Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Soozical

I have been amassing all these details in my head:

1. 2 nights ago I had one of those dreams about Brad Pitt. I feel so unoriginal.

2. My father has started taking yoga classes. He is the only man in the class and the teacher always simplifies poses for him: "Tom will just want to put his leg to the side for this one." On Sunday they were doing a stretch against the wall. And my dad broke the wall. He put a hole in the wall.

3. Ladies, have you ever worn a pair of nylons for more than one day without them getting a run in them? Ever? Those things should just be disposable.

4. The building next to my apartment in Harlem is full of live chickens in cages. I didn't know this until I walked by and the garage was up and I saw them all. I had to stop and stare for awhile.

5. Pye has discovered this ceramic bowl. She sits in the bowl all day and all night. She never gets out of the bowl. She still sleeps with me at night but in the morning she goes to the door and cries until I let her go sit in her bowl. She doesn't even like to eat any more. All she cares about is bowl bowl bowl.

6. Last night I saw this commercial for Campbells Cream of Mushroom soup. It shows that famous Green Bean Casserole of theirs being set by a window to cool. At that point, a fir tree outside comes to life, opens the window with one of its branches, and scoops, SCOOPS, a "handful" (branchful?) of green bean casserole for itself to presumably eat. I have never felt so uncomfortable watching a commercial in my life. First of all, what would you do if you made that casserole and one of your friends just reached in and scooped some of it to eat out of their hand? Second of all, a fir tree, or spruce branch, whatever, has all those holes, all those spaces for the gloppiness to seep through. Its like trying to pick up sand with a fork. So now I'm picturing this fir tree licking its barbs, trying to get all the slop from between its needles. And this is why its especially disturbing. That xmas tree is eating its own kind. I have a real "thing" about anthropomorphic cannibalism. I don't like pigs in chef hats, or cartoon chickens eating eggs, or even lightbulbs using lightbulbs to light their lightbulb houses. I'm not saying green beans and spruce trees are of the same family, but they are at least both plants! Whoever came up with this commercial is clearly creative (the food is so delicious that the surrounding flora must partake!) but their creativity resulted in YUCK in this case. And yuck is not good for food commercials.

7. And finally, today was our office fire drill. I'm on the fire team and my title is "searcher." This morning the Fire Warden told me where I was assigned to search. But I forgot. So when the alarm went off I went to the conference rooms and found Steve there searching. He was like "This is my search territory." So I looked in the copy room and found Joe. He was like "Go search the womens bathroom, this is my search territory." By that time it was getting pretty late and everybody was already waiting at the stairwell. So I started running. What the crowd of people saw was me running at full force past the door, to the pantry, then back out and into the women's room, where I said "Everybody out!" They all roared with laughter. Then I came out of the women's room and leaned against the wall to wait. The fire warden was like "Where's John (the deputy fire warden)?" and I was like "Oh! I forgot to make eye contact with him!" So I ran back into the office and told him the women's room was all clear so he could join us at the stairwell. They all laughed again.

This story is much more amusing for people who know what my last name is.

8. I had this wacky dream where my 2nd grade class was recalled. Like a faulty cellphone battery. So I was going to 2nd grade with all these other grown-ups. I was getting ready at my mom's house in the morning, and we kept discovering her badly behaved roommate (played by Jamie Lee Curtis) in various suggestive positions with her mancandy personal trainer. My mom tried to trick me that school started at 11:30 so I wouldn't leave her alone with them. Now that I think about it, I don't blame her. Jamie Lee Curtis and a half naked personal trainer does seem like the perfect recipe for a gunfight of some kind.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

I hardly slept last night because Pye insisted on being outside of my room, fighting and running around. And then she insisted on being inside my room. And then back out again. Also she was experimenting with the percussive qualities of litter and box.

But I did manage to have a dream where I worked at a radio station and the boss insisted on decorating the radio station excessively in Christmas decorations. Like our desks were buried in fake snow mountains that had trains running through them. She was big, blonde, and was having a noisy, giggly affair with a much smaller man from the station. She gave me tickets to a dance performance called "The Entrap Dancements."

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Float like a butterfly, Sting like Pye

My roommate has a cat named Tye. And I have a cat named Pye. Seriously. (These were their names before we even met each other.) Tye is very large and the whole apartment is his. Pye is tiny and has only my room to herself.

So my roommate just told me what she saw last night. She was watching the two cats pawing at each other from under the door. Then she saw Pye's paw come all the way under the door. Tye backed up, took a running start, and threw all his weight against the door, causing it to open! And without a second's hesitation, Pye came out swinging and clawing, and just walloped Tye right on the side of the face. He was completely shocked by it, and backed off. Then Kelly closed the door.

Now don't get me wrong. I still believe in non-violence when it comes to humans. But i'm so proud of her! Pye is scrappy! She came out swinging. She's like the Ali of catboxing!

Blogging about cats.

I may not have a science degree, but I know water doesn't expand

Ice expands.

So explain my cubicle neighbor's "theory" to me:

"He said he needs it by 11:15, so I told him that means its 10:00 now, we've got an hour and 15 minutes. ITS THE WATER THEORY! You see, water expands, so its like that time is filled with water and water's got give. Its got room, see. Room to grow."

Seriously, this neighbor of mine has said some crazy things, but usually they have a trace of sanity. A trace.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Where's Sooz?

Soozercising? No. Pressing the Sooz button on her alarm clock? I wish.

Have you all been wondering where Sooz is? All billion of you? Well, as a 50-year-old famewhore would say, I'm still here damnit. I've just been busy and when faced with the prospect of blogging about things, the things seemed either:

1. Boring
2. Stupid
3. Too revealing

I could talk about yoga! There are several teachers at my studio. One is the gentle one who focuses on alignment. She's my favorite. Then there's the athletic one who shouts the positions like a flight attendant: "aaaand downward facing dog!"
My least favorite one is the one who I'm pretty sure is a con-artist. This is the girl who probably went to one yoga class, realized she could teach it, and faked a resume. All so that her boyfriend could rifle through our stuff while we innocently stretched. Or at least thats what I was imagining the whole time; not very relaxing. Its just that I've never had an instructor tell us to jump straight from tabletop to downward facing dog. Also she kept forgetting what the poses were called! Ridiculous.
The other thing about this girl was that she was too needy. She greeted us each individually and made us sit closer to her b/c she "won't bite." Either she needed to gain our trust whilst her boyfriend rifled, or she was severely insecure. I just don't want to be worrying about my instructor's self esteem during Vinyasa.
And yesterday there was one who sang. She just broke into song. I guess this is common practice, but at the time I had to hold my breath to keep from laughing.

So thats yoga. Another thing I'd like to address is rice and sauce dishes. Why are they so good? I don't care which country's people are cooking it, when rice and sauce are combined, it tastes good.

I saw the second half of War of the Worlds last night. I was like a mother the whole time: "Oh my god, that poor little girl! She is going to be so traumatized after this- can you imagine? Oh this is very scary. Cover her eyes! Somebody get the girl, GET THE LITTLE GIRL!" Now I have this strange desire to find Dakota Phanning and wrap her in blankets and rock her and stroke her face. I mean really. Seeing robots suck humans in through their sphincters and coat the earth with bloody veins? That is so not good for a girl.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Monday, November 06, 2006

more about judo

Since I've recently figured out the basics of judo, i've decided to apply them to many unlikely places. For the untrained, the basics of judo, as I understand them, are:

Turn the opponent's weapon on them.
Take advantage of the opponent's weakness.

Examples
-If a bear sits on you, sit on him!
-If several zombies try to trap you in a room, simply escape from the room and trap the zombies in the room.
-If a karate chop comes at your head, move to the side and karate chop the chopper.

