Ceci N'est Pas Une Blog

Where does the good go?

2008-11-17T00:19:00.002-05:00

I have all of this love; it's all inside me and I can feel it and it feels good, but it has nowhere to go. I have no one to direct it towards and it's frustrating. I feel like it was circulating but got cut off and the place where it was cut didn't stay open so it could all leak out, but it was tied off and now it just accumulates and circles back into me. I'm in love. What am I supposed to do with it?

Spiro: On Relationships

2008-11-09T16:50:00.003-05:00

I was originally signed up to spend the weekend in Princeton, NJ with Spiro and the jarringly neurotic Canon family, but I was able to negotiate a Sunday outing in Rutherford instead, much to my relief. This of course did not mean that I was entirely in the clear. Spiro was going to have his father/daughter bonding time, dammit, even if it was in a crowded roadside diner. No, I take that back, ONLY if it was in a crowded roadside diner. The man likes his eggs.

The first stop was an impromptu fashion show at an old family friend's house near the train station. I'm not sure she knew we were coming, but she greeted us warmly and gave me some orange juice. She's a nice lady. Hence my discomfort when Spiro decided to use her living room as a catwalk. Since I'd refused to come to Princeton so that he could, in his words, "get you some nice things. Boorrlington Coat Fahctory is hafing sales" he'd taken it upon himself to go shopping for me anyway. "Thee best," he proclaimed, as he removed the first coat from a huge black duffel bag he'd purchased just for the occasion. I tried on three new coats. They are, in fact, nice, but to be honest, I'm more excited about having a new duffel bag in which to transport my laundry.

Finally, we arrived at the diner. He knew the owner of course, and they had a nice long conversation about my father's dating habits as I tried to finish my bagel. As the owner walked away, my father got a serious look on his face. "So. Tell me," he said, "ees there anything on your mind that you want to tell your father? Tell me. I weel listen. I weel not interrupt." I considered this, and decided that taking the bait might make for an interesting conversation. "Well," I said, "I suppose I've just been thinking about relationships recently." These were the last words I spoke for the next hour.

"Your father, he has experience. Listen to him, forr once. I toll you, you come to Greece, I take you out. I show you things. I introduce you people. Your culture, it makes you different. These guys? What the shit they know."

He went on to explain to me that while of course my problems would be instantly solved by just going to Greece with him, I would have to follow certain guidelines.

"Firrst, you haf to know, you never go with someone your age. Men, they are different. Your father knows. When a man gets older, he gets bored. Is natural. You haf to make sure you look good. Like me, what the shit I'm going to do with a woman my age? Me? You think I'm an old man? I don't take this Viagra. I am...functional."

I am dying on the inside.

"A man who loves you takes care of everything. He has to support you. You pay for nothing. Your mother, she could haf lived like a Quin. I had the opportunity to go to Singapore, but she had to stay with her family. I would have given her everything. When you love a woman, tha tset."

This is how you know he is serious. He says "That's it." But he pronounces it all wrong. "Tha tset." Done and done.

"Also, know that I never cheated on your mother. I had many, many opportunities to, but I never did. I could have."

I strongly believe that there is no one on this earth less qualified to give me relationship advice than Spiro. But he's my father, and as he says, "women, their relationships with men are based on their relationship with their father."

I am so fucked.

Briefly

2008-03-11T19:31:00.005-04:00

In the stall of a public restroom last week, I noticed that someone had written the words:

"We are all on pause or repeat."

Next to this, someone else wrote, "I'm on play."

And underneath, someone crossed out "play" and just wrote GAY.

Touche.

Everything is New

2008-01-08T20:08:00.000-05:00

Omigosh, everything is different. How has my life changed since my last post? Well, I moved in, moved out, moved to Queens, broke up, fell in love. Oh, and I got some nice dresses for Christmas.

But what, you ask, have I been doing with my time? Somewhere in between packing and unpacking I've managed to maintain a pretty healthy social life. Here, I've documented it in pictures. Join me?

Here are some pics of my new apartment. It is so nice. It has a studio. In the summer, I will grow basil on my balcony. I spent so much money at Ikea.

Dining Room:
Kitchen:
Bar:
Living Room:

Studio:Bedroom (messy):
View from Bedroom door:
Yeah!

Over the Christmas break, Phil and I sojourned up to Vermont to spend some time away from cars and people. A bit about Phil's childhood home: 175 acres of 3 foot deep snow, cabins, and furry animals. It. was. awesome.

View of barn and cabin from house:
Cozy living room:Greenhouse:Max:The Vermont Wildlife Preserve, aka Phil's porch, complete with Cutest Squirrel in the World:View from the inside of the big cabin, where we spent a cold night:Books in the big cabin:Heating system:Pretty view from the road:
Feeling quite rested, we headed back to our individual Christmastime responsibilities. I of course went to Jersey, where I spent much of my time creating the following. It fell down a lot. And it looks like someone was murdered outside:

I came back to NYC the day after Christmas, and spent the rest of my vacation savoring my new place and sleeping without having to wake up to an alarm. New Years Eve was spent at Phil's place among quality people, food, and wine. Tom took some great artistic shots, featured below:

We made some friends on the roof.

Fin.

So that's all so far; other than that I've been working like crazy but just super happy. I'm pretty lucky, I think.

Day 3: I am skeptical and wary

2007-10-24T15:41:00.000-04:00

As part of my calling/canceling trend, I'd called Time Warner Cable last week to cancel my cable service. The woman I spoke to took down my info and set me up with a technician to come uninstall the box and take it away. As it turned out I'd forgotten I had to go to Back to School night at work on the night I'd scheduled the appointment, so I had to call back to reschedule.

The woman I spoke to this time told me she'd also have to reschedule the re-installation. I told her I didn't need a re-installation; I'm moving to a place that already has TWC. She told me that I'd definitely scheduled re-installation when I'd called, and I now need to reschedule. Try as I might to convince her that she was misinformed, she refused to accept it and insisted that I just need to cancel everything and reschedule. I asked her if there was some other way to proceed. She then told me I could drop the box off myself at the TWC headquarters and they'd take care of things there. Fine. I got the address and this morning unhooked my cable box. It is currently in my backpack.

I'm steeling myself for the inevitable disaster that will be my attempt to return this thing.

Day 2: I call lots of people, and cancel lots of things

2007-10-24T15:35:00.000-04:00

I've been going back and forth about moving my couch; at first I wanted to hire a van, so I called and made a reservation, but then some co-workers warned me that they'd screw me on the price so I canceled. Then I thought it might be better to hire Man with a Van, but at $150 I couldn't really justify it, so I canceled that as well. I then measured the couch and called my mom, asking her to measure her truck. From the numbers I have, it seems like it will work. But I am still nervous. Fuck it, I'll just carry it on the subway. MOVE I NEED THE WHOLE CAR.

I also picked up my laundry, which is great. I love clean laundry. And it's been all nicely folded by Chinese ladies. Yay. In other news I have so many clothes to get rid of. I also called the Salvation Army to come pick stuff up but no one answered. Odd. I will try again later.

Moving: Day 1, In which I discover that carrying stuff is hot

2007-10-24T15:11:00.000-04:00

So for those of you who don't know, I am moving to Inwood on Saturday, October 27th. This is both exciting and stressful; exciting because I'm co-habitating for the first time, and stressful because I have about two days to pack and zero time in which to do it. And lots of SHOES.

But if nothing else, it's been providing me with a lot of writing material.

Monday was Day 1 of the Moving Process. A few days prior I had secretly procured some empty Xerox copy paper boxes from school, perfect for storing books. Geoff had told me that it's possible to carry 4 at a time, but I'm not sure which laws of physics he's using because I was only able to handle two. I stacked them one on top of the other and proceeded home after work. But I was soon to discover that I was unknowingly carrying not boxes, but a potent aphrodisiac.

Nearly every adult male I passed had something to say about the boxes:
"Now I know those ain't heavy" wink.
"You need help baby?" wink.
"Yeahhhhh...looks heavy" gross laugh.
"You too pretty to be carryin' all that" actually licked lips.

Not to mention the various indecipherable grunts/mumbling/lingering stares. "Ooooh..mmmboxes...yeah. Girl." I mean who knew? Ladies, take note: when you carry something that looks heavy but secretly isn't, it drives em crazy. No joke.

I am funny.

2007-09-20T15:44:00.001-04:00

I got stopped a few weeks ago down by the South Street Seaport by some dudes asking people to tell jokes into a camera. Apparently I am made it to the site- check it out!

Le weekend de biere

2007-09-10T11:23:00.000-04:00

Every so often in life, it becomes necessary to relax, to let loose, to unwind. With beer. This weekend was one such time.

Friday night started as it usually does, at Pete's Candy Store. I tried to pace myself for what I knew was going to be a long evening, but despite my ordering a very delicious mozzarella and tomato panini, I found myself quite quickly and deeply sauced. By about 7pm. I then left to meet Geoff in Park Slope for the BCMF, where I obviously indulged in some PBR. We tried to have pie, but Geoff can't wield a lasso to save his life. Or to win pie, which is more important.
Saturday night was Sara's "Come as your favorite beer" birthday party. I came as Hoegaarden. Ho. Garden. That's right, slutty foliage. Geoff was, of course, PBR. Well, more specifically Frank from the movie Blue Velvet. Heineken? Fuck that shit.

