flush the toilet, i noticed my floor got suddently wet, not a lot mind you, but enough to be disgusted by. so, being a genuis, i crouched down next to the toilet and flushed. water came full force out the side of my toilet tank smacking me right in the face and drenching me and everything in its path. i looked like i had stepped into the path of a fire hose. i opened the tank and saw that a hose had come loose and was pointed out instead of down; again, being a genuis and believing myself capable to d.i.y. home improvements, i pushed the hose back down (not becuase i knew thats how it should be, mind you, i was just guessing), and flushed the toilet again, hoping for the best. the toilet flushed, i patted myself on the back (after my 20 minute so-hot-my-skin-turned-red-like-a-lobster shower, that is), and proceeded to deal with emergency #2.

emergency #2 is, again, an overshare. sitting on the floor next to my toilet was a large box of tampons. because im going through this renewed hippy phase, they are all paper, cardboard and bio-degradable which means, after were sitting directly in the line of fire, the box of 60 tampons are now 8X their normal size, and the box is literally bursting at the seems with tampons soaked in toilet water. three weeks out of every month, this would not result in a crisis situation. however, we arent in any of those three weeks my friend. we are in the t.o.m. week (t.o.m. = time of the month. the "the" is silent), and it is now 1:30 in the morning on a tuesday/wednesday, and im about to go into battle with no ammunition. i do what any desperate girl with no car and who doesnt live within a walking distance to a 24 hour cvs would do, i knocked door-to-door until i found a female neighbor who was awake (yey for law students!) who could supply me with what i needed to get me through the night and the morning.

i relayed the story to my gay husband wednesday morning over coffee to which he responded "damn. 60 tampons! thats like a five year supply!!" apparently boys think girls only use one tampon for their entire t.o.m., which is kind of adorable.

because i believe myself to be so damned handy, i didnt bother to report it to maintenance in the morning. which meant i went through the same thing wednesday night. i cant seem to d.i.y. but i sure can f.i.y.

insanity: doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results.

do you think its a big seller?

in a few weeks im taking a scenic vacation to, wait for it, gurley alabama.

one of my best friends is getting married and as a bridesmaid i'm duty bound to go to the engagement party in her hometown of gurley. i have driven through alabama many, many times and have done so as quickly as possible to minimize the amount of time i have to spend there; while i will be there for less than 48 hours, im sure, somehow it will feel longer.

im flying into birmingham to visit big red for the night, then she is going to drive me up to huntsville where i will be handed off to another bridesmaid before being delivered to the bride. its like some sort of underground railroad for women forced by their best friends to wear salmon colored taffeta dresses with puffy sleeves and ruffles, except instead of freeing me from my oppressor, they are bringing me to her.

big red is already planning her night out with her "one non-republican friend" and on the agenda is a show by griffin house at workplace, which sounds more like a support group than a concert.

anyway, the point is, while reading the food menu at workplace, i stumbled onto this little gem:

THIS WEEK'S WORKPLAY WEDNESDAY MENU food provided by Mama Annie's

She Crap Soup
Chicken Salad - with walnuts and grapes
Tuna Melt Sandwich
Chicken Supreme - whole bone-in-chicken breast; served over rice pilaf topped with mushroom sauce

you read that right: she. crap. soup.

most disturbing mother daughter email string ever

me: good news! rehearsal got cancelled. i can stay home another night and rest up!

mom: that is good. how are you feeling now?

me: not great but better. i think another night of sleep and drugs will do wonders for me.

mom: you need to take it easy!

me: um, i meant my prescription drugs, not like heroin or anything. i'll wait till I feel better to dip into that.

mom: and call me when you dip into that because you will be sharing!!!!!!!!

clearly, she's not well, however, i think this explains a lot about me.

frosty water colored meeeeemories!

