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.
Friday, June 30, 2006
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."
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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
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!
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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!
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.
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
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
"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.
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.
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
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
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
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
Thursday, December 15, 2005
jury duty
Yesterday I had jury duty. You can't really leave because if they call your name and you miss it, they embarrass you in front of everybody by treating you like an idiot.
First I watched a video starring people dressed like this. Because in the olden days, trials were decided by whether someone drowned or not. Those fools
So I had to get some coffee and they announced that the coffee machine was in the lounge. There was a line of 14 people when I got there. Most of the people were over sixty and had some real trouble with the machine. Everybody was gathering around and helping eachother:
"No, thats two sugars, thats the "milk" button." By the time I had helped four old ladies buy coffee, I knew how the machine worked and I knew what I was getting. No problem.
Mocha.
I knew how it was supposed to work.
Cup drops down, coffee fills, wait for the light, open the door.
Nope. I guess the machine was out of cups. Because all i saw was mocha stream. Mocha pissing into nothing. One dollar of mocha nothing.
And then, the mocha started to stream out of the machine, flooding the floor all around my feet. An innocent lady behind me, like a disney character, said "isn't a cup supposed to drop down?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes it is."
The machine was bleeding. The mocha approached my feet. A law clerk walked over and I said, "excuse me sir, this machine seems to be broken." He said "I'm not facilities." I said, "can you call facilities?" And he said (very annoyed) "I can when I reach a phone." Thank you sir. Thank you.
And when I went over in an hour, there was a sign that said "Out of Order." I'll say.
First I watched a video starring people dressed like this. Because in the olden days, trials were decided by whether someone drowned or not. Those fools
So I had to get some coffee and they announced that the coffee machine was in the lounge. There was a line of 14 people when I got there. Most of the people were over sixty and had some real trouble with the machine. Everybody was gathering around and helping eachother:
"No, thats two sugars, thats the "milk" button." By the time I had helped four old ladies buy coffee, I knew how the machine worked and I knew what I was getting. No problem.
Mocha.
I knew how it was supposed to work.
Cup drops down, coffee fills, wait for the light, open the door.
Nope. I guess the machine was out of cups. Because all i saw was mocha stream. Mocha pissing into nothing. One dollar of mocha nothing.
And then, the mocha started to stream out of the machine, flooding the floor all around my feet. An innocent lady behind me, like a disney character, said "isn't a cup supposed to drop down?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes it is."
The machine was bleeding. The mocha approached my feet. A law clerk walked over and I said, "excuse me sir, this machine seems to be broken." He said "I'm not facilities." I said, "can you call facilities?" And he said (very annoyed) "I can when I reach a phone." Thank you sir. Thank you.
And when I went over in an hour, there was a sign that said "Out of Order." I'll say.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Abrasive tunes
While getting coffee this morning I was bombarded by THE WORST music I have ever heard. It sounded like somebody was trying to sing a bad song. Like when one of your friends is doing an impression of somebody who is always off key and they also don't particularly like the person, so they actually end up acting a bit like Rosie O'Donnell in "Riding the Bus With My Sister."
You know the part of the Jackson 5 Christmas song "Santa Claus is coming to town" where it sounds like a broken record because they just keep going "saaaaaaanta claus is comin to ta-oon" over and over again? You may associate it with the time you were shopping in K-Mart for Freesia scented shower gel because its your Michigan cousins' favorite scent. Every time you hear it you probably wonder if there is a problem with the CD. But thats just how the song goes. Regardless, it sounds WAY better in Michael's tiny little voice, and at that unusual quick pace. It still feels like getting beaten by a blunt object, but at least the beating is quick and accurate. In the case of this morning's remake, the voice was that of some male rocker. Don't know who. He is drawing out that Saaaaaanta part and (I DON'T KNOW!) Trying to riff? Like not just holding out one note (which was bad), but exploring the musical scale within that flat little a sound. And then scraping his voice, like he thought he was Tom Waits. He wasn't. This, as opposed to the quick blunt-object-beating of the Jacksons' version, felt like somebody was taking that same bat (I picture a splintered, bloody, wooden club) and grinding first my finger, than scraping my face, then deciding to wallop my booty, twisting into my nose until it breaks, and then giving the bloody wound a few splinters for good measure.
It reminded me of the new McDonalds commercial where they sing "I'm Ronald McDonald and I'm lov-ing-it!" And its all one note and they definitely focus on pronouncing "lovING" which is a curious departure from their previous "lovin' it." I can just picture the ad meeting.
Bill: But what about Ronald? I don't know why we ever let go of that.
(Miranda looks at Tim with eyes rolled. Bill never lets "Ronald" go)
Tim: Well, how do you propose we bring him back?
Miranda: I really don't want to lose the "I'm lovin' it." Its so "now."
Bill: We don't have to lose that! We just combine the two. My friend Jojo is a composer, I'll have him come in and work something up.
(Jojo enters in a flowery hat and a carry-keyboard and hits one key, over and over and over again, dancing like Rosie O'Donnell in Riding the Bus With my Sister.)
You know the part of the Jackson 5 Christmas song "Santa Claus is coming to town" where it sounds like a broken record because they just keep going "saaaaaaanta claus is comin to ta-oon" over and over again? You may associate it with the time you were shopping in K-Mart for Freesia scented shower gel because its your Michigan cousins' favorite scent. Every time you hear it you probably wonder if there is a problem with the CD. But thats just how the song goes. Regardless, it sounds WAY better in Michael's tiny little voice, and at that unusual quick pace. It still feels like getting beaten by a blunt object, but at least the beating is quick and accurate. In the case of this morning's remake, the voice was that of some male rocker. Don't know who. He is drawing out that Saaaaaanta part and (I DON'T KNOW!) Trying to riff? Like not just holding out one note (which was bad), but exploring the musical scale within that flat little a sound. And then scraping his voice, like he thought he was Tom Waits. He wasn't. This, as opposed to the quick blunt-object-beating of the Jacksons' version, felt like somebody was taking that same bat (I picture a splintered, bloody, wooden club) and grinding first my finger, than scraping my face, then deciding to wallop my booty, twisting into my nose until it breaks, and then giving the bloody wound a few splinters for good measure.
It reminded me of the new McDonalds commercial where they sing "I'm Ronald McDonald and I'm lov-ing-it!" And its all one note and they definitely focus on pronouncing "lovING" which is a curious departure from their previous "lovin' it." I can just picture the ad meeting.
Bill: But what about Ronald? I don't know why we ever let go of that.
(Miranda looks at Tim with eyes rolled. Bill never lets "Ronald" go)
Tim: Well, how do you propose we bring him back?
Miranda: I really don't want to lose the "I'm lovin' it." Its so "now."
Bill: We don't have to lose that! We just combine the two. My friend Jojo is a composer, I'll have him come in and work something up.
(Jojo enters in a flowery hat and a carry-keyboard and hits one key, over and over and over again, dancing like Rosie O'Donnell in Riding the Bus With my Sister.)
Friday, December 09, 2005
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
I should be asleep
Every morning I set my alarm for 45 minutes before I absolutely have to wake up, because it takes me at least 6 presses of the snooze button to realize it is morning time. (I usually don't even know what is going on: Who am I, where am I, who are these munchkins, etc.) But this morning was different. I was totally aware that I had two options. They were: Get up and go to work, or stay in bed and find the answers to this dream. I weighed it in my head, like that time my Asian Theater Studies teacher asked me if there was something in the paper I would like to share with the class, since I had the Times spread out on my desk. I had to really think about it, because I knew that if everybody in that class read the article I was reading, they would learn more than what they might learn in her whole semester. I considered the Christian Slater route of rebellion but took the polite route, and folded my paper, apologizing.
This morning I thought to myself, “The information you are going to gather in this dream is way more important than getting to work on time.” And now I can't remember the dream. I think there was some answer I was after, and the characters had the answers, and if I could stay in their world a little longer, I would understand. I think it had something to do with a curiosity I’ve had in waking life, where I suddenly wonder why I experience the world through THIS life and THIS body and THIS point of view. And then I get a little sad and also a little alienated, because no matter what I do, I will only experience the world through THESE eyes. And then I inevitably go “who AM I, anyways?” I think THIS was the answer I was about to get in the dream. I woke up and turned off the alarm and got in the shower.
