.of what was around you.

This "article" (I use the term loosely with Gawker posts - they border between news reporting and sensational opinions - which is why I love them) made me laugh out loud and I hope it brings a bit of sunshine in your sad, pathetic life.

.never aware.

The best news story of the month (from the Guardian):

Outrage at Grazia magazine after an intern who was sent out regularly to buy skinny lattes for the beauty desk announced at the end of her stint on the mag that she had in fact been buying them all full-fat ones.

.if you were.

Overheard (on the phone) on the bus
in Brooklyn the other day:

Yeah, you know Edible Arrangements?
Yeah, yeah, it's, like fruit and stuff. Yeah, yeah.
We're getting a really nice one and we're bring in to shabbat.
I know! It'll be really nice!

Classy.
(is that served along side the challah or at dessert)

.a beautiful view.

Every year it's
hilarious
to see how the new
New Years
numbers
make it to Times Square.
(my absolute favorite was a few years ago when it was on the 4/5/6 line - how did it get through the turnstiles?)

And this year is no different.

Of course,
my biggest thought was
Damn,
that guy is wearing shorts?!?!

Wind chill was like 18 yesterday.


PS: Who else loved the girls from Newark last night on the Daily Show?

.oh what.

I'll get in the
swing of things!
Cross my heart.

I'm mostly
obsessed
with this video of and
octopus.

Seriously,
check out how cool it is.

.at the same time.

Kid (okay, like 19/20 yr. old)
next to me on
the train,
"Women are like buses,
they come every 15 minutes"

Take what you want
from that.
I'm still trying to wrap my head
around that.

.to see in all directions.

Hi, I'm still alive.....but this is how I used to feel.

.open our eyes.

Sixth Avenue is the reason why terrorists hate America.

.i wish we could.

Now we know.
A New York minute is 27 seconds.

Got to love WikiAnswers and the
people of Yahoo Answers.

My oh my.

I hope people aren't
seriously asking if there is an
actual difference
in time between a
New York minute
and
a 60 second minute.

.all the buildings.

Bloomberg is (probably) officially going to
win the election,
even if I protest it.
If only I had the ears
of eight million people.
And the money to make them
forget
that it's morally wrong
to change the rules for yourself.

I want to change the rules for
myself too.
I want to go to work
one day a week,
and get paid
twice
what I do now.
Because I say it's a work week.
And because I say I get a raise.

Hooray me!

I made s'mores tonight.
Didn't taste the same,
but still filled my gooey/sweet craving.

(image from the Burns for Mayor site/coalition - more about them is this article as well which has videos as well including one that mentions the sale of Staten Island to New Jersey which is always an option people!)

.and bounce off.

What is a "smaller thirst occasion"?
This is one of the greatest corporate statements ever released.
Ever.
Don't doubt me.

.alleys.

I'm back!
(well, that's nothing new)
Socialist health care for all.
Katie Price for none.

The Rose Lipped Batfish for those who care:

(trip observations and mayoral race comments post debate)

.and bend through.

Yeah, on a bento box kick,
not like I have one
or make them.
Just, you know,
looking at pictures.

And I will always love
Dr. Dean (a great interview in that link)
and he'll always remind me of
Mr. Danson's class.

Well, I'm outy - see you back in the states on the 3rd.

.your name sing.

Don't you think enough
time
has gone by that
we can
stop
blasting Michael Jackson from
our car speakers, eh people?

.they would make.

This was found in the latest catalogue sent to my residence from Urban Outfitters. I mean, this is truly hideous and I can not understand why they would subject me, a common citizens, to this horror. As to the 90s clothing revival: hey, I loved the Courtney Love babydoll floral dress with combat boots with the rest of them, but seriously dressing like this is a great example of why we actually need the fashion police roaming the streets.

And harem pants?!? No. I've actually seen this on people. Normal people. Not just models and hipsters, like every day people who used to wear skinny jeans.

It's Soylent Green-esq madness!

.to march out.

Look who wears purple Chucks!

You know who else loves purple Chucks?
Me!
(high tops, obviously)

MObama just became my patron saint of cool.

.for a marching band.

I guess
everyone
in the city gets a
voter guide
for the primaries next Tuesday,
I got this in the mail:



















This gives me a chance
to do what I've
always
wanted to do,
vote purely on looks!


