So those are the standard examples. Here are some judo results i'd like to see:

1. If you know a millionaire, become the millionaire!
2. When the train is going slow, slow the rest of the world down so that the "crawler" is in fact an "express" as it was supposed to be.
3. When you buy a new jacket, have the store give you some money too.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Sweet Valley

Today's show that I would like to reminisce on is "Sweet Valley High." This show, along with "Breaker High" which featured the young Noah Calhoun, satisfied some sort of hunger inside of me. Its a desire that a lot of ladies experience; the desire to indulge in something totally shallow and lame and as far away from "high art" as possible.
But my favorite thing? The opening song of the show:

"Look right down in a crowded hallway. You see there's a beauty standing. Is there really two of them or...a reflection? Sweeeet Valley, sweet valley, hiiiiiiiiiiigh!"

We used to practice walking through our high school hallways and doing this "turn and smile and wave" thing, that we felt was the essence of high schoool tv shows. Even with short brown hair, you can pretend to flip your long blonde locks in a devil-may-care attitude.



Don't go thinking you got away with reading this post without a little gosling claim. So yeah Gosling was on breaker high, so....I saw him first. Dibs.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

3 randoms

1. You know those commercials for careerbuilder that show the guy who works in an office with only monkeys? The thrust of their message is "this guy wants a new job." But guess what? That message doesn't work on me. Because I would LOVE to work in an office with only monkeys. Are you kidding me? Jumping on bubble wrap? Playing with our food? The possibilities fill me with a deep and powerful joy.

2. This morning on the subway, I was so rude as to unabashedly invade the private reading space of pure Royalty. You see, on the crowded L train, the center aisle is designated specifically for men to hold their books in. Once having found his seat, or "perch," it is a noble man's prerogative to lean forward and rest his cavalier arms upon his knees. And then to not move. No matter what. When the doors opened and masses of passengers pressed me unwillingly towards the gentlemen's giant bubble, I was unable to hold the levee. And, without my knowledge, the tip of my bag passed in front of (without touching) the top two sentences of his precious text. Without looking up, he took my bag in his hand and pressed it firmly away from his personal study lounge. I blushed at my own audacity. Oh yeah, and the precious text? I was able to glance at the chapter title and it was about witches. Witches. If you're going to be a crazy asshole, at least try not to be such a dorky one. Dorkface.

3. My friend is one of those spellers who uses the age old trick "when in doubt, add a letter." I love it.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Express Yourself

Sometimes on the internet you come across something so subtle in its beautiful hope and freedom. And yet totally awkward and adolescent. Hence:

Senior Portraits

This reminds me of that dear time when you actually believed that a picture could express your true nature so that everybody at school would see the real you.

Whether its feeling so naturally in touch with water that you'll crawl into it in your clothes, or so in love with track that you'll sprawl across it like a Broadway star, these pictures capture the essence of insecurity in its subtlest fashion. I love them.

Remember when you were not embarrassed to pose in arabesque in a grassy knoll just to express how joyfully you will take on the world, at the same time as you remind people that you've had 8 years of dance at Maria Escalante Studios?

Remember when you were proud of medals? Medals.

Remember when you saw yourself as a wandering spirit, having just read On the Road, so you chose the traintracks as a setting for your story? The start of a journey.

Remember your violin? Or your horse? Sigh.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Amish people don't like having their pictures taken

Maybe one of the best things we could do for the Nickel Mines Amish people would be to stop taking pictures of them.

Monday, October 02, 2006

A story from my past regarding Bette Midler

When I was in fifth grade we had to do a biographical project about our hero. Other people picked Malcolm X. I picked Bette Midler. Also, instead of the standard posterboard, I wrote a video interview between Barbara Walters and Bette Midler, casting myself as Bette. My costume was:

A gray wig
Neon green biker shorts
A purple sweater
High heels
A red purse

In the interview Barbara asked me about the death of my parents and I acted out "getting choked up" which involved no real tears. Which reads a little bit like "making fun of Bette Midler's parents' deaths."

At one point I wanted "The Wind Beneath My Wings" to fade in as we pretended to small talk after the interview. My solution? Place a tape player behind the couch and sneak my hand behind it and press play. Sneaky! In the video, you see me do this, and then I look at the camera with panic in my eyes. Its not plugged in! So I get up and plug it in and then just go sit on the couch and say "technical difficulties."

We didn't edit any of this out for the presentation to the class.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

I just ate a crumb from between my keyboard keys.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

iGallop

The horsequin's cousin

I know what this is really for. And its not practicing my equestrian skills.

fashion and politics

I spend a lot of time in my day thinking about those two topics. Like today I had this thought: "Is fashion always an escape from politics, or do the two ever entertwain?" And then I realized I had made up a brilliant new word that I was very happy with.

Today I saw this:



Its really great for a lot of reasons, but the main one is that horsequin. I am picturing three things:
1. Clothes designed for that horsequin
2. Real models trying to ride that horsequin down the runway, perhaps on wheels?
3. Fashionistas buying bridles and saddles even if they don't own a horse or horsequin.
Well put

Monday, September 18, 2006

New Mission

I know it has been a really long time since I posted. I've been trying to figure out what funny is, and its sometimes fun but other times it sucks. Here are some things that have happened to me recently that I thought were funny...

1. Lily Dale. Lily Dale is a real town in upstate New York. In order to buy realty there you have to be a medium, psychic, or spiritual healer of some kind. We decided to take a road trip up there and found out that connecting with the spirit world is actually just like any other job. They were closed on Labor Day. The whole town except for two psychics who were booked all day. So we wandered around through their little village. The roads are so tiny there they have golf carts. And they all buy into that "Glinda the good witch" school of design. Angel dolls, crystals, etc. I was hoping we'd find the bad witch amongst all of them but apparently their main belief is that the world is good and the spirits wish to do us no harm. Then we found their BBQ. The whole town was having a picnic and we weren't invited. I started to really get mad at those psychics. I wanted some sweet grandmother to waddle over to me just because she could see so clearly that I needed some answers. But it didn't happen. It made me not want to believe. But I did buy a book about Lily Dale in the Crystal Cove shop and after reading about it, I think I want to go back. P.S. I'm also a fan of all the tricks the fake psychics used to do, like "spirit cabinets" where they just hid a person in the cabinet and the person made sounds and somehow that convinced a visitor that there were spirits in there.

2. I watched a Richard Pryor DVD. I think we're supposed to be inspired by people who were so awesome at what they did. But I'm just scared shitless. He was so good its insane.

3. Pye (the cat) likes sleeping under my bedcovers. Its cute when she does that because then its like having a little baby in my arms. It doesn't last long, however, and I finally figured out why she does it. Because she doesn't like the fan. And last night she decided "if you can't hide from it, play with it," which in this case meant "go over the bed, go under the bed, go over the bed, go under the bed" because that way she was tricking the moving air. I don't know. Since I have an imagination, and I happen to have just finished reading a book about spirits, I decided she was playing tag with a ghost, not the fan. Even though I knew it was the fan, I decided there was a chance it was a ghost. And if that was the case, it was only a matter of time before the ghost made itself known to me. And I really couldn't handle that, so I put Pye out of the room.

4. There are some things I hate about my neighborhood. Number one is the eurotrash fashion of the middle aged Polish women. Number two is the truck brigade. Number three is the barking dog, who I'm pretty sure has stopped barking now because his owner is abusing him, so now I sort of want him to start barking again just so I know he's alive. Number four is the hipsters. Number five is the bus that never runs.

5. My dad is a talker. So am I. Last night I told him we both can really talk. He said "I'm not as bad as my brother Dave!" I said thats true but Dave isn't as bad as grandpa was, and I'm not as bad as you are. The pattern is it gets worse with age.

