The 5 Corners of My Mind...Unabridged and Unrated

But what does it all mean?

2009-06-16T23:50:00.003-04:00

Does anybody ever just feel like.. 'What the hell's the point!?' I've recently taken a vacation, which I'll get to later, and come back to work feeling somewhat... how do you say, Blase. Unconcerned. Passionless. I make table linens for chrissake. I stare at numbers. I try to make sense of 8 cents here and 15 cents there. I scrutinize twenty seven colors of green to find just the right shade for Fall 2010...

I just read a book called A Thousand Splendid Suns. If you haven't read it, borrow it from someone (this is what poor people do.) And so I finished the book, and now I'm feeling like- God we are all so ridiculously spoiled. I complain about buying toilet paper and not being able to afford Kettle One. The women in this book were beaten if they tried to walk alone. They weren't allowed to have jobs so that they could feed themselves. In the year 2000..

And suddenly, I'm happy to stare into the abyss of my computer screen. I will gaily type out 50 pointless emails a day to people who live in India and Taiwan and be thankful that I have health insurance. We could all hope that our jobs would give us such a sense of satisfaction that every day we would arrive home feeling like we've left a little dent in the world. But in reality, we should just feel lucky to be able to work for our money, have roofs over our heads, and pay for our own shit.

While it may seem at this point like I've taken a wrong turn on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, the book really is a great story and I do reccommend it.

Carry on!

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd We're Back!

2009-05-11T22:40:00.002-04:00

Yeahhhh...

The party has moved to the LES- 5 weeks with no internet has proved sufficient time for some fucking interesting stories. Since I have little to no recollection of a majority of these stories, I will instead put forth a list of random highlights that plague my mind for months to come. In no particular order, I:

-made friends with a guy dressed in a homemade lizard costume

-payed some guys in beer to move all my shit from St. Marks to LES

-got a piggy back ride through the rocks of Central Park by my roommate- a girl.

-carried a dresser from 97th St. and Amsterdam to Orchard St.

-smoked weed from a Jamaican homeless man outside of a pizza shop

-saw some nipples at a Chinese/Mexican restaurant

-dropped my phone off of a 7 story building

-went to church wearing a fur coat, boots, and no shred of dignity

-learned how to play drums on RockBand

-had a photo shoot on the roof and simultaneously broke a camera

-licked baked beans off of someone's thigh

I think that about covers it. Maybe I've missed some pieces, but I'm sure they'll come back to me eventually. Back for another round, New York. Buck up.

Don't tell. Anyone.

2009-03-09T20:30:00.004-04:00

I can't stop watching Dancing with the Stars. I thought maybe this season I would ignore the first episode so that I wouldn't be tempted to keep following- devoting hours of time to watching dried up 'celebs' make fools of themselves in order to prove something to someone or otherwise remind America that they still exist. And isn't it odd how the professional dancers seem to make it their life mission to boost the self-esteem of these Stars?? I dunno- kinda creepy

Unfortunately for me, my roommate has DVRed the show, so here I sit. On a Tuesday night. Wasting my life away. There is, however, this one thing:

His name is Derek. I think he may be about 19- blonde- hairless. It's a weird attraction, I know. But I could watch him Samba around my screen all day. UGHHHH- fling your hair around some more Derek. Keep contributing to my disgusting habit. Love it-

Thank goodness..

2009-03-09T20:00:00.003-04:00

I had a dream last night that my mom came up to NY just to tell me I was getting fat... I've had a distinct urge to throw up all day. I had some cereal for breakfast and then had to throw away half an orange for lunch. At some point this afternoon while my stomach was eating itself, I thought SCREW IT! There's good news:

15 minutes of laughter a day burns 40 calories

20 minutes of talking on the phone burns 18 calories... speaking expressively in an exaggerated tone can burn up to 40 (important to know)

120 minutes of shopping burns 238 calories

45 minutes of sex at burns 158 calories

This clearly means I can cut down the stairmaster to around 15 minutes. I wonder how many calories you burn riding on the train... Thanks mom!

Glorious Warmth

2009-03-08T21:26:00.004-04:00

SO, I didn't get to attend the event with the Irish hobos, since someone had to work.. Sad. However, I did have a fantastical weekend because...........Wait for it... It was over 60 degrees!!!!!! Clearly this calls for good times and unexplained behavior. Friday night, SSS and I decide that going out is not even necessary. Not when we have the terrace available for our sweet drunken pleasure.

Since the terrace is not a terrace so much as a large fire escape, we will need some chairs, some tunes, and a plethora of alcohol choices. We also have the worst excuse ever for a couch, so we decide that couch cushions also make EXCELLENT terrace lounges. Two ladies, two terrace lounges, some Cabernet, vodka, and kettle corn. Honestly, what else could we possibly need? Oh right- some heinously loud and obnoxious country music with which we shall serenade all of St. Marks. Yes, guy coming out of Crif Dogs, yes we are out of our damn minds.

Saturday its all warm and semi-sunny. Its so much easier to walk around in this city when you're not bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story, bracing yourself against the wind, and tripping down subway steps in your giant snow boots. We are decked out in our Spring attire, walking all over downtown when lo, we have stumbled upon our Goonie cave. It is in the form of a CHIK-FIL-A which is located deep in an NYU dorm near Washington Square Park. It is the only Chik-Fil-A in the entire state of NY. God, how I have missed the sound of my arteries squeezing shut as I take a bite of fried buttery goodness. A fabulous walking day followed by a concert featuring my genious viola-playing friend.

Why does warm weather make everything so much better? Sunday is still warm which means more walking. Then a trip to Upper East because a friend is moving to LA and giving away all of his belongings. Clearly there are things in his apartment that I need, since I can barely afford toothpaste. After a Jameson on the rocks and some good conversation, I leave his place with the following:

contact solution
a DVD player
fabulous metal coasters
Absolut vodka playing cards
a few novels I've been meaning to read
a pregnancy test
a spray bottle
some Durex condoms and a blue feather boa

I think I made out quite well. I did also acquire a TV that I have to figure out how to move 70 blocks but for now I'm just going to sit here and hope that it moves itself.. I love this city.

2009-03-06T20:07:00.004-05:00

I have heard there is a place called Hoboken. I think that maybe this is where all the people related to hobos live. Hmm. Well, apparently they hold an early St. Pattys Day celebration. Since I make a point to join any celebration whenever possible, I plan on going. I hear that there is a parade in the afternoon. Only no one watches it because they are all wasted by 11am.