Sigh,
I guess I just
can't get the facts.

.wide enough.

Everyone in the art world should
read
this interview with
Charles Saatchi.

Wow.
I didn't know if I was
laughing
with him
or
at him.

But I guess that's his brand of...."genius"?

.my mouth.

*sigh*
I love you John Oliver.

I'll be in your homeland soon,
but not in a
stalk-y way.
Really!

I also have a girl crush
on my hairdresser
(well, I guess my hairdresser,
I've never had my hair cut in New York
and the usual
frequency of me in a
salon chair
is about twice a year...tops)
who did an
amazing job.

My hair is so soft
and I can't stop touching it.
In a weird, creepy way, yes.

.if i could open.

Barney Frank is a bitch and I LOVE him for it:

.and Hudson.

Not in the mood for a full post, so here's one of my list:

1. In a not-at-all-weirdo way, I just wanted to say that I think Selena Gomez is super cute and awesome. I'm at a lost why Miley Cyrus is more popular than this girl. Her show, Wizards of Waverly Place (although very much not New York at all), is too cute. She doesn't dress like a slut and helps with UNICEF.
2. Why is everyone picking on my husband Rahm? Sigh, I'll be there for you; we'll scream expletives at each other.
3. Oh Tom DeLay, how the self-righteous have fallen.
4. Seriously, Shakira, what the fuck? What the hell is this? A song for the ladies and video for the guy?
5. My cat is in my way. My boyfriends cats are insanely indifferent to me.
6. If you mention health care to me I will rip your head off.
   

.of the East River.

Javier Bardem is in town shooting Eat, Pray, Something Something (let me guess, she travels the world and finds a hot Spaniard and falls for him even though she has a something stable back home). I shall find him and offer his this photo. Then, maybe he'll marry me and dump the hideously ugly Penelope Cruz (no, seriously, I love her too).

.making a lake.

I wanted to share with
you all
the horrors of my
$6.25 egg salad sandwich
Seriously,
$6.25.
I walked in this little resturant
on Grand Street
looking for an
awesome
deli cheese sandwich.
They had none
so I thought,
hey, egg salad is just as good.

No.
It wasn't.

Look at this bread!
In a Jewish neighborhood!
A shande!
Generic and lifeless.
You can tell how crappy it was
from the photo alone.

And the egg salad itself?
How and when was this made?
I have no idea.
No more words can describe the
disappointment.

Anyone know where to buy a cheese sandwich in Chinatown and/or Lower East Side with none-Kraft cheese, fresh lettuce and that soft, yummy perfect rye? I'd die for one.

.where you are.

Visit my 'hood
thanks to Time Out New York.
(not being sarcastic, cross my heart)

.i'd bring it to.

Obama drinks Bud Light?
Bullshit.
I don't buy that for
a second.
Some aid or
someone
in the Communications department
told him to drink what the people drink.

He'd have Miller Lite at least.
Let's guess what beer Obama
actually drinks:
Blue Moon?
Carlsberg?
Blue Point?
Goose Island?

Mmmm....tres important

.of the isle of Manhattan.

Comments from a post on
a blog
about a photo exhibition:

Thanks for saying that. I never did understand photography as an art. How much art does it take to push a button?

I did like Lange's pics however.

and

Certainly true. On the other hand, you can have a pretty "good eye" if you take 50 shots of something. One of them is bound to turn out half-way decent.

Sigh.

.and span the length.

July 22nd.
I agreed with something
Senator Lindsey Graham said.

Hell hath frozen over.

.if I could open my arms.

Dear Tourists,

I bore of your antics. Your tenure is terminated; you may leave.

Sincerely,
The Tenants.

(flip record to side 4A)

New York State
seriously?
really?
huh?

I'll admit I didn't follow
the whole thing
last month
with a watchful eye
but between
Espada (what a creeper)
and
Paterson not being able to
appoint a Lt. Governor
(is he expecting to be caught as Client #10?)

I'm just confused.
Are we trying to out-corrupt Chicago?
Or out-dysfunction California?
(Okay, I was walking to Chelsea Market today for lunch when I walked by two small parks, you know the little ones usually near or in housing projects, with those weird limbless animal fountains just gushing water and I thought, take that California, that's what you get for continuing to blow-up New York in your movies, jerks)

Mmmm....which one?