Some other memorable costumes included Sam Adams:

A Coronita:

Long Trail:

Blue Moon:

And, a Coors Lite silver bullet girl. I will have this image seared into my brain forever. Thanks Peter.
I actually feel more guilty about how much pizza I ate vs. how much beer I consumed this weekend. I think I may have eaten an entire pie over the course of the evening, but I can't be sure. Mmmmm....underpizza.

Here we go

2007-08-21T20:02:00.000-04:00

Jebus, I start work tomorrow. I'm feeling slightly (read:incredibly) unprepared for the upcoming semester, but I'm hoping it will fly by as easily as it seems to on my iCalendar. I've been trying to organize everything before I delve into the chaos that will be the next three months, but I'm still feeling pretty unsettled. I NEED TO CRAM ROUGHLY 1 MILLION ASSIGNMENTS INTO 15 WEEKS. No, that's an exaggeration. BUT NOT BY MUCH!

Can I make a list here? I'm going to make a list here. It keeps with my 'frantic writing down on every available surface everything I must do' thing I've been doing. OK before Monday I must:
-create printout of syllabus for students/parents to sign
-create list of school supplies students will need
-buy paint
-research Corinthian columns to paint on walls of classroom
-paint said walls with said columns
-buy curtains/rods
-hang said curtains on said rods
-equip classroom with supplies/books
-buy and/or make motivational/cool posters to hang on walls of classroom
-find out if I need to buy hanging folders
-find out if I need to order journals
-make so, so many copies of so many things
-buy grad school books
-call adviser to get form for student teaching supervision
-learn online grading software
-clean apartment
-confirm Inwood/LES schedule with Geoff
-bring a bunch of stuff to Geoff's
-find out when I'm again getting paid
-pick up glasses
-find out when choir practice starts

I'm sure there are so many things I'm forgetting. There are also many other things that I haven't included either because it's not appropriate to list them here or I'm embarrassed to admit I still haven't done them. But! I did buy a calendar for the apartment today, which made me feel very organized, and even though I spent a ludicrous amount of money on my eye exam and glasses, I'M NOT BROKE YET. Yet.

8AM TOMORROW WOOOOOO!

Betty and Veronica go hiking

2007-07-13T21:57:00.000-04:00

Nora and I just got back from a 3 day hiking trip in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I have maybe never been so sore in my entire life. We hiked a total of approximately 23 miles, with the majority being completed on Wednesday when we hiked over Mt. Moosilauke; 13 miles in 6 hours. Yikes.

Here are some pics and commentary for your enjoyment:

We arrive at the Ravine Lodge, and after checking out the facilities and spraying on some Deet, we're ready to go!

The woods!
Moose tracks!

We take in the view

We relax after the first day with some whiskey on the porch
We set out for the top of Mt. Moosilauke on the 2nd day, and conditions are... less than optimal.
We break for lunch just before the summit, after 3 hours of intense hiking. I have a knife!

Nora attempts to choke down some power Gu. I refused to eat mine.
The summit! It's really misty and windy!
We start back down
Clovers!
It begins to rain...hard
The middle of fucking nowhere!We find our cabin for the night, and discover that it is without electricity, the water must be sanitized, and there are 85 million bugs inside. I promptly kill them all with some spray I find on a shelf, and affix my small headlamp to the bed post. After playing about 15 rounds of cards on the front porch, we go to bed at 7:45pm.

A psycho killer's-eye-view of the cabin
Luckily when we wake up the weather has decidedly improved. In fact, it's pretty much the most gorgeous day ever. We decide to leisurely make our way back to the Ravine Lodge.
Bye cabin!

Check out this cool mushroom we found on a tree!
As we near the halfway point, we come to the river. It's insanely cold, but we decide we pretty much have to go in.

We dry on the rocks

We made it back! We survey our recent accomplishment: a 4800 ft. mountain! The most badass part? The summit we hiked to is actually behind those peaks, higher up and above the treeline. Those are just the little peaks we hiked that day. Yeah, we feel pretty awesome.

Here comes a busy girl

2007-06-23T00:45:00.000-04:00

It has been a ludicrously long time since I blogged about something, and for this I apologize. Between work and not being able to write about work, it's been hard to find time/material on which to write. The exciting news though, is that I have recently been promoted to teaching the senior seminar at my school this fall; a fun and challenging course for which I've already read 5 books (in one and a half weeks) and whose curriculum I'll be planning all summer. However, I have managed to amass a respectable amount of photographic evidence that should prove that I am still alive and well and maintaining an active social life.

You'll find that my high school friends make numerous appearances in this photoset that covers the last few weeks; I have been spending many fun times with them and it's pretty much the best thing ever. Basically, we don't know how to have a bad time. Here we are having dinner in the West Village before Mike's send-off to Africa. Below, a picture of a reaction to one of his tales from the ER. I won't repeat it, but I will say two words: Foot. Maggots.

The following weekend was spent chez Luter. We got together to watch the Rocket Relaunch, BBQ some meat, and drink Colt 45. Duff Man is THRUSTING in the general direction of the keg!
Damon's first airplane!

Last weekend was Nora's Croquet Party, for which we dressed in ladylike/gentlemanly attire, ate finger sandwiches, and drank mint juleps. Of course, as the night wore on we donned t-shirts and played flip cup with keg beer. We are classy!

I think this picture sums it up nicely.

A few days later, Octavius got the best haircut basically ever. We went out that night so we could stand next to him and be cool by association.

Yesterday I took some kids from my comic book club at school to the Big Apple Comic Con. Everything you think happens at a comic book convention, does. As you can see, all the coolest people were there.

I did however manage to make some amazing purchases, among which my favorites are pictured here. In a small booth next to Captain Lou Albano I found these two completely perfect-for-me rings. My two greatest loves: Eric Draven and Pabst Blue Ribbon. I may never take them off.
AND, AMAZINGLY, this original Game Boy handheld gaming device circa 1989, for TEN DOLLARS. And three games for a mere $5. AND THEY ALL WORK. This, folks, is all I have been doing with my time since I purchased this incredible find. SNOOPY'S MAGIC SHOW IS JUST AS GOOD AS IT WAS WHEN I WAS 8!!!!!11!
Whew! Exciting ride, no? Tune in next time, as Nora and Athena road trip up to New Hampshire to hike the Appalachian Trail! There are bugs and no electricity! Will Athena remember her EpiPen? Will Nora realize that not bringing a cell phone is actually a bad idea even though it seems really cool and adventurous??? I, for one, can't wait to find out!

If I were rich instead of me

2007-04-12T02:15:00.000-04:00

Rather than write a response to the Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps", I would have done this.

America! Fuck Yeah!

2007-04-05T19:17:00.000-04:00

Soooo I know it's again been awhile since my last post, but now that I'm on Spring Break (woooo!), I've had some time to actually do things that warrant blogging. Mostly it's been sleeping, but there was some other stuff too. Par exemple, I just returned from the nation's capitol where Geoff and I did some sightseeing for a few days. Here, see some pictures:

The Washington Monument
The Jefferson Memorial
The Lincoln Memorial
The FDR Memorial

The Korean War Memorial

The Cherry Blossom Festival

The Capitol Building

The Botanic Garden

The Sunglasses

Other highlights included the National Art Gallery, The Spy Museum, the Holocaust Museum, and the Air and Space Museum with a 3D IMAX film on the moon landings, narrated by Tom Hanks. Thankfully there were no bedbugs at our hotel (never book without reading the reviews) and the chinatown bus was not involved in any major accidents. Touche, Washington DC. Touche.

New Job!...Again!

2007-03-02T11:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I signed my contract at the high school, completing the "Nora and Athena are joined at the hip" trifecta. Seriously though, I can't express enough how excited I am about this job. I have dental insurance!

Synesthesia (red-orange, by the way)

2007-02-22T10:12:00.000-05:00

Synesthesia is from the Greek syn (union) and the aisthesis (sensation)

I recently read an article on synesthesia, a neurological condition in which two or more of the senses entwine. When I first heard about the phenomenon a few years ago I was surprised, because I thought everyone associated everything with colors. But apparently this is not the case. Nora, for example, tells me that for her, numbers, days, months, and letters have no color values. Weird!

So for those of you who don't already have your own associations, here is my life in color:

Numbers:
1-black
2-red
3-pink
4-purple
5-yellow
6-orange
7-green
8-navy blue
9-yellow-orange
10-lavender
(I could keep going but in the interest of time and posting space, I'll stop here)

Letters:
A-red
B-light blue
C-light orange
D-green
E-yellow
F-yellow
G-orange
(again, you get the idea)

Days of the week:
Monday-red
Tuesday-light green
Wednesday-orange
Thursday-dark green
Friday-yellow
Saturday-pink
Sunday-dark red

Months:
Jan-orange
Feb-pink
Mar-light green
Apr-yellow-orange
May-green
Jun-light orange
Jul-dark orange
Aug-red-orange
Sep-maroon
Oct-lavender/grey
Nov-dark grey
Dec-dark green

This is indisputable truth to me, and I don't know why. Feel free to share your own!