I also enjoy the thought that maybe Hoboken doesn't have open container laws. Or maybe they just dismiss the laws this weekend to celebrate the Irish. Either way, I would like to hang out with these Irish hobos. I think that this guy's pretzles and the McDonaldLand in the background are reason enough to check it out, huh? huh?

Or, this walking glass of Guiness being harassed by small children...
We shall see my friends, we shall see.

The HEX

2009-02-23T19:40:00.015-05:00

I have spiralled, spiralled deep into the abyss. I believe that I have offended someone very important and/or scary. Here are some highlights of my week/weekend that lead me to this conclusion:

1. I have a Canadian man friend. He has an apartment. It has a bathroom that is shiny and white. I should not be allowed in. I am putting on makeup quickly, because as a girl, one must prove that they can ready themselves for any event in mere moments. Who wants to hang out with someone who spends all day painting and straightening? So, I am proud of my four minute routine and gathering my belongings when my large, beautiful bottle of Chanel foundation slips onto the ground. UGH- thank goodness it's intact. Feeling lucky, I reach down to grab it and instead FLING this shit into the white tile wall where it bursts and spurts EVERYWHERE. I hate my life. I tiptoe into the living room. "Uh, something bad happened......"

2. Upon arriving home, I find my room quite chilly because oh- in NY a lovely, sunny 65 degree day turns into a freezing cold wintery mix in a hot minute. I decide to turn on the heater at least for a while. Oh, right. I built my "closet" just above my radiator. (A happy side effect of this stupidity is that all of my outfits are delightfully warm in the morning.) Keep in mind that my clothes aren't even close to fitting in said "closet." It is a tight freakin fit and you need to know what you're looking for. I have to slide my formal dresses over slightly just for safety reasons, so I stick my hand in and push- simultaneously catching my wrist on a wooden pant hanger and ripping a huge gash down my hand. AWESOME. I look like I just arm wrestled fucking Freddy Crougar.

3. That is all...

4. On Friday night I finally agree to go out and meet E's man companion. His friends and a few of ours are all meeting at his apartment beforehand. My New Year's resolution being to become more punctual, I arrive first. I am bored. I am drinking. If I don't talk, no one will. I go off on a monologue about where I'm from, how great my neighborhood is, and how if I could be any black man on earth, I would be Jay Z. Yes. All the important stuff. I need to increase my alcohol intake STAT if I'm going to keep this up. Honestly, I don't really remember leaving the apartment, but apparently had a lovely cab ride with my feet through the open partition. I am at Thompson Hotel in SoHo. I drunk dial the Canadian and when asked if I am at the Thompson Hotel in Lower East Side, I agree. WTF? I don't even know where I am? After about 45 minutes of him looking for me at the wrong hotel, I realize what I've done. I think I should get a cab and go find him since this is clearly my drunken fault. Okay, I'm in a cab and I have no clue where the other Thompson Hotel is. No clue. I'm just having this guy DRIVE. By the grace of God (and the patience of the Canadian) I find the other Thompson Hotel and stumble out to meet him at which point he must carry me home. Not like Sweet Chariot carry me home. Like physically haul my ass back to Chelsea, undress me, and put me to bed while listening to me ramble on about craving bread.
WHY ARE THERE TWO HOTELS CALLED THE SAME THING???? I hate my life. Part two.

I Ask, Shouldn't You??

2009-02-19T19:02:00.004-05:00

- Why do Asian guys always have like mullet-esque uber pointy hairstyles that stay up even without hair product?

- Why is there so much trash in the East Village, but nowhere else? Where does all the other trash go? God forbid you need to hide something in our hood cause your trash will definitely end up on the street where all the scavengers can dig through it and steal your identity.

- Who waits 'on line'? How can you stand online? Are you physically on a line that you previously drew on the ground? Are you on the internet somewhere, like on my Netflix queue? WTF

- Why don't we all just tell each other when we have something stuck in our teeth and whatnot? What's the big deal? Do we all really want to be walking around with our zippers open and poppy seeds from this morning's bagel stuck in our teeth? Seriously, help a mother out...

- If they make pills that make you skinny, pills that calm anxiety, pills that help you stop smoking- why can't they make a pill that makes you tan? Market that shit all over the South. Southerners would stop smoking just so they could afford the tanning pills. Seriously, we have to be tan. I'm buying anti-anxiety pills just to calm my nerves from being so damn pale.

- Why the hell do we keep watching reality TV? Seriously, I just saw a show called I Love Money which entails a bunch of fucking losers who perform random acts of stupidity and then vote off whichever person has the smallest breasts. I dunno- that's what I got out of it. God, please help us to get our own realities..

Pussy, Sil, and T

2009-02-19T18:48:00.003-05:00

Besides the fact that my Valentines Day was amazing- listen to the rest of my weekend. I wake up on Sunday in a champagne haze at 1.30pm. Since the Canadian is actually half Italian but has seen zero episodes of The Sopranos (I seriously wish I was a Soprano. I love this show) we decide that a marathon is in order.

We go grocery shopping for everything Italian that you can possibly think of. Olive oil- check. Tomatoes- check. Pasta- check. Mozzerella- check. Prosciutto- definitely check. The list goes on. Some Prosecco, firelogs, and a Blockbuster stop later we are in business. Swear to George, we get back and this guy puts on an apron and goes to town. I have never seen this much meat in my life. These meatballs were.... like bull. I'm talking huge.

For 2 days I do nothing but lie around watching Tony and Paulie take names while wearing a wife beater and eating ridiculous helpings of meat. This is the best idea ever. Too bad I can't be bothered to go outside and make it to the gym. At least my protein intake is up...

Happy V Day

2009-02-14T14:30:00.003-05:00

thanks M...

Working Girl

2009-02-10T00:14:00.005-05:00

So my company is doing all this restructuring after the layoffs- blah, blah, blah. My new EVP wants to have a meeting with each person on my team to determine their likes and dislikes- strengths and weaknesses. Wait, let me preface this by saying that my old VP, and even my director whose office is right across from me never spoke to me unless they needed a Diet Coke.

So I meet with my new EVP at 4pm and I'm a little nervous. He is a tall, uber-professional, Ferragamo wearing family man and he screams BUSINESS (probably because 98% of people in my building are either female or gay). Luckily, I discover that he is from Arkansas. And he loves college sports. And wine. Oh family man, this is going perfect so far. My nervousness is fading, so I begin telling him what I like about my job, what I'm good at, and what I would change.