6. My friend and I were at a show a few weeks ago. She turned her cell phone off. Like you do. In the middle of the play everybody heard somebody in the audience making a phone call on speakerphone. Not a phone RINGING, but a phone CALLING someone. Then an answering service picked up and it was her boyfriend's outgoing message. She jumped and turned it off. This means that her phone was sound asleep, woke up, grew arms, turned itself on, pressed speaker phone, dialed a number, and pressed send.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Old dead wives tales

A few nights ago, my friend fixed my necklace, because the clasp was in front. She said "did you ever believe that thing that if the clasp is in front, it means someone is thinking about you?"
"Well," I said, "I always thought if your nose itched, it meant someone was thinking about you..."
We stopped and stared at each other, the sad truth dawning on us. In that look it became very clear how deeply we had been duped. Old wives tales are nothing but old, dead wives tales, totally invented for no reason except to make girls think boys somewhere have crushes on them. Because growing up, we always assumed "someone is thinking about me" meant they liked you, not that they hated you.
You could say anything meant anything. "Oh, I just threw up! I guess somebody, somewhere has a huge crush on me!"

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

A movie I'd like to see is

"Leaky Jars of Acid on a Plane"

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Dear Tommy Tutone

Thanks a lot for giving the whole world my phone number.

Sincerely,
Jenny
(867-5309)

Monday, August 28, 2006

"tools"

You know how new computer applications are sometimes called tools? hmmm.

Remember when cavemen invented tools? No? Neither do I. But it probably went exactly like this:

The caveman grunts at the carcass which he can't skin. He wants to make a pelt! Its going to get cold soon! He beats the carcass with his fists, he pulls on the carcass. He tears at the carcass with his teeth and it budges. His teeth can't cut through the skin, but they can make a dent! He tries to sharpen his tooth. OUCH! He finds a piece of wood and tries to sharpen that. He can now poke a hole in the hide! This is a start! Now we're talkin'!

That was the guy who INVENTED the tool. The other cavemen, the ones who came after him, were supposed to just be thankful that they had the tool, and feel that the tool MADE THEIR JOB EASIER.

So how do we explain this:

The Sooz grunts at the pile of receipts. She opens the new application and the online training session in unison. She starts pausing the training session b/c it moves too fast. She finds that she has to print out a barcode from the expense report, fax it to an imaging center with the receipts, and notify the app that the receipts have been sent, noting the barcode. After that she has to wait a day and log back on so she can view her receipts and attach them. then she gets an alert. There are unattached amex expenses somewhere. She doesn't have access to the amex tool, so after 15 emails to the security team, she gets access. but even though amex, and the company, have records of the amex expenses, she still needs to get the hardcopy receipts from her boss. He doesn't have them. time ticks. The tool times out and erases all the work. Thats ok because there were several fields she hadn't filled out yet, like this one: "Select Types of Expense: ENT: non-Americas or SEC: client meal."

NOT A TOOL.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Monday, August 21, 2006

dandies

A month ago I was walking with a friend down Mercer and I saw this couple. The fellow (I HAVE to call him that) was wearing some sort of sweater vest, and jauntily weaved in front of his girlfriend. You know those people who look like they're from The Great Gatsby and they're proud of it, and 2006 is so stupid? Its an expensive trust fund look; it involves blue blood and pale colors.
I grabbed my friend and said "look, we got us a couple of dandies here." like an S.E. Hinton novel.

Well on Saturday I ran into this friend again and she was VERY excited to tell me a story. She said "On the train on the way here, I saw that couple again! The dandies! And get this. They were wearing matching seersucker!" I laughed. We were at a performance series called Catch at Galapagos and my friend had been carrying two props for her show: Badminton rackets. She excitedly explained that the Seersuckers noticed her badminton rackets, and approached her on the train. The man said "those are some nice badminton rackets. You know I play badminton." Somehow, she did know that he "played" badminton. Of course he did. I love people who just prefer to live in a different decade.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Lost and Found

On the trains, there's this ad for the MTA Lost and Found Phone #. It features some horrible drawings of objects that are supposed to be commonly lost on the subway, I'm assuming. I can't tell what most of them are, and the ones that are discernable (or interpretable) include:

a wooden leg
a pile of cash
mittens
two pencils that appear to be glued together
a squiggly line

My favorite one, however, was pointed out by my friend Abby who said "What's that? Is that a cupcake?" and I said "Oh that? That's a purple pie of course." Then Abby proceeded to be some flutterbudget calling the MTA Hotline: "Do you have a purple pie?" It cracked me up and the guy next to us joined in the laughter. I guess he was cancer free.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Today I sent a print job to the printer and when it didn't print I went over to check out the situation. The printer said:

CANNOT MOPY JOB

Now it is bad enough when things don't do what they're supposed to do. But when they don't do something that doesn't exist except maybe in Jim Henson land?

You know what? Good, I'm glad you can't Mopy anything, because I never wanted any Mopies.

Zombie Debates of '06

S: In the zombie dream I was a camp counselor in my cabin alone when suddenly three zombies came in. I ran for the door but they trapped me in the cabin. I tried to fight the first one with a pool cue, but I couldn't get it back far enough to jam it in his throat because I was against the wall. The attempt to jam it in the zombie's throat was very lengthy and seemed to be the best solution, which isn't really a great solution, is it?
T: You're terrible at fighting zombies. I know it was a dream, but the best way to defeat a zombie if you're trapped in a room is to let the zombies in the room, run around them, then trap them in the room! Like judo.
S: I couldn't get out of the room, silly. How am I gonna trap them in the room if I'm also trapped in the room. we were all trapped in the room. and guess whose the meal in that case? Sooz.
T: There wasn't a door or anything?
S: The zombies outside trapped us in there by barring it shut. i guess they were smart. besides judo doesn't work if its just switching words around. case in point: There is an elephant on me. To solve this problem I would simply sit on the elephant. Judo.
T: Here's how judo works on zombies. It's sort of complicated, so you probably won't get it. But I'll send it to you anyway, maybe if you read through it a few times -- or ask someone for help with it -- you'll eventually pick up on the idea. Lure the zombies into the room, don't work to keep them out. Once they are in the room, using their slouching zombie momentum to go towards you, quickly move around the zombies, and out the door from which they are so hurriedly moving away. Judo.
S: Yeah I get that. and by the way, the tactic of "telling me i'm not smart" works only in your mind. HOWEVER, in the dream, I did not have time to do any luring. the zombies surprised me in the room and shut the door on me. My plan was to try to lure them away from the door and then dash for the door, which I did, and at that moment, a zombie outside SHUT THE DOOR ON ME. So i was trapped inside the room. it was not some sort of room-weapon that I was going to use to "trap some zombies today." You should read your emails more carefully.
Sooz - 10
Taylor - 0
T: It sounds like you don't know what a zombie is. I read your email quite clearly, but at no point did you explain that "trapped in a room" meant "the zombies departed from all characteristics of zombie attacks and learned how to work in unison to lure me into a false sense of escape, at which point another zombie popped up and blocked me from getting through the only exit of the room". If you would've said that, I would've said that nothing, not even the ancient and beautiful art of judo could save you.
Maybe you have so much trouble because you live in soozworld, with its crazy workings and delusions.
Sooz - 6
Taylor - 11
S: Oh really? "The zombies outside trapped us in there by barring it shut. i guess they were smart."
If you don't believe me, you could also try scanning down this email again.
I think I'm starting to figure out TAYLORTOWN, btw. Since Soozworld relies on good arguing skills, fact, and delivery, Taylortown relies on "cutting down your opponent with groundless insults."
Sooz - 16
Taylor - 2
T: So were they really were super zombies that entered the only entrance, turned around and barracked the door? Or did the zombies work as a team to spring the surprise zombie on you? Either way, you didn't specify that they were super zombies, just that they could shut a door, which maybe in Soozworld means that they are super intellegent.
And sound arguments are my weapon of choice, the mockery is just an easy added bonus.
S: The zombies were working as a team. some went in and others stayed out to bar us in. i thought I had implied that, but i guess you need it explained a little bit more. That's ok, I'm glad you finally understand.

The Great Cancer vs. Laughter debate of '06

Have you ever been laughing on the train, really yukking it up, when you suddenly wonder, do these people on this train hate me? I have to say that I have rarely thought that. If you look around, peoples' faces look tired, but in general they've all come to accept the subway as a chaotic stream of personalities that best be ignored.