I'm a Mysterious Universe Blogger!

2007-02-15T17:42:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago my favorite podcast, Mysterious Universe, announced a contest. Since the show's creator, Benjamin Grundy, opted to do the show full-time, he'd be needing some assistance keeping the MU fans informed of all the paranormal goings-on out there. Who better to contribute than the loyal fans? Of course, I applied. I didn't know if I'd have a shot but I figured it was worth trying. And lo and behold, they chose me! I, along with three other bloggers and of course the MU production team, will be posting regularly on the Mysterious Universe website. Hooray!

The show is broadcast from Australia by Ben, who has the perfect podcasting voice. I highly recommend it. My alias is "Forteana", after Charles Fort, the eccentric writer and researcher of anomalous phenomena. Look for me! I already have three posts up!

So now that I'll be looking for credible stories of the paranormal, tell me your stories! I can't post everything, but if you have any evidence (photos, video, audio) it's pretty much guaranteed that I'll get it on there. Know anyone with some UFO footage? Pictures of strange apparitions? Documentation proving or supporting a conspiracy? Let me know!

I am excited!

Mysterious Universe

Ninja and Mr. Rupert: At home and at play

2007-02-08T12:26:00.000-05:00

This is Mr. Rupert. Note the soft fur and subtle, "come hither" look. "Moi? Bite you? Never."

Here he carefully grooms himself. Ru knows; a clean cat is a happy cat.

Next up is Ninja. This girl is trouble. Just look at those big, almond-shaped eyes. What a flirt. But be careful; she's underage.

The Missing Link: So Hot Right Now

2007-02-02T10:07:00.000-05:00

The Hole - video powered by Metacafe

Seriously, did advertising executives around the country just get together and decide that jungle-dwelling men should be this year's "next big thing"?

"Johnson, let's see that Power Point presentation. What have you got for us for this fiscal year?"
"OK are you ready? I'm thinking 'cavemen'...think about it. It's edgy, it's raw. It's outside the box. I'm thinking paradigm shifts here people."
"Johnson you're a genius. Somebody get this man a bag of money."

That's how I imagine advertising business meetings go. And then they draw diagrams on whiteboards to illustrate their business plans. It looks something like this:

Good work team.

OMG I suck!

2007-01-30T11:15:00.000-05:00

Ok so I know I have not been updating as often as I should, but! there has been a lot going on. "Well shouldn't you be writing about it?" you might ask. Well, yes. But! I've also been lazy. And it's cold. And I hate your face.

Just kidding! You're pretty.

The point is. I recently joined a choir in NYC, called the Central City Chorus. It's really fun and I love it a lot. And! On Saturday March 10, 2007 you can come and see just how awesome we are! This month's concert is entitled "Voice and Percussion" and will be featuring some very interesting pieces indeed. Here's a brief bio from the website:

"Our second concert features music for chorus and percussion instruments. Highlights include music by the venerable American composer Vincent Persichetti, the sensational young composer Osvaldo Golijov (named 2006 Composer of the Year by Musical America), the esteemed Estonian Veljo Tormis, and the NYC premiere of a work by Steve Heitzig, a composer commissioned by Chanticleer and the Santa Fe Desert Chorale."

Exciting! So, I would love for anyone and everyone to come see me sing. It will make you feel so cultured. Not cultured like yogurt, but cultured like members of the film forum. It's practically a subscription to the Metropolitan Opera Newsletter!

“Voice and Percussion”
Saturday, March 10, 2007, 8:00 p.m.
Central Presbyterian Church
593 Park Avenue (64th Street)

Here's where you can get tickets!

Zombies? Zombies.

2007-01-08T00:37:00.000-05:00

Recently I find myself rather immersed in the conceptual world of Zombies. Why, you ask? Well that's a stupid question. How, you ask? I think I'll have to blame Geoff for this one, although my...appreciation? for Zombies dates well back before Shaun of the Dead even became popular, and I've got the Night of the Living Dead poster on my wall to prove it. I mean really, who doesn't have a secret love of Zombies? No one, that's who.

In closing, I highly recommend that you check out both Urban Dead and World War Z. While inarguably nerdy, they most definitely satiate the need for some good old-fashioned brain-eating entertainment. And that's something I think we can all appreciate.

Holidaying

2007-01-06T15:08:00.000-05:00

This year's festivities were full of food and family and pretty dresses. I spent the bulk of my week off in Jersey, celebrating with my friends and catching up on a lot of sleep. They were quite fun times. Here's some pictures I took with the digital camera I got for Christmas (oooo):

Christmas Day was spent at my cousin Olga's house, and I got some great shots of my baby cousin Katerina (which was difficult as she kept running away from me, enthusiastically yelling, "Bee!")

Nora and I went to the Metropolitan Opera on Thursday night to see "Die Zauberflote". The costumes and scenery were amazing, and everything the Queen sang was out of control. We wore vintage dresses and took shots of whiskey in the bathroom during intermission. We are the classiest girls you know.

Saturday night was the Marcelina's annual Holiday Party. Yes, I wore the same dress. I am fine with that. So are you.

I've maybe never seen Nick look so British.

2007-01-06T14:24:00.000-05:00

So, it's been a while since my last post. Much has happened, but before I delve into the goings-on of the last month or so I'd like to reserve this area to talk about Royce.

For those of you who don't know, my boss and friend Royce Graham passed away on the 29th of December. It was, and still is an incredibly sad situation. Royce was a compassionate, sincere, and honest man who always tried to see the best in people. He was a great man to work with and a great friend to talk to. My thoughts and prayers are with his daughters, and with Ana, who has shown incredible strength throughout everything that has happened.

Royce appreciated the simple things in life, and never let his work replace the things that really mattered. As Ana said, "You can make plans all you want, but God makes his own plans. All these material things people try so hard for...none of it matters. You can't take it with you."

R.I.P
Royce Del Graham
1964-2006

MOTORCYCLE JUMPS MOTORCYCLE JUMPS

2006-12-13T13:38:00.000-05:00

Last night I once again attended the Bronze Fondue show at the Downeast Arts Center for some quality open-mic entertainment. Huck DeMilo, Greasy Cravings, and Nick Sansano were of course in attendance, riling up the crowd with their "Country music from the future" and proving once and for all that butterfly masks are always in style. Seriously, if you've never seen these guys I highly recommend that you check them out; I'm not sure how much exposure they get outside of NYU's music production gang but if you happen hear of a gig it would definitely be worth your while to go. This band is basically the result of what would happen if a musically talented traveling circus got lost in a science laboratory, fell into a trunk of your little sister's dress-up clothes, and then found themselves onstage in the year 2057 with amnesia and unexplainable erections leaving them with no other choice but to ROCK OUT.

I also saw the lovely and amazingly talented Jennifer Newman perform two of her songs from her upcoming album. She has one of the prettiest voices I've ever heard and everyone agreed that she gave a fantastic performance. Brrrrava!

Unfortunately the Downeast Arts Center will be closed for a couple of months, but it is scheduled to reopen in February in a new location.

Spiro'd!

2006-12-10T21:45:00.000-05:00

This weekend was spent in the magical land of St. Louis, Missouri visiting one Spyridon Apostolou, father of me. The trip came about as a result of his being unable to make it out to New York due to eye surgery and my subsequent obligation to go fly out for a visit. Fine. I arrived around 10:30pm on Friday night due to flight delays, my first mistake. Why, oh why, did I delay the flight? Don't I know that I'm only in St. Louis for 1 1/2 days? How is that enough time to spend with my father? COULDN'T I AT LEAST BE ON TIME???

Since it was late at night and he had just had eye surgery, my father drove. Over the course of the 40 minute drive (and I use the word loosely), we passed approximately 6 deer crossing signs. I know this because my father pointed out each one as we passed them. "Ah, you see thees? We hhave here so many deer, sometimes they are heere, ten at a time! On the road! It ees nice heeere, you see, with deer." At some point along the drive he pointed to a house and said, "Yes, see? Thees is where I stay." I thought that was odd, since we were presumably staying at the same house, but I thought nothing of it. We arrived at Margaret's house around midnight. Margaret is a very nice old lady who has apparently been a friend of the family for some time. I had never met her, but she seemed harmless enough. I set up my things in the spare room, all the while being careful not to knock over the roughly 9 thousand Precious Moment figurines and/or pictures of grandchildren and/or crucifixes taking up every available flat space in the house.

I walked back into the kitchen where my father presented me with toothpaste and a toothbrush. "Yes, I bought theese for you. You keep them." As I stared at his gifts wordlessly, Margaret set a place for me at the table. Now, I had been at the airport for 3 hours, and had of course eaten dinner there. But my father, who does not believe I am capable of planning my own meals, apparently had told her that I'd be arriving without having eaten. She served me a huge plate of meat spaghetti. Not meatballs....just plain spaghetti with hunks of lamb on top. And a glass of milk. It was 12:30am. They both sat and silently watched me as I tried to eat as much as was politely appropriate. When I put my fork down my father exclaimed, "But that is all? You donn eat more? Why, you ate before? Why you ate before! Fine, I will have to eat it tomorrow. Margarita, wrrap thees for me. She never eats her food. When she was leetle, she would never eat her food. I always have to eat for her." So, off to a great start.