Oh!
Oh!
And the fucking naked cowboy,
who isn't naked at all which is a total jip,
is running for mayor.
We're gearing up for a real free-for-all-freak-fest aren't we?
(still voting for Rev. Billy)

There is a reason I just
stopped
watching the local news.

.sold him for silk.

Talk about
pork barrel
spending.

.he died.

Someone said that the worst thing for other people to hear is your own dreams; it's boring to most people. The meaning behind the dream seems so obvious the other person while you're still trying to convince them of details they'll never understand, let alone that you yourself understand. So on that note, here's my dream from last night (it was just so vivid and beautiful, much more so than previous dreams that I feel the need to share and again, as I have mentioned before, it's my blog and I can whatever the hell I want)......

The dream starts with a slew of people I know and am friends with (their exact identities are a mystery to me now), sharing a room in a hotel like situation. I'm sharing my bed with another women, in a completely non-sexual manner. We just happen to take the bed while others sleep on chairs and the floor.

In the middle of the night one of the men climbs in and starts to cuddle with the other woman, pushing me out of bed. I am half-awake and half-asleep when I start yelling at them, accusing them of wanting to sleep together for the longest time; convinced that this was inevitable.

The only person I actually know (well, recognize in walking like) is Eleni (a good friend for quite some time), who is sleeping on the floor. I go into hysterics but I am still not completely awake. For some reason Robert Downey Jr is there but I haven't the slightly idea why. (there is also some dream back story with Eleni being friends with him and seeing him get arrested and bragging about how it's his 19th time - I like RDJ just fine as an actor but haven't the slightest about how or why he popped up in there - an manifestation of the bad friend or influence?)

Now, here comes the part of the dream that is most important, how vivid they appeared and important these actions were in the "plot".

Some of us leave on a train, a sort of mix between an old fashion steam-train and a Greyhound bus on the inside.

The guy across the isle has a girlfriend who keep mocking oral on him and she slithers around and eventually starts getting in my space. I'm uncomfortable and get off the train.

The next moment I'm off the train, watching it leave through a tunnel.

It's very messy and dirty and there is no real platform, as if I was dropped off on the tracks. I pick up a tool or piece of wood in my hands but have no luggage or purse.

I see a crew of workers and ask them for help or directions or something. They in turn, ask if I could help them with something. It's a ladder set up a swivel chair, leading up to what looks like a barn roof (it's a space oddly between inside and outside). On top of the roof are teeny, tiny birds and rabbits with eggs (yeah, rabbits lay eggs now?).

I am asked to remove the eggs and am given something that looks like large, rusty old tweezers. I turn to the workers and say, "But if I touch the eggs won't the birds not want it them?" I can't remember their response but it allows me to continue.

I climb down the steps and start to rearrange the ladder on the swivel chair but can't get the right configuration as before, settling on something that doesn't look like it should work but is steady. I go back up the ladder and see the small eggs in their nest. I turn and see a giant plexiglass container with giant guinea pigs in them, all on top of each other like lobsters in a restaurant, covered in sawdust.

I look back to my teeny nests and eggs and there are more tiny rabbits in there. I think, "I can't move the eggs right now if the rabbits and birds are there".

I get down the ladder and see a set of double doors. Before they even open, I know a doctor will walk through them. A voice, not my own, says, here they come. The doors open and a doctor walks through (although he is dressed in traditional-looking orderly clothing). I come to find out that I've been there, in what is implied to be a hospital for 13 years.

I'm shocked. I just got there. I haven't even removed the eggs. The ladder is gone and place is definitely a huge hospital room, all mine (imagine the main room from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and there you go, but nicer and less institutional looking). I look and see there have been large bay windows there, covered in muslin. I can see outside faintly.

The doctor doesn't explain to me what happened, rather voices of people who are around me but I can't place them. I ask what's been going on (for some reason I am under the impression I arrived in 1992 and it is now 2048 - yeah, the 13 year thing doesn't add up there BUT 1992 plus 13 is 2005 which is the year I started my happy meds which I went to bed thinking I don't want to take any more which is, in turn, essentially what I think this whole thing is about).