At this point he puts down his pencil, which he has been using to draw rectangles around each sentence on his paper over and over, and says "I can tell by the way you dress that you have superior taste. Combine that with the analytics and I think you can be a powerhouse in this business.."

Um, family man, what the hell are you talking about???

Okay, I will not deny the fact that I am super into fashion- love getting dressed- will spend my last dime on the perfect hat and eat Ramen for the next month. However, at this point I mostly put on black stretch pants every day which I deem to be "business casual" when paired with boots. For this entire week, I've chosen a random, usually oversized top before leaving and then put on the same tuxedo jacket every day once I arrive at work. Combine that with the fact that I sometimes go 3 days or more without washing my hair, and you've got........ what is it again family man? a fucking POWERHOUSE!!!

At least I can feel confident that if I put on actual pants I could really be going somewhere. Is this not a weird statement to make the first time you speak to someone??? Anyone??

So, with my newfound confidence I decide to attend Pole Dancing at the gym tonight. BFM. Big Fucking Mistake. I will say this: there was no identification of this class- you know like Beginner, Advanced Only, Make A Complete Ass of Yourself and No One Will Judge You. Alas, I go through their "warm-up" with ease and am certain I'm clearly a better dancer than most of these chicks. However, when the yoga mats get put away and the lights come on, I realize that everyone is strapping on 6 inch high glow in the dark stripper shoes.

"Is anyone here a beginner?," she asks. Uh, fuck yeah. The only time I have touched a pole is in the subway- and I generally try to avoid that at all costs by leaning against doors, people, etc. Apparently I have chosen an intermediate class, but she assures me that "I should absolutely stay." 45 minutes later, I stumble out with bruises all over my feet and shins, a pulled hamstring, and what dignity I have left.

Here is the lesson kids- Just because you do not wash your hair does not mean your new boss won't like you.

And just because you are good at a lot of other things doesn't mean that you will not get your ass kicked by pole dancing. Take note.

Seusstastic

2009-02-07T11:56:00.004-05:00

As we near that ridiculously unnecessary holiday known as Valentines Day, i have some thoughts. I personally think that it's stupid to observe a holiday such as this for obvious reasons. Those who are in a relationship don't need a day which forces them to spend money on gifts and dinner to prove their love for one another. And those who are alone have a miserable day thinking about their solitude.

However, i just read something:
You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams... -Dr. Seuss

I think I needed something to knock the cynicism out of me for a bit. So bring on the overpriced flower arrangements and the candy hearts. I can't wait until I can't fall asleep...

Lucky scars

2009-02-04T19:19:00.003-05:00

I just want to say that in case no one noticed, the company I work for cut 7000 jobs this week. Way to fucking go. Way to interrupt buy week on a Monday afternoon and tell every office all over the country that we are restructuring and that people's lives will be ruined. After 3 days of watching people around me get cut, people's office doors perpetually closing in secrecy, people crying in the bathroom- FINALLY. Finally, thanks for telling me that I still have a job. I may have no receptionist, no assistant, no one to make coffee or clean the bathroom, but I can still go to work. I may be rationed pencils and toilet paper, but thank God I don't have to sing in the subway and begin selling my used underwear on craigslist.

Oh, and thanks for not including anyone who works at any of the twenty something overseas offices. Because I really love getting emails from my Chinese counterparts asking me if I think they have a job. WTF?? Omg, you guys have the internet???? You can actually read the press release that is available worldwide because you're not illiterate morons????? Holy crap- I can't believe that.

I guess I will forego planning my move to a foreign nation. For the moment, at least. Oh New York, you didn't think we were done yet, did you?? Silly...

PS

2009-01-29T21:50:00.003-05:00

I actually attended the gym! For real! I took a class called Anti-Gravity yoga. This means that you wear tight pants and fling your body around in unnatural ways using this giant sling of cloth that hangs from the ceiling. IT IS AMAZING. Get on that.

Crying Game

2009-01-29T21:17:00.004-05:00

Here are some highlights of this past week:

A. Last Friday I decide to go out with my cool roommate, who I will now refer to as my seersucker soulmate (us both being from the South and both being fucking fantastic and all). Seersucker soulmate (SSS) tells me we are going to a place called Burger, Shot, Beer. Literally- the items they serve are mini-burgers ($1), shots ($2), and beers ($3). This should equate to my version of Ecstasy. Yes, I will travel all the way to upper west nowhere to attend this party. After several- several shots and 3 disgustingly perfect burgers, SSS and I decide we are too cool for this scene. I mean look at our outfits and our dirty hair- we have to blow this joint. The obvious choice here is to trek downtown to meet some incredibly tall attractive Canadians, begin drinking dirty martinis, and stay out until 5 am. Done.

2. Sunday I have a date with girls to watch soccer at a Liverpool bar around the corner. The number of hot sweaty men with incomprehensible accents there is ridiculous. So there I sit with SSS roomie and some other fabulosos having bloody marys and yelling "BLOODY WANKERS!!" at 11am. After the game, everyone decides to head out- but me and SSS decide we should probably go to an all-you-can-drink brunch in the neighborhood. Burgers, fries, and greyhounds. I don't even know how long we were there but it was dark when we left. After brunch we have to stop in at the boutique across the street from our apartment since they are having a huge sale. This huge sale translates into huge debt for me and now my new fabulous dresses and I will wallow in self-pity for the entire month of February. Goodbye disposable income.

D. Monday night=Chinese New Year. I am pissed about this because I work very closely with our offices overseas. The Asians peace out for like the entire month of January for CNY, which means I can get NOTHING done. Why do we not adopt this same custom in America- ask yourself?? Anyway, the upside is that I'm having dinner at a new Asian fusion restaurant with my Canadian. Fan-fucking-tastic. Fois Gras, dumplings, and absinthe. Does it get better?

**I went to my first Rangers game this week- woot woooooot! Of course I got on camera- seriously?

Lastly, I would like to say that this weekend better be unbelievable after the week I've had at work. I generally consider myself a pretty emotionally stable person, but today... today I nearly cried. At work. Over linen napkins. Fucking bitches better provide some Xanex next time we have these meetings.