Then things really started to go wrong. All my nylons had runs in them. There were no empty seats on the train, which means starting the day standing in heels for forty minutes, rocking back and forth, and feeling the V8 juice and Nyquil sloshing around in my stomach. Then the train was delayed in Brooklyn for 15 minutes. I stood in my heels in front of three giant, overweight men who took up the whole 10-seat bench. When I got to work 15 minutes late, I headed downstairs for a coffee and bagel, only to return upstairs and find a glob of cream cheese right in the hole of the bagel that was supposed to have only butter on it. And now all of our computers are down. “Mayday, Mayday!” I shouted into the phone at my friend, laughing at this point. He informed me that everybody in his building thinks the computer trouble means they’re getting fired. And that the older woman in their office, who they call “Grandma” is stuffing her face with BBQ potato chips at 10 a.m.. Meanwhile, my neighbor, who talks LOUDLY all the time, took the opportunity to call his wife and WHISPER “I love you” and “shhh” to her. Of all the things to whisper! I was just shocked that he was whispering at all. This is the guy that SHOUTS “GOD BLESS YOU!” to a sneezer who sits 20 cubicles away.
So I’m convinced that I should have been asleep this whole time, finding the answers to life’s biggest questions. Who knows, if I were asleep, I might just be immortal by now. Like Duncan McLeod the Highlander. And then he could also be my boyfriend. FOREVER.
This morning I thought to myself, “The information you are going to gather in this dream is way more important than getting to work on time.” And now I can't remember the dream. I think there was some answer I was after, and the characters had the answers, and if I could stay in their world a little longer, I would understand. I think it had something to do with a curiosity I’ve had in waking life, where I suddenly wonder why I experience the world through THIS life and THIS body and THIS point of view. And then I get a little sad and also a little alienated, because no matter what I do, I will only experience the world through THESE eyes. And then I inevitably go “who AM I, anyways?” I think THIS was the answer I was about to get in the dream. I woke up and turned off the alarm and got in the shower.
Then things really started to go wrong. All my nylons had runs in them. There were no empty seats on the train, which means starting the day standing in heels for forty minutes, rocking back and forth, and feeling the V8 juice and Nyquil sloshing around in my stomach. Then the train was delayed in Brooklyn for 15 minutes. I stood in my heels in front of three giant, overweight men who took up the whole 10-seat bench. When I got to work 15 minutes late, I headed downstairs for a coffee and bagel, only to return upstairs and find a glob of cream cheese right in the hole of the bagel that was supposed to have only butter on it. And now all of our computers are down. “Mayday, Mayday!” I shouted into the phone at my friend, laughing at this point. He informed me that everybody in his building thinks the computer trouble means they’re getting fired. And that the older woman in their office, who they call “Grandma” is stuffing her face with BBQ potato chips at 10 a.m.. Meanwhile, my neighbor, who talks LOUDLY all the time, took the opportunity to call his wife and WHISPER “I love you” and “shhh” to her. Of all the things to whisper! I was just shocked that he was whispering at all. This is the guy that SHOUTS “GOD BLESS YOU!” to a sneezer who sits 20 cubicles away.
So I’m convinced that I should have been asleep this whole time, finding the answers to life’s biggest questions. Who knows, if I were asleep, I might just be immortal by now. Like Duncan McLeod the Highlander. And then he could also be my boyfriend. FOREVER.
Monday, December 05, 2005
HAHAHAHAHA
Episode 2
When I posted about this article the first time, I spent a lot of time cutting and pasting...
I like parallel structure.
When I posted about this article the first time, I spent a lot of time cutting and pasting...
I like parallel structure.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Pye is...my cat
Googlism
pye is now involved
pye is a fat little man
pye is available for holiday events
pye is convinced that people are basically good
pye is the best mystery story involving dogs ever to be written
pye is honored to have received the "keepers of the stars award" from the truly fascinating site of "diabella loves cats"
pye is certainly not him
pye is concerned— and an obvious extension
pye is immediate past president of the international commission on glass
pye is making five previous novels and three optioned movie scripts available to the public
pye is risking his reputation on a wonderfully bizarre hypothesis
pye is professor of the study of religions
pye is approached by the peter cook appreciation society to organise a tribute evening at their 2nd annual meeting
pye is all right
pye is a really tall wildflower that seeds itself freely
pye is past chair of the colchester regional hospital foundation and a board member of the general motors dealer training advisory board
pye is an accomplished carver
pye is an experienced carver
pye is making money selling content over the internet
pye is a scientist
pye is registered with coloured horse society chaps
pye is senior vice president of telemac corporation and has been involved with the prepaid cellular industry since its inception
pye is mine?" my parents nodded
pye is assisted in the classroom by anita honwinewa
pye is the director of career services at triton college
pye is an english member of the wilpf and actually finds that the campaign is having some success in her home country
pye is known all over town for her acts of brilliance
pye is one of the authors
pye is performing
pye is jerry's pet
pye is an outstanding garden plant
pye is an independent health care consultant
pye is cat and small animal friendly
pye is a principal consultant who has extensive experience in business and information technology roles
pye is part of a new wave of leadership in desert hot springs
pye is fitted
pye is entirely misleading if not utterly incorrect
pye is the school director for millie lewis models and talent agency
pye is one of ireland's leading religious artists
pye is professor of political science
pye is survived by another son
pye is a parameter
pye is fun and happy
pye is a unique creation individualized by the artist's touch
pye is a pale pinkish purple
pye is one of the leading american asianists of the twentieth century
pye is married to nancy pye
pye is a bit of a publicity hound
pye is successfully described by only one parameter
pye is one of those books that you have to judge by it's cover
pye is relieved to find he is still in lord flamborough's good books but becomes distracted by the annual village cricket
pye is a fine musician and kjeld brandt on clarinet played with a soft and beautiful vibrato
pye is working on ways in which involvement with schools work can be made less time consuming so that more people can become involved in this rewarding activity
pye is no longer commuting
pye is credited with being the discoverer of the district
pye is the author of "everything you know is wrong”
pye is a new york based renaissance music band
pye is the first cat
pye is a 8 year veteran of the canadian bobsleigh team having the positions of brakeman and or crewman
pye is the glory of the late summer garden
pye is taken from that work
pye is appointed business representative to replace tony from his old position
pye is more reserved
pye is the shooter
pye is a former military intelligence agent turned writer who in the late 1970’s became friends with john draper
pye is a composer
pye is a superb carver and teacher
pye is a strong junior noted for her pragmatism
pye is a writer in minneapolis
pye is now involved
pye is a fat little man
pye is available for holiday events
pye is convinced that people are basically good
pye is the best mystery story involving dogs ever to be written
pye is honored to have received the "keepers of the stars award" from the truly fascinating site of "diabella loves cats"
pye is certainly not him
pye is concerned— and an obvious extension
pye is immediate past president of the international commission on glass
pye is making five previous novels and three optioned movie scripts available to the public
pye is risking his reputation on a wonderfully bizarre hypothesis
pye is professor of the study of religions
pye is approached by the peter cook appreciation society to organise a tribute evening at their 2nd annual meeting
pye is all right
pye is a really tall wildflower that seeds itself freely
pye is past chair of the colchester regional hospital foundation and a board member of the general motors dealer training advisory board
pye is an accomplished carver
pye is an experienced carver
pye is making money selling content over the internet
pye is a scientist
pye is registered with coloured horse society chaps
pye is senior vice president of telemac corporation and has been involved with the prepaid cellular industry since its inception
pye is mine?" my parents nodded
pye is assisted in the classroom by anita honwinewa
pye is the director of career services at triton college
pye is an english member of the wilpf and actually finds that the campaign is having some success in her home country
pye is known all over town for her acts of brilliance
pye is one of the authors
pye is performing
pye is jerry's pet
pye is an outstanding garden plant
pye is an independent health care consultant
pye is cat and small animal friendly
pye is a principal consultant who has extensive experience in business and information technology roles
pye is part of a new wave of leadership in desert hot springs
pye is fitted
pye is entirely misleading if not utterly incorrect
pye is the school director for millie lewis models and talent agency
pye is one of ireland's leading religious artists
pye is professor of political science
pye is survived by another son
pye is a parameter
pye is fun and happy
pye is a unique creation individualized by the artist's touch
pye is a pale pinkish purple
pye is one of the leading american asianists of the twentieth century
pye is married to nancy pye
pye is a bit of a publicity hound
pye is successfully described by only one parameter
pye is one of those books that you have to judge by it's cover
pye is relieved to find he is still in lord flamborough's good books but becomes distracted by the annual village cricket
pye is a fine musician and kjeld brandt on clarinet played with a soft and beautiful vibrato
pye is working on ways in which involvement with schools work can be made less time consuming so that more people can become involved in this rewarding activity
pye is no longer commuting
pye is credited with being the discoverer of the district
pye is the author of "everything you know is wrong”
pye is a new york based renaissance music band
pye is the first cat
pye is a 8 year veteran of the canadian bobsleigh team having the positions of brakeman and or crewman
pye is the glory of the late summer garden
pye is taken from that work
pye is appointed business representative to replace tony from his old position
pye is more reserved
pye is the shooter
pye is a former military intelligence agent turned writer who in the late 1970’s became friends with john draper
pye is a composer
pye is a superb carver and teacher
pye is a strong junior noted for her pragmatism
pye is a writer in minneapolis
Thursday, November 17, 2005
What I just did
While passing a conference room (in use) I noticed some very small figures playing on some very precarious scaffolding outside the window. Thinking them to be children (because they were very small!) 20 stories high, I rushed into the conference, saying "I don't think those kids should be playing on that!" as if I were about to dial 911. They all looked out the window.