last night i came home miserable and sick. i even had to bail on a meeting which is something i almost never do. i admit i tend to be a little flaky and have a lot of dates rolling around in my head, but once ive committed to doing something, i rarely back out regardless of how tired, sick or otherwise busy i am. unless, of course, i dont like you and you tricked me into agreeing in the first place.

i spent the night sleeping on the couch watching netflix movies, one of which has been at my house for more than a month, virtually unheard of in my world (i have impulse control problems)!

the first movie i watched was called "the singles ward" which is a movie about a late 20-something divorced man who is forced to go from the family ward back to the singles ward, which i would liken to match.com for mormons. im sick so forgive me this babbling blogging but the highlight of the movie was when two guys started singing the "popcorn popping on the apricot tree" song. i havent heard that song in 20 years (i cant believe im old enough to say that and mean it), and had completely forgotten it. its funny how a little thing like that can bring you instantly back to being a kid. its like when i smell sunflowers perfume, im instantly transported to france. when i was 15 i went to paris with my dad and mom and brought a bottle with me and would constantly spray it (in bathrooms, at the louvre, on the metro) so as not to have to smell the unwashed parisians, or more accurately, the unwashed americans with dreadlocks and trust funds bumming around europe trying to "find themselves."

i had to pause the movie and call my mom. apparently, she sings the song with my 3 year old niece so the tradition is being carried on.

and only 13 more hours to go until you sleep

im two venti coffee's and a diet coke into the day, and im still falling asleep at my desk. does anyone know how to free base red bull?

things that annoy me, #7216

dear unknown caller:

we can all hear you breathing into the phone; its like being on a conference call with darth vader. can you either not hold the phone like your trying to deep throat it, put your phone on mute, or say "luke, i am your father."?

thanks,

v/n

forty and fabulous question mark

ive never before worried that i might not get married, because honestly, its never been on my to-do list. i cant remember as i child daydreaming about my wedding or naming my children... okay, its possible that i named my children. my daughters were going to be named diamond and cybill-shepherd - what can i say, i really liked moonlighting - and i assume they would have grown up to own a lot of clear-heeled platform shoes, if you get my drift. my sons were hunter and forest - yes, this is pre-forest gump, and no i didnt see the irony in those two names.

even now, i have no intention of ever getting married, though i do occasionally fantasize about the kick ass party i would throw myself, and all the gifts i would register for; you can register at sephora, right?!?

ive also never thought i was particularly age conscience. however, after being being talked into selling my eggs to afford wrinkle cream and moisturize that must be made from the babies of endangered animals, i realize, ive been lying to myself. while i dont think im lying to myself about my lack of interest in getting married, no one gets excited about the prospect of becoming the family old maid. i was informed today that a) my 19 year old cousin is getting married, and that b) in the new "aunt sara."

aunt sara is the only person in the history of (mormon) history to never marry, and currently sits on the throne as "oldest unmarried woman in my family." aunt sara comes from hardy stock and has a liver thats never been used, so my guess is she still has a few good years left in her, but, at 97, its unlikely she'll get married at this stage of life, and its doubtful that she'll live forever. apparently, when i wasnt looking, my family took a vote and elected me as the next aunt sara. or more accurately, as the next oldest, unmarried woman, i have simply evolved into her maid in waiting.

i have yet to come to a decision about children and whether i want them; while i very much enjoy the practice, im happy to maintain my amateur status and am not sure i actually want to go "pro." im sure this will catch up to me in 2 years and 3 months when i turn 30, a night i imagine will be a "tour de force of recrimination and self-loathing, highlighted by fanciful stilt-walkers and (belly)dancers wearing hand-sewn headdresses."

i have to keep reminding myself that my family is mormon, and that getting married at 18 is what they do; and that while they spend their money on braces and go to pta meetings, i will be buying expensive shoes and makeup i dont need, and traveling to austin for sxsw and new orleans for jazz fest.