Le Gymnatorium

2009-01-21T21:52:00.003-05:00

Blah blah- i joined a gym so that i could attend belly dancing class. Today I decided to attend said gym for the first time. Print out my "corporate email," take gym clothes to work, get off subway and walk in the freeeezing cold to the union square branch of gym which is about 3 feet wide and 5 stories tall. Hand "corporate email" to creepy guy (Mulan or something) at the counter to prove that I am a member, get a most important key card in order to access all gyms. "You're all set," he says....

Okay- what the fuck does that mean?? Aren't you going to give me a tour of the gym for ants and escort me to the locker room??? No, nothing? "What do you want me to do now," I say. "Oh- the locker rooms are downstairs and all the classes are on the upper levels."

Great. Thanks a million Mulan. So, through the maze I go to find the stairs which lead to a dungeon. Yes. Apparently lights are not necessary for lots of sweaty men and women all hanging out around lockers which resemble those from 6th grade that no one uses. Okay. Open one of the lockers- put in bag, boots, fur. Where do I change? I have no idea. I decide it's best to go into one of the bathroom stalls which I find by walking in circles at least 6 times and bumping into some woman's ridiculously large ass.

Whilst peeing I start to think about the fact that you should have a lock when you use a locker from 6th grade, lest some woman with a ridiculously large ass steal all of your belongings and leave you in a bathroom stall in your socked feet. I think that I should go to the front desk and buy one. So, I come out of the stall- and attempt to put my boots back on. One of them will not go on my foot, because I'm doing this so quickly that I crush the little heel cup part. Honestly, getting this shoe back on my foot takes at least 10 minutes. At this point I am freakin pissed.

I take all of my belongings back to the front desk and upon seeing no one there to help me, decide to keep walking right out the front door. All the way home I walk, listening to my mom on the phone yammering on about Michelle Obama's yellow dress. Get to my door and basically dump everything out of my bag looking for my keys. "Hold on, Mom." No keys. Seriously don't have them. It's ok because I know how to let myself in the front door with the keypad. I'll just walk up and bang on the door for someone to let me in.

Except that no one is home. Call all 3 roommates, none of them answer. It is so my night. Text them all that I'm locked out thinking that will conjure up some sense of urgency. Nothing. Decide to go downstairs to the bar for a vodka with myself. Finally N calls and tells me she's on the way home. When will this day subside? N and I share a drink, and decide on our plan for the evening.

Yes kids, tonight it'll be chicken McNuggets with a side of AIDS (anyone??) while watching Beauty and the Beast Special Edition DVD. If this isn't a classy Wednesday night, I don't know what is... Shove that in your 6th grade locker.

Things to consider:

2009-01-17T18:29:00.003-05:00

This week I joined a gym. Why, you ask, would I shell out extra cash every month when I can barely afford my whole wheat noodles? When you are seeing someone who has the body of a professional athlete and you have been sitting on your ass in front of a computer all day eating Haribo raspberries- some initiative must be taken.

SO, be prepared for Pole Dancing 101, Urban Rebounding, and Anti-Gravity Yoga. I am about to put myself through fitness hell a la junior year of college. Welcome back Holocaust arm. I have missed you.

On the Avenue

2009-01-06T22:21:00.002-05:00

When 3 roommates all get dressed and leave the apartment at 9 pm on a Tuesday in freezing rainy weather to go get several bottles of Andre and some Orangina, who will stay at home and clean out the refrigerator to make room for the beverages????

La New York

2009-01-06T21:59:00.002-05:00

There have been few posts lately. I've been busy- in a good way. 2009ing. So, today I caught a good 15 minutes of this "show" called The City with some bitch from Laguna Hills or whatever. Apparently she "moved" to NYC to "work" for DVF. I am livid.

There are girls watching this bullshit who now think that it's possible to:

A. acquire job working for a major designer simply by jumping on a plane, walking into the office, and saying "and stuff..." at least 5 times.

B. secure attractive accent-clad man by walking into a bar where his "band" is playing wearing some braids and a slutty dress.

C. somehow convince said accent-clad man with no job to find a one-bedroom apartment for you in Gramercy while you are "working"

D. afford fabulous one bedroom 1200 sq ft apartment on the 30th floor of a secured elevator building on the salary of a PR assistant.

MTV- I will shove my financially unstable, H&M wearing, fabulous foot up your ASS

Riding Along

2008-12-28T20:11:00.006-05:00

Ummm, there is something outside of my apartment that can only be described as a JewMobile. A white minivan, doors agape with a giant light up Menorah on top and blue streamers a-plenty. The best part is the music blaring up and down the street (please forgive me if you are Jewish and reading this...) that goes something like "Machina Machina Machino- Yo yo yo yo yoooooooo!" I'm totally cool with the fact that they need to drive down St. Marks handing out tiny Menorah candles and dancing in a circle, but I wish that they knew more than one song. Also, I think as Jews, they should be able to easily recognize other Jews and not yell at everyone walking down the street asking if they are Jewish. Look at me- I think the song you are singing is about machine guns- clearly I am not looking to score a light up dradle on the way home. While this pic taken from the "terrace" is really bad, I think you can get the idea.
JewMobile, JewMobile, Hunting for Jews in the JewMobile!

FYI

2008-12-21T15:34:00.000-05:00

It Takes a Rare Man to Pull Off a Mustache. And if that man isn't George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Jude Law, or Robert Downey Jr. — all of whom have taken, and failed, Lip Lawns 101 — then odds are it also will not be you. Because unless you are The Young and the Restless' Victor Newman, whose mouth topiary nicely underlines his attempts to destroy/disinherit/wish death upon people in that dramatic German accent, you will probably end up looking like a cheesy porn star- and who wants to lock lips with that at Christmas time?

Princess Unicorn

2008-12-19T18:48:00.003-05:00

Mixed Drinks...Part Deux

2008-12-18T22:02:00.003-05:00

After the falling, the hangover, and the underwear yesterday- coworkers decided to go for a post work happy hour. I'm not a big fan of Stout, because its so crowded during happy hour that you have to dry hump someone to get to the bathroom, but it's close to work, so..

Three of the 5 other people I'm with are married/have children/all of the above. So I just grab a glass of red wine and sip knowing that they will all peace out within the hour to get home to their families. We find a "table," and are happy to have space to breathe even though there are several hundred half empty glasses on our "table." After a few drinks, only one of them has fallen, so I'm pleasantly surprised! At this point, my 90 pound co-worker utters those fateful words....
"Let's take a shot!"
Ummm, right... Soko and limes all around and we are discussing our limited experience with drugs. This seems inappropriate- i dunno. Next thing I know, someone accidentally picks up one of the half empty, left behind drinks instead of their own. "NOOO!" i shout- "don't drink that!"

