.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...