"Those are adults."
"Are you sure?" I looked closer.
They were. They just looked small because they were far away. And they were hammering things. Workers.
"Oh. Carry on. My apologies," and I backed out of the room.
If I can escalate drama in my head that much, then I have a feeling this IS the perfect man for me. He is tender and morose! And doesn't care that I'm poor, okay?
"Those are adults."
"Are you sure?" I looked closer.
They were. They just looked small because they were far away. And they were hammering things. Workers.
"Oh. Carry on. My apologies," and I backed out of the room.
If I can escalate drama in my head that much, then I have a feeling this IS the perfect man for me. He is tender and morose! And doesn't care that I'm poor, okay?
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
All I gotta say is
I need a freaking vacation. That's it. Nothing hilarious. Nothing unbelievable.
You know how being unamazing can be so depressing? Like, "ok here I am on this subway. Again." And "wow, which flavor of coffee should I squirt into the mug today?"
Also, I am dissatisfied with myself for never having rioted. Ever.
And also I don't like the way certain orthodox Jewish males look at me. It is really not my fault. Whatever it is, could they stop looking at me like that? I know I have fake blonde hair and I wear pants, but I am really not so bad on the inside!
I would like to write a letter to Donald Trump asking him for one goddamn gold candlestick. Just one. I would melt it, make myself a toof, and give the rest to a charity.
I don't like the ads on the subway that make fun of us for having to stand. That is just mean. Courvoisier, those yellow phone books, Sex and the City DVD collection, and Manhattan Mini Storage. Its not cute. Its not funny. It just makes me hate their product.
When I was young, lots of doctors and nurses had to hold me down to give me the shots. Now I like to calmly watch the needle go in. Whats THAT all about?
You know how being unamazing can be so depressing? Like, "ok here I am on this subway. Again." And "wow, which flavor of coffee should I squirt into the mug today?"
Also, I am dissatisfied with myself for never having rioted. Ever.
And also I don't like the way certain orthodox Jewish males look at me. It is really not my fault. Whatever it is, could they stop looking at me like that? I know I have fake blonde hair and I wear pants, but I am really not so bad on the inside!
I would like to write a letter to Donald Trump asking him for one goddamn gold candlestick. Just one. I would melt it, make myself a toof, and give the rest to a charity.
I don't like the ads on the subway that make fun of us for having to stand. That is just mean. Courvoisier, those yellow phone books, Sex and the City DVD collection, and Manhattan Mini Storage. Its not cute. Its not funny. It just makes me hate their product.
When I was young, lots of doctors and nurses had to hold me down to give me the shots. Now I like to calmly watch the needle go in. Whats THAT all about?
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Troubled Maker of Heart Devices May Lose Suitor
Original Article: NYTIMES
My edits (in italics) to fit the hintiness of the headline:
Bruce yesterday threatened to abandon his plan to acquire Samantha, a troubled heart, setting the stage for a dramatic and tearful confrontation between the two over the relationship.
The development is a stunning reversal for a deal that was applauded when it was announced in December as both a handsome payoff for Samantha and a way for Bruce to enter the fast-growing market of bachelors.
But along the way, Samantha, the nation's second-most-popular girl, found herself ensnared by safety issues and product recalls that appeared to spin out of control.
Samantha disclosed in late May, for example, that one of her previous boyfriends had repeatedly failed because of an electrical flaw. That led to regulatory scrutiny, a string of product recalls, and most recently, a Department of Justice investigation.
In a statement yesterday, Bruce, who is based in New Brunswick, N.J., said he believed that the recalls and federal investigations had materially affected Samantha's "short-term results and long-term outlook."
Samantha, based in Indianapolis, responded that any effect from the recalls would be short term, adding that Bruce was legally obligated to complete the deal by tomorrow, as originally negotiated.
Samantha's problems also grew more complex yesterday as Scott, an x, accused her of fraud in connection with sales of a heart that short-circuited in some cases. The lawsuit is seeking to force Samantha to disclose device-malfunction data and disgorge profits from sales of the heart.
The deal's breakdown could present a challenge to Bruce's strategy of growth by acquisition. Both Samantha and Bruce did not rule out continuing talks, but with the original deal valued at a lot, any new agreement would depend on the two sides seeing eye to eye on lower expectations. People involved in those talks described the latest moves by the couple as a high-stakes game of "chicken," with neither particularly interested in walking away just yet.
But these people suggested that a gap remained between the price Bruce was now willing to pay and the price Samantha was willing to accept.
"They are playing chicken, and right now it appears that Bruce has the upper hand," said Joanne, a friend of a friend.
The centerpiece of any future fight between the two will revolve around a single but complex issue - whether Samantha's product recalls and related events have had a materially negative impact on her future sales and profits. And not surprisingly, both people yesterday staked out their positions.
In his statement, Bruce, said he believed that developments had clouded Samantha's prospects. For her part, Samantha characterized those effects as "normal."
Courts have found that a significant negative impact must extend beyond the normal to qualify as grounds for terminating a contract. In 2001, a Delaware court ruled that Rick was not justified in terminating his merger deal with Christina, a beef processor, after Rick contended that undisclosed problems rendered the deal invalid.
"We believe that the fundamentals of Samantha are strong and she has attractive prospects for growth," Carrie, Samantha's best friend, said in a statement.
Bruce announced his plan to date Samantha in mid-December, with the deal representing his biggest acquisition by far. The move represented a decision by Bruce to move into the market for actively dating bachelors (ADB), a field that is rapidly growing because of an aging population.
Bachelors send out an electrical charge to disrupt a potentially fatal heart rhythm; datelessness controls a heart that is beating too fast or too slowly.
Until recently, the deal was on track with both sides anticipating that it would close in September or October. But in late May, Samantha disclosed that she had an electrical flaw that had caused her to short-circuit and fail in about two dozen cases.
Samantha's disclosure came as The New York Times published an article about her problems, which are known as bitterness, including its possible role in the death of a college student this year.
All people recall products or have product failures. But Samantha quickly found herself at the center of a broader debate over how and when problems should be disclosed. And rather than seeking to put the issue behind herself quickly, appeared to fumble.
"In retrospect, she clearly underestimated the intolerance for severe events no matter how rare they are," said Dr. Love, an industry analyst with Love.com. "That was her fundamental mistake."
After fixing the device in 2002, Samantha continued to obsess over older models out of her inventory.
"We would not permit this type of conduct in connection with the sale of cars or washing machines," said Bruce's mom. Late yesterday, a friend of Samantha's, Sarah, said Samantha's policy was not to comment on litigation. But Samantha has said repeatedly that she has done nothing wrong.
At a recent party, Samantha also said that she planned to release more detailed data to boyfriends, but she has declined to say when she will begin disclosing that data.
My edits (in italics) to fit the hintiness of the headline:
Bruce yesterday threatened to abandon his plan to acquire Samantha, a troubled heart, setting the stage for a dramatic and tearful confrontation between the two over the relationship.
The development is a stunning reversal for a deal that was applauded when it was announced in December as both a handsome payoff for Samantha and a way for Bruce to enter the fast-growing market of bachelors.
But along the way, Samantha, the nation's second-most-popular girl, found herself ensnared by safety issues and product recalls that appeared to spin out of control.
Samantha disclosed in late May, for example, that one of her previous boyfriends had repeatedly failed because of an electrical flaw. That led to regulatory scrutiny, a string of product recalls, and most recently, a Department of Justice investigation.
In a statement yesterday, Bruce, who is based in New Brunswick, N.J., said he believed that the recalls and federal investigations had materially affected Samantha's "short-term results and long-term outlook."
Samantha, based in Indianapolis, responded that any effect from the recalls would be short term, adding that Bruce was legally obligated to complete the deal by tomorrow, as originally negotiated.
Samantha's problems also grew more complex yesterday as Scott, an x, accused her of fraud in connection with sales of a heart that short-circuited in some cases. The lawsuit is seeking to force Samantha to disclose device-malfunction data and disgorge profits from sales of the heart.
The deal's breakdown could present a challenge to Bruce's strategy of growth by acquisition. Both Samantha and Bruce did not rule out continuing talks, but with the original deal valued at a lot, any new agreement would depend on the two sides seeing eye to eye on lower expectations. People involved in those talks described the latest moves by the couple as a high-stakes game of "chicken," with neither particularly interested in walking away just yet.
But these people suggested that a gap remained between the price Bruce was now willing to pay and the price Samantha was willing to accept.