Until recently. Because recently I was confronted by this lady. She came out of nowhere and threw her flaming hot anger all over me and my friend. She sarcastically asked us if she could sit down next to us because she wanted to know what was so damn funny. She sat her big sweaty body down right next to me and glared at me. Then she said "Hey, I've got a joke for you. Tell me if you think this is funny. I'm unemployed and today I found out I have cancer. Do you think thats funny?"

No its not. Its sad. But its one of those times that, despite knowing the safe answer, all the Christian-Slater-Rebellion answers pop into your head first:
"Actually, empirically, cancer has been proven by several well-known comedians to be a perfectly acceptable and sometimes even welcome source of laughter."
~and~
"Actually, if you were watching this altercation from the outside, it would be a perfect comedy bit. Someone who every time they laugh in public is accosted by an unemployed cancer patient."

Luckily we finally surmised that she just wanted us to be quiet so she could get some sleep and we got off at the next stop.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Fact of the day

Cats don't like baths

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Me: Pye, what are you doing?
Pye: (run run run)
Me: Running?
Pye: (run, stop, meow, run)
Me: Stop! What do you want? You want to be free?
Pye: (meow, meow, looking directly at me, meow)
Me: What? Are you in PAIN?
Pye: (running)
Me: Stop that!
Pye: (stops, grabs her paw with her teeth, bites.)
Me: Uh oh.
Pye: Meow. (biting at her foot)
Me: I know what this is.
Pye: (turning in circles)
Me: NOOOOOO!
Pye: MEOW!
Me: FLEAS!

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

metaphors for the heat

Honestly I'm quite sad about the Middle East, the angry lady who attacked me on the train, and also the Middle East, so I'm going to try to cheer myself up with snappy metaphors for how hot it is.

1. Its like waking up underneath 60 pounds of velour.

2. Its like there's a radio playing "You're Beautiful" by that James Blunt guy over and over again but the radio is superglued to your back and you try to run backwards into brick walls to just break it, but its a radio of steel.

3. Its like armpit stains on prom night.

4. Its like the breath of a poopeater.

5. Its like trying to explain the internet to an impatient older person: "its like imaginary space. When you go to the website, you don't actually go there."

6. Its like wearing high heels that smell and hurt and you've been walking for a long time and there's no seats on the train and someone is leaning his whole sweaty body on the pole so you have to hold onto the one above the seats which you're too short for, and everybody can see sweat stains. Then your back spasms.

7. Its like being at a party and suddenly models arrive.

8. Its like the fourteenth person who says "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN 'HEATHERS'? YOU? But you would really like it! I can't believe you haven't seen it!" and everytime you go to blockbuster its not there.

9. Its like you forgot to feed your cat and when you get home she's really sad, but she doesn't hold it against you. She just rubs your leg because she's happy to see you, thereby increasing the guilt.

10. Its like eating too many fritos so your insides feel pickled.

Friday, July 14, 2006

sad sandwich

I almost cried when I saw my sandwich today.

I went to Au Bon Pain which I generally try to avoid because this guy in my office always gets this one salad from there with asiago cheese and it smells like butthole.

Anyway, I had to go there b/c sometimes every NY deli looks suspicious. Especially in the summer. And especially when there's way too much shellfish in every deli for all of it to be fresh. And its right next to the cottage cheese. Ew, I have to stop.

So I ordered something off the menu called "Portobello Goat Cheese Sandwich with Artichoke Aioli on Sundried." Now that sounds like my kind of sandwich.

I watched as each sandwich before mine was made.

And then I seriously watched this woman pull out this thin "baguette" about the size of a newborn baby's wrist. She then slathered mushroom spread and goat cheese on each miniscule section. And then one piece of lettuce and two tomato slices.

It was, totally seriously, the smallest sandwich I have ever ever seen. It looked like something you could use to play a video game with. It was $6.50.

P.S. Martika's Toy Soldiers is the best song in the history of the world.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Superman for babies

I almost got so distracted by the title of this entry that i couldn't go on. Because it reminded me of that movie Superbabies that I never got to see. I'm still pretty sad that Superbabies is out there and I haven't seen it. Also every day my heart sinks a little further because Riding the Bus with My Sister still goes unviewed by yours truly. Sigh.

But onwards. This weekend I paid 7 dollars and walked into a giant, air conditioned nursery. Complete with seats for viewing and a giant screen to look at. The untrained eye would have thought this was a movie theater, but to Saturday's families of dookie-machines, it was their own private babysitting extravaganza.

First of all, babies cry. Second, people go to movies to get away from their own babies, so why subject them to your babies? Third, if you are holding your baby up in front of the screen, everybody else is viewing Superman With Baby instead of Superman with Giant Rocket.

The babies' cries (and trips to and from the theater) were also accompanied by one of those "Didn't Know This Was A Superhero Movie" guys who sat behind us. So like when Superman's eye rejects a bullet intead of exploding in blood and guts, he was like "OOOOOHHHH HAHAHAHAH HO HO HOOOO!" Because the bad guy had no idea that Superman was bulletproof! What a burn!

The best moment came when the baby's daddy stood up and used the light of Lex Luther's Kryptonite Dagger to pour powdered formula into a water bottle.

Friday, June 30, 2006

i may have seen a lot of things in my life but i've never seen this

Today I was going up the subway stairs behind this gigantic lady. A little 7-year old boy was trying to go down the stairs and he politely said "excuse me" as he tried to fit btwn her and the wall.

She body checked him. Luckily he fell against the wall instead of the floor. She walked on, looking totally satisfied with herself.

Body-checked. Purposeful, not even the kind where the soccer players are kind of after the ball and kind of after blood. Just the blood kind.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

sign

We've been having some trouble with our toilet's flusher. I'm going to make a sign like this:

"To flush, hold down handle. No really, keep holding. Think you're done? You're not. See that slight tremor in the water? That's a good sign. You're on the right track. But don't stop holding. You've got a long way to go. Once you hear a slight rumbling, way down below, that means you're about halfway there. Don't let go! Don't get excited by the noises and think the toilet will "take over from here," because thats not going to happen.

Still holding? I know. You're doing a great job! Just keep doing that.

Get a book. Maybe hum a tune. You're gonna be here for awhile.

What was that? a gurgle? No. Just a trick. Keep holding."

Monday, June 19, 2006

ok

I haven't posted in a while. I've been apartment searching and I don't want to talk about that. Its hell in a handbag. Its like having a canker sore at the back of your throat and the only way to relieve the pain is to get back there with your dirty subway finger and push on it, and then people look at you because there are strings of saliva coming off your finger. Like a baby.

Oh, look. I'm talking about it.

Speaking of babies, one "apartment" we looked at had a sign outside that said:

Please take your shoes off.
Please wash your hands before touching Amir.
If you are sick, do not go near Amir.

Amir was their son. First-born I presume. And heir to the entire kingdom. I was hoping Amir would have been like the cult leader though. Regardless, when you see a sign like that, you really don't know what you're getting into, and to be honest, you want to have your shoes on so you can EXEUNT ASAP if necessary.

I only have only one other issue to address today:

1) If you have made the personal choice to hover above the toilet seat, then it is your job to wipe the spray. Because if you don't, then now YOU are the problem.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

bedizen \bih-DYE-zen\ verb

: to dress or adorn gaudily

Last night on the train we noticed a lady wearing a little denim baseball cap with some serious bedazzlement on the brim. We weren't sure bedazzle was the perfect verb form...

now we have found it!

BEDIZEN

Example sentence:
"Adorned by minarets and spires and bedizened by more than a million lights,
Coney Island embodied what has been called the 'architecture of
exhilaration.'" (Blaine Harden, New York Times, August 28, 1999)

Did you know?
"Bedizen" doesn't have the flashy history you might expect — its roots lie
in the rather quiet art of spinning thread. In times past, the spinning
process began with the placement of fibers (such as flax) on an implement
called a "distaff"; the fibers were then drawn out from the distaff and
twisted into thread. "Bedizen" descends from the verb "disen," which meant
"to dress a distaff with flax" and which came to English by way of Middle
Dutch. The spelling of "disen" eventually became "dizen," and its meaning
expanded to cover the "dressing up" of things other than distaffs. In the
mid-17th century, English speakers began using "bedizen" with the same
meaning.