Only one thing has happened, a small attack in a foreign country. I'm thinking, "Hey, there should be a new president and I bet a bunch of other things have happened too!" but I get no response. I know Eleni is there too but after this I can't remember the rest of the dream.

In the end I feel liberated and ready to see what's past those double doors. All my friends are waiting for me and things seem to pick up where they left off, as if time hadn't passed at all.

It is the whiteness that I remember the most from this dream; the peaceful whiteness and how beautiful those teeny tiny eggs were and how glad I was that I never disturbed them.

The End. Alarm. Cat in my face. Friday morning.

.and when.

Guess which ones I liked most...

.up with milk.

Today is the second time in
as many weeks
that the F train
in the morning has been
"delay because of an earlier incident"

fuck your incident
get the trains going!

Or maybe you need an iPhone app for that!

Other links and things of interest:

• Edgar Martin's photos don't need fucking with New York Times, enjoy the grave you continue to dig for yourself.
• Thanks SBC for addressing sexism as well. But this cover is okay though. Fuck you all.
• I think my Dad would find this funny.
• Another dorky photo note: I'm really digging this ode-to-photo-assistant blog. It's funny if you know.

.they shot him.

I have no opinion
on Michael Wolf's
writing style,
it's typical Vanity Fair but
(which is not at all a bad thing)
his lips
scare the shit out of me!
FYI

.on the floor.

I know it's been a while, actually over a month. There is now something missing in my life that I will never have back but I have warm memories and a family that I'm not only stuck with, but I would actually pick if I had the chance.

So, here's another list, just to cover what I've missed.....

1. My left 'shift' key is broken and i can't possibly tell you how fucking annoying that is.
2. at work, I was sent this by my boss and I love that she knows me that well (i also love that while the entire department was looking at the site, the ED walked by, looking....confused)
3. Similar note; inky loves german cat beef jerky. Thanks German intern!
4. I made my gazpacho (now totally organic and from farmer's markets) which may not seem that important to you, but it's my unofficial marker of summer.
5. Oh, Republicans, you sure know how to keep things interesting and different! (I liked seeing Lindsey Graham and Mitt Romney dodge David Gregory's questions about the party and go on to say that the most important thing is for Gov. Mark Sanford and his wife to stay together - fuck loving or liking each other, protect marriage by staying together in quiet desperation!)
6. Check out this sweet blog: unconsumption
7. Fuck you to the girl (note: not some old hag, but a girl my age) on the subway the other day who I was trying to go by, unsuccessfully because her and her two huge purses wouldn't move. I said "excuse me" and she still didn't move until she turned to me and snapped "You could say 'excuse me' instead of just pushing pass me!!" I turned to her and said, "I did" as she let me go by. I mouthed bitch to her but I wish, oh how I wish, I would have said, "I did say 'excuse me', maybe you would have heard it if you got off your high horse". Oh but I thought of it too late, as is always the case. But seriously, it's rush hour, in New York on the damn subway, fuck manners, I just want to make it through this horror. It was just the tone that did me in. God! I want to see her again and punch her in the face.
8. Need a new wallet. The zipper to the change pocket is stuck immobilizing my change-getting-ness.
9. Do you know how much I would have paid to see Sasha Obama slam Rahm Emmanuel in the dunk tank? Seriously, like ALL OF IT. Every. last. Penny. Why is there no video of this? Come on YouTube!
10. I love this photo.
11. And the wisest thing I heard in the last month was from Curtis, my doorman (yes, I know, I live in a doorman building, shoot me, okay?), Laugh while you still can.
    

.he collapsed.

Francis Bacon was one of the first painters I remember being intellectually intrigued by. I loved other artists for their ability to represent beauty via an artistic medium but it was Francis Bacon who I (troublesomely) almost couldn't put a finger on. The violent brush strokes and the frantic, distorted figures that are on display his paintings just raised more questions than they answered. I often saw the violence in his work, not necessarily blood and gore but rather the animal qualities that live just below the surface inside us as human beings.