my main concern is my old age. hopefully by then i'll be wealthy enough to afford to pay some hot young thing to change my diapers and wipe my incontinent ass; if not, my niece better start saving and be prepared to take care of the new "aunt sara."

i fear for the future

im listening to two college seniors debate the meaning of the word "civilian" because they honestly dont know. one thinks a civilian refers to non-military people because "dont you remember when they explained that during the lecture?" the other retorts with "no, thats not right. then why does the news talk about civilians in iraq?!"

i swear im not making this up.

not as good as netflix recommends

can someone, anyone, explain this recommendation to me? how does one go from a grisly account of murder in a small town that invents a new genre of writing (the true crime novel) to the chickiest of chick lit? actually, since i just finished norman mailers "the executioners song" and am reading "a total waste of makeup" its surprisingly accurate. but, since i checked one out of the library and was given the other by my mom, they couldnt know that...right?!

Dear Amazon.com Customer,

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Brigid Keenan was a glamorous and successful young London fashion journalist. But falling in love with a diplomat saw her leave behind the gilt chairs of the Paris salons for a large chicken shed in the forests of Nepal. Thirty years later (at the farewell party for the Papal Nuncio in Kazakhstan), Brigid found herself wondering whether her decision had been the right one. This is her marvelous account of life as a "trailing spouse"—an endlessly engaging tale of diplomatic protocol, difficult teenagers, homesickness, frustrated career aspirations, witch doctors, and giant jumping spiders.

fun with sitemeter

recent google searches that have lead you to my blog:

1) the body snatchers dc
2) how to become a pervert
3) maria carry is doing handjob
4) everyones nasty chocolate
5) nasty
6) gays in pantyhose
7) wedding reception nasty exposure
8) vans nasty
9) "out, damned spot! out, i say!"
10) harpi de milo
11) "out, damned spot! out, i say!"
12) out damned spot out i say
13) origin of the word "youre so hot"
14) enlarged liver in dogs
15) van nasty

normally these searches are all variations on a theme: "hot nasty cheerleaders doing freaky things in vans," "naughty school girls," "nasty pictures of naughty school girls in vans," and of course "being pale" and "spanky pants" which almost always appear on the list at least once. im not sure how to feel about the fact that 20% of the list is people searching for a shakespeare quote.

let me point out that "youre so hot" is a phrase, not a word, and that a good way to become a pervert is for it to become publicized that you sit home on saturday nights googling "how to become a pervert."

late for the rabbit hole

this week has been long and arduous, and working seven days a week means one week never ends, it just merges with the next.

on wednesday i got word that the dance company had arranged for rehearsal from 6:30 -9pm, drastically cutting into my happy hour time. not only that, but this is apparently our new rehearsal time. great. everyone hates having friday nights free, right?!

after rehearsal yil dropped me off at the hirshhorn for the after hours event. the hirshhorn museum is my favorite place in dc for several reasons. a) its quiet which is exactly how a museum is supposed to be, not like the native american museum which is seizure inducing (but with a great cafeteria, or so i hear). b) its round, and somehow womb like. i cant explain it, it just is. c) my father brought me there once when i was about 15 and they were exhibiting homoerotic art. any place capable of making father that uncomfortable, is a special place indeed.

the event features a bar and a dj, and make your own lite brite art. the entire museum is open to explore which i find ironic: give the people booze then let them run wild among priceless pieces of art. strangely, i feel like i ran into everyone i knew at the event, which for a brief moment made me think i may not be the booze hound i really am. then i realized i spent the entire night next to the dj drinking white wine, so i may as well have been at a bar. though i did spend an uncomfortably long time in the elephant room; ive seen the exhibit before (douglas gordon, play dead real time) and i found it as creepy now as i found it then.

i had invited dewey, and he had said he would go though he didnt seem too thrilled about it. naturally, i never heard from him, and none of my calls were answered. ive never met someone who so persistently believes ignoring something will make it go away. granted, with people that probably works most of the time, but unfortunately for the poor boy, im persistent too.