Today would be a good day to pretend to be the devil incarnate

I saw a guy sitting at Starbucks, who was kind of reclined and smirking, listening intently to his business partner like he was about to smote him. I decided I'm gonna start acting a little bit like that today, just to freak people out.

Like if somebody pushes me on the train (which they will), I'll just growl some latin.

Or if the lady at "Hale and Hearty Soup Co." tells me that, unlike every other store in Manhattan, they don't take credit cards, I'll just stare at her.

I'm gonna use some hissing, some "tongues" and just evil stares.

I might also just go into speaking in tongues, like i'm being overtaken.

You know what I'm really excited for? All the preachers on the trains. Its gonna be a big one for them.

What if I took it in another direction (like a "party store" direction) and wore a sexy red dress and red horns and a tail, and like winked at men? I bet I could get a few believers to run.

Monday, June 05, 2006

It's not called gym-nice-tics

I need to learn that when I do something that is embarrassing to me, I don't have to tell everybody about it. I'll just save it for the blog.

Cases in point:

1. Cried at "Stick it," the gymnastics movie. When the pressure of her parents' divorce mounted, and she mounted the beam, and then droplets of...sweat? no-tears, fell to the beam, I turned to my friend Kat and said "hit me. hit me hard." And she said 'why?' and I said "because I'm crying."

2. Despite HATING "The Break-up" I cried.

3. I have a mole underneath my nose. Its a small pink dot. I have known people for six years who have not noticed it. But when I walked around with a cup of watermelon punch all night, everybody thought it was watermelon punch. I had 3 strangers take a swipe at my nose with their index fingers.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

bad news

you know everybody seems to be running the "i wanna be just like FOX race." i've been frequenting the conference room with the tv on my lunch breaks, and today MSNBC made an extremely hurtful non-sequitor btwn a woman's testimonial about her son's body-moving duty in Haditha and the Barry Bonds ballcatcher's lucky trip to the snackstand. by nonsequitor i mean it was one sentence like i just wrote. who needs a period, nay even a COMMA, in a world like this one? KEEP UP WITH THE TIMES, KIDS!

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

free it up: blaine

Reasons why I like the word Blaine:

1. the town in "Waiting for Guffman". (Red White and Blaine? yes please.)

Reasons why I hate the word Blaine:

2. The Blaine, MN girls soccer team were bitches and they all wore silver hoop earrings, fancy warm-up clothes and perms just b/c they were rich and knew that "matching" was the primary intimidation tactic for girls soccer.

1. And the # one reason I hate the word blaine? David Blaine. Don't get me wrong: When I first saw his DVD with all the street magic i was like "Wow, magic DOES exist." and i sort of liked watching all the cute kids and elderlies getting wowed. But now. Now he is nothing more than a self-glorifying showman. I hate showmanship, and this is showmanship at its worst. Its like saying "GATHER YE ROUND FOR A GIANT DEFYING TRICK WHERE I WILL HOP ON ONE FOOT FOR SOOOOOOOO LONG. LIKE REALLY REALLY LONG!" That is not a trick. And all the drama! Why do we care if he lives or dies? He's not Ghandi, starving himself for the freedom of an entire peoples! There's no cause here. Just Jesusification. He is gross.

Not to mention magician fashion.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Capricorn

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22–Jan. 19): An old African proverb says that cattle are wealth, and there are no cattle without dung. This idea is applicable to you right now. The source of your greatest riches has produced some waste matter that needs to be cleaned up. Ironically, if you act expeditiously, the waste matter could be turned into more riches. Take a hint from the Masai people, who use cattle dung as plaster in building their homes. The scent helps keep lions, who dislike it, from venturing too close.

Ew, no thanks. Guess who else it keeps from venturing too close? Sooz. Sooz the Lion.

Monday, May 15, 2006

catclock

Somebody please tell me how my cat knows its 5:30 a.m. every single morning. Apparently 5:30 is "breakfast time" and there is no end to the persistence. How does she know its 5:30? And why does it have to be exactly one hour before my alarm clock goes off anyway?

Friday, May 12, 2006

office shotz

this is why this blog is called "hilarity ensues" instead of "i make hilarity." because its just all around us and sometimes all i want to do is report it.

Like today. As my cohorts and i lounged in the abandoned office at the corner of our floor, we noticed a big globby mess hanging, hanging, from the desk. it could be spit. it really could be. But judging from the crumpled up kleenexes in the garbage, i'm going to say its something much more "reproductive." Its just hanging on with too much vigor to be spit.

Comments Welcome

I've finally enabled "anybody" to comment instead of just blogger bloggers! Oh glorious the day!



Thursday, May 11, 2006

A really negative post about today

This day is so gross. its just gray and gross and everybody is grumpy. also its only 3:00 which means two more hours of office hell.
This day is like a piece of poo at the bottom of a swimming pool and they've got to evacuate the whole pool just to get the poo out. but the poo is so soft from the water that it doesn't just come off with a shovel. You've got to scoop, and scrape and then spray and wipe. and its stinky the whole time.
Finally, when the poo is gone, your entire family arrives and is like "wait, WHY isn't the pool ready to swim in?" and you're like ITS NOT MY FAULT! and you decide to go to the store to get some hotdogs to tide everyone over while the pool is refilling.
But, you thought you knew where the store was and now you can't find it. Then you ask your boyfriend to get out the map but he refuses and he just keeps acting like he knows everything. But he doesn't and you end up driving around. Then you realize how badly you have to pee, and you realize you're so far away from a gas station that you're gonna have to do it on the side of the road. And its raining.
Then the cars won't stop passing. and you decide to just go, even though the cars are passing. So they start honking and your boyfriend is laughing and telling you to "hurry up" but 'hurry up' for what? why should you hurry up just to get back to a wild goose chase, when you don't even like hot dogs yourself?
then you get a call on your cell phone and your best friend is like crying or something but the phone cuts out because you're out of batteries. and your boyfriend is like "you really need a new cell phone" and you're like 'I KNOW!' and now you're hungry.
So you decide to go to KFC but when you get the buckets of chicken they all smell like seaweed, and the chicken is dry and the fried part is damp.
"what did they do, soak this motherfucking chicken in a lake?" you shout as you are driving with the windows open because they don't close after the traffic collision a couple months ago. and your boyfriend is now getting kind of scared of you because of the shouting.
then you get home and find out that the cute new little puppy has jumped into the pool and pooped in it again, and you have to get in there and scrape again. but you can't yell at the puppy because its so cute.
thats what this weather is like today.

PSA

Public Service Announcement: Behavior guide targets 'the ugly American'

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Happy Day o' Thine Birth, O seafaring maiden!

Miss Gunyou was born on this day!

If I have the wherewithal (what a great word for meaning nothing; it means "if i don't slack off") I will probably sing you a little sea-shanty-esque birthday song on your voicemail.

Many happy regards!

AND A HUG!

I love you Em, and I hope you have a great day!

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Quarterly Olfactory Report

Quarterly Olfactory Report:--------------------------------------05/04/06
Implemented: Ariel F. Dumas, PhD

Scale: International Stinktron Scale (ISS) 1.0 - 5.0---------------------------------------

Wall (Cubicle) : Dusty, bookish. ISS 2.3
Wall (Wall): Plastic, "New Wallpaper Smell." ISS 1.7
Hard Drive (External): Hot, baking-plastic. ISS 2.8
Hard Drive (Internal): ACCESS DENIED
Phone (Desk): No detectable smell.
Mug (Coffee): Stale Coffee, Slightly Sweet. ISS 3.3
Chair (Desk): Fabric-y, Slightly Sweet. ISS 1.2
Intern (Joey): Sweaty, "Axe," Nervous. ISS 4.2
Microwave (Breakroom 11B): Exploded Calzone, also mold. ISS 4.9 (IMMEDIATE ATTENTION REQUIRED)

----------Professor Dumas report remains outstanding as we await the "Microwave Post Fish" ISS. Expect VP (Vomit Patrol).