Seeing the Francis Bacon: A Centenary Retrospective at the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday made me more aware of not just the violence in his images but also the sadness that inhabit them as well. His Three Studies for a Self Portrait (see above) always bordered on heartbreaking for me to look at. He exaggerates his features and cuts into his own flesh but also paints himself with better detail than is seen in many of his other work. As other figures have mouths wide open (grinning, laughing, screaming? The question is raised in the show. I always thought of the Pope in Study after Velazquez - on the left - as screaming from inside this cage when it could very easily be him laughing with sick pleasure on his thrown) his own mouth is barely open; meekly breathing in for air with a dullard look. He is sad and pathetic and self-loathing but also seems immensely aware of just how talented he truly is. He often spoke about how he painted himself because there was no left alive in his life but even that statement reflects both misery and ego.

As always, the show was impeccably curated (again, my love and fascination of the curatorial staff at the Met show on bonds, well maybe not the people who put together Model as Muse but that's another tale) and the detail in research reflected a love of the artist's work. I learned about how he almost exclusively painted from photos or other source material and I was delighted to see his fascination with Eadweard "ask me about my tattoo" Muybridge. Bacon's Paralytic Child Walking on All Fours (from Muybridge) (see right) is directly copied from Muybridge's 1887 motion experiments of a child with CP. The original photograph shows a child almost happily walking forward, facing the camera as if showing off and completely unaware of the fascination an outsider might have. However, Bacon takes that figure and with sensuous brushwork makes it into an animal; something only vaguly resembling a human being that looks more apt for Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights.

With any retrospective, you can't enjoy every piece of work and there are later paintings that seem half-hearted and without the emotional attachment that created the myth-like status of Francis Bacon. But all-in-all it's an amazing exhibition, showing the work of a painter whose work doesn't seem to reflect any interest in making anyone happy. This is especially noted in the reactions of the tourists who have just wandered in the show; I feel like their disgusted reactions would have made him both amused and angered by their need to try and explain his very personal paintings. My final thought is this: no matter what, every time I look at a Bacon it makes me want to paint and hit brush to (raw) canvas with that passion but I realize I can't for the life of me paint so I can just violently release the shutter of my camera. Well, we all can't have painting retrospectives at the Met.

.Bore.

Three Stories in Stupidity

1. Organic gardens are bad (aka: I guess we know for what lobbying firm Dick Cheney is working for)
   
2. I love my child but what a pain in the ass (aka: just because people know who you are and you have money that doesn't give you class)
   
3. Jeff Goldblum is stalking me (no real link I've just run into him more times than is normal - any more than one is weird)
   

.here comes Johnny.

I honestly
love
the Snickers ads
(Master P-nut makes me laugh)

but
<----this
takes the cake.



Based on the Dr. Zizmor
tv ads (from forever)
and subway ads

.and can't be scared.

New Yorkers
(well, in my case)
never seem to do
big grocery shopping.
Rarely that Sunday trip with
ten or more bags.

Too much schlepping.
Not enough space on the subway.
Silly.

Because of this, I tend to
shop just about every day
picking up this or that.
Whatever fits in my purse.

So that led me to realize the random
combinations
that have appeared at the checkout line:
Beer, kitchen cleaner and buttermilk.
Broccoli, Fabreez and Doritos.
String, People magazine and Japanese candy.
Dumplings, scissors and cheese.

All in a day's work my friend.

.she's got no bones.

I have updated in a while
so, to hold you over
here's an axolotl!

.in the air.

3

the amount of people
I've seen (surgical) wearing
masks
in New York.

but one was in
my 'hood
and that doesn't count;
they wear those
things
all the time.

.white powder.

Really enjoying Callie Shell's
photos of the first
100 days in the
White House.

So I broke
down
what I saw:

• # of photos where Obama looks totally spent: 14
• # of photos where Robert Gibbs looks completely surprised to be there: 5
• # of photos of the First Family looking sickeningly cute: 7
• # of photos where Rahm Emanuel looks like he wants to kill you: 5
• # of photos where Reggie "I have the coolest name ever" Love is featured: 1
  
• # of footballs, basketballs and other sports objects: 3
• # of photos where you wonder if the White House looks a little too much like a British palace or museum: 11
• # of Barack Obama for President signs in Hebrew: 1
• # of photos where someone is fixing the president's outfit: 2
• # of photos where you question Joe Biden's sanity: 3
• # of photos of meals served with a side of classified information: 1

And that's that.

.her sick.

