Sunday, February 25, 2007
For The Sake of Comedy...
...I totally didn't care that I was pretty convincing as a hideous, white-trash male.
What Not To Do
Full Title: What not to do when your good friend/former co-worker comes over to your apartment on a Saturday night.
You think it's a good idea that while you shower he goes out and gets some wine. That is, until you get out of the shower and realize that he's gotten the wine but your roommate, (ex-roommate) has already moved out, taking all of her belongings, including her wine opener with her. You think it's nice to offer to go out this time to get the wine opener, leaving your password secured laptop on the table.
My laptop is password secured for many reasons. One of which, I routinely take my laptop to work. When I leave the room, I shut it so that whoever wanders in in search of a computer doesn't use my personal computer. Another being, that I have an unheathly addiction to Gilmore Girls internet world, including, but not limited to, message boards, fan videos, and fanfiction. And rather than being mocked mercilessly for my obsession, I password secure my computer so I can be sure to know who is browsing my computer and have a chance to close windows before they do so.
Now as I go out, I don't worry about the fact that I left a window of Gilmore fanfiction up on my computer. And I worry less, what exactly the story is about. That is, until later in the night, he picks up my computer and when I go to type in my password, he assures me that he remembers from our days of working together in which I freely allowed him access to my computer.
Oy vey.
It doesn't occur to me, until he leaves and I open my computer, that such a screen is up and suddenly his comments make sense. I know this guy. There's a computer, he's on it. Surely, as I went out to get the wine opener, he had picked it up, to check his email, and then got interested in what windows were up. Ammo. He's well aware of my unheathly Gilmore addiction. He has his own vices so when he teases me, I tease him right back. But he loves his Ammo. Suddenly, I'm scrolling through the story, only to realize that this is not a fanfiction story I like to admit I read. And his comments start to make sense and I want to sink into the floor.
Yes, never leave windows like that open. And worse, try not to leave messages on answering machines blubbering about how embarrassed you are and how it's not what he thinks....it just makes it worse.
You think it's a good idea that while you shower he goes out and gets some wine. That is, until you get out of the shower and realize that he's gotten the wine but your roommate, (ex-roommate) has already moved out, taking all of her belongings, including her wine opener with her. You think it's nice to offer to go out this time to get the wine opener, leaving your password secured laptop on the table.
My laptop is password secured for many reasons. One of which, I routinely take my laptop to work. When I leave the room, I shut it so that whoever wanders in in search of a computer doesn't use my personal computer. Another being, that I have an unheathly addiction to Gilmore Girls internet world, including, but not limited to, message boards, fan videos, and fanfiction. And rather than being mocked mercilessly for my obsession, I password secure my computer so I can be sure to know who is browsing my computer and have a chance to close windows before they do so.
Now as I go out, I don't worry about the fact that I left a window of Gilmore fanfiction up on my computer. And I worry less, what exactly the story is about. That is, until later in the night, he picks up my computer and when I go to type in my password, he assures me that he remembers from our days of working together in which I freely allowed him access to my computer.
Oy vey.
It doesn't occur to me, until he leaves and I open my computer, that such a screen is up and suddenly his comments make sense. I know this guy. There's a computer, he's on it. Surely, as I went out to get the wine opener, he had picked it up, to check his email, and then got interested in what windows were up. Ammo. He's well aware of my unheathly Gilmore addiction. He has his own vices so when he teases me, I tease him right back. But he loves his Ammo. Suddenly, I'm scrolling through the story, only to realize that this is not a fanfiction story I like to admit I read. And his comments start to make sense and I want to sink into the floor.
Yes, never leave windows like that open. And worse, try not to leave messages on answering machines blubbering about how embarrassed you are and how it's not what he thinks....it just makes it worse.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
This Is Bright Eyes
I love this band. What a great video! Directed by John Cameron Mitchell, best known for "Hedwig" and more recently "Shortbus".
"First Day of My Life"
And the classic: "At The Bottom of Everything"
And possibly my favorite BE song: "Bowl of Oranges"
"First Day of My Life"
And the classic: "At The Bottom of Everything"
And possibly my favorite BE song: "Bowl of Oranges"
Monday, February 19, 2007
Modesty
I set out on a simple journey this evening. Dog food, tampons, and cereal. I knew that the local 24 hour bodega was always hopping with young people and felt a little uneasy buying tampons there. It's not just that it's young people, it's that it's young people buying beer in groups of threes and fours and being loud and boisterous, going to their dance clubs and parties. And there's me. In my comfort clothes, buying tampons. I know that this sort of modesty is juvenile, but it's unfortunately true. I'm picky about where and how I buy my lady products.
Now that I've said all that, I decided to bite the bullet and just do it. It was cold and I wasn't wearing gloves. The next store was another block, and although it offered the comfort of being an actual grocery store, the lack of feeling in my hands, and wind blowing mercilessly against my face, I went in. Being Sunday night, it wasn't quite as crowded as usual. Confidently, I went back to the non-food section. I got the dog food and started looking for tampons. I eventually found them in possibly the worst place ever. Behind the counter. So not only do you have to buy the products, you have to alert everyone in the small store of what you're buying.