strangely, though not there, dewey pervaded the night. or, at least my night. my friend, mr. fine greeted me by asking if ive heard of this band, "defeated by burrito*"?, because, omg he met the lead singer recently at the gym and they like totally bonded, and omg they, like have a show coming up at the black cat andweshouldtotallygo! yes, i have heard of the band. its dewey's band, though dewey would never be caught dead in the sauna of a gym. so, yeah i know about the show.

then, in a strange coincidence, i ran into said lead singer.

fast forward an hour, and a few glasses of wine later, and i see a cute girl dancing around to the dj and think "man. she looks familiar. why does she look so familiar? hmmm. i think im staring. oh shit! she totally sees me staring at her, in like, the creepy way. crap. crap. crap. thats dewey's roommate, pepper. fuuuuuck."

so yeah. im never cool. never, ever, ever. i went over and reintroduced myself to pepper who is not only dewey's roommate but his bff. i met her once, and im sure made a wonderful impression when i had to leave abruptly in the middle of a movie to go home and vomit. in my defense, it was new years day. when he introduced me she greeted me like this "ohhhhhhhh. YOURE van nasty..." which could either be taken as very good, or very, very bad.

i left the party around midnight and was home in my jammies watching the golden girls and eating pomegranate and chocolate chip ice cream by 12:30 am. the other half of the pint was finished off last night after work. despite a mini party for the baby blog involving a night at the palace of wonder, i opted to continue getting reacquainted with my couch and stay in.

* um, no. that is not really the name of their band.

because women love being described as ancient

since there seems to have been some debate about my sex, allow me to submit further proof that i am, indeed, a girl: in nyc for one day, i bypass the empire state building, the statue of liberty, the met, the american museum of natural history, and central park, and instead bunker down at fresh cosmetics in union square. as previously stated, i have more makeup than i could wear in a lifetime. hell, i have more makeup than my niece and her progeny could wear in their lifetimes (obviously, i dont plan on wrecking my body with childbirth).

until they invent a new rainbow, i have no reason to ever buy another eyeshadow, blush, mascara or lipstick (matte, gloss, or stain). yet somehow, i let the cosmetics girl (who is also, of course also an actress) do my makeup. after more than an hour in the makeup store, im trying to show some self-restraint. but, since she had spent so much time with me, i felt i should buy... you know, something! i think i show amazing reserves of self-denial buy only picking up four items: an eye-shadow trio, an eye cream, a moisturizer, and a liquid bronzer.

oh how wrong i was.

proving an astounding lack of consistency in my decision making, im happy to spend $30 for a single eyeshadow (while at the same time think $6 for cover girl makeup is WAY too much), i rarely pay more than $5 for face products. try and make sense of that! you just cant. i dont even buy name brand products; i buy the target knock off brand.

when i saw dollar signs in the cashiers eyes light up, i should have known that buying more makeup rather than "cremes and serums to reduce fine lines and plump up my eyes" would have proved a better financial decision.

lets talk about the moisturizer for starts.

"creme ancienne." thats the best name you could come up with? "ancient cream", for a moisturizer? and this is a big seller?!?

had i seen on the package that it was "handcrafted in remote monasteries in europe" i would have put it down and walked away. once i stopped laughing that is. ive always wondered what monks do and now i know: they craft creme ancienne and chartreuse.

that being said, its amazing stuff. or at least thats what im telling myself to justify the insane amounts of money i spent.

who moved day light savings?!?

i HATE being late. and today, i was 45 minutes late to work, which would have been 15 minutes early if SOMEONE HADNT MOVED DAYLIGHT SAVINGS!

the cons:
1) i hate being late. and i hate being rushed even more.

2) i didnt have time to get coffee this afternoon so im un-caffeinated. trust me: no one wants that! (if youre in my hood, feel free to bring me an iced latte. [hot coffee makes me sleepy. yea; i dont get it either]).