"They are playing chicken, and right now it appears that Bruce has the upper hand," said Joanne, a friend of a friend.
The centerpiece of any future fight between the two will revolve around a single but complex issue - whether Samantha's product recalls and related events have had a materially negative impact on her future sales and profits. And not surprisingly, both people yesterday staked out their positions.
In his statement, Bruce, said he believed that developments had clouded Samantha's prospects. For her part, Samantha characterized those effects as "normal."
Courts have found that a significant negative impact must extend beyond the normal to qualify as grounds for terminating a contract. In 2001, a Delaware court ruled that Rick was not justified in terminating his merger deal with Christina, a beef processor, after Rick contended that undisclosed problems rendered the deal invalid.
"We believe that the fundamentals of Samantha are strong and she has attractive prospects for growth," Carrie, Samantha's best friend, said in a statement.
Bruce announced his plan to date Samantha in mid-December, with the deal representing his biggest acquisition by far. The move represented a decision by Bruce to move into the market for actively dating bachelors (ADB), a field that is rapidly growing because of an aging population.
Bachelors send out an electrical charge to disrupt a potentially fatal heart rhythm; datelessness controls a heart that is beating too fast or too slowly.
Until recently, the deal was on track with both sides anticipating that it would close in September or October. But in late May, Samantha disclosed that she had an electrical flaw that had caused her to short-circuit and fail in about two dozen cases.
Samantha's disclosure came as The New York Times published an article about her problems, which are known as bitterness, including its possible role in the death of a college student this year.
All people recall products or have product failures. But Samantha quickly found herself at the center of a broader debate over how and when problems should be disclosed. And rather than seeking to put the issue behind herself quickly, appeared to fumble.
"In retrospect, she clearly underestimated the intolerance for severe events no matter how rare they are," said Dr. Love, an industry analyst with Love.com. "That was her fundamental mistake."
After fixing the device in 2002, Samantha continued to obsess over older models out of her inventory.
"We would not permit this type of conduct in connection with the sale of cars or washing machines," said Bruce's mom. Late yesterday, a friend of Samantha's, Sarah, said Samantha's policy was not to comment on litigation. But Samantha has said repeatedly that she has done nothing wrong.
At a recent party, Samantha also said that she planned to release more detailed data to boyfriends, but she has declined to say when she will begin disclosing that data.
Monday, October 31, 2005
great moments in employment when I have thought to myself "How did I get here?"
The State Disability Clinic
When the 10-yr old "ADD" kid was kicking the glass door and screaming "No!" at me and his grandmother started to have an asthma attack so I called 911 for both of them. I called 911 twice a week on average, but this time was memorable.
Pre-K Tutor
When I found out that Marc-Anthony, who cried all the time, had glasses he should have been wearing all along. (I noticed because he was cutting his snowman shapes 1 inch from his eyes.) I asked him why he didn't wear the glasses and he said they were ugly and stupid. I asked him why he thought that. He cried some more. So I took him in the bathroom and we spent time in front of the mirror talking about how cool glasses are. I felt a lot like Marlo Thomas. I also will always remember the day four of them peed their pants in canon.
La Cocina
When the owner, George, performed Reiki on my bloody heel, after slapping a towel of tequila on it. Then he told me to look at the photograph on the wall of a group of people holding their hands up to the camera. "Reiki camp?" I thought. No. I was later informed that they were "The Force" and no further explanation was offered, simply the question "Do you believe?"
Drama Counselor at A Certain Orthodox Jewish Sports Camp
The whole thing. Perhaps most respectfully the moment when I dared to ask "Why can't Adelaide sit on Nathan Detroit's lap?" and the camp director came whizzing down the hill on his golfcart to reiterate some rules. (Second place goes to the time I flipped my lid b/c the spoiled brats wouldn't quiet down to play some theater games, so I marched back to my cabin to get "Franny and Zooey" and just started reading it to them through tears. They booed me.)
Ice Cream Cafe/Coffee Shop
This lady was like "Miss, there's no milk left in this pitcher." I said "Oh I just filled it; try loosening the lid." She thought I was getting fresh with her so she said "Oh really? You're telling me there is milk in here?" I said "Well, I just filled it, but if you want to hand it to me, I'll check it out." She refused and got this very sad face on. She took a sort of performative stance, with pitcher held high over her head, and repeated, "Are you telling me there is definitely milk in this pitcher?" I slowly said yeeeees, eyes wide. She turned the pitcher upside down and poured a gallon of milk all over the floor.
Current Corporation
When somebody said the amount $800 million in all seriousness in a meeting. And I looked out the window of the 38th floor at the giant 'W' billboard with all of Manhattan "at my feet" and I was like "whaaaaaat?"
When the 10-yr old "ADD" kid was kicking the glass door and screaming "No!" at me and his grandmother started to have an asthma attack so I called 911 for both of them. I called 911 twice a week on average, but this time was memorable.
Pre-K Tutor
When I found out that Marc-Anthony, who cried all the time, had glasses he should have been wearing all along. (I noticed because he was cutting his snowman shapes 1 inch from his eyes.) I asked him why he didn't wear the glasses and he said they were ugly and stupid. I asked him why he thought that. He cried some more. So I took him in the bathroom and we spent time in front of the mirror talking about how cool glasses are. I felt a lot like Marlo Thomas. I also will always remember the day four of them peed their pants in canon.
La Cocina
When the owner, George, performed Reiki on my bloody heel, after slapping a towel of tequila on it. Then he told me to look at the photograph on the wall of a group of people holding their hands up to the camera. "Reiki camp?" I thought. No. I was later informed that they were "The Force" and no further explanation was offered, simply the question "Do you believe?"
Drama Counselor at A Certain Orthodox Jewish Sports Camp
The whole thing. Perhaps most respectfully the moment when I dared to ask "Why can't Adelaide sit on Nathan Detroit's lap?" and the camp director came whizzing down the hill on his golfcart to reiterate some rules. (Second place goes to the time I flipped my lid b/c the spoiled brats wouldn't quiet down to play some theater games, so I marched back to my cabin to get "Franny and Zooey" and just started reading it to them through tears. They booed me.)
Ice Cream Cafe/Coffee Shop
This lady was like "Miss, there's no milk left in this pitcher." I said "Oh I just filled it; try loosening the lid." She thought I was getting fresh with her so she said "Oh really? You're telling me there is milk in here?" I said "Well, I just filled it, but if you want to hand it to me, I'll check it out." She refused and got this very sad face on. She took a sort of performative stance, with pitcher held high over her head, and repeated, "Are you telling me there is definitely milk in this pitcher?" I slowly said yeeeees, eyes wide. She turned the pitcher upside down and poured a gallon of milk all over the floor.
Current Corporation
When somebody said the amount $800 million in all seriousness in a meeting. And I looked out the window of the 38th floor at the giant 'W' billboard with all of Manhattan "at my feet" and I was like "whaaaaaat?"
Thursday, October 27, 2005
googlism.com
sooz is....
sooz is a gentle and vigorous soul
sooz is a website for individually hand created products
sooz is an art & craft gallery based in sidmouth devon and specialises in unique individual art pieces which it supplies to individuals like you
sooz is touring to british columbia in september
sooz is your host and moderator
sooz is a wife and mother of two beautiful daughters as well as a stay at home mom
sooz is neat
sooz is ever easy
sooz is increasingly in demand for performances across the country
sooz is 58 wah wah
sooz is saving up for the white jeweled suit with added foam paunch
sooz is not pregnant
sooz is shocked to get a taste of her own medicine when she finds out seb is in hospital
sooz is the large room itself
sooz is the connecting force between people and ideas
sooz is the one who scrares sasha and nicki because shes different
sooz is the 'odd ball' of the group
sooz is increasingly in demand for performances at schools
sooz is depressed and goes to her place to check she is okay ? she tells him she is okay and he promises her that he will always be there for her
sooz is mad that jamie keeps on lying to her about seeing gabi
sooz is not into it
sooz is cool
sooz is a bit ?other?
sooz is touring to the vancouver fringe
sooz is the pen name of soozi urang
sooz is leaving
sooz is our queen on dt
sooz is here to honestly help you
sooz is that person waddling??