"A box of tampons."
"Wha'"
"Tampons!"
"Oh. Tampons."
"Super please?"
This is probably when the guy behind the counter yells across the store asking how much the super, heavy flow Tampons cost.
Yeah, so not happening.
I risked the frostbite and continued to the next store. All went well there. At this point, I was on the phone with one of my friends who lives down the street from me. This girl is the most "think it, say it-no filter" girl ever. She's hilarious. Our friendship is odd. When we're together, it's awesome. In a healthy way, we pick-on each other's stereotypes mercilessly, ("I've lost brain cells just talking to you", "will you do my nails/laundry/math homework?"), and we build each other up with confidence, ("those jeans look amazing on you", "you're a man magnet"). You get the point. But we both have a tendency to fall off each other's radars a lot. We'll hang out every day for a week, and then not speak for two months. Right now, we're in the friend zone. Which is good because she's a lot of fun and I want/need some fun in my life to take away from all this stress!
So as I'm walking past her apartment I tell her to come to the window because it would "be cute to talk on the phone and wave from the window". She comes and peeks her head around. I ignore the loss of feeling in my hands, and stop to chat and see. Little did I know.
She asks me if I want to know why I could only see her face. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. Of course, I came face to face with the glaring truth of my overly unmodest friend. She ripped back the curtain to give me, and probably a few unsuspecting passerbys, an eye-full. It's true. I told her I felt I should slip some money under the door. She asked, "A dollar or two?"
I corrected, "Fifty cents."
She then proceeded to show me her arse, slammed tightly against the window.
The actual price of the peep show was my fingers! When I got to my apartment, I dropped my keys and literally, couldn't feel any of my fingers, to the point where I couldn't pick them up. I couldn't curl them around the keys. It's true. It was the most excruciating thing ever! When I finally picked them up, I dropped them again. It was a cruel joke that wouldn't stop. Five minutes later, (aka an eternity), I get them in the door. I don't know what I have against gloves but I really need to start wearing them more!
Feeling has since been restored in all my digits.
Now that I've said all that, I decided to bite the bullet and just do it. It was cold and I wasn't wearing gloves. The next store was another block, and although it offered the comfort of being an actual grocery store, the lack of feeling in my hands, and wind blowing mercilessly against my face, I went in. Being Sunday night, it wasn't quite as crowded as usual. Confidently, I went back to the non-food section. I got the dog food and started looking for tampons. I eventually found them in possibly the worst place ever. Behind the counter. So not only do you have to buy the products, you have to alert everyone in the small store of what you're buying.
"A box of tampons."
"Wha'"
"Tampons!"
"Oh. Tampons."
"Super please?"
This is probably when the guy behind the counter yells across the store asking how much the super, heavy flow Tampons cost.
Yeah, so not happening.
I risked the frostbite and continued to the next store. All went well there. At this point, I was on the phone with one of my friends who lives down the street from me. This girl is the most "think it, say it-no filter" girl ever. She's hilarious. Our friendship is odd. When we're together, it's awesome. In a healthy way, we pick-on each other's stereotypes mercilessly, ("I've lost brain cells just talking to you", "will you do my nails/laundry/math homework?"), and we build each other up with confidence, ("those jeans look amazing on you", "you're a man magnet"). You get the point. But we both have a tendency to fall off each other's radars a lot. We'll hang out every day for a week, and then not speak for two months. Right now, we're in the friend zone. Which is good because she's a lot of fun and I want/need some fun in my life to take away from all this stress!
So as I'm walking past her apartment I tell her to come to the window because it would "be cute to talk on the phone and wave from the window". She comes and peeks her head around. I ignore the loss of feeling in my hands, and stop to chat and see. Little did I know.
She asks me if I want to know why I could only see her face. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. Of course, I came face to face with the glaring truth of my overly unmodest friend. She ripped back the curtain to give me, and probably a few unsuspecting passerbys, an eye-full. It's true. I told her I felt I should slip some money under the door. She asked, "A dollar or two?"
I corrected, "Fifty cents."
She then proceeded to show me her arse, slammed tightly against the window.
The actual price of the peep show was my fingers! When I got to my apartment, I dropped my keys and literally, couldn't feel any of my fingers, to the point where I couldn't pick them up. I couldn't curl them around the keys. It's true. It was the most excruciating thing ever! When I finally picked them up, I dropped them again. It was a cruel joke that wouldn't stop. Five minutes later, (aka an eternity), I get them in the door. I don't know what I have against gloves but I really need to start wearing them more!
Feeling has since been restored in all my digits.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
To Whom It May Concern 1
Dear Hopper,
I know you are sad because it seems I've been yelling a lot today, but it's called discipline. This is something I'm afraid you've had far too little of in your life. Whenever you're ready to come out from under the bed, I'll be here.
Dear Cesar Millan,
I hope the rumors I heard about you weren't true. Anyway, I read some of your book today.
Dear Downstairs Neighbors,
I promise I'm not an abusive pet owner. Sorry I yelled earlier. But you're using my internet, remember?
Dear Jack Bauer's Father,
I hate you and hope you die soon.