"I'll drink it," says the shot co-worker. Um that's disgusting- first off, it's Scotch and secondly, someone else already backwashed their spinach and artichoke dip in there. We all ignore her until another co-worker says, "I dare you..." Of course she says she will do it if he will too. They decide that dilluting the Scotch with a half empty glass of wine will make it tolerable....

Swear to God, I watched them both shotgun half of a "Scotch and Cabernet" containing the saliva of God knows who. What the hell is going on!!!??? I thought I was out with the "over 35" crowd! I have to get out of here immediately!

Mixed drinks... Part Une

2008-12-18T20:12:00.008-05:00

Tuesday night with all the leftover alcohol from last weekend, a roommate that's leaving the next day, and a magic mike= RIDIC. Picture 5 girls drinking things like orange vodka chased with leftover red wine while belting Mr. Big "To Be With You." Yes, I am aware that everyone in my building is now probably planning retaliation including things like rotten eggs, leftover Indian food, and old Christmas trees.

Nevertheless, we are having a fabulous time until the wee hours. So Wednesday morning I wake up too late to find that my roommates have also woken up too late and I realize that I am going to work without a shower. Whatevs- at least I only have one meeting, and its with Marketing. As a general rule, most of them look like they traded clothes with the bodega owner while getting their morning coffee so I'm not worried. So I pull on some pants (that could also be considered leggings), choose a couple of tops and put on a belt cause that always makes you look more put together...

Running down Saint Marks metro card in hand. Crossing 3rd avenue. Boots sliding on a grate. Laying on my ass in oncoming traffic. Some guy in trench coat bending down saying "Are you okay!??"

Yeah, that just happened. Thanks guy in trenchcoat for being the only person not wearing a hood, listening to an ipod, and stepping over my body lying in the street. Perhaps you just needed some karma points, but at this point I don't care. Get to work late, turn on computer, sit down. What the hell am I sitting on?? Get up, look behind me- nothing. WTF!? Sit down, again- realize that whatever it is in IN my pants. I'm in my office, reaching down my pants, and finding... something. Ah yes, a morning surprise of dirty underwear in my form fitting tuxedo pants... Honestly, who does this happen to? At least I walked all the way to work, was helped off of the asphalt, and said good morning to my boss looking like I have a giant tumor growing out of my thigh... (ITS NOT A TUMA!)

Anyone, anyone?

Late Recap

2008-12-15T19:54:00.011-05:00

Soooo, as a follow up to my earlier post about my Sunday morning outfit- here's what happened on Saturday...

My roommates and I have planned a holiday/birthday party and invited about 50 people. I'm going to estimate that about 25 people will fit comfortably in our apartment that is the size of my old closet (ironically, I now have no closet- just a place on the wall to hang clothing that I fashioned out of random materials from Home Depot.) If you are in this situation- simply follow these steps:

1. To compensate for the poor ratio of apartment to guests, create a very desirable ratio of guests to food/alcohol. The logic being that the drunker people are, the less they will care about your roommate's boyfriend's coworker's friend accidentally grabbing their ass. Repeatedly.

**Mulled wine- check

Tower of chocolate chip cookies- check'

Chips, cupcakes, dip, choco-peanuts, and other artery-clogging foods- check

Ridiculous amount of green and red jello shots- check

All available half empty bottles of liquor in our apartment (including one Nalgene bottle full

of something clear)- check

2. Don't worry about refrigerator space- as long as it's cold, just keep all of the open alcohol on the fire escape (aka "terrace") for chilling. This creates much more space for the 100 dixie cups full of jello and vodka. [As a side note: In case you are, like me, from the South and attempting to make jello shots in NYC- you CANNOT buy Everclear in the city. It is actually illegal. Maybe someone accidentally set themselves on fire or something... i dunno]

3. Create harmony among your guests- i.e, invite all of the guys in your apartment building and none of the girls.

4. Once the guests clearly outnumber the amount of square footage, ditch your apartment for a bar only inviting the harmonious guests which you have deemed worthy of hanging out with you. And bring the Nalgene bottle full of the clear stuff.

Visual aids:

Footnote: don't forget to taste several of the jello shots before any guests arrive, just to ensure consistency.

Zeitgeist

2008-12-14T22:29:00.002-05:00

On a serious note, I recently watched something that made me feel both empowered and paranoid at the same time. This is a voice that is never heard. Everyone should see this:

http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

Lesson 1

2008-12-14T14:09:00.004-05:00

Today I learned that a BCBG cocktail dress with tights, blue platforms and a fur coat is not an appropriate outfit for the West Village on a Sunday morning.

That is all.

Why I love the subway

2008-12-11T23:02:00.003-05:00

Okay, the real reason why I like the subway is because 90% of cab drivers here drive like crazed old men who accidentaly snorted coke instead of Geritol and repeatedly jerk their feet from the gas to the break.

However, things like this are also entertaining:

Today on the way home from work I am exhausted, and pissed because it is raining the kind of rain that blows into your eyes and then whips around and soaks the back of your skirt and turns your umbrella inside-out. So I get on the W and there is like- no one on here. Weird, but totally fine with me because I recently got so angry at a woman trying to sit next to me when she couldn't fit that I stood up and yelled "Are you FREAKING kidding me!?" (God, please don't let me become an angry New Yorker)

So I'm on there basically by myself and this girl gets on somewhere around 23rd street. She looks really normal with her headband and poofy white coat with tights. Then she is looking at me and smiling and I'm like- what the hell headband girl! why are you staring at me!? Until I see the extra large size bottle of uncorked wine poking out of her bag. She notices me looking at it and tilts her entire bag in order to have a sip.

This girl's head is bobbling around like a 90 year old's and I think this is quite amusing. And then with one swift move of the train, she FALLS over onto the bench- all of the contents of her bag flying including the wine which splashes EVERYWHERE. And she just lays there. Holy.Crap. I can't help it- the day has been too long. I am laughing my ass off. I know that this girl won't appreciate me waking her up, so I leave headband girl with the only other person in our car. Maybe that person can enjoy her for a little longer....