I had the
best
train conductor the other day,
among his gems were,

(pulling into the station and no one getting on since the train was too crowed)
"Good, we didn't want them anyway..."
(moments later pulling into the next station)
"...oh wait, here's the rest of New York"

only moments later to say the
greatest line
I have ever heard on a subway,
"Don't worry folks, this experiment in human sardine-ary will soon be over"

and I wonder
how
to use
sardine-ary
every day.

.has made.

Maybe I'm on this weird
Japan kick
after watching
Katsuhito Ishii's
Funky Forest
and
The Taste of Tea
'cause I can't get
enough
of these
Kikori no Kirikabu
and their counterpart, the
mushroom-shaped cracker
that taste
exactly the same.

Yum
in my face.
(she says after working out - *shrugs* life is still good)

.amphetamine.

I don't know who
this
is, but I really liked his
last answer
to New York Magazine's
21 Questions.

What makes someone a New Yorker?
Well, for every New Yorker there are at least five or six crucial doors. There is the door to their residence, their business, their bedroom, their bathroom, and that private door behind which they keep their hidden selves. How they balance their public persona, their family responsibilities, and their hidden, truest selves is what defines them as people and ultimately New Yorkers. The most remarkable people in this city are those not afraid to express that private self (be they writers, community leaders, musicians, dancers) and, in so doing, give all of us a great insight into the human condition. There are many New Yorkers — to me the people who can do that are the truest.

Amen!

.she's in a fix.

Here's an update,
this is the only
I wanted
anything
to do with yesterday:













And also yesterday,
waiting there at 23rd street F
for 30 minutes
with 25 lbs of
kitty litter with me
I stood there
(in 4 in. heels)
with my eyes closed
Pachelbel's Canon playing
in my
ears
and wasn't on
that platform.
I was
so
far
away.

.dropout.

I was
going to talk about
Bo
(hey there Bo - name that movie!)

but now
after a
"sick rider at 34th street"
I just want to say
I hate all people
you've all annoyed me today
every
last
one
all, what?
5 billion?
yeah
boo on you all.

Screw this
I'm ordering a
big
greasy
pizza
that can
barely
hold the weight of it's own
cheese.

.Susan in a ball.

If this doesn't teach you not to judge a book by it's cover, nothing will

(and titles for my posts are just taken in order of song lyrics - this one was a beautiful coincidence)

.she rolled.

I would have scoffed
at this
a couple weeks ago
but after realizing the
awesome power
of Entourage,
it just proves how
cool
Obama really is.

ALSO!
How do I get invited to the
White House
seder?!
Will Rahm and Axelrod be there?
I'll sit at the
kids table
with Sasha and Malia!
I'll share my charoset
and I promise not to
down
Elijah's wine when no one's looking.

.her light.

Thoughts from the last week

(since I've been semi-MIA):

1. I have yet to be on a normal running train since Friday night.
2. My mom told me about this clip from the nightly news and I've seriously been teary-eyed since watching it.
3. What is this?
4. Newest Bonko Blago news: he actually tried blackmail Rahmbo. He'll be dead in six months.
   
5. I like this video as well.
6. Sarah Silverman made cookie parties sound like fun, but they are not. No one can consume that many cookies. I desperately wanted a salad.
   

.she can't turn out.

The trailer for Spike Jonze's
Where the Wild Things Are
is now up (see here).

Super excitement.
So much that
October is
too
far
away.

Much unlike the
trailer
for Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
Fail.

.she's uptight.

The story that made me (almost) cry at work.

.poor mary.

Today's the day.
MTA "doomsday".
$108 for a monthly pass
25% increase in all fares.
(and I heard) even for the student passes
on express buses.

Great.

Because Mr. Bloomberg -
Nothing says I
care
about my self-appointed position as
head of city schools
like closing several Brooklyn schools
and hiking up fares for
students.

And you're "blessing" us with
the idea
of another term?

Gee, thanks.

(see previous rant)

.to be solved.

Was everyone in New York
stoned
this weekend?
Seriously.
Greenpoint, you have
a stoner problem.
It's freaking me out.

.she's got problems.

Can Albany draft up
a plan
to ban
fat idiots moving
slowly through
the one turnstile
as the
train comes in?

I'm deadly fucking serious.