3) did i mention i was in the shower when i got the call that i was 10 minutes late. do with that information what you will, but assume it means i have on no makeup.

4) its a beautiful day that i didnt get to enjoy at all. okay thats completely unrelated, but, a con nonetheless.

the pros:
1) im already more than an hour into my shift and when i get off, it will feel like (because it really is) 10 pm.

and now, the rest of the story

lest you think a day goes by where i dont publicly humiliate myself in front of a crowd of people, allow me to share with you a story; picture it: penn station, nyc, a girl in town for a 24 hours. weighed down by her luggage, luggage sized purse, and super-double-big-gulp coffee, she runs across the station desperate to catch her train to dc. outside the streets were beautiful and luminous with fresh fallen snow; inside, however, the floor was neither; it was just wet. the girl, wearing weather inappropriate shoes (as always), weighed down by 50 lbs of unnecessary belongings, hits a puddle, and bitch. goes. down. and not in a subtle, or graceful way. no. she went down in slow motion, yelping and arms flapping. sigh. she was helped up by six of new yorks finest, one of whom offered to call an ambulance.

she would like it to be noted that while both her pride and her knees were hurt, nary a drop of coffee was injured in the making of this embarrassing moment.

thank god ive been well trained.

nyc: yeah you know me

earlier this week i spent a day in nyc for work; proving that i am not, and probably never will be, an adult, i opted to stay at the hotel chelsea instead of any of the more opulent hotels in the neighborhood. when the options are a) the w hotel, or b) the place where sid stabbed nancy, the answer is obvious. or at least it was to me. not to mention the hotel is across the street from a restaurant called "burgers and cupcakes" a bar called "trailer park lounge;" nice to know that heaven is exactly as i'd pictured it.

i followed my dinner meeting up with drinks at a wine bar with friends, and came back to the hotel around midnight. when i walked in they stopped me to ask where i was going and actually made me produce my key to prove i was a guest. do prostitutes normally wear floor length trench-coats? oh... never mind.

however, after discovering abc carpet and home, i realized a hotel was unnecessary and that i should have instead stowed away on one of the beds upstairs. abc has exactly the feel i would love for my home to have: lush with smells and texture and vibrant color that manages to blend and create a warm and inviting atmosphere, where it could instead come off as garish and overwhelming. although it wouldnt be much of an interior decorating store if it couldnt pull that one off, would it? and dont even get me started on the chocolate bar. purrr.... in one store, i got a message from the deepak chopra salon (and omg were my chakra's out of whack), a mimosa flavored truffle, and got to chat up a sick hot security man in a suit worth more than everything i own combined.

however, if there is a lesson to be learned here, it would be this: do NOT get an ayurvedic message 40 minutes prior to the biggest meeting of your life. turns out, they use a lot of oil. like, a lot, a lot. and its not just oil. its scented oil; scented like patchouli and calcutta. so, as you can imagine, i was very popular at the dinner party.

with the exception of death, the following things do not annoy me

in spite of the below bitching, its actually been a great - if hectic - week. a.h. was in town from seattle which meant there was brunch, trivia, irish pubs (though no "alice? alice! who the fuck is alice?!?"), ridiculous amounts of giggling and the potential for a threesome at asylum.

last week ended with putting the family cat to sleep, who, at 16, we had had since i was 11 years old. she was sweet and good natured and will be missed by the entire family including my three year old niece who refers to grandma's house as "kitty's house!" i marked the occasion by drinking myself comatose and passing out on my friends couch completely dressed which included sleeping in my shoes, pantyhose, coat and necklace. because i went directly from her house to brunch with a.h. and then to work, i wore those pantyhose for 48 hours straight until they officially melded into my flesh. i wont even tell you what it took to get them off, but, it wasnt pretty and it involved butter.