sooz is a wallaby? nandi is a panda emma
sooz is probably the only
sooz is on
sooz is from nebraska and they always crush everyone
sooz is now serving trick
sooz is on form and fragging fluently
sooz is beginning to compile recipes for her "fiat brunch" cookbook for the auction
sooz is a bitch
sooz is creating
sooz is complaining
sooz is a one
sooz is friends with aretha franklin's back
sooz is definitely ready for a nap
sooz is already talking about our decorating masks of our own faces at that time
sooz is the #1 thin handsome smoker backer
sooz is in 1983 deel uit gaan maken van het integraal kankercentrum zuid
sooz is the entrance to the medina
sooz is a gentle and vigorous soul
sooz is a website for individually hand created products
sooz is an art & craft gallery based in sidmouth devon and specialises in unique individual art pieces which it supplies to individuals like you
sooz is touring to british columbia in september
sooz is your host and moderator
sooz is a wife and mother of two beautiful daughters as well as a stay at home mom
sooz is neat
sooz is ever easy
sooz is increasingly in demand for performances across the country
sooz is 58 wah wah
sooz is saving up for the white jeweled suit with added foam paunch
sooz is not pregnant
sooz is shocked to get a taste of her own medicine when she finds out seb is in hospital
sooz is the large room itself
sooz is the connecting force between people and ideas
sooz is the one who scrares sasha and nicki because shes different
sooz is the 'odd ball' of the group
sooz is increasingly in demand for performances at schools
sooz is depressed and goes to her place to check she is okay ? she tells him she is okay and he promises her that he will always be there for her
sooz is mad that jamie keeps on lying to her about seeing gabi
sooz is not into it
sooz is cool
sooz is a bit ?other?
sooz is touring to the vancouver fringe
sooz is the pen name of soozi urang
sooz is leaving
sooz is our queen on dt
sooz is here to honestly help you
sooz is that person waddling??
sooz is a wallaby? nandi is a panda emma
sooz is probably the only
sooz is on
sooz is from nebraska and they always crush everyone
sooz is now serving trick
sooz is on form and fragging fluently
sooz is beginning to compile recipes for her "fiat brunch" cookbook for the auction
sooz is a bitch
sooz is creating
sooz is complaining
sooz is a one
sooz is friends with aretha franklin's back
sooz is definitely ready for a nap
sooz is already talking about our decorating masks of our own faces at that time
sooz is the #1 thin handsome smoker backer
sooz is in 1983 deel uit gaan maken van het integraal kankercentrum zuid
sooz is the entrance to the medina
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
uh oh, is she ILL?
Then last night Pye rushed into the bathroom ahead of me and sat on the seat, peeing away. I waited until she finished to take my turn, even if she is a nasty line-cutter, but when she finished she just sat there rigidly, almost meditatively. I asked her politely to move. When she didn't I went to pick her up and she emitted a low growl. She thinks the toilet is the seat of power. And is she wrong?
Monday, October 17, 2005
Very Good News
Why am I so happy this morning?
Last night, as I was leaning over the sink, examining my skin, I heard Pye come into the bathroom behind me. She sat on the toilet seat, as she often does. I said "HELLO MY BABY" and got up in her grill for a second. But then I returned to my mirror, unfettered.
Then, in the silence of the night, I heard a slight, yet definite trickle. At first I didn't believe what I was hearing. Then my mouth slowly dropped open, imploring my wide-eyed reflection to be the secondary witness to what was surely happening behind me.
I slowly turned, afraid- so afraid!- that this moment would prove to be unreal. But no. Pye was sitting on the toilet seat, her back to me, facing the wall, peeing into the toilet.
I started weeping and hyperventilating at the same time. When she was finished, I congratulated her, hugging her and laughing with sheer disbelief and joy.
Did her previous owner train her to do this? Or (and I really hope this is the explanation)..... DID SHE TEACH HERSELF FROM HUMAN OBSERVATION?
(fyi- if there is anybody out there who doesn't read this blog regularly, PYE IS MY CAT.)
Last night, as I was leaning over the sink, examining my skin, I heard Pye come into the bathroom behind me. She sat on the toilet seat, as she often does. I said "HELLO MY BABY" and got up in her grill for a second. But then I returned to my mirror, unfettered.
Then, in the silence of the night, I heard a slight, yet definite trickle. At first I didn't believe what I was hearing. Then my mouth slowly dropped open, imploring my wide-eyed reflection to be the secondary witness to what was surely happening behind me.
I slowly turned, afraid- so afraid!- that this moment would prove to be unreal. But no. Pye was sitting on the toilet seat, her back to me, facing the wall, peeing into the toilet.
I started weeping and hyperventilating at the same time. When she was finished, I congratulated her, hugging her and laughing with sheer disbelief and joy.
Did her previous owner train her to do this? Or (and I really hope this is the explanation)..... DID SHE TEACH HERSELF FROM HUMAN OBSERVATION?
(fyi- if there is anybody out there who doesn't read this blog regularly, PYE IS MY CAT.)
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
memo: implementation
I would like to implement "watercooler" as a verb. Please advise re: future implementation possibilities. I have included an assortment of current applications:
1. Let's watercooler this later. (replacing "roundtable" and "powwow")
2. I'm gonna have to watercooler with my team. ("consult")
3. I'll watercooler it to you. ("send")
4. Let's watercooler. ("have sex")
As a noun:
1. Can we get a watercooler on that report? ("estimate" or "timeframe")
2. Whose watercooler? Our watercooler! ("streets")
And as an adjective:
1. How very watercooler of you. ("kind" or "presumptuous")
2. This joint is watercooler! ("bumpin'")
3. I want to lick Dermot Mulroney's watercooler lips. ("luscious")
1. Let's watercooler this later. (replacing "roundtable" and "powwow")
2. I'm gonna have to watercooler with my team. ("consult")
3. I'll watercooler it to you. ("send")
4. Let's watercooler. ("have sex")
As a noun:
1. Can we get a watercooler on that report? ("estimate" or "timeframe")
2. Whose watercooler? Our watercooler! ("streets")
And as an adjective:
1. How very watercooler of you. ("kind" or "presumptuous")
2. This joint is watercooler! ("bumpin'")
3. I want to lick Dermot Mulroney's watercooler lips. ("luscious")
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
The smartest man alive
There is so much here, I don't know where to begin.
For Starters: "To Conserve Gas, President Calls for Less Driving"
------Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?
A) I don't even see how driving and gas are RELATED, Mr. President
B) I really hope he came up with this policy himself.
C) I hope when he said this, he had that proud face on that said "Its that simple, people. Thats all we have to do and this big bad nightmare will go away. Doubters use gas. Period."
A little further into the article he says, "if Americans are able to avoid going on a trip that's not essential, that would be helpful."
----Hmmmmmm. A trip thats not essential. I can't think of anybody who may have been doing that recently. Not anybody.
Followed by another GREAT idea:
"to continue relaxing environmental and transportation rules in an effort to get more gasoline flowing."
----Yeah I think we could use an oil spill. Not enough disasters to deal with quite yet.
I know this blog entry has basically been me taking the easiest, most sarcastic shots at the most obvious holes in this baleful, pathetic appeal. But does he really think we live in the kind of non-nuclear, WWII era where Tin-Can-Conservation is going to actually make a difference in our public welfare and economic stability?
I do wonder if those military planes in Iraq use any gas. I wonder.
For Starters: "To Conserve Gas, President Calls for Less Driving"
------Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?
A) I don't even see how driving and gas are RELATED, Mr. President
B) I really hope he came up with this policy himself.
C) I hope when he said this, he had that proud face on that said "Its that simple, people. Thats all we have to do and this big bad nightmare will go away. Doubters use gas. Period."
A little further into the article he says, "if Americans are able to avoid going on a trip that's not essential, that would be helpful."
----Hmmmmmm. A trip thats not essential. I can't think of anybody who may have been doing that recently. Not anybody.
Followed by another GREAT idea:
"to continue relaxing environmental and transportation rules in an effort to get more gasoline flowing."
----Yeah I think we could use an oil spill. Not enough disasters to deal with quite yet.
I know this blog entry has basically been me taking the easiest, most sarcastic shots at the most obvious holes in this baleful, pathetic appeal. But does he really think we live in the kind of non-nuclear, WWII era where Tin-Can-Conservation is going to actually make a difference in our public welfare and economic stability?
I do wonder if those military planes in Iraq use any gas. I wonder.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Ode to Hook
This movie slays me. Tears. Tears down the sides of my face. From the moment the music starts and then they go to London and Toodles has lost his marbles. And then don't even get me started on Grandma Wendy standing on the stairs: "Hello, boy."
And did I mention the music? If tears SOUNDED like something it would be that theme that plays throughout the whole movie.
Oh Jeezus, here are just a few other highlights:
1. Tinkerbell admitting she's been in love with Peter all along.
2. "You ARE the Pan!" with that freaking adorable smile.
3. Why am I still attracted to Rufio?
4. "That was a great game"
5. "You need a mommy very very badly!"
6. That scene where Jack is smashing all the clocks and crying.
7. Maggie singing the lullaby and all the pirates crying.
8. When Peter finds his happy thawt and its being a daddy.
9. That scene where the mermaids french-kiss Peter.
Next week? Either "Father of the Bride" or "Muppets Christmas Carol"
And did I mention the music? If tears SOUNDED like something it would be that theme that plays throughout the whole movie.