(or, alternative option that an intern at work suggested is that all the fat people go into another car as to not hog seats from the rest of us - yeah it was offensive and sorta true. And I'm not talking about like normal overweight I'm talking about triple digital waist size)

.revolve.

I had to deal with Michael Steele when he was still in Maryland. This ad played constantly during the campaign which made me want to pull out my hair. And lucky, lucky me he's back in the spotlight trying to be cool (note the super cool music in the background) and I get to hear him making stupid comments all over again.

He's such a wonky boob.

.and times.

Do I
want
to know what that
clear
smooshy bag on the subway
platform is?

No,
I do not.

.her treats.

Question:
Can a male Orthodox Jew shake hands with a drag queen?

This question popped in my head the other day on the train. When I stepped off the train, with a Hasidic man who was riding with me, to let the passengers out, he stole my standing spot and I was really irked. Like, that was my spot. It had perfect lean-age availability and the perfect place for me to continue to read my book. Actually, the only standing spot where you could read a book. But no, you took it and you knew I was going to go back on the train. So then I thought about forcabily shaking his hand or rubbing my ass on him or something really sacreligious like that.

Stupid rude chamoole with his cheap yarmulke.
A choleryeh ahf dir!
See how cranky I get in the morning without my coffee?
Now that's blasphomhy.

.trick.

I just wanted to share this with you all.

.she's turned another.

It's now cheaper to live in
London
than New York.

I can get a 2br in
Notting Hill
for $1,600 a month.

Buy 1/2 gallon of milk for
£.83
($1.14)

Screw this.
Screw you Bloomberg.
I blame you......
for everything.
I missed the train!
All your fault
Bloomberg!
My heel broke!
Stupid Bloomberg.

Aren't things suppose to be
cheaper
in a recession?
(you know what smart asses, don't response, I know what you're going to say but for argumentative purposes, let me have my fun)

.her lick.

Oh my!
I was actually stopped
at West 4th Street
by the police for a
"random bag check"
(which means them wiping your bag with a piece of paper and putting it in a machine - how that works? haven't the slightest)
only minutes after thinking
gosh,
I must never look
suspicious enough;
just too damn white.

.dear Ingrid's found.

I was taking a
survey
online
(why?
I have no idea)
and it was asking about
vacations
and I realized that I haven't had a
real vacation
(like a hotel
pool
flight or subsequent travel
and not for just a
weekend)
in years.

Sigh.

That was the saddest thing
ever.

Where to go?
With what money?

.in someone's past.

New York needs happy clouds like in London.
That would fill the hole in my heart......ish

(from Richard Parmiter Flickr)

.her future died.

From BBC News about Gordon Brown's address to the Congress this past week:

The repeated standing ovations have to be seen in context. The joint houses are almost as well-drilled as the National Assembly of North Korea in recognising the key moments in a speech.

Ouch! The Congress is nothing more than a set of trained dogs? Well.....


And oh, Rahm, just when I haven't thought about you in a while, you come out with a flash of
genius!
You cad!
You cool, calculating, manipulative genius.
The GOP must have
a bounty on you.
Loves it.

.love's don't last.

I
love
when your body just
rejects you.

But I've been
good
to you.
Exercise and oatmeal.
But no.

Mucus blobs in my throat.
Green goop in my nose.
Scratchy voice.
Skin so dry my hands look like
a cat attacked them
and have been attacking them
for
days.
Throbbing in my head.

And!
And!
The pièce de résistance
Bleeding in my...yeah, yeah.
I know!

And I will always
quote Mr. Garrison
(although I know that the creators of South Park didn't think of it)
when speaking about my period....

"'I'm sorry Wendy, but I don't trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die".

f.u.c.k.

.her perfect.

I know who
I'm
voting for
for mayor....

Reverend Billy!

yesssssssssss

.some man's son.

I wouldn't mind if Bobby Jindal got a permanent case of laryngitis.
(I L-O-A-T-H-E him)

.she thinks she's.

I just saw a
fantastic
movie,
John and Mary

I love that feeling.
Like a warm blanket of
awesome
(only second to the Snugglie)

.she's having fun.

I'm really loving
Pete Souza
the White House photographer
(how do I get a job in that office, seriously)

Some really...odd photos
in his slideshows on the WH
official site.

Looking forward to
future shots
(the new ones have Mounties!).