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Rumor Control

I just found out there is a specific mail group at my company called rumorcontrol. LOL.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Subway Bulletins

Its not a leaning post.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Do you ever get the feeling construction workers are just improvising? Like if you pay attention to the machinery they "try out" on a certain roadspace, doesn't it seem like they're going "no this ones too big, this ones too small, Uh oh, we've got some water over here, lets bring in the hoses, Oh! um....cement. Can we get some guys with jackhammers in here, please? Wait, what's this? Oh, there's a LOT of mud in here! Let's get that really huge thing with the corkscrew to go in there and pull all the mud out! Oh we need to assemble the corkscrew? I guess we'll need a few electricians. Where's ConEd? Where's ConEd? HAS ANYBODY SEEN CONED? No? I guess they're not really "On it!" today."

Friday, April 21, 2006

Where the milk goes, Part Whatever

It is quite possible that some of you (Dave, Donna, Emily, and Taylor) might remember a post from over a year ago, when my boss dared to ask the question, "Where does the milk go?"

Since that time we have moved to the other side of the floor, where we found a new fridge filled with tons of fresh milk. The milk gets thrown out far before its expiration date and new milk gets replaced. My boss said "hey, can you do that same thing you did last year to get them to bring less milk?"

But this year is different. Because this year I have this cube neighbor whom we'll call Coppa. He overheard my boss and piped in, very loudly "YEAH, WHATS THE DEAL WITH ALL THAT MILK?" and he said "DO YOU WANT ME TO KEEP TABS ON IT AND LET YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Thus: The Milk Spreadsheet. Several weeks later, this is what Coppa came up with:


My favorite part is the "Swallow" column which means that only a swallow remains.
However, he has to re-do it because he didn't record the expiration dates, which is key.
Also, I told him I had expected pH levels.

Taylor has been trying to explain to his office-mates in Minnesota why we have a refrigerator full of milk. I swear its only for coffee. But I would love it if we were an office of mysteriously milk-obsessed, strong-boned, Children-of-the Corn types.

My office buddy Kerry suggested that next time Coppa goes in there to measure the milk, we follow him in there and start pouring big glasses of milk.

Luckily, Coppa is game for taking things too far, so I can expect a Powerpoint presentation soon. I hope it includes Cow .gifs!

Big Time





I'm actually not a DMB fan.
Its just that if you look closely at this pic,
you can see my friend Abby in the background.
Gray shawl.

Also, she managed to give his suit a little feel.
Its purple corduroy in case thats not clear.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

NYC followed me here

I'm not trying to say that crazy shit doesn't happen in Mpls. But let me just tell this truthful tale. And you might catch my drift.

Last night at 4 a.m. I was woken by a drunk man running through the Longfellow Minneapolis neighborhood. His voice got louder and I realized he was approaching our house. He was screaming all kinds of things in Spanish. Just when I couldn't get more scared, he knocked on the door, shouting. Knocking and shouting. He moved on and we waited in the dark, as he screamed his way through the previously silent residential neighborhood.

About five minutes passed before we heard the neighbor calling the police.

"Uh yeah there's this Mexican guy running through the neighborhood ringing doorbells."

Nice.

Monday, April 10, 2006

In Case of Emergency

I don’t like reading the ads on the subways. Especially the vacation ads. I’m sure it would be nice if my commute was along the shore in a golfcart, but its not ok? Those ads are just snarky and mean.

But today I noticed something even less satisfactory than the smell of Canal Street on a summer day. The MTA emergency instructions. Its four panels that show pictures of the 4 possible emergencies. (One of which is "police" by the way: "Help! There's about 50 police in here! With guns! Help!). The first instruction on every single one is "Do not pull the Emergency Brake." The second instruction is "Notify a train crew member." And the third is to follow the instructions of the train crew.

Okay. So in case of fire, medical, police or evacuation, NEVER pull the emergency brake. WHAT IS THE EMERGENCY BRAKE FOR? A fashion emergency? (Because I have seen PLENTY of those.)

The only thing we’re allowed to do, if we are sick, bleeding, held hostage, or in flames, is run (tripping, burning, and puking) through the train cars trying to FIND a train crew member. Even if the train crew members were moseying around the train offering us beverages and hot towels, this would still be a terrible plan. But instead the train crew is located in two cars: front, back and sometimes middle. If I’m on the train, bleeding and extinguishing burning children with my Poland Springs, I’m not going to know which direction the middle of the train is. And if I get there and find no train crew member, do I just keep going, dragging the burning corpses, to the front of the train?

Well, there MUST be some other way to notify a train crew member! A button, a cord? No. Just the EMERGENCY BRAKE. And you can’t use that. Its for emergencies.

Let’s say I find a train crew member who has not yet been taken hostage by the terrorists. What do I say? "The train is on fire!" Then are they just going to pull the emergency brake? Is it their expert eyes that will determine whether this is indeed an emergency? Is that why? Only they can say, after leaving an unconducted train hurling throught the tunnels, “Yes indeed, you guys are choking on anthrax. Ok, let’s pull the brake- No! No! Not YOU! You don’t have the magic touch! Allow me.”

Also, who designed an emergency brake that seemingly does more damage than the initial emergency? This brake shouldn’t even be offered to us, if its so dangerous.

Guess what I’m gonna do in case of an emergency? Pull that brake like my life depends on it. Because it does.

One More Thing
“Poetry in Motion” sucks. But the worst idea I have seen from Poetry in Motion is to put this poem above our heads as we cart to and from the office, reeling towards probable Death by Emergency Brake or Death by Police:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
~From Macbeth

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Superheroes Are Real

A few weekends ago I was walking along in Park Slope Bklyn. “What a beautiful little neighborhood,” I thought to myself, admiring the coffee shops, children’s clothing stores, and taco stands. Suddenly a storefront caught my eye like no other storefront has. The following is a true story. (Spoiler prevention alert: If you’ve already heard of this, then you are more hip than me, but it was still the most magical day of my life.)

The store said “Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co.” I felt like Harry Potter. Could other people see this? Was my life finally going to really begin? All the other things were just a preparation for this, my initiation into the world of superheroes. It was real. I knew it wasn’t real, but what if it was real? I didn’t want to risk not being included in the superhero world, just because of cynicism or “common sense.” As I walked in, eyes agape, I was fully prepared to find either a big joke, or a portal to The Real Sooz: Life Part 2.

The store was filled with Costumes, Bottles of Chaos, Speed of Light, Invisibility. There was a cage to test levels of evil. This is just the tip of the iceberg. My thoughts were going: “Gag gifts- for kids- Do they work?-joke store- mean joke- What-if-its real?” I stared. There was a guy working there. I said “is this?—I didn’t know there was one of….these stores.” I didn’t want him to think I was too green. Like in case it was real, I wanted to make sure I didn’t appear too human. Like if I had to, I could be like “yes, I’ll need some new heavyduty gloves and Globcatcher, oh and by the way, when is the next meeting again?”

“Is this the only one of these?” I stammered.

“Like, in the world?” He was smiling.

“Yeah. In the world.”

And he said “kind of.” !!!!!!!!!!

After many more confusing questions, he finally opened up a little more. He said “Do you want to see what we really do here? This is sort of a front.”

Um….YES.

And he motions for me to follow him to the back of the store, where he OPENS A REVOLVING BOOKCASE. Inside the back room is like a kids reading room. There are shelves of books, maps, globes. It is essentially an after-school tutoring program. The revenues from the superhero supplies go to fund this nonprofit. And this way the kids feel special about going into the superhero store and going through the secret bookcase. It turns out there are more of these (A pirate store, a monster’s den) and they were started by Dave Eggers and the McSweeney’s people. Oh Eggers, why do you have to be so good? You are dreamy! These are those drunken ideas normal people have and then they go “yeah right, that’ll never happen” but he MAKES IT HAPPEN.