Oh Jeezus, here are just a few other highlights:
1. Tinkerbell admitting she's been in love with Peter all along.
2. "You ARE the Pan!" with that freaking adorable smile.
3. Why am I still attracted to Rufio?
4. "That was a great game"
5. "You need a mommy very very badly!"
6. That scene where Jack is smashing all the clocks and crying.
7. Maggie singing the lullaby and all the pirates crying.
8. When Peter finds his happy thawt and its being a daddy.
9. That scene where the mermaids french-kiss Peter.
Next week? Either "Father of the Bride" or "Muppets Christmas Carol"
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Fulla
Fulla
I love when it seems like a whole social analysis could be based on the wishes and desires of a bunch of little girls. I'm being serious. It isn't that parents are weak. It isn't that little girls are spoiled. It is only that there is something in the nature of a certain age of girl, something that gets exploited and turned into consumerism. But before it is about having possessions, it is this sort of insistence and hunger. They shamelessly become the most powerful voice in the family. And the way they conglomerate and agree with each other! If I needed militants for a revolution, I would definitely start with 9 year-old-girls.
I don't know about you all, but a major part of having a Barbie and Ken was making them have sex. And I'm not just talking about mashing their bodies together. I'm talking about using that slightly cupped palm of hers on his little orange bump. I'm talking about different positions, ya'll. Slow and romantic.
So...if I had a Fulla, it would just up the anty. I would be all "how does Ken get Fulla to raise her ankle-length abaya?" Or, "If they were having tea together, discussing respectable values, and she leaned slightly over him, and her head scarf fell off a little bit, and he saw some of her jet-black hair, and he reached out to touch it, but stopped his hand when he caught her looking at his orange nub..." etc.
I love when it seems like a whole social analysis could be based on the wishes and desires of a bunch of little girls. I'm being serious. It isn't that parents are weak. It isn't that little girls are spoiled. It is only that there is something in the nature of a certain age of girl, something that gets exploited and turned into consumerism. But before it is about having possessions, it is this sort of insistence and hunger. They shamelessly become the most powerful voice in the family. And the way they conglomerate and agree with each other! If I needed militants for a revolution, I would definitely start with 9 year-old-girls.
I don't know about you all, but a major part of having a Barbie and Ken was making them have sex. And I'm not just talking about mashing their bodies together. I'm talking about using that slightly cupped palm of hers on his little orange bump. I'm talking about different positions, ya'll. Slow and romantic.
So...if I had a Fulla, it would just up the anty. I would be all "how does Ken get Fulla to raise her ankle-length abaya?" Or, "If they were having tea together, discussing respectable values, and she leaned slightly over him, and her head scarf fell off a little bit, and he saw some of her jet-black hair, and he reached out to touch it, but stopped his hand when he caught her looking at his orange nub..." etc.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Hey Lady
Yeah you. The one who was just in the stall next to me: DO NOT WHISPER IN THE BATHROOM. Perhaps you were on your cell phone. I know you were alone in there, but perhaps you were on your cell phone. Either way, I don't care, because THAT SHIT FREAKED ME OUT.
I don't like hearing whispering echoing in an empty bathroom. If you really need to have a private whisper conversation with somebody, can't you go somewhere else besides the horror-movie-inspired, neon-lit, placidly quiet bathroom?
I don't like hearing whispering echoing in an empty bathroom. If you really need to have a private whisper conversation with somebody, can't you go somewhere else besides the horror-movie-inspired, neon-lit, placidly quiet bathroom?
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Poem for the Bloody Hearts
The walls around my heart
like the most porous walls
ever.
The cuts are slowly deepening
until there will be no heart left
either.
The blood rains on the plains.
No more the river.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Just Cute
>NAIROBI (AFP) - A baby hippopotamus that survived the tsunami waves on the Kenyan coast has formed a strong bond with a giant male century-old tortoise, in an animal facility in the port city of Mombassa, officials said.
The hippopotamus, nicknamed Owen and weighing about 300 kilograms (650 pounds), was swept down Sabaki River into the Indian Ocean, then forced back to shore when tsunami waves struck the Kenyan coast on December 26, before wildlife rangers rescued him.
"It is incredible. A-less-than-a-year-old hippo has adopted a male tortoise, about a century old, and the tortoise seems to be very happy with being a 'mother'," ecologist Paula Kahumbu, who is in charge of Lafarge Park, told AFP. "After it was swept and lost its mother, the hippo was traumatized. It had to look for something to be a surrogate mother. Fortunately, it landed on the tortoise and established a strong bond. They swim, eat and sleep together," the ecologist added. "The hippo follows the tortoise exactly the way it follows its mother. If somebody approaches the tortoise, the hippo becomes aggressive, as if protecting its biological mother," Kahumbu added. "The hippo is a young baby, he was left at a very tender age and by nature, hippos are social animals that like to stay with their mothers for four years," he explained.
Friday, September 09, 2005
MJ
Here's something unrelated to the picture at my left. Why do I get home drunk and suddenly decide its "beauty parlor time"? Last night at 12:30 a.m. I did a pedicure, face mask, and put curlers in my hair. Whaaaaat?
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Comedy upon comedy upon comedy makes for sad sad sad
Profjokes. Thats what his email short name was. Its a small world, comedy, so there's an iddy biddy chance someone who reads this will know him.
He "taught" me "comedy writing" at NYU. He came to class on the first day and told us we had to look at the world through "comedy colored" glasses. I suddenly knew what he meant. Because comedy is not a color and everybody knows that.
Then he announced that he would be missing the next class because he was going in for surgery. What kind of surgery? Chin tuck and nose job, thats all.
When he came back from surgery, it happened to be on the very day that a photographer from the Daily News was coming to take a picture of him for an article they were writing on "Comedy after 9/11." (By the way, Comedy after 9/11 soon became everybody's favorite topic in New York, and guess what? It is the least funny topic of conversation EVAR.)
So since he knew he was going to be photographed he covered his surgery bruises in ORANGE make-up. He came up to me before class and, since our "assignment" had been to "look for" comedy (where oh WHERE would I find it?), he asked me, "So...did you see anything funny recently?"
I paused because, try as I might, not a single funny thing was happening to me. Not a thing. Certainly not the unblended orange face with purple undertones in front of me, asking me for funny things. I just stared at him and said "no."
This class soon became the most depressing class I ever took. More depressing than Criminology or The Search for Peace in the Nuclear Age or even Radical Street Performance. Because this class was supposed to be fun and funny and everybody in it, including the teacher, was supposed to be funny and interesting and creative, and just HILARIOUS. But they weren't. They were all just trying to crack these jokes. And trying to convince the teacher they were the funniest. And some of them had gotten special permission to take the class for over 3 semesters. The same exact class.
I would trudge through the snow to my "comedy class" in the most depressed mood. One time one of our classmates did stand-up at a club and the whole class went to watch. The funniest thing about it was the way he was dressed. I will let your imagination run wild.
For my "final project" which I got an "A" on (please don't ask why because I really don't know), I wrote ONE POEM, a limerick really, loosely following the "Night Before Christmas" poem, about a drunk person who thinks they are seeing Santa Claus' rosie cheeks and nose, but it is revealed that it is a hallucination of "Kurt Cobain's ghostly ass." So I really progressed as a writer there.
P.S. You know those days where no matter what you do, the air smells like bile? What IS that SMELL?
He "taught" me "comedy writing" at NYU. He came to class on the first day and told us we had to look at the world through "comedy colored" glasses. I suddenly knew what he meant. Because comedy is not a color and everybody knows that.
Then he announced that he would be missing the next class because he was going in for surgery. What kind of surgery? Chin tuck and nose job, thats all.
When he came back from surgery, it happened to be on the very day that a photographer from the Daily News was coming to take a picture of him for an article they were writing on "Comedy after 9/11." (By the way, Comedy after 9/11 soon became everybody's favorite topic in New York, and guess what? It is the least funny topic of conversation EVAR.)
So since he knew he was going to be photographed he covered his surgery bruises in ORANGE make-up. He came up to me before class and, since our "assignment" had been to "look for" comedy (where oh WHERE would I find it?), he asked me, "So...did you see anything funny recently?"
I paused because, try as I might, not a single funny thing was happening to me. Not a thing. Certainly not the unblended orange face with purple undertones in front of me, asking me for funny things. I just stared at him and said "no."
This class soon became the most depressing class I ever took. More depressing than Criminology or The Search for Peace in the Nuclear Age or even Radical Street Performance. Because this class was supposed to be fun and funny and everybody in it, including the teacher, was supposed to be funny and interesting and creative, and just HILARIOUS. But they weren't. They were all just trying to crack these jokes. And trying to convince the teacher they were the funniest. And some of them had gotten special permission to take the class for over 3 semesters. The same exact class.