My daze

2008-12-11T22:27:00.005-05:00

This week at work can only be described as: "Holy.mother.of.jesus.I.really.need.a.percocet.and.a.bottle.of.four.dollar.wine.immediately.if.not.sooner."
Ok, so Monday I wake up with a raging sore throat and since I reserve all dispensible income for shoes and alcohol, I simply have to suffer. So, I go to work only breathing out of one nostril and spend most of the day clicking from email to email, not really answering any of them.

Tons of meetings, make your own baked potato lunch, meetings, meetings. On Wednesday, I have to prepare for a HUGE meeting that happened today. This basically means creating and printing about 60 copies of about 23 or so reports. I think this is interesting since our company recently decided to go "green." Neatly put all of my reports into binders- while trying not to drip snot all over the dividers. Do this until about 10pm at which point one of my coworkers breaks into a round of "This Little Light of Mine." But oh- wait. We have to bring to the meeting a sample of EVERY ITEM that we make, will make next season, or are thinking about possibly making 3 years from now. This means that I get to use enough bubble wrap to cover Nigeria to wrap all of these things up and put them into boxes. I estimate that this process takes around 2.7 years.

Yes, my friends, I have a corporate level job where I develop product for a major department store, but we do not have enough money to pay for someone to pack 400 pieces of home decor into boxes for us. Not only that, but after they are transported to their destination, I must UNPACK the 400 things.

This meeting, P.S, will begin at 9am and end around...... never. I am hacking all the way through the meeting, and all of the directors cover their precious Diet Cokes every time. Then, around never, I again start to RE-PACK everything so that I can send it back to my office. I will say this: If I see another box with Asian writing on it, another strip of bubble wrap, a tape gun, any of these things for the rest of the week- someone will be impaled.....

I will now go home and console myself with shoes and alcohol, preferably at the same time.

You know you love it

2008-12-09T20:35:00.005-05:00

After last night's episode, I'm comin right out and professing my love for Chuck Bass. AMAZING. Who can wear and ascot and still make girls cream their panties just by looking at them? Chuck Bass. Love, love it.

That is all

I want to just say...

2008-12-09T20:14:00.002-05:00

I know this is totally mean, and out of line since I don't have children, but...

I am a user of Facebook. Not one of those users that checks facebook every hour to update a status (like anyone cares) or to stalk people from my past, but just one of those users that likes to use it to keep up with people, share pics, and ok- sometimes make fun of people.

The point is, that when I log on to view a message from my 4th grade friend, or see the pics of last weekends party, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE PICTURES OF YOUR CHILD DROOLING ON SANTA. Remember when Facebook was used to link people from different colleges and break the ice with someone in one of your classes? I feel like no one even puts pictures of themselves any more- only of their 6 month olds. WTF? This must be a clue that I'm getting too old...

Wooot Wooooooot!

2008-12-09T00:00:00.003-05:00

We have a real CHRISTMAS TREE!!!! With branches and everything. And white lights with most fabulous ornaments. I am super exiiiited!!!! Luckily it fits into our apartment that is the size of a large closet.

The best part is while a couple of us were decorating, one roommate accidentally came upon a website that solicits people who want to cheat on their spouses. Like a dating websites for those who purposely commit adultery and want to show off the size of their penises online......... Riiight.

Merry Christmas America

R train

2008-12-08T23:55:00.002-05:00

I'd just like to give a shoutout to the guy who always drives the R train on my way home from work. He sounds exactly like the lobster/octopus doctor from Futurama. It is actually amazing and I love when he says: "Nex shtop, twennnnty thirrrrd shtreet."

Nelsie

2008-12-07T19:00:00.003-05:00

Friday night, I had promised to attend a party with a friend in Fort Washington. First off- I have no clue where Fort Washington is, so I'm like "Of course I'll go!" I soon learned that Fort Washington is way out to hell and around the corner from nowhere. Three more girls in tow, we all head out and decide that taking the subway is much too perilous and that we definitely need to squeeze all 5 of us into a cab.

The cab driver is hesitant, of course, because having that many people is illegal. But we all push our breasts up a little higher and he agrees. Some of us are already pretty drunk, and we are all pretty loud. Nelson, the driver, looks like he wants to change his mind and throw us out. So I begin asking him where he's from, and then we all try to guess. Finally we find that he is from Brazil and immediately demand that he teach us Portugese. This goes really well, because between the drunkness and the loudness we all end up yelling random nonsensical syllables and Nelson is just laughing. He is glad he picked us up now- at least we are amusing.

This is the longest and most expensive cab ride ever, and every time we see a cop, I have to bend in half so it looks like there are only 3 people in the back seat. By the time we reach upper west Nelson is hearing all about African American genitalia. When he drops us off, we all record his number in our phones, and he is dead set on coming back to pick us up when we are ready to leave. Its going to be a great night...

Oh the perils

2008-12-04T20:37:00.003-05:00

At some point several weeks ago I decided to remove my uneccessarily large air conditioner from my window and leave it outside on the balcony (bad idea). And then one day when it looked as if it might rain, instead of bringing the air conditioner in, i decided to cover it up with a large garbage bag (even worse idea).

So yesterday I decided to take some initiative and work this out. At the Astor Place KMart, I purchase bed risers (my bed needs to be taller in order to keep my giant suitcases tucked away out of sight) and a large Rubbermaid container (that i measured to make sure my air conditioner would fit inside). I carry my treasures home and immediately get to work.

I pick up each corner of my bed individually and hoist it up onto these blocks. Perfect. Push my bed back towards the wall where it lives, bed falls off of all risers.... OK, try again. Hoist up corners; ease bed towards the wall, bed falls off of risers... After a couple more rounds of this game, my bed is finally in place with suitcases underneath. And my arms are getting quite tired.

Next, pulling the air conditioner from the balcony to the rubbermaid container. Move the container next to the door to the balcony; slide air conditioner to doorway; lift air conditioner over the step; shove into Rubbermaid container... shove in to Rubbermaid container... Shove in...SHOVE! mother EFF!!! Not even close to fitting! And with all of my measurements!!!

So, in case you come over, this is the story of why I have 85% of an industrial size airconditioner sticking out of a Rubbermaid tub in my room. And why I have a battered-spouse size bruise on my right thigh. Just so you know.

Remember....

2008-12-03T20:46:00.001-05:00

E: Do I look fat today? I'm disgusting. I feel so overweight.

Me: Hell no, your pants are too big dude. You are skinny! You're like a Holocaust victim.

E: That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.....