So Dave, Mr. Eggers, here’s my idea: GRAPHIC NOVEL MURAL IN A HOUSE. Its like telling a visual story on the walls of a house. Kids do the painting and planning. Then you charge a little money for admission to it (like a museum) and the proceeds go to kids arts scholarships.

SUPERHEROES? I haven't felt so happy in a really long time. But I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed that it wasn't real. I mean I know science doesn't permit.....but.....doesn't it? couldn't it? We've got to find a way.....

I bought some stuff. And took the oath to always use my powers for good.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Goldie

Goldie is the name of the landlady at my new apartment. When I called I expected her to sound sort of like a grandma-who-cooks-for-you, but instead she's about 14. I didn't know 14 year-olds could sell apartments, but I guess they can.

Me and Sebastian made up a new game last night. Our old one "Strangers on the Train" is still very fun too. It involves pretending we're strangers sitting next to each other and then doing weird things that would scare a stranger, like meowing, acting like a zombie, or asking the stranger for some "Crack" in a very Grey-Poupon voice. The new game is "You're my boss," and its just practicing awful ways for a boss to greet a chipper employee in the morning. IE:

Me: Hello Rick!
Seb: (slowly turning his head, lowering eyebrows, shaking head, looking away.)

or~

Seb: Good Morning, Cheryl!
Me: (wiping tears away) What? What do you WANT?

Now I suppose some people would call these theater games, and those people would be right.

Note: that last link happens to be an illustration of a zombie fighter, which isn't exactly a zombie trainer, but is still impressive.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Strong Wind

Movie Preview

DEEP MALE VOICE
From the people who brought you…
Hard Rain! And Dark Water! Comes…
Strong Wind!

Visuals of broken, abandoned umbrellas strewn about the sidewalk, people battling the wind in NYC, their umbrellas bent. One man is not even walking, just bending forward, perfectly still.

SCENE:
Man enters with his coat in great disarray. His wife is waiting for him and he slams the door against the gale and holds her close.

MAN
(melodramatically)
That’s some really strong wind!

WIFE
(melodramatically)
I know. Its really blowing out there.


SCENE:
A man (MAN 2) outside in the wind is shouting into his walkie talkie

MAN 2
Branch Down! Branch Down!

Camera pulls away and we see that it is a branch the size of a golf club.

ETC.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Hooks

So. Remember that scene in Hook where Peter (Pan) and Grandma Wendy and Moira all get back from the Orphans Benefit Party to discover that Capt. James Hook has kidnapped the children and taken them off to Neverland? And they totally know it was Hook because the wall is all torn up with one long dragging rip, that could have only been made by a very sharp object with a lot of strength behind it?

Well that is exactly what my bedroom looks like. Last night I got home and was like WHAT THE F? Apparently our landlady hired some electricians to go into my room without telling me, spend several hours in there, and rip holes in the wall so they could move an outlet. The gash goes from one side of the room to the other, around a corner, etc.. I guess they didn't have time to finish the job, because there is a hole big enough for Pye to fit through, which she tried to do, which would have resulted in Dead or Trapped Cat if she hadn't been stopped. So we stuffed some pants in the hole. Then I hid my undearwear and diaries.

Also, once again, I shouldn't be allowed to dress myself. Today, instead of Office, I went for "1994 alternateen." And by that I mean pink corduroys, and long-sleeves-under-short-sleeves.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

polygastress

Just to prove to myself and my roommates that we do not watch just any old thing on tv, last night we tuned in to an A&E special about Mormon Polygamists. Guess what? Although I don't approve of this as a lifestyle, and wouldn't be all "holy" about sharing my husband, I am not sure it should be illegal. The illegal aspect seems to be forcing the most cultlike families into secrecy so that all these other crimes (rape, incest, pedophilia) are falling under the umbrella of polygamy and going unprosecuted.

Also, they believe the state shouldn't tell them who they can and can't marry. Good argument! Just like the gays! Although I bet the mormons wouldn't see it that way.

However, the REAL reason I watched that program? For two hours? The clothes. Because those mormons do it like no others. Its a combination of braids, adult easter dresses, thick black tights, white robes, and the good old "nest of bangs." And you can't say, "Maybe their values are just different than yours! Maybe they don't care about something so shallow as fashion!" However, they obviously have made fashion choices. That kind of hairspraying and curling takes commitment! And its an agreed upon commmitment. So why? Why this? It is NOT the most simple choice. The most simple choice would be mumus or bodysuits. And THAT would make for excellent television.

I also like how the wives all look basically the same, like they're in a band. Which reminds me of "Palindromes," one of the best movies ever.

At one point the TV program was like "For many chilren, growing up in a plural family can be very special: Lots of children to play with, lots of care and attention." And I said "and then you turn fourteen and your uncle marries you."

However, in homage to my new pacifist heroine, Dr. Wafa Sultan, I am going to live and let live. I don't want to force my secularist views on people who want to have faith.

In case you haven't seen it yet:
http://www.memritv.org/search.asp?ACT=S9&P1=1050

Thursday, March 09, 2006

bum cat with a bum leg

Last night as I walked and talked on the phone to Taylor, I saw something coming at me out of the bushes and promptly screamed. It was a black cat with a broken leg that it was dragging along behind it. It was trapped in the churchyard and I saw that it had an empty carrier cage nearby, so somebody had probably turned the cat over to the church.

I thought they only did that with babies. Anyway, it took me a long time to get over the spectacle of this poor thing dragging its leg around, and to realize there was nothing I could do for it that the Christians wouldn't do in the morning.

Later when I got home, I consulted Pye on my decision. She said, through her calm and somewhat frightening stare, that if I had taken that cat home, she would have packed her damn things and left because there's only enough room for one cat here, goddamnit.

Also, I think she forgave me for not calling the animal rescue # that I didn't have.

In honor of Churchyard Cat I am posting this cute link.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Real Lunch Conversations Part 1

Alla, Kerry, and Moi are watching TV in the conference room.

Alla: Who is this crazy woman who sleeps with her student...sick in the head!
Moi: Yeah thats crazy.
Kerry: I know.
Moi: Its a trend, a growing rash. Like school shootings.
Alla: No, its probably always been around but the stupid media makes it "oh now this is a big deal" but it was happening before!
Kerry: I don't know about that.
Alla: No I'm telling you! Its just like sharks!
(Kerry and Moi erupt in laughter, spitting out soda, etc.)
Moi: (catching breath) What?
Alla: No, really! There was statistics- statistics! that people were being bitten by sharks all the time! but the news blows it up!

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Pampelmuse

I'm not one for adults with kids toys. Like people who collect "Taz" dolls, or get tattoos of Winnie the Pooh or the Roadrunner. I don't really appreciate seeing Disney stuffed animals in adult rooms. Even keychains are really pushing it.

However, when I was in high school I fell in love with one particular character. Remember that fat German caterpillar from "A Bug's Life" named Heimlich? He really brightened my days; thats all.

I was given Heimlich dolls as gifts. I hide them now, but I still have them. One particular gift was Heimlich the bike horn. I could have (but didn't) fastened it onto my bike handlebars, so that if I needed to warn someone that I was coming, I could just press Heimlich's butt and he would Germanically shout one of three things:

Heimlich here!
Excuse me, pardon me, coming through!
Places to go and things to eat!

This weekend I purchased some pink grapefruit Mentos. Not just out of curiousity and my love of chewy fruity candies, but because the German word for grapefruit is Pampelmuse. Pampelmuse!

I love it.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Shuffle Songs

I tried the old "shuffle ten songs on my iPod Nano trick." This is what I came up with. I've decided to not comment because there are a few (#4!) that are too embarrassing for words. They speak for themselves. And it says a lot.