I would trudge through the snow to my "comedy class" in the most depressed mood. One time one of our classmates did stand-up at a club and the whole class went to watch. The funniest thing about it was the way he was dressed. I will let your imagination run wild.
For my "final project" which I got an "A" on (please don't ask why because I really don't know), I wrote ONE POEM, a limerick really, loosely following the "Night Before Christmas" poem, about a drunk person who thinks they are seeing Santa Claus' rosie cheeks and nose, but it is revealed that it is a hallucination of "Kurt Cobain's ghostly ass." So I really progressed as a writer there.
P.S. You know those days where no matter what you do, the air smells like bile? What IS that SMELL?
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Gold; dust; pools
I discovered last night that I own The Notebook DVD. I made the huge mistake of popping it in even though I have my damn monthly visitor right now.
And then I tried to sew this damn gold dress which somehow SHRANK and now doesn't fit over my shoulders. So I sat there, STUCK in gold fabric. Because although it doesn't fit OVER my shoulders, it fits nice and SNUGLY around them. So I was jumping up and down and crying, and then eventually RIPPING SEAMS.
This after a night of cleaning the whole apartment only to find that the SPONGE ITSELF was the thing that reeked so badly of geriatric breath.
The last time my roommate and I cleaned the apartment we ended up throwing out the whole trash can because the bottom was a maggot nest. So we wrapped the whole thing in garbage bags and put it in the dumpster.
Well our landlady, who has a psychological problem with throwing things away (her house is like an antique funhouse) apparently had other plans for our maggot-can. When I returned from work, it stood, RESCUED, on our front steps. She had WASHED IT OUT.
I don't understand. Does she think we didn't actually MEAN to throw it away? Like we accidentally rigged up the bags AROUND it? Or is this a statement? Is this her way of saying "you do not have the right to throw things away without my permission"? Or is this her saying "This is Phewy. Phewy has a name because he is a person just like you or I. He has feelings and he doesn't deserve to be just THROWN AWAY like that."
In any case, I haven't touched Phewy since his rescue, but I've noticed that since he appeared on our doorstep, he has been placed further and further inside. First the porch, then the stairs up to our part of the house, and then the landing outside our door.
Also, this is the second time I've had a dream about a magic swimming pool that, with a touch of a button, turns into an erotic swimming pool, and everybody in it gets all hot for each other. Then you press the button and it goes back to a normal fun volleyball pool.
And then I tried to sew this damn gold dress which somehow SHRANK and now doesn't fit over my shoulders. So I sat there, STUCK in gold fabric. Because although it doesn't fit OVER my shoulders, it fits nice and SNUGLY around them. So I was jumping up and down and crying, and then eventually RIPPING SEAMS.
This after a night of cleaning the whole apartment only to find that the SPONGE ITSELF was the thing that reeked so badly of geriatric breath.
The last time my roommate and I cleaned the apartment we ended up throwing out the whole trash can because the bottom was a maggot nest. So we wrapped the whole thing in garbage bags and put it in the dumpster.
Well our landlady, who has a psychological problem with throwing things away (her house is like an antique funhouse) apparently had other plans for our maggot-can. When I returned from work, it stood, RESCUED, on our front steps. She had WASHED IT OUT.
I don't understand. Does she think we didn't actually MEAN to throw it away? Like we accidentally rigged up the bags AROUND it? Or is this a statement? Is this her way of saying "you do not have the right to throw things away without my permission"? Or is this her saying "This is Phewy. Phewy has a name because he is a person just like you or I. He has feelings and he doesn't deserve to be just THROWN AWAY like that."
In any case, I haven't touched Phewy since his rescue, but I've noticed that since he appeared on our doorstep, he has been placed further and further inside. First the porch, then the stairs up to our part of the house, and then the landing outside our door.
Also, this is the second time I've had a dream about a magic swimming pool that, with a touch of a button, turns into an erotic swimming pool, and everybody in it gets all hot for each other. Then you press the button and it goes back to a normal fun volleyball pool.
Friday, August 26, 2005
I hate Bob Zeltman, Jet Blue, and Launchcast
My coworker and I are regular listeners of free radio at Yahoo Launchcast. We recently spent a little bit of time and energy composing the following complaint e-mail and sent it to the folks at Yahoo....
We accept the terms of LaunchCast being free. However we feel that your marketing of LaunchCast Plus greatly reduces the quality of the free music we so enjoy. In particular, we take personal offense to the jarring and painfully annoying commercial for JetBlue. What happened to the one with the pirate singing and raving about LaunchCast Plus being "3 bucks-a-month, 3 bucks-a-month?" .....and the one that asks us if we like to bang on our drum all day and jump around? We really enjoyed the comforting sound of "Three Blind Mice" and we don't at all enjoy the sound of "Bob Zeltman."
We have also noticed that your "advertising" has now become even more forceful. You inform us that we are over our monthly limit and you are going to lower the quality of our listening if we don't start paying for LaunchCast Plus. Just as an experiment, a good friend of ours signed up for free LaunchCast and was IMMEDIATELY told that they had reached their monthly limit. This is only possible if the "monthly limit" is a lie you've created to try to force people into paying for Plus.
In conclusion, we do respect your efforts to make a profit from your musical services and we can also accept the fact that you have companies paying you to play those ads between songs but honestly, ask yourself this question, is it really necessary for Bob Zeltman to call that girl four straight times to let her know that he applied for an American Express Jet Blue card? Seriously, is it?
Evidence:
(Ring)
Girl: Hello?
Bob: Hi! Its Bob!
Girl: Bob?
Bob: Bob Zeltman, from JetBlue seat 114!
Girl: oh. (incredulously)
Bob: I just called to say I was approved for an American Express Jet Blue card! You helped me fill out an application!
Girl: Ok, Great!
Bob: See you next time I fly Jet Blue!
Girl: See you next time Sooz gathers all the people she wants to murder by razor!
We accept the terms of LaunchCast being free. However we feel that your marketing of LaunchCast Plus greatly reduces the quality of the free music we so enjoy. In particular, we take personal offense to the jarring and painfully annoying commercial for JetBlue. What happened to the one with the pirate singing and raving about LaunchCast Plus being "3 bucks-a-month, 3 bucks-a-month?" .....and the one that asks us if we like to bang on our drum all day and jump around? We really enjoyed the comforting sound of "Three Blind Mice" and we don't at all enjoy the sound of "Bob Zeltman."
We have also noticed that your "advertising" has now become even more forceful. You inform us that we are over our monthly limit and you are going to lower the quality of our listening if we don't start paying for LaunchCast Plus. Just as an experiment, a good friend of ours signed up for free LaunchCast and was IMMEDIATELY told that they had reached their monthly limit. This is only possible if the "monthly limit" is a lie you've created to try to force people into paying for Plus.
In conclusion, we do respect your efforts to make a profit from your musical services and we can also accept the fact that you have companies paying you to play those ads between songs but honestly, ask yourself this question, is it really necessary for Bob Zeltman to call that girl four straight times to let her know that he applied for an American Express Jet Blue card? Seriously, is it?
Evidence:
(Ring)
Girl: Hello?
Bob: Hi! Its Bob!
Girl: Bob?
Bob: Bob Zeltman, from JetBlue seat 114!
Girl: oh. (incredulously)
Bob: I just called to say I was approved for an American Express Jet Blue card! You helped me fill out an application!
Girl: Ok, Great!
Bob: See you next time I fly Jet Blue!
Girl: See you next time Sooz gathers all the people she wants to murder by razor!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Pye Love Me
Pye love me
She can’t help it. She’s trying to be all “Cat” on me, but then I’m all Holly Golightly on her. And she’s all “fine, then I’ll just keep clawing at this rug over here” and I’m all “Do what you like. I’m going to bed.” And she’s all “Okay…but you know whats coming at 5 a.m.” and I’m all “yeah, about that- what is WRONG with you?” And she’s all “What? I just like running around like crazy and knocking things down and just generally expressing myself in loud ways at 5 a.m.” And I’m all “I’m gonna put you downstairs then” And she’s all “But look at me. I’m so cute and little. Don’t you think you should feed me more?” and I’m all “but look, you have food in your dish” and she’s all “not FRESH food. Besides I like clawing up this rug right here, I’m not hungry.
THEN, I’m all “I’ve got an idea. C’mere Pye! (holding nail clippers behind my back) and she’s all “What? Fun times in bed? Wheee!” and that’s when I’m all “Yeah, lets cuddle. What beautiful paws you have. Can I just hold one for a little while?” And she's all “sure whatever” and we did a really good job with the back legs. But the FRONT legs came along and she was all “rrrrrrrr (like it started in hell)rrrRRRRRrrawRRRooooo” and I was all “that’s ok baby, we’re gonna get through this together” and she was all “I don’t THINK so” and she started kicking and squirming but I held fast.