Let's Talk About

2008-12-02T22:44:00.003-05:00

It's really too bad that I am now 25 and still don't have my life together. While I may have a great job, friends to tolerate me, and a fantastic apartment... I cannot afford my life! God, why does rent have to be so expensive!? And why am I perpetually struggling to pay it!? Can someone just step up and take care of that for me already? Honestly.

One of my roommates is now deciding to leave NY because its just too damn much. I am so discouraged and sad that I am now going to lose a friend in the city just because of the economy... Give me a freaking break. So, me and vodka will sit here watching our $120 cable and feel sorry for ourselves.

It's a good thing I have lots of things planned this week to keep the mind off of finances. And get ready for house party! Don't worry, an update will come soon!

A Twenty-Faux Thanksgiving

2008-11-30T18:04:00.006-05:00

Its Perfect. I leave for the airport, no traffic, no check-in line, no security problems, flight's on time. My mom picks me up and we lunch/shop. At this point I know it can only go downhill from here.

In all truthfulness, I had a fantastic Thanksgiving at home. A lovely dinner with mom, then over to Mother Linda's. By the time I get to Mother Linda's she is one large size bottle of Beringer's in. "What are you, a movie star? Got your damn sunglasses on and the sun's already gone down," she greets me. Love it. This is a woman I can appreciate. After we down another large vat of pink wine, she is telling me how much she loves "Mason's" (Macy's) and regalling stories of how she can remove her bra with a long sleeve shirt on in less than 10 seconds.

Friday night=wonderful disaster. My BF is having a party for me and her younger sister, as our birthdays are very close. Here are some highlights...

Great shoes

Fabulous hats

Teacups full of pink stuff

Add in a night on the town and a couple of former boyfriends and you've got yourself a situation intéressante. So, what is the proper thing to do when you're hanging out with friends including one ex and you go to a bar only to find ex #2 schmoozing with some girl?? Do you introduce them? Do you run as fast as your blue shoes will carry you? Hell if I know. So I did the only intelligent thing I could think of- I completely ignored the situation. It worked perfectly until one too many pink teacups caught up with me. Too bad I walked up to the girl and said, "hey, you better BE AWARE- he's a tricky one."

Well, we all knew that was going to happen. Cut to me and posse leaving the bar, and ex #2 creepily waiting outside in order to interrogate me about why we aren't still together.... Right. At least ex #1 was there to buy a Papa Johns extra large pizza! YES! I didn't think this would happen, but I am actually really glad to be back in NYC!

Two Things

2008-11-30T17:43:00.004-05:00

A. I finally made the trek back home to Chucktown- 1st time since February (hence the lack of blog)

2. Tomorrow is my twenty-faux birthday. Yeah- I'm thinking of not moving forward from twenty four. Although, twenty four has been a shitty year, so maybe I should just go with it.

Situation of note...

Last weekend before leaving I decided to have a lovely night out with friends celebrating our utter outrageousness. I also decided to drink a bottle of wine before leaving the apartment. Shocker. Beauty Bar, always a good time. I apparently befriended a Canadian by spilling his drink all over him. I also apparently ended up in his bear-skin clad apartment sometime in the AM. Canadians: are really hard to understand after 8 drinks and LOVE animal skin of any kind... I generally pride myself on being quick, witty, and ready for anything. But whenever this guy completes a sentence, I literally have to pause for a good 5 seconds to digest/translate whatever he just said. This makes for many awkward moments. Not to mention the part where I tell him I have to go to the bathroom and when he comes to check on me 15 minutes later, I'm sleeping....

Okay, no more of this.

GCHAT

2008-11-21T20:55:00.002-05:00

Yesterday's Gchat Message:

Me: What should I wear?

M: You should probably wash your hair

Me: How do you know my hair is dirty?

M: Your hair is always dirty...

You know when....

2008-11-21T20:45:00.003-05:00

You know when you are randomly walking in your neighborhood and you find that AWESOME place, and you're like- I will totally hang out here. For me, today, that was a liquor store. I'm sorry, but in times of recession, cheap alcohol is important. There is a liquor store at Astor Place with $3.99 wine. Yes, Trader Joes- EAT IT. I will not stand in your hour long line, collecting bottles along the way instead of actually perusing the shelves at my own pace. This place has lots of old men around to help you find the $3.99 wine and to tell you which vodka is on special (in case you need both.....) BRILLIANT!

Just saying, check it out.

man hands

2008-11-20T22:30:00.003-05:00

I just have to take a minute and throw this out there... I am super into fashion and street style and am all over the androgenous thing that's happening right now. However, today on the walk home I saw 3, yes 3 guys wearing coats with fur trimmed hoods... Is this ok? I cannot fathom walking hand in hand with some guy, looking into his fur-framed eyes...seriously? Maybe its because I'm from the South where the only acceptable forms of warmth are made by North Face. But I don't see how this is acceptable.

While I'm on the subject, it kind of weirds me out when guys are wearing gloves. Scarves, scarves are hot- love it. But gloves belong to...i dunno, OJ Simpson. Rapists. Spider Man. Its creepy. I know its ridiculous to think that only women can have warm hands, but damn guys- put them in your pockets!

Awesomeness

2008-11-17T21:15:00.002-05:00

Roommate: "I wish I could wear a baseball cap to work so I'd never have to wash my hair..."
Me: "Yeah"

Seriously...I mean, seriously.

2008-11-17T20:39:00.002-05:00

All I wanna know is why is it ok for people to SPRINT down 32nd street to Penn Station. When I leave work and begin my stroll onto 7th Avenue to the subway, I am incessantly bombarded by men in suits flailing in my face, their pleated pants jacked up to mid-calf. And women, the women, UGH. If you are going to wear a pencil skirt and old lady pumps, what makes you think you should run at full speed, dodging cabs and buses while your heinous laptop bag flaps behind you knocking over innocent bystanders- and why don't you YELL into your fucking Crackberry while you're at it. That way you don't notice when your Jacqueline Smith heel cracks someone else in the shin.

I literally watched a man full on pumping his arms today, and when a bike rolled in front of him, he SKIDDED on his leather bottomed loafers and onto the asphalt. WFT? Who acts this way? Just to make a train? Dude, get a fucking chai latte and wait it out.

I DONT GET IT!!