Dear Steve,
If you're reading this then I commend your memory.
Dear Ice,
Feel free to melt any day now. I'm tired of slipping everywhere I go. And stop getting in my shoe.
Dear Touchy-Feely Friend,
I love you and value our friendship, but can you maybe touch me a little less please? I like affection as much as the next person, but you cross too many lines. I'm never going to sleep with you. Thanks.
Dear Boy on the Subway,
It's not me that stinks. It's the old woman standing next to me. I swear.
Dear Couple on the Subway,
You guys are really cute. The way that you make-out so openly and freely for nearly 15 minutes is very touching. You must like each other very much. As you caress each others arses, we all wish for a love as honest and true as yours. Me and the other passengers are honored that you wish to share such an intimate moment with us.
Dear Drew,
You have the one video that could, (A) keep me from ever running for office, or (B) cause a major shift in my image if, for some unforeseen reason, I become a celebrity. Please don't put it on YouTube or let it get in the wrong hands.
Dear Inquiring Minds,
The aforementioned video is NOT a sex tape.
Dear Friend,
I saw a different side of you yesterday. It was odd. Maybe the things people say about you are true.
Dear Landlord,
I need more than 30 minutes notice when you're going to be showing the apartment. It's in everyone's best interest as I'm packing up my things and somehow making more of a mess than I ever thought possible.
Dear Hopper,
I'm glad you've decided to forgive me. I love cuddling with you in this recliner. It makes me not want to sell it.
Dear Tina Fey,
Mean Girls is brilliant. I'm glad this is how I'm spending my Sunday night.
Dear Christie,
Thanks for being my loyal cheerleader. I love you! I hope we talk soon. I love our 3 hour conversations.
Dear Reynolds,
Don't change your mind!
Dear The King of Queens,
You've become my new guilty pleasure.
Dear David Rosenthal,
Last week's episode was great. For this season. It took far, far, far too long, but I'm glad you decided to stop the suffering of Gilmore fans everywhere.
Dear Ben and Jerry,
Thank you.
Dear People Who Are Going To Make The Subway Free,
You're two years too late!
Dear Self,
Stop walking through Times Square looking at your feet. Look around! People are here on vacation and you're too busy worrying to enjoy the small amount of time you have left here. Fight the anxious genes your mother passed down to you. Enjoy the time you have left in this city!
I know you are sad because it seems I've been yelling a lot today, but it's called discipline. This is something I'm afraid you've had far too little of in your life. Whenever you're ready to come out from under the bed, I'll be here.
Dear Cesar Millan,
I hope the rumors I heard about you weren't true. Anyway, I read some of your book today.
Dear Downstairs Neighbors,
I promise I'm not an abusive pet owner. Sorry I yelled earlier. But you're using my internet, remember?
Dear Jack Bauer's Father,
I hate you and hope you die soon.
Dear Steve,
If you're reading this then I commend your memory.
Dear Ice,
Feel free to melt any day now. I'm tired of slipping everywhere I go. And stop getting in my shoe.
Dear Touchy-Feely Friend,
I love you and value our friendship, but can you maybe touch me a little less please? I like affection as much as the next person, but you cross too many lines. I'm never going to sleep with you. Thanks.
Dear Boy on the Subway,
It's not me that stinks. It's the old woman standing next to me. I swear.
Dear Couple on the Subway,
You guys are really cute. The way that you make-out so openly and freely for nearly 15 minutes is very touching. You must like each other very much. As you caress each others arses, we all wish for a love as honest and true as yours. Me and the other passengers are honored that you wish to share such an intimate moment with us.
Dear Drew,
You have the one video that could, (A) keep me from ever running for office, or (B) cause a major shift in my image if, for some unforeseen reason, I become a celebrity. Please don't put it on YouTube or let it get in the wrong hands.
Dear Inquiring Minds,
The aforementioned video is NOT a sex tape.
Dear Friend,
I saw a different side of you yesterday. It was odd. Maybe the things people say about you are true.
Dear Landlord,
I need more than 30 minutes notice when you're going to be showing the apartment. It's in everyone's best interest as I'm packing up my things and somehow making more of a mess than I ever thought possible.
Dear Hopper,
I'm glad you've decided to forgive me. I love cuddling with you in this recliner. It makes me not want to sell it.
Dear Tina Fey,
Mean Girls is brilliant. I'm glad this is how I'm spending my Sunday night.
Dear Christie,
Thanks for being my loyal cheerleader. I love you! I hope we talk soon. I love our 3 hour conversations.
Dear Reynolds,
Don't change your mind!
Dear The King of Queens,
You've become my new guilty pleasure.
Dear David Rosenthal,
Last week's episode was great. For this season. It took far, far, far too long, but I'm glad you decided to stop the suffering of Gilmore fans everywhere.
Dear Ben and Jerry,
Thank you.
Dear People Who Are Going To Make The Subway Free,
You're two years too late!
Dear Self,
Stop walking through Times Square looking at your feet. Look around! People are here on vacation and you're too busy worrying to enjoy the small amount of time you have left here. Fight the anxious genes your mother passed down to you. Enjoy the time you have left in this city!
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