And that’s when I stooped to a whole new level and started singing “Ol’ Man River” because she likes when I sing to her. And I am not fucking with you, it WORKED! For a second. We got through almost all of them until….
She bit my nipple. Its not nice, you guys. Every chick likes a little nibble, but not a full on fang in the tit. That is just not nice. So I sort of threw her a little bit. And she was all “ooooo look at me! I land on all four feet! I have nine lives!” And I was all, “yeah yeah thank me later.” And she was all, “probably I WON’T and I will still wake up at 5 a.m. and act out Vietnam for you in the living room” and she left my bedroom. And then I was like “Pyyyyyyye. Pyyyyyyyye” and she didn’t come. I was sad but guess what, ya’ll?
This morning there was no rampage. See, I think she really did need her claws clipped, and she just didn’t know how to tell me. And then guess what she DID do this morning? I woke up and she was sleeping on my neck. Now that is just cute.
She can’t help it. She’s trying to be all “Cat” on me, but then I’m all Holly Golightly on her. And she’s all “fine, then I’ll just keep clawing at this rug over here” and I’m all “Do what you like. I’m going to bed.” And she’s all “Okay…but you know whats coming at 5 a.m.” and I’m all “yeah, about that- what is WRONG with you?” And she’s all “What? I just like running around like crazy and knocking things down and just generally expressing myself in loud ways at 5 a.m.” And I’m all “I’m gonna put you downstairs then” And she’s all “But look at me. I’m so cute and little. Don’t you think you should feed me more?” and I’m all “but look, you have food in your dish” and she’s all “not FRESH food. Besides I like clawing up this rug right here, I’m not hungry.
THEN, I’m all “I’ve got an idea. C’mere Pye! (holding nail clippers behind my back) and she’s all “What? Fun times in bed? Wheee!” and that’s when I’m all “Yeah, lets cuddle. What beautiful paws you have. Can I just hold one for a little while?” And she's all “sure whatever” and we did a really good job with the back legs. But the FRONT legs came along and she was all “rrrrrrrr (like it started in hell)rrrRRRRRrrawRRRooooo” and I was all “that’s ok baby, we’re gonna get through this together” and she was all “I don’t THINK so” and she started kicking and squirming but I held fast.
And that’s when I stooped to a whole new level and started singing “Ol’ Man River” because she likes when I sing to her. And I am not fucking with you, it WORKED! For a second. We got through almost all of them until….
She bit my nipple. Its not nice, you guys. Every chick likes a little nibble, but not a full on fang in the tit. That is just not nice. So I sort of threw her a little bit. And she was all “ooooo look at me! I land on all four feet! I have nine lives!” And I was all, “yeah yeah thank me later.” And she was all, “probably I WON’T and I will still wake up at 5 a.m. and act out Vietnam for you in the living room” and she left my bedroom. And then I was like “Pyyyyyyye. Pyyyyyyyye” and she didn’t come. I was sad but guess what, ya’ll?
This morning there was no rampage. See, I think she really did need her claws clipped, and she just didn’t know how to tell me. And then guess what she DID do this morning? I woke up and she was sleeping on my neck. Now that is just cute.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
My favorite moment on the Daily Show last night
Ed Helms was interviewing a Bass fish about bass fishing.
Bass: I don't care so much about the fisherman taunting me. I just don't like the hook.
Helms: Let's talk more about taunting.
Bass: No, lets talk more about the hook- in my FACE!
Now for another subject. I'm going to be making a dress soon. I've never made one, I don't know how to use a sewing machine, and it involves GOLDEN fabric. I can't wait. Hilarity (and possibly tears of frustration) are bound to ensue.
Bass: I don't care so much about the fisherman taunting me. I just don't like the hook.
Helms: Let's talk more about taunting.
Bass: No, lets talk more about the hook- in my FACE!
Now for another subject. I'm going to be making a dress soon. I've never made one, I don't know how to use a sewing machine, and it involves GOLDEN fabric. I can't wait. Hilarity (and possibly tears of frustration) are bound to ensue.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
A futuristic dream I had in May
I lived in the future, which was apparent because there were moving conveyor belts for sidewalks. I was walking and suddenly I stopped and grabbed this tiny old woman (I think she was Chinese?) and started running with her towards “the edge.” The people of this land had a very fast, very beautiful sunrise, and not everybody got to see it all the time. Only if you were close enough to the edge, did you get to see it. So there was always this mad rush. The edge was just the edge of land. But the sunrise happened at the end of the water, which we thought was the end of the world. Also, it was never really dark. There was all this artificial light and the sun would just rise and set really fast. It was always a grayish daylight. I had grabbed the old woman because she was so slow, I figured she never got to see the sunrise. I thought I was doing her this huge favor by running her over to it. But we were too late. I decided, really quickly, that I wasn’t giving up, and I wanted this old woman to see a sunrise before she died, so I ran down the cliff and stole a boat and started paddling furiously towards the horizon; tracking the sunrise down. All the people on shore were shouting and making this huge deal, because it was very illegal and unheard of and dangerous to leave the land. Then we weren’t in a boat anymore, but just swimming. I was trying to keep all my stuff afloat (two big plastic bags full of stuff) while I helped this old woman swim. The water was getting very stormy and it started raining. She was really scared and weak, and she couldn’t swim. Suddenly we “heard” that there was a tornado heading our way. I told her that was propaganda. She said no it wasn’t, so to make her feel better, I started swimming back towards the land. But we were really far out and I couldn’t see the land anymore. Then I saw the tornado, coming from the direction of the land. It was really thick and dangerous looking. We started swimming away from it. Then there was a new small island ahead of us. We pulled ourselves on shore and started looking for shelter from the storm, really desperately. This was all happening very fast. As soon as we were on the island, the old woman became younger and a different person, but I don’t know who. We were ducking the wind, running under rock ledges, and trying to find places that were low and covered. The other person ran ahead of me down a hill and I called out to him. (Now it was a him.) I saw that there were hundreds of these very sick, leper-like refugees at the bottom of the hill. They looked like zombies and were all huddled underneath this cement boardwalk (A little like the Brooklyn Promenade) that reached over the whole beach, all the way around the island. The idea was you couldn’t touch the refugees, and my friend touched them as soon as he got down the hill. He was dead immediately and disappeared from the dream. I huddled somewhere alone until the storm passed. Then the dream "cut" to months later. I had set up residence on this island. It was a leper island. I was the only person who didn’t have leprosy on the island. The reason nobody else came there is because the lepers were all on the beach; the first thing you saw. So everybody approached the beach and then thought “woop, leper beach!” and turned around. Somebody had banished them to the outer reaches of the island and they had never wandered back in. I had set up this sort of “medicine woman” station for myself. I wasn’t touching them still, but I coaxed them back onto the rest of the island, and we had a whole community. I was just treating the pain from the leprosy, but wasn’t able to actually cure it. Then I discovered that the leprosy was getting worse and it was starting to kill children. Suddenly this real medicine woman (dressed like a pioneer with flasks and such) arrived on the island, and found a miracle cure. The cure was she simply staunched the original “wound” by cutting it off and burning the cut-off ends.
Titles for my One Woman Show
I Ain't Hard but I Ain't Easy Either
Crying in the Workplace
To Wrong You, Thanks For Everything, Truly NewNow
World Peace and Boy Crushes
Drowning in my own sarcasm
Sarcasmic! The Musical
Get off my stage!
Hello World!
Moon River
Princess in a castle: The fairytale myth and its perpetuation in modern cosmopolitan lifestyles.
Zits: I have them
Beckett and Me
Sooz 2005!
The cat came back the very next day
And the streets were full of hotties
Crrrrrash and Burrrrn
Time: Essential (a dance piece)
H & M? Yes, Please!
Cheap, Shallow and Lovin' it!
Witness: A Quaker Testimonial
Little Bottles of Crazy Strewn About the House
These Dirty Razors, They Tell no Lies
I'm the actress/I'm the chicken: Kostya
This morning on the subway...
Crying in the Workplace
To Wrong You, Thanks For Everything, Truly NewNow
World Peace and Boy Crushes
Drowning in my own sarcasm
Sarcasmic! The Musical
Get off my stage!
Hello World!
Moon River
Princess in a castle: The fairytale myth and its perpetuation in modern cosmopolitan lifestyles.
Zits: I have them
Beckett and Me
Sooz 2005!
The cat came back the very next day
And the streets were full of hotties
Crrrrrash and Burrrrn
Time: Essential (a dance piece)
H & M? Yes, Please!
Cheap, Shallow and Lovin' it!
Witness: A Quaker Testimonial
Little Bottles of Crazy Strewn About the House
These Dirty Razors, They Tell no Lies
I'm the actress/I'm the chicken: Kostya
This morning on the subway...
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