We all stood up and my father announced that he was leaving. Where to, I inquired. "Oh I stay with Panayiotis. You are heerrre. Sleep now. I wake you in thee morrrning." Um, ok. I made my way into the guest room and unmade the frilly pink bed. "Ah, thees is whherre your aunt stayed when she was herrre. I move thee lamp next to the bed because shee did not want to get up to toorn it off and on. I keep for you." I said thank you. I changed and got into bed feeling tired and confused.

I was awakened suddenly by someone shaking my shoulders. "SOMEONE IS SLEEPING!!!" Boomed my father. "You are awake, yes? You wake up now. Good. You have breakfast, yes? You shower? I will be waiting." I groggily looked at the clock; it was 8:30am. I mumbled some sort of response and got out of bed. After I was dressed and ready, I gathered my things and went out into the living room where Margaret and my father were waiting. Again a place was set at the table, but I refused breakfast as politely as I could. After much arguing, I was allowed to go free sans food. The first stop, I was to learn, was to buy a new coat.

We pulled into the SYMS parking lot at 10am. "We haff to hurry, they closse on February 18th. Forever." This was supremely bad news for my father. Next to Daffy's, SYMS is the best store out there. Because he had been there the day before, he knew where all the coats I would surely love were located. "Ah, look, theese is nice, vibrrrant," he said, pointing to a neon green raincoat. "Ah, but here, they hafff thee sale." We settled on a nice down winter coat, despite his pleas to purchase the floor-length fur trench. I have to draw the line somewhere. Next, we headed over to the Galleria. Since his ex-girlfriend wasn't there yet, we left. We went to a different mall, where our first stop was Neiman Marcus. "I show you...therre ees a hat I want to buy, but re gamoto eet is $400. I will wait for sale." Hat? I thought. Never once have I seen this man in a hat. He pulled me excitedly over to the hat section, where among the respectable looking hats he located his prize, and tried it on for me. Since no words can do this experience justice, I will present an image of it below so that you may fully understand.

We are related.

Following our mall capades, we went for lunch at Brio, a restaurant 5 feet from the mall. We drove. We were seated by a Greek host, to the extreme delight of my father. "But wherrre is Jessica? She said she would be herrre at 2." The young host did not know but promised he would point her in our direction when she arrived. Unfortunately I never got to meet this woman, but after inquiring about her I learned that she was the manager of the restaurant, and a "friend" of my father. Oh, and she's 24. But that's ok, he says, he's allowed as long as she's a year older than me. I do not recall agreeing to this rule. We had a very nice waitress, who told us that she was going to school in the city and wanted to move to L.A. as soon as college was over. "Wonnnderfool," my father said. "You know, thee west coast is so differrrent from the East because they haff you know, all the Orientals that come from over there. You know. And they live all over the place and eet is not like New York." I tried to hide in my salad. When she left I quietly remarked, "You don't say Oriental Baba, it's Asian. They are form Asia. "Ach, fine. Asiatic. Whatever."

After lunch, it was naptime. I was taken back to Margaret's where I was told to rest. Normally I would have been miffed by his assuming that I was tired, but in this case I really was. So I slept for a few hours, and was woken up with the announcement that we were all going to dinner. I thought that this was good, since at least I wouldn't have to sit through awkward and emotional conversations with my father alone. On the way we passed three deer signs. We arrived at the restaurant in the mall we'd been at only hours before, and were seated at a nice table in the back. Our waiter arrived and asked me if I'd like anything to drink. "Ah, yes she likes red wine. You like red wine? Yes. You want Pinot Noir or Merlot? Let's see what they have. She will have the Chiraz." I said nothing. "AtheNA, they have the salmon here that ees nice. You will haf thees, it ees good. She will haf the salmon." At this point Margaret spoke up, pointing out that he hadn't actually asked me if I wanted the salmon, but he replied only, "Her father knows what she likes."

We got back to the house at 9:30, at which point I was put to bed. My father left, Margaret went to bed, and I stayed on my computer until about 1am. Again I was ripped from sleep at around 8am, and told we had lots to do. As I packed my bags my father lamented, "You cannot take thee toothpaste on thee plane, they wonn allow it. But keep thee toothbrush. It is yours. I bought for you." I brought my things to the car, and we were off.

We visited no less than 4 houses; friends, family, family friends, and spent about 10 minutes at each house. Each time I was introduced thusly, "Theeeees is my daughter. You see how she looks like her father? She is from NEW YORK! She is here only for one day goddammit you can do nothing what can you do." After being shown around town we went to lunch at the St. Louis Bread Company. He made sure I ate, noting that I'd need food because there would be none on the plane (and as explained, I am not able to feed myself.) "Are you suuuurrre you donn want also a sandwich for laterrr? When will eat though?" Now, this would be a reasonable concern if I had been leaving anytime soon, but I was pretty sure that if I got hungry before I got home, 3 hours of downtime in the airport before the plane left would be enough time to locate and eat some food. My flight being at 4:55pm, I was naturally dropped off at 1:45. He made sure I was OK though after I left him at the security check, calling at 2:25, 2:39, 4:15, and 4:28. I also had to call him when I was on the plane, right before the plane took off, when I landed, when I got a cab, and when I got home. SPIRO WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU!!!!!

GRRR! (grrr, grrr, grrr, grrr.)

2006-12-04T12:47:00.000-05:00

That is the sound a Crocodile with crocodiles for limbs makes. Think about it.

This message brought to you by the recently discovered and completely hysterical list of weapons that don't exist, but should.

There's something about big, obnoxious, glittery text that's so....

2006-11-30T17:10:00.000-05:00

yes.

My Sister's friend is a big C U Next Tuesday (to the surprise of absolutely no one)

2006-11-27T09:31:00.000-05:00

Much to my chagrin, I recently re-joined the facebook community- although in my defense it was mostly to gain access to all of the wonderful pictures taken by my friends at recent parties, events, and goings-on. However as most of you know, the world of online communities has a way of sucking you in and forcing you to edit your profile and seek out people you know/knew/talked to maybe once ever. Fine. Please don't judge me too harshly, lest you be ousted from my top 8.

The point is, after poking around for a while one uneventful afternoon I came upon the profile of my 15-year-old sister. Now to offer a little background, she's a bright girl who has unfortunately taken to hanging out with not the best people, in not the greatest places, doing not the smartest things on a more than regular basis. I've kind of come to terms with this, but it just makes it all the more unsettling when I see pictures of her and her derelict friends all over the internet. I mean listen, I am not claiming to be an exemplary citizen or an innocent and/or vice-free individual, but I am also 23 and not in high school. Now, just in case you think I am a horrible sister, I do talk to her farily often about her "activities". But, there are times when making fun of her just seems like the more effective course of action. Won't I make a great parent someday? "Oh you don't like Broccoli? Well, have fun never having friends, because you're the only one."

Woo, tangent! So below are two of the pictures I stumbled upon and the subsequent comments I left:

"DAMMIT ALEXA. God. Remind me to make endless fun of you when I'm home for having whore nails and eye makeup. YOU LOOK AWESOME NO WONDER YOU GET ALL THE BOYS"

"Hi, we are TEH COOLEST with cigarettes. Look how we smoke them. Loooooooooooook."

She wrote back of course, taking it in stride and spelling everything wrong, for which I further mocked her. We laughed about it at home and everything was fine. UNTIL! I got this "message" from, I presume, one of the girlies in the pictures:

"who the fuck are you...ah i see, one of those people who have spare time on their hands to go around to peoples' pictures and make fun of them smoking. lol. original.

get over yourself, please. youre wasting valuable time, i mean are you NOT in college?"

Ok. I know I should just let this go because she is 15 and stupid, and I am a mature and well-educated 23-year-old woman. BUT Oh my God I want to punch her in the face! Who does this little teenage bitch think she is? "lol"? If I were a more mean-spirited person I would tell her that I know where she lives and am calling her parents to tell them that their daughter is a drug addict who has sex for money so they should really keep a close eye on her because ugly girls are always a target for drug-trafficking pimps and if they're not careful she's going to end up in a Guatemalan prison with a bad colon infection and an illegitimate crack-addicted baby named Pedro.

Thankfully, I am above all that and can gracefully ignore said message. She's lucky I'm so mature, otherwise things could have gone badly for Slutty McFat. I mean, I'm just saying if I weren't so tactful she could have ended up in a Mexican boarding school with all the other skanks with bad hair and Dysentery. It's just a good thing I'm not that kind of person.

Thanksgiving, Jersey-style

2006-11-26T23:52:00.000-05:00

This past Thanksgiving break was among the more eventful of my mid-fall vacations in the Wood. Black Wednesday at MacMurphy's was just as out of control as I expected, and thankfully there exists no photographic evidence. Just. Thanksgiving itself was nice, filled with family fun, cuteness from my baby cousin Katerina, and a wonderfully decorated house courtesy of my moms. As for the food, my parents purchased a giant super grill-o-matic 3000 last week and grilled the giant turkey in its massive hull. It was delicious. Then, the Reunion. RHS's class of 2001 gathered at super-swanky Blend for drink specials, finger foods, and awkward moments abound. Actually, judging from all the horror stories I've heard the night was relatively tame. I saw lots of people I'd been out of touch with for way too long, and managed to avoid making a fool of myself and/or having intense heart-to-hearts/falling-outs with anyone. Good generic times. Don't we look so Breakfast Club-y? Except for Sean who is bitter as usual. Seeeeeaaaaannnnn!

Saturday night was the Luter Lodge 70's/80's Ski Chalet Bash. Having learned that my mother threw away all of her old awesome sweaters, I quickly called up my grandmother whom I knew would have several stashed away in a closet somewhere. Jackpot. I showed up to the party wearing an excellent selection and was also able to provide Sean and Sonia with some amazing choices. Ma-ma-ma-myyyyy Sharona!

All in all a good stay. I slept until at least 12:30 every day, I wrestled with the dog a lot, and I got inappropriately drunk on several occasions. This is what Jersey is all about.

I am skeptical of your business advertisement

2006-11-21T22:08:00.000-05:00

Last night as I was waiting for one Chad Luter to arrive at the phone booth wherein I was hiding from the wind tunnels of midtown, I spotted this advertisement for a free DVD offering training on how to work from home:

Now, I see things like this all over the place, but this one caught my eye. Notice, if you will, the instructions above the URL.

Yeah, webside. I thought to myself, perhaps it was a simple typo. I mean that's pretty awful considering it's a flyer to be seen by ostensibly a lot of people but it happens I suppose. But no, there it was again:

Webside? Really? How did that get past proofreading? I mean OK, I realize this thing was probably whipped up by someone/s with less than stellar English skills, but was there really no one along the way that caught this? I of course went to the websiTe, where I was promptly redirected to a legitimate-looking, nicely composed site...however upon further inspection I became aware that this was put together by the same people. First of all, the URL of said pretty site is completely NOT www.freetrainingdvd.com. Clearly the guy who made the flyer was like, "ooo, they never gave me the link...um...www.realcompanyandyougiveusmoney.com. Perfect." Furthermore, nothing is misspelled! WHO MADE THIS FLYER?? I love the italics, highlighting the error. "Webside....no no, WEBSIDE. Let's say it a few more times just to be sure they get it. Therrrre we go." I mean why did they even need the word? I feel that people would know that URL=go to it. I can't believe no one has taken a tag!

And now, some highlights from the webside:

"Our Step-by-Step System is just like Paint By the Number's! All you need is to be teachable."

"Demonstrates how YOU can take advantage of the trend and explains why you need to have our plan."

"The incomes presented are applicable to the individuals depicted and are not a guarantee of your income, nor are they typical."

Everybody dance like there's ass in your pants!

2006-11-18T14:38:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I worry that there's nothing new in this neighborhood. As rich in culture as the East Village has historically been, there are times when I look at buildings like "1B" and become concerned. But! the past couple of nights have given me some hope; it seems there are still people like Nick Sansano(and maybe Danny) making sure subversive creativity is alive and well.

On Thursday night Jennifer and I attended "Bronze Fondue" at the Downeast Arts Center to see Mr. Sansano and his band, led by one "Huck DeMilo" and accompanied by a slightly creepy Greasy Cravings. They were so excellent.

Last night I traveled all the way across the street to a dilapidated, truly quintessential, crappy East Village apartment building. All of the residents were friends, so each floor offered a different party. And although it was overrun by 19 year old hipsters, I had a pretty good time. Danny (pictured below) got way drunk and had his own personal dance party, I taught Adam how to look cool wearing my sunglasses (at night), and we all danced to Rock Lobster and drank horrible beer from the ancient deli downstairs. Original? Maybe. Fun? You bet.

The Joys of Womanhood

2006-11-04T17:21:00.000-05:00

Usually I embrace my reproductive system. I take great pride in knowing that one day it will allow me to bear children, I'm impressed that it can tell what day of the month it is (using the moon?!), and I'm thankful that it's been a predictable and stress-free part of my body, for the most part.

But today, it made me want to die.

I went out last night and did not return until very late/early in the morning. Therefore, I fully expected and was looking forward to sleeping late. But this was not to be the case. No menstrual cramps, you made sure of that. I awoke, rather suddenly, to horrible pain in my abdomen. Being groggy as it was about 9am, I was initially confused as to why I was awake and idly wondered how long this annoyance was going to prevent me from going back to sleep. Two hours later, bathed in a cold sweat and unable to do anything but writhe in pain on my bed, I was no longer questioning when I'd be in dreamland, more like how I was going to get from my room to the kitchen for a glass of water without dying. At some point Melissa called or IMed me, I don't remember which, and I begged her to bring me some Advil. Mercifully, she knocked on my door bearing a handful of ibuprofen a few minutes later. I took four and laid back down, actually praying to God out loud, whimpering, to make the pain stop. Around 11:30 I for some reason made the decision that I couldn't be in my room anymore. I don't know why I came to this conclusion, but in my mind things would be better if I went to Melissa's. I slowly sat up and got out of bed and, hunched over, walked nextdoor. Melissa opened her door cautiously; she seemed very confused as to why I was there. I mumbled some kind of explanation which seemed to satisfy her and she let me inside. Unable to see straight from the pain, I literally crawled into her bed and sat, in a ball, on the edge of the mattress. Gus was all excited to see me and I tried to pet him to distract myself. Melissa watched helplessly as I rocked back and forth and stared into space. Amazingly, she had a heating pad which she brought to me and which I immediately placed on my abdomen. She left the room and told me to try to just rest. I laid there, with Gus looking at me with huge, pitiful puppy dog eyes. The heating pad started to warm up and for some I'm sure scientific reason, this made the pain worse. I started to cry as I removed it and tried putting it under my lower back. That was slightly better so I Ieft it. At some point I suppose the Advil kicked in and I fell into a deep, gratifying sleep. The next time I opened my eyes, it was 4:45pm.

So thanks, reproductive system, for apparently being possessed by some kind of demon. Thanks for making me almost throw up from pain, and making me miss the entire day. I had plans, you know. A lot of them. I was going to go to the park, I was going to see a movie, I was going to see some art shows, I was going to see my friend Suzanne whom I haven't seen in months and wanted to congratulate on her pregnancy (yes I'm aware of the irony. Apparently you have a sense of humor, too. Great). Really, awesome of you. I'm now pale, physically exhausted, and slightly anemic. I've lost my only free day of the weekend and I haven't eaten anything since yesterday. To top it all off my father just called, offering such sage advice as, "take carre of yourself and eat good thinks so you donn become fat." He went on to explain that, "You shoullld be nice lookink, eet is importannt that you haf nice appearance. I wannt a beautifful daughter, off course." Really, being a woman, it's a blessing.

GOD THIS IS SWELL.

HALLOWEEEEEEEN!

2006-11-01T23:37:00.000-05:00

So! I've finally gathered enough photographic evidence from this year's various Halloween activities to give an accurate visual timeline of the past few days. Unfortunately the pirate concert pictures continue to elude me but perhaps I will just turn that into a separate post once I get them. Okay? Okay.

Friday night was Nora and Octavius' Costume Party. They served green drinks and lighted the apartment entirely with candles. All our Jersey friends made it out aaaand Will and Jenny came to visit from Austin! We had the greatest of times. Will, I miss you kid.

That night Nora and I dressed as Betty and Veronica from the classic Archie comics. Guess which one I was!

Damon and Lynaugh dressed (amazingly) as Murses. That's male+nurses. Here they do some routine check-ups.

Ted's costume was essentially his beard. I think technically he was supposed to be some kind of lumberjack, but let's be honest, no one's getting past his face. He stayed in character all night yelling things like, "Nah what we gotta do is, git owsama bin layden!, Git Al-Qaieeeda!, An' s'port ahr TROOPS! Godbless 'merica." Truly scary.

Will came as a male stripper (classy) and Jenny was an awesome Russian Snow White. She told me the Russian name but I forget it, and apparently in that tale she eats a potato instead of an apple. Who knew!

Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm? E and Nick dressed as Tyler Durden(s) from Fight Club. Well done gentlemen.

Corinne's dimples were made for this costume! This cherry pie a la mode was actually created for her in 4th grade by her mom! Handmade! The pillow ice cream is fabulous.

Man, so...first of all let me say that I love Mike Bouton. He is one of my best friends of all time and a sweet, sincere, intelligent and kind man. BUT, Mike, I almost punched you in the face on Friday when you brought all your drunk med-school friends SANS costumes to the party and totally usurped the living room couch. I mean ok, I know exams are over, I know you've spent the last few months inside a cadaver, but the minute your inebriated colleague slurringly called me "polka dots" I knew I was through being patient. These are the future doctors of America, ladies and gentlemen. Just.

fortunately after Dr. Slurry's hasty removal and subsequent hallway up-chuck, the party continued in full force.

Woo!

Saturday night was, as I said, the pirate-themed Cleftomaniacs concert. I will make a new post later when I have pictures of my beat-boxing my ass off.

Jump to last night, the actual day o' Halloween! I went to work with no specific costume; just a pair of wings I had from last year and some cool eye makeup. Making the executive decision to skip my class, I headed to Nora's post-work. She opened the door in a beautiful vintage red dress and announced that we were hitting the town as 50s housewives. She had a dress for me and everything. I had emailed her some spots I wanted to see so we got ready and stepped on out.

We walked over to an event down the street at the New City Theatre that had boasted live shows, costume contests, dinner, and magic online. We weren't thrilled about the $20 cover, but luckily for us the owner of the establishment took a fancy to us and ushered us in the side entrance. He instructed one of the hosts to give us a personal tour and have our hands stamped so we got to see all of the craziness that was indeed going on.

Next I called Brian to see what he and his entourage were up to. We met him at the King's Head Tavern where our IDs were checked by Tigger and we were given complimentary squishy light-up eyeballs. Why isn't every day Halloween!?!

After a few drinks there we headed across the street to Beauty Bar, where the clientele had much more creative costumes, and the music and dancing were going strong. Here are some of my personal favorites.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

The Great Jack O' Lantern Blaze!!!

2006-10-19T00:14:00.000-04:00

I finally got the pictures from the Nora and Athena Funtober Fall Weekend 2K6! And because it is late and I don't feel like writing I will post them with minimal commentary for you to enjoy/laught at/be jealous of. Ready go.

We arrived in the middle of nowhere, setting the scene for the perfect horror movie. Creeeepy.

But then we found a map.

Since we only had half an hour until the Blaze, we had to set up pretty darn quick. Luckily, we are rock stars.
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And then, the Blaaaaaze! 3000 pumpkins! Maybe the coolest thing of all time. And by maybe I mean actually.

The next day Nora built an amazing fire, we had beer for breakfast, and went hiking all day. We also met an old woman artist who works in a hut made of driftwood and read to us about our spirit animals, but that's another story.

Ah, fall.

1 Year!

2006-10-18T09:08:00.000-04:00

Wooooo! It has been one year to the day since my very first posting ever!

Let's see, where was I that day...ah yes, back over at my crappy old job, bored out of my mind. Sigh indeed. But! out of that boredom came this blog, which I enjoy using to write about whatever I want (including politics, sweetie). And that is good.

So I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been following my life for the last year, from the online dating, bad massages, and horrible pop music to the stories about my travels as well as my insane father. I know you have a choice when browsing the internet for something to waste your time, and I'm flattered when a portion of those precious 5 minutes (hours?) is spent here. From friends and family to the random people I've never heard of and have no idea how you found me, I love you all.

Remember that time we were a democratic nation?

2006-10-03T10:22:00.000-04:00

Yeah, me neither.

I just stumbled across this interesting bit of information that I'm pretty positive won't find itself among CNN's top stories, what with all the has-been celebrities passing out in cars and having illegitimate children recently. (As a side note, I think it's a safe bet to assume that Daniel Smith's cause of death was listed as "embarrassment").

How has it come to this? Is our government really, actually considering putting people in military confinement based on the ambiguous crime of "purposefully and materially supporting hostilities against the United States"? I mean, how convenient is that? Talk about killing two birds with one stone. Won't this just so perfectly quash that nasty immigration problem AND get rid of those unsightly U.S.-based terrorists (read: Muslims)? Maybe you think I am being paranoid, but, as the article goes on to mention, did we not see the same creative wording and subsequent wrongful imprisonment go down during WWII? Imagine this proposition being introduced 10 years ago. What do you think people would have said? Probably not, "Yeah yeah. Hey what's Britney Spears up to?"

I think Mr. Ackerman puts it perfectly; this proposal is a real shocker. Sorry, America.

Would everyone please join me in a collective hand-to-forehead slap

2006-09-21T17:54:00.000-04:00

"President George W. Bush today told Palestine Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, 'Welcome to Washington, D.C.,' although the two were at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York City."

It's amazing that things like this don't even surprise me anymore. He could have said, "Welcome to Mars! We have a delicious Snickers bar for you to enjoy" and I would have just shrugged and continued to shake my head.

The Jeb Bush Center For Children Who Can't Read Good And Want To Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too

2006-09-15T09:41:00.000-04:00

"If you could only do one thing really well to be successful in life it is probably to be really literate because then you can acquire knowledge, be respective of where you are, who you are and with that comes all sorts of other things.”
-Governor Jeb Bush, Florida

I have this theory that the Bush family is playing a huge joke on America; they whack their children in the head with a 2x4 at birth and later set them up in positions of political power. Then they sit back and watch what happens as they laugh to themselves and sip martinis on the golf course. And by martinis I mean liquefied $100 bills.

Update: The War on Bugs 2K6

2006-09-11T15:25:00.000-04:00

Phew. Ok so by now, most of the steps outlined in the previous bedbug post have been completed.

1.) I did not sleep at home until last night, and it was only after making ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that I was the only living thing in my room that I was able to lay my head down on my newly sealed mattress.

2.) I say mattress because I do not yet have any bedding to speak of. While I await my K-mart purchases, Melissa has given me an extra unused fitted sheet she had and Charlotte has let me use her fleece blanket, so for now those are my sleeping accoutrements. It's worth the stiff neck resulting from sleeping sans pillow to know that at least everything is bug-free. I called customer service this morning and everything is supposed to arrive on Thursday. Until then, I will deal.

3.) As you may have read, the exterminator came and poisoned the crap out of everything we own, and after a mass cleaning-out of the kitchen cabinets, I can say with confidence that Charlotte, the cats, and I are the only living beings that will enter the kitchen.

4.) With the vacuum I purchased I have become a frantic vacuum-er, taking any and every opportunity to go over my floor as many times as I deem necessary, which is usually 3 or 4 times a day. (This does not include the first day in which I vacuumed an estimated 9 times.)

5.) My old bed is gone. I bought a drill gun at home depot and dismantled it myself which actually made me feel pretty cool as it was a rather unwieldy 5'9" wooden loft queen frame. BOOYAH. Of course, many many vacuumings followed.

6.) I also purchased caulk and a caulking gun and sealed up any and all holes, crevices, and imagined holes and crevices in my bedroom. Later I will be going over everything with spackle, just to be sure.

7.) It was only after discarding everything that I deemed expendable (including my desk lamp, fan, and half the contents of my closet) and encasing my mattress in its impenetrable covering that I picked up my very clean and very nicely folded laundry for re-entry into my room. I don't know if I'll ever go back to the laundromat; I am way too spoiled now.

8.) As before, anything that I could not throw away has gone in plastic bags (those cool huge new ziplock ones!) to be opened only after 18 months.

The only thing that remains to be done is to re-make my bed once my order arrives and re-go over the walls with caulk and spackle. After that my room will have to remain as pristine as possible at all times with no new additions and regular maintenance of the furniture already therein. My bed is now situated as far away as possible from what I believe to be the "toxic wall" and in general I am spending time in my room only when necessary to minimize the presence of carbon dioxide (which is what attracts the vampiric bastards). You can't be too safe. I've also installed an electric pest controller that is supposed to keep any and all bugs away by using some mysterious force that is activated when it is plugged in. It may be slowly poisoning me while I sleep, but at least I won't have bugs. And that friends, is worth it.

Redonk!

2006-09-08T15:17:00.000-04:00

Oh so many great things just happened. Pete stopped by from Hasbro and gave me a French Gloworm (called Copain Luxi) that sounds like a porn star, he also brought along a few toys that Playskool deemed unfit for children, and we got a letter from the cutest 11 year old boy in the universe. Allow me to provide photographic evidence:

This is the "Balancin' Bug", for children 6 months and older. At first, it appears to be a normal, hazard-free child's plaything.

However, upon closer inspection I noticed these instructions:

And lo and behold:

A toy that you turn on via a switch in its crotch. Amaaaaziiiing! [singsong]

Here is the letter sent from Brent in Ohio. He wants Mark Hamill's autograph for his birthday, and that, folks, is ridonkulously adorable.

BRENT, CAN I GIVE YOU A HUG INSTEAD!?!

All together now: Clone, Trooper, Orchestra!

Smiles,

Thisgirl

Cue the Benny Hill music

2006-09-07T16:18:00.000-04:00

Horror! Intrigue! Cahraaaazy Antics!

The exterminator came this morning...

The kitties are staying nextdoor...

And, someone got stabbed outside of my apartment building two nights ago. DOES THE FUN EVER STOP!!!!????!!!!!

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

2006-09-05T12:14:00.000-04:00

Kill. Me. Now.

Sigh. Ok, just. Ok. I can't even say it.

Last night. I found....I hate everything...a bed bug in my bed.

Yeah, remember when I thought they were gone forever after I almost went completely crazy trying to get rid of them? I woke up around 4am because something was itching on my hand and I saw there was a bite. "No please no," I thought. I turned on the lamp and looked around and there, UNDER MY PILLOW LIKE SOME KIND OF TOOTH FAIRY NIGHTMARE, was the goddamn bug. I killed it a lot. Then, I cried a lot.

Now if you'll remember, I did everything I could to get rid of these ass holes the first time around. I spent almost $1000 cleaning, fumigating, and refurnishing my room. Apparently, it was not enough. So, here's my game plan for Round 2: The Final Showdown.

1.) I called Melissa last night and pathetically relayed the horrible news to her, and she graciously let me sleep on her sofabed. With her permission, I will continue to crash there until the following steps occur.

2.) Charlotte, the newest crusade member in this life or death battle, called the building's exterminator this morning who will be coming on Thursday morning at 8am to "assess and destroy".

3.) He has ordered us to do a thorough cleaning of all rooms and surfaces (luckily, I am a master of this) and has advised us to obtain mattress slipcovers. I ordered mine online at 9:15 this morning, along with 2 impenetrable pillow cases.

4.) I have purchased online at Best Buy for same-day in-store pickup, one (1) upright Eureka vacuum cleaner with detatchable brushes for upholstery and a special nozzle for corners and hard to reach places. The 12-amp device will be used to suck any and all matter out of the rugs and hardwood floors.

5.) I will be dismantling and discarding my wooden loft bed because I have to assume that they are hiding out in one of the many crevices created by the intersecting planks. This is what they do. They bastard their way into your life and hide in the most inconvenient place they can find. Luckily, I kept my metal bed frame.

6.) I will be discarding all sheets and blankets associated with my bed. I don't even want to wash them. I want them gone from my life. I will be purchasing new sheets and blankets once my mattress cover has arrived.

7.) Today after work but before picking up the vacuum, I will purchase a sealant for the right angles in my room. Anything that could be a path to the outside world gets blocked.

8.) Tonight, Charlotte and I will be dropping off our laundry for professional cleaning to be picked up tomorrow, folded and Clean. We will then begin said thorough cleaning process while we drink beers, console each other, and curse the unholy beings that are bed bugs.

If anyone reading this has had this happen to them and can think of anything else I should do or anything I have overlooked, please tell me.

I want to crawl into a hole and cry myself to death. How did they get there? What have I done? Am I being punished? Tested? If I had a firstborn son, I would fear for his life. I can't tell you how awful this is. I want to set fire to my entire block and then pour acid on the ashes. I want to move to Alaska with nothing but the clothes on my back and never return. My sensei's wife was telling me about people that go crazy because of these things and develop permanent delusional parasitosis paired with extreme OCD. I can see it.

Disclaimer: Please, I don't want to talk about this. Feel free to leave helpful comments but unless you are my roommate or my neighbor I don't want to discuss this with you. It will only make me feel horrible and stressed out and I'm already doing everything I can think of and afford so I don't want this on my mind any more than it has to be. I am writing this entry as a plea for help and to outline my plan both for handy reference and for others who might be going through the same thing. I promise if you bring it up I will become irritable and unpleasant. Ok, disclaimer off.

This is now my mantra (from www.savejeffy.com):

For more helpful information and some refreshing wit, visit: Bedbugblog

"The Libertine" or "Johnny Depp Has Sex With Everything"

2006-08-31T11:51:00.000-04:00

Charlotte and I ordered The Libertine on demand last night after much vacillation between several of channel 1000's featured films. I won't lie to you, Johnny Depp had a lot to do with our decision.

That admitted, we situated ourselves on the couch and began to watch Depp deliver the opening monologue as the hedonistic Earl of Rochester. He outlined his distaste for others, his homeland, the monarchy, and life in general, declaring, "You will not like me." Well Johnny, we're going to try.

Now let me start by saying I haven't entirely made up my mind about this movie; the plot is extremely hard to follow, and while I could watch Johnny Depp seduce both men and women all day, the eroticism tends to shout over the storyline at times. But, the acting is very well done (Samantha Morton plays Depp's passionate and strong-willed love interest) and if nothing else the viewer gets a sense of the decadence that was 17th century England.

I remember seeing the preview in theatres, and then as soon as it had arrived it was gone. Odd, I thought; who doesn't like Johnny Depp in period pieces? But now I see that even long hair, lace, and fabulous trench coats can't carry a movie on their own. They help, but somewhere between John Malkovitch's prosthetic nose and the overly phallic play for the French Ambassador, I became irreversibly distracted. I recommend this movie only if you have a taste for bacchanalian opulence and/or a fascination with Johnny Depp. Luckily for The Libertine, I have both.

Take it easy, Bud Light

2006-08-30T09:24:00.000-04:00

I have a problem with Bud Light's new ad campaign. I've seen the posters all over the subways and now hear the commercials on the radio and it just perplexes me every time. The slogan reads: "Bud Light: Always Worth It."

Really, Bud Light? Always?

"Dude I got wasted last night."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah I went out with Eric and we had like 17 bud lights at McSwiggins. After I threw up for half an hour we drove to Brooklyn and picked up these 6 year old girls and another 30-pack and bought some black tar heroin off this guy named Rusty. Then we found an abandoned parking lot and the next thing I know everyone but me is dead and I can't find my left hand. I woke up in the hospital this morning and they told me they had to remove my stomach and most of my small intestine. I'm also apparently wanted for manslaughter in 3 states. But you know what?"
"Um, I-"
"IT WAS WORTH IT"

Christ, these PJs are righteous!

2006-08-28T13:45:00.000-04:00

Sweet Jesus. LOOK at these pajamas. Just, who thought this was a great idea? And why armor? Furthermore, why the contradictory "wings of peace" on said armor? Everything is wrong.

Woe to the child who shows up to a slumber party in these PJs.

Bermuda Cruise! Day 5

2006-08-25T18:23:00.000-04:00

Goodbye, Bermuda!

It was with a heavy heart that I watched us sail away from the gorgeous Island of Bermuda, but I was watching from a pool in the sun with a drink in my hand so I couldn't be all that upset.

We were also sad because it was our last day with "Bubbly", so named because of his enabling chant as he walked around the pool with a cart of drinks.

We spent the whole day by the pool, and eventually our friends trickled down and tried to out-drink their hangovers. Here's me and Rich poolside, shortly before I fell asleep for about 3 hours in that chair.

That night we ordered some room service, packed up, and after spending the last of our quarters in the casino and saying goodbye to all the crazy kids we met, we went to bed (Mom at midnight, me at 4? 5? I don't really recall) and arrived in Bayonne early this morning, where we were greeted by horrendous rain and a tornado warning. Sigh. Oh well. Thank you Mom for a wonderful trip, and to any of you looking for a paradise close to home, Bermuda is your island.

Bermuda Cruise! Day 4

2006-08-25T17:18:00.000-04:00

Tired yet? I am!

We awoke early on day 4 to get in as much beach time as possible. We took the bus as we'd returned the scooters, and at the direction of some helpful Bermudians, headed to Horseshoe Beach. The sneaky part was walking past the mob of tourists and onto a more secluded area that most people were too lazy to check out. Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful setting.

Having experienced the impossibly clear water the day before, I had purchased snorkeling equipment and an underwater camera to capture the life under the waves. Check out what I saw!

The whole time I had The Little Mermaid soundtrack running through my head. Under the sea (under the sea!), under the sea (under the sea!)

That night we skipped dinner in anticipation of the Midnight Buffet. Sadly, I have no pictures of this culinary achievement, but take my word for it, it was crazy impressive. There were giant ice sculptures, fish and turtles fashioned out of loaves of bread, chocolate sculptures, watermelon tableaus, and of course, really really good food.

After dinner we met up with our friends at The Chamber where Mom had one drink and peaced out, and the rest of us ended up staying up until 5 in the morning drinking Grey Goose and cokes in the hot tub while we passed through some sort of tropical storm. Sleep is for the weak!

Bermuda Cruise! Day 3

2006-08-25T16:59:00.000-04:00

Bermuda!

We arrived at 7am onto the island, and the weather was Perfect. We awoke and planned our day, deciding to travel to Hamilton, the Island's main city to do some shopping and get lunch. Then we'd go to Elbow Beach, as we'd been informed by one of the staff members that Horseshoe Beach would be crowded with tourists.

We walked out into the Dockyard where the first thing I saw was this Rooster! Check it out!

Awesome. We had decided to rent a scooter, since the bus lines were very long and we had just missed the ferry. Hamilton was on the other side of the Island, so getting there was going to be a trek no matter what we did. We figured with a scooter, we'd at least be able to enjoy the views. Now, I had never ridden a scooter before but I opted to drive, knowing that my mother's nerves might get us dead. I have to say, I did pretty well on the 45 minute ride there and back, but I think my dress will forever be wrinkled due to my mom's death grip on me the entire time. Navigating on the opposite side of the road is hard enough, but it's an extra challenge when someone is trying to steer you from behind. Ah well. We lived, and after hearing multiple horror stories from the locals that night, Mom put her foot down and we returned the scooter the next day.

We went to the market in Hamilton and bought some bread and cheese to take to the beach for a picnic so we would be able to spend the day there without leaving. I'll leave you with the following photographs, and meet you over at Day 4.

The City of Hamilton

The walk to the beach

Elbow Beach

Bermuda Cruise! Day 2

2006-08-25T16:15:00.000-04:00

We awoke on the second day to partly cloudy skies, but since we were to be at sea all day we didn't mind. We had booked hot stone massages for 4:30pm and while we waited for our appointments we passed the time in the Solarium pool with, who else, Rich and the three Mikes. When I spotted them poolside I tapped my mother on the shoulder and whispered, "That's them! And there's the dude that fell down!" I was hesitant to say hi, fearing an awkward moment because of my hasty exit, but they waved us over shouting, "Athena! Mom! Wassuuuuuup!" My mother was instantly charmed and promptly began making fun of Rich for his party foul and Mike #3 (Big Mike) for going to sleep early.

Then, it started to rain. I mean, really Rain. The boat had been swaying from side to side all day, sending a good number of the passengers to the medical ward, but we took it in stride and tried to body surf in the pool's waves created by the movement while shielding our plastic Corona bottles from the downpour. After a few hours our rowdiness had pretty much emptied the pool of the less fun swimmers, and a very mature lime-throwing fight ensued. Rain? Stop our fun? Ha!

Four thirty finally rolled around and we made our way up to the spa. Now, if you recall, I haven't always had the best of luck with massages. But this folks, this was Heaven. I almost fell asleep about a dozen times during the 75 minutes of intense relaxation, and when it was time to go I was so out of it that I was somehow talked into purchasing nearly $150 worth of massage oils. I somehow made my way back to the room and took a very long, very satisfying nap.

That night was Formal Night in the dining room, and everyone was very dressed up, which was fun. I had some excellent Sea Bass, and we enjoyed conversation with a woman at our table from Brooklyn named Maria. She was on the ship with her 15 year old son who wanted no part of fancy dinner. Ah, kids.

Earlier that afternoon Mikey told us we had to accompany them to Karaoke night at the Maharaja. That sounded like fun to us, so we met up with Rich and the Mikes after dinner and made our way to the club. Now, sometimes people get really into karaoke, and sometimes they just sit there like boring people. The audience that night was of the latter persuasion. But that all changed when Big Mike signed Mikey up for a little solo act. He was angry at first, but secretly, he was into it. Look at his face here. Isn't he so, "Are you ready? Are you? You're not ready."

Mikey had everyone cheering for his rendition of "I Want it That Way" by the Backstreet Boys. Though completely tone deaf, he made up for it with very enthusiastic dance moves and laps around the stage. From that night on he was known to the rest of the boat as "Karaoke Mike".

After some people tried to follow his act, we got bored, Mom went to bed, and the rest of us headed down to The Chamber, the bar/dance club which would come to be our regular hangout spot. I forgot to mention earlier, as we were pulling out of New York the "cruise dancers" were recruiting whoever walked by onto the dance floor. This one old couple got right on there and started dancing up a storm. They did the Electric Slide, the Rhumba, and some other line dance I've never heard of. But they did Not Stop. They were on FIRE. So, who did we see upon entering The Chamber? Yup! Awesome dancing old couple! I wish you could hear the music, because it wasn't old-person friendly music. No, it was Lil Jon and Jay Z and Nelly Furtado singing about getting all up on people and bitches and hos. They LOVED IT.

Bermuda Cruise! Day 1

2006-08-25T15:42:00.000-04:00

For those who were unaware of my absence this past week, I was cruising to beautiful Bermuda via the Royal Caribbean vessel, "Explorer of the Seas". Here I present a chronological account of the events, settings, and people I experienced, complete with photographic documentation. Enjoy!

This was our boat. It is huge. Having never been on a cruise before I didn't fully comprehend how so much could fit onto something that has to float, but as big as it looks from the outside, let me tell you, it's even more massive inside. There is a mall, an ice rink, a mini golf course, 3 pools, 5 hot tubs, 6 bars, a casino, a theatre, a full spa and gym, and about 4500 people. Yeah. Huge.

We boarded at 2pm on Sunday and enjoyed excellent weather as we pulled out of the Hudson River. Calypso and Salsa music played as I sipped a Pina Colada and watched the Statue of Liberty disappear behind us. Then, it was pool time. All the pools on the boat were salt water, refreshed daily right from the Atlantic which, as I came to learn, is quite breathtaking outside of the Jersey shore.

We had dinner in the main dining room at 9pm and after my mother retired for the evening - following Martinis in the Sky Bar - I ventured out on my own to see the sights and meet some fellow cruisers.

This is Mike and Mike, two of three Mikes that would, along with the fourth friend Rich, come to provide hours of entertainment and good times aboard the ship.

As soon as I entered the bar the Mike on the left (Mikey from now on) offered me a drink and asked if I'd be interested in dancing with his friend Mike on the right (Mikey D), as he'd been feeling a little down lately. I politely declined, feigning fatigue, and seated myself for some quality people-watching. Mikey insisted on having a conversation however, and boldly proclaimed, "Everyone who hangs out with us comes away saying they had the best time of their lives." Doubtful, I thought, but since I was alone and it was a social environment, I chatted with Mikey for a little while.

I learned he and his friends, who had by now all joined us, were from Jersey (as was the majority of the boat) and they had decided to take this vacation on a whim, booking the trip only last week. I told them that I was here with my mom who, even though she was asleep, was a very cool lady. We made fun of bad dancers and shared some stories, however while they were seemingly gentlemanly and funny, I was still wary. Especially when Rich, due to a combination of inebriation and boat rocking, fell over on the dance floor, face first. After laughing for about five minutes, I took that as my cue to move onto to other parts of the boat and quietly exited.

I went into a low-key place called Crown & Kettle where there was a musician playing "Brown Eyed Girl" on acoustic guitar for a small group of happy-looking people.

Unfortunately, as nice as these businesspeople were, one of them latched onto me and was not picking up on my "please back up and stop talking to me" vibes. So I made a quick getaway, complimenting the guitarist on my way out. I headed back to the room and fell asleep almost instantly. Sea air and gentle boat movement always puts me right to sleep.

Fun with Photoshop!

2006-08-17T11:02:00.000-04:00

This morning I saw some dude in a Lacoste shirt and my brain immediately switched the letters. I had to make it happen. Take that, trendy name brand clothing!

Feel free to give me more ideas! I'm feeling creative today.

Note: I'm just going to add new ones to this post instead of making a seperate post for each one, because I find that annoying. That said, here's another one I couldn't resist:

And another:

Woo, free time!

I am teh smartest

2006-08-14T13:37:00.000-04:00

Internet memes abound!!!1one

The cinematic masterpiece, "Snakes On A Plane" has once again proven itself by instilling in me the foresight to purchase two (2) movie theatre tickets for 10pm on the night before the official release date. I have never done this before, ladies and gentlemen. Never before have I felt such a sense of urgency about a film that I had to make sure I saw it As Soon As Humanly Possible. But this is different. This is motherfuckin Snakes, on a motherfuckin Plane. Now only one question remains...."Who's comin with me?" (to be asked in the Jerry Maguire voice when he walks out of the office and has the signature Crazy Tom Cruise Face on).

Snakes + Plane = SOAP!!!!!!!11112

You teach me and I'll teach you, PO KE MO-ON!

2006-08-08T14:26:00.000-04:00

So, I was able to make it to the Pokemon Party of the Decade today in Bryant Park. Let me tell you, it was great.

This giant Pikachu balloon watched over the park as hundreds of little kids and grown up nerds lined up to play the new game, get their Pokemon Passports, and participate in various Pokemon arts and crafts.

Speaking of nerds:

Yeah. Not sure who that random dude is either, but he seems to be enjoying himself.

The whole park was decorated with Pokemon paraphernalia, much to my extreme delight. Here we have a little Jigglypuff, just chillin' out and keepin' cool.

This is the Casual Play Area. It's just for like, you know, when you want to play but you're pretty relaxed about it.

This is the main stage, where they had kids battling it out in the Pokemon Nintendo game on a big screen with a really loud and excited woman announcing all their moves. I was informed that it would also be the setting for THE HULK'S appearance. !!. Unforrrrrrrrtunately I had to get back to my office, BUT! I was able to find an area behind the stage that only a few had discovered, where I saw The Man himself. Check it.

Hulk motherfuckin Hogan, wearing a bright red Pokemon t-shirt. Guys, you can't make this stuff up.

Oh. Man.

2006-08-08T09:44:00.000-04:00

Yes. I mean, yes.

I would like to personally shake the hand of whoever came up with the idea to have a POKEMON DAY in Bryant Park, and have THE HULK be the special guest. THINK ABOUT THAT. I am going to try my very hardest to get up there for a little while today because if I don't see this, I'm going to cry myself to sleep.

Who Knew?

2006-08-05T12:58:00.000-04:00

Where were these photos taken, you ask? Cuba? Some Mexican harbor? Nay! In fact, this was just part of the view from a super fun party last night on the Hudson River, right here in NYC!

My favorite thing about this city is that I can feel like I'm on vacation any time I want to, just by finding the right venue. We danced to salsa music played by a live band right on the water, the moon was shining over the surprisingly beautiful backdrop of Jersey City, and there was a lovely breeze coming off the river. Who knew?

To the person who hit me in the head with a large plank of wood last night: um, what the fuck? Also, die in a fire.

2006-08-03T08:55:00.000-04:00

It was an ordinary Wednesday evening. My friend Konstantin called me to see if I wanted to grab a drink, and I suggested we go to 151, as my good friend Danny bartends there on Wednesdays. As expected it was good times; we talked, laughed, drank, Melissa was there, Danny had a creepy moustache, everything