sunday j.k. and i went to brunch the embodiment of a walk of shame: 4 inches and counting of freshly fallen snow, and she and i are out in skirts and our four inch, peep toed snow pumps.

tuesday a.h. and i met l.l.g. and friends to celebrate her 30th birthday. i walk into the red and black to discover l.l.g. sitting in a chair, getting her hair wet down with a spray bottle for a $12 hair cut, served with a shot. though i had my doubts, it turned out to be one of the best hair cuts ive seen on her; john took the time to not only give her a great cut, but to blow it out and flat iron it. i encourage one and all to check out the red and black on tuesday nights for a $12 hair cut and some witty banter with the faux gays who will call you sweetheart in a way that you will find neither creepy nor condescending.



tuesday was topped off with a great show: the dreggs and call me lightning (my new favorite band). at the end of the night, i drove a friend and his band equipment home and even though i knew i was sober, the mile and a half the cop followed me and pulled in behind me at a.h.'s hotel before flashing his lights and sounding his siren, were the scariest five minutes of my life. in the end, he pulled out around me and speed away; i dont know why he followed me into the hotel, nor do i care.

i spent friday with my old roommate celebrating both her birthday and her (surprise!)engagement. congratulations! i look forward to getting drunk and making out with the best man at your wedding.

another interesting development as been the reemergence of the dewey decimal. he tried to escape me but i kept drawing him back through sheer will and determination. once ive latched on to someone its pretty much impossible to escape or avoid me short of entering the witness protection program; just ask the a.s. the double d and i spent some quality time this weekend together eating salvadorian food and drinking coffee in malcolm x park. while at no point did he ever come within a foot of me, i still consider it an achievement. in fact, after being down graded to "the light switch," hes back to his rightful nickname of "dewey decimal." thanks to his sudden ability to return phone calls, he's even been reinstated in my phone.

the weekend ended much like it began: friends, bars, dancing and booze. this time though, we were celebrating a happy occasion: cee-lao's birthday and new job. also, unlike last week, i was sober sistering it last night.

and another thing!

yes i am tired. thanks for pointing that out. i had hoped that it hadnt translated to my face, but apparently it has and i look as broken and haggard as i feel. thanks for making me aware of it. may i say in return that no, its not the pants that make your ass look fat, its the size of your ass and the color you dye your hair has never occurred anywhere in nature with the possible exception of a baboons butt!

bitter: party of me

hello gentle reader.

its been a while since we've talked. ive ignored and neglected you much like britney does her children. and now im crawling back only so i can moan and whine, so see?, nothings changed!

can we converse for a moment about how bitchy i have become? frankly i was shocked to discover that it was even possible for me to become more of a bitch, but, it turns out it is, and that it doesnt take much. if youve ever been annoyed for no specific reason and felt the need to have your misanthropic feelings justified, i suggest taking a job in customer service where you wear a name tag, a polyester suit and have a sign prominently displayed by your side that says "ring bell for assistance." i can supply you with an eight year old girl who enjoys doing just that if need be.

i appreciate that as your customer service representative, you may be under the mistaken impression that i care about your problems, but let me assure you: you are wrong. i. do. not. care. i do not worry or obsess over them, or take them home with me (though i do apparently blog about them). im sorry that youre sick, and stood out in the cold for an alleged ten minutes, but, you did that by your own choice. i did not ask or tell you too; in fact, i did it myself so you wouldnt have to be inconvenienced. i didnt expect a thank you, but i also didnt deserve your lecturing and ranting at me where other people could witness your hissy fit and desire to needlessly belittle someone over what amounted to a simple miscommunication. and, if you really are that sick, why didnt you send one of the other people you live with, who are also home right. this. minute., down to stand in the cold?

just thinking out loud here buddy.

xoxo
v/n

p.s. i also dont care about your inability to have "hot choco" (who even calls it that anymore?) on demand. if you want it that badly, buy it yourself or go to starbucks like a normal person. the stuff we serve tastes like shit anyway.