Lazy Mofo

2008-11-16T18:21:00.004-05:00

Wow- it's been a few days... Clearly I've been doing such fabulous things, that I haven't had time to blog. Or I'm just being lazy. Here's a recap:

Wednesday- I decide to join a friend at the gym for a class called "urban rebounding." I think that because the class is named something awesome that I should participate even though its been months since I've stepped foot in a gym. This class entails a small trampoline and a guy with a headset who is on speed. After about 70 around the world karate squats, and nearly blacking out several times, I'm feeling great! Until...

Thursday- Holy shit, my legs feel like they've been trapped in a vice for a week. I hobble to the train at 8:30 am and realize... how the hell am i going to get down the stairs!? I literally have to turn sideways, back against the wall, and ease myself down one step at a time while some old lady nearly pushes me over. However, my liver decides that it is still a great idea to go to a party for Askmen.com at a club in meatpacking district. Liver, I just don't think this relationship is working out anymore. Cut to my gimp ass legs in heels waiting in line for free alcohol at an underground nightclub while burlesque dancers slap each other's butts behind me. Way to go Askmen. There were a plethora of men at this place, all heavily participating in the open bar and generally acting like douchebags. I think that I do not see any men here who I would like to "ask" anything except, "could you move so I can get to the bar?"

Friday- I am the dumbest human alive. If anyone is wondering what it's like to have 6 vodkas when you're so sore that you can't dance, it's kinda like being hit by a bus. Tiwce. At work, I basically sit at my desk for 7 hours being paranoid that my boss will see the black "urge" stamp on my wrist from the gay bar I ended up at the night before. Miserable. I know that I should go home, hide in my bed, and spend the weekend recovering. My liver, however, has other plans. I don't know why my liver wants to torture itself, but I make a mental note to get it a Prozac prescription. 12am, still putting on outfits and then immediately taking them off and throwing them on the ground. 2 am, do you know how much a fucking drink costs at The Randolph?? Why the hell would anyone come here when you can get 5 shots for $10 at the dive on 3rd Ave? 3 am, me and vodka are dancing by ourselves at Le Royale...

Saturday- I watch my SC Gamecocks get KILLED by the Gators. Luckily, my liver is now so depressed that it no longer wants to go out. Finally, some rest!

Christmasification

2008-11-11T21:51:00.002-05:00

An important fact to know about me is that I will shop for just about anything (you have never seen a human so intense about shopping for tweezers) and especially when I'm feeling depressed, lonely, awkward, excited, bored, the list goes on.... Another point is that I work for a ridiculously large, widely known department store (yay monopolization!!) So today, on my weekly visit to the store to check out some of my product- I decide that I need to take a well-deserved break to just peruse some of the store's other offerings. Yes, meandering through a maze of overpriced leather goods is just the relaxing afternoon I need.

How could it have slipped my mind that this store is perpetually the LEAST RELAXING PLACE ON EARTH?? It's like Disneyland on crack, and without the endearing reminder of childhood bliss. Nevertheless, I squeeze past the MAC counter- the smell of cologne hitting me like a wall (btw- Daddy Yankee is apparently also a perfumier....? Mother of God) and weave through the man-purse wearing Euro tourists onto the escalator. Safe. I realize on about the 3th floor that I am past the point of no return. These tourists are absolutely insane!! Just when I think I may try my luck on floor 5, a small child comes barreling at me SHRIEKING at the top of it's lungs. Great, spawn of the devil is ravaging the shoe department. So I continue for a few more floors- luggage. YES. No child will shop for luggage!

Doo do doooo. Rolly luggage, hard luggage, briefcases, and what's this....? Where the hell am I??? Welcome to Holiday Lane you say.....!? WTF? This is a trap! No, seriously- swear to God- I was lost in this place for at least an hour. The carpet is red, the walls are red, the tablecloths are red, the workers wear red. Was that Vitamin C that I took earlier or Vicodin???? Do you know that they make Christmas ornaments for every character from the Candyland game? Crazy Christmas frog ornaments with ice skates. There was an entire tree dedicated to African American ballerinas! Oh what fun- my mom would absolutely adore an ornament shaped like a pregnant sheep with wooly mittens on it's feet! And at $68, how could I go wrong? WHO BUYS THIS SHIT!!!?

Oh, I miss my desk with my ramen noodle lunch and my neverending inflow of emails. Guess this break really worked out for me. At least now I believe that I actually love being at work!

i made you a beard...?

2008-11-10T22:27:00.003-05:00

Uh, just one more thing. Since I make jewelry and I'm looking to start a little something something up here, I'm scrolling around on some website and come upon this....

For just $35, you can customize your beard and enjoy free shipping. Honestly, WTF? That is all.

Monday night fever....

2008-11-10T21:28:00.003-05:00

I've been in Manhattan now since March, and its just starting to set in that...i freakin live here. Every day in this place is like shaking up a Magic 8 ball... its whatever bullshit or ridiculous hope the city feels like dishing out that morning. I could actually wake up in time to wash my hair, it could be sunny outside (rain+NYC=hot mess), there could be a scantily clad, pro-Obama, bull-riding girl outside of your workplace. These are the things that prevent me from rolling over and pulling the covers over my head. [Seriously, you could miss the peeps handing out free cat food outside of Penn Station...where are these assholes when it is raining and you need a GD umbrella, you ask?? CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN]

POINT BEING- I'm realizing that I'm starting to get into a routine- well, as much of a routine as anyone can have in this city....and I kinda like it! Monday means an everything bagel for $1.25, Gossip Girl (DAMMIT JENNY- WTF?!), and a quiet street... Ah, the sound of no one yelling "This is my pizza, you asshole!", no guitars, no angry "punk" kids smoking outside of the tattoo shop, and no vomit hitting the sidewalk. Shit, I actually like Monday!!

Tomorrow will be a good day; if only I hadn't made a wonderful lunch for myself this weekend and then gotten up in a drunken stupor to take it out of the fridge and put it in the pantry (thanks 8 vodkas and a lemon drop)... Guess it'll be one $9 lunch for me tomorrow. Score one for you New York... You Go Glen Coco

1st Time

2008-11-09T01:49:00.002-05:00

Ok, so I've always been one of those people who was like "having a blog is ridiculous...why do people believe that I care what they are constantly thinking." However, I'm starting to think that if everyone else can fill our brains with whatever random nonsense they choose, then I should also be granted this priveledge. I am now totally convinced that people are deprived of my musings on, say the creepy homeless guy who asks me to marry him every morning on my way to work. So on that note, here goes...........