1. You are the sunshine of my life- Stevie Wonder
2. You're going to need somebody on your bond- Taj Mahal
3. Unclear Channel- The Rachel's
4. Main Title- The Notebook
5. Trust in me- Etta James
6. MacArthur Park- Donna Summer
7. Mr. Brightside- The Killers
8. Area Codes- Ludacris
9. Boogie on Reggae Woman- Stevie Wonder
10. Hallelujah- k.d. lang

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

topics


My favorite ice dancing pair:
Watanabe and Kido

This was a tough one because I love them all. And those Italians pulled a close second. And by "second" I mean "overall in the book of Sooz", which is judged on three merits:

1. Costumes
2. Falls
3. Drama

The Italian duo didn't speak to each other for two days after he dropped her.
Link for full coverage. And by full coverage I don't mean flesh-toned body nylon.

My chocolates filled with Russian liquor arrived today. They're for the office.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Look at this cat!


1. This is Pye

2. She is so funny! Look at that cute face!

3. Her collar has bling on it.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Cloony or Cool

This morning one of my coworkers asked me to order her a new stapler. Now this has happened before. Her stapler gets jammed and she thinks its time for a new one. Last time when I removed the jammed staple and returned it to her I thought "they're not paper towels."

"Give it to me" I said, and she hesitated. She said "its really broken." I said "ok, lets see."

Sure enough it just has one staple jammed in it. But it is really jammed in there. So after 30 minutes of trying out different "tools" and considering calling facilities, I stood up and said "You know what this thing needs?" I said it like a pro. I held the stapler in my hand, raised it above my head, and slammed it against my desk. My hand was in there. It hurt a lot.

Here's the thing. A lot of people laughed at me. I didn't mean to be funny at all. So what exactly is the value of accidental comedy? Priceless, I guess.

And so today I give you Cloony the Clown: (when I first read this at age 8, I cried)

I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.

by Shel Silverstein

Thursday, February 02, 2006

hehhhehehehe

Worker #1: Yeah, maybe he wasn't the best intern.
Worker #2: How was I supposed to know he'd go off his meds?
Worker #1: He sure did love opening mail, though.
Worker #2: Yeah. He sure did love opening mail.

Friday, January 27, 2006

things just keep getting better around here

A lady in my office just walked up to me and asked "What region are we?"

I just stared at her. She said "Is it New York? Its New York, isn't it?"

I said "I don't know what you're talking about."

And she said "Its New York." And walked away.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

my new favorite blog

I have loved gofugyourself for a long time. Loved. But I am quite taken with this new blog:

overheardinnewyork

Here's a few favorites so far:

Drunk girl: I wanna like move to a faraway island with a mute sex slave and lots of indigenous pot...That's all I really need because I can talk to them and they can hear...But they can't respond...And they'll just express themselves through sex...Like when they're mad it will get rough...and when they arent mad it will be gentle like the motherfucking ocean.
--L train

Teen boy: I hope the new Xbox has a vagina.
--Toys R' Us, Times Square

Girl: The fuckin' R train is a motherfuckin' myth. I swear to god, it's the fuckin' unicorn: only fools and virgins can see it.
--Canal Street N/Q/R/W station

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Drew's tatas

As of tonight's SNL: Barrymore? Bravo.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Liqueur

My landlady got out her liquor closet on Sunday night. We were sitting at her table trying rare liqeurs (John D. Taylor's White Falernum wins #1) and I noticed the table was a bit wobbly. I discovered it was being held up by a book. The book? Dr. Laura Schlessinger's "10 Stupid Things Women do to Mess Up Their Lives."

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

THIS IS NO GAME

THIS IS NO GAME
by JACK HANDEY
Issue of 2006-01-09Posted 2005-12-26

This is no game. You might think this is a game, but, trust me, this is no game.
This is not something where rock beats scissors or paper covers rock or rock wraps itself up in paper and gives itself as a present to scissors. This isn’t anything like that. Or where paper types something on itself and sues scissors.
This isn’t something where you yell “Bingo!” and then it turns out you don’t have bingo after all, and what are the rules again? This isn’t that, my friend.
This isn’t something where you roll the dice and move your battleship around a board and land on a hotel and act like your battleship is having sex with the hotel.
This isn’t tiddlywinks, where you flip your tiddly over another player’s tiddly and an old man winks at you because he thought it was a good move. This isn’t that at all.
This isn’t something where you sink a birdie or hit a badminton birdie or do anything at all with birdies. Look, just forget birdies, O.K.?
Maybe you think this is all one big joke, like the farmer with the beautiful but promiscuous daughter. But what they don’t tell you is the farmer became so depressed that he eventually took his own life.
This is not some brightly colored, sugarcoated piece of candy that you can brush the ants off of and pop in your mouth.
This is not playtime or make-believe. This is real. It’s as real as a beggar squatting by the side of the road, begging, and then you realize, Uh-oh, he’s not begging.
This is as real as a baby deer calling out for his mother. But his mother won’t be coming home anytime soon, because she is drunk in a bar somewhere.
It’s as real as a mummy who still thinks he’s inside a pyramid, but he’s actually in a museum in Ohio.
This is not something where you can dress your kid up like a hobo and send him out trick-or-treating, because, first of all, your kid’s twenty-three, and, secondly, he really is a hobo.
All of this probably sounds oldfashioned and “square” to you. But if loving your wife, your country, your cats, your girlfriend, your girlfriend’s sister, and your girlfriend’s sister’s cat is “square,” then so be it.
You go skipping and prancing through life, skipping through a field of dandelions. But what you don’t see is that on each dandelion is a bee, and on each bee is an ant, and the ant is biting the bee and the bee is biting the flower, and if that shocks you then I’m sorry.
You have never had to struggle to put food on the table, let alone put food on a plate and try to balance it on a spoon until it gets to your mouth.
You will never know what it’s like to work on a farm until your hands are raw, just so people can have fresh marijuana. Or what it’s like to go to a factory and put in eight long hours and then go home and realize that you went to the wrong factory.
I don’t hate you; I pity you. You will never appreciate the magnificent beauty of a double rainbow, or the plainness of a regular rainbow.
You will never grasp the quiet joy of holding your own baby, or the quiet comedy of handing him back to his “father.”
I used to be like you. I would put my napkin in my lap, instead of folding it into a little tent over my plate, like I do now, with a door for the fork to go in.
I would go to parties and laugh—and laugh and laugh—every time somebody said something, in case it was supposed to be funny. I would walk in someplace and slap down a five-dollar bill and say, “Give me all you got,” and not even know what they had there. And whenever I found two of anything I would hold them up to my head like antlers, and then pretend that one “antler” fell off.
I went waltzing along, not caring where I stepped or if the other person even wanted to waltz.
Food seemed to taste better back then. Potatoes were more potatoey, and turnips less turnippy.
But then something happened, something that would make me understand that this is no game. I was walking past a building and I saw a man standing high up on a ledge. “Jump! Jump!” I started yelling. What happened next would haunt me for the rest of my days: the man came down from the building and beat the living daylights out of me. Ever since then, I’ve realized that this is no game.
Maybe one day it will be a game again. Maybe you’ll be able to run up and kick a pumpkin without people asking why you did that and if you’re going to pay for it.
Perhaps one day the Indian will put down his tomahawk and the white man will put down his gun, and the white man will pick up his gun again because, Ha-ha, sucker.
One day we’ll just sit by the fire, chew some tobacky, toast some marshmackies, and maybe strum a tune on the ole guitacky.
And maybe one day we’ll tip our hats to the mockingbird, not out of fear but out of friendliness.
If there’s one single idea I’d like you to take away from this, it is: This is no game. The other thing I’d like you to think about is, could I borrow five hundred dollars?
(Author’s Note: Since finishing this article, I have been informed that this is, in fact, a game. I would like to apologize for everything I said above. But please think about the five hundred dollars.)
~From The New Yorker

Thursday, January 05, 2006

My New Year's resolution is to buy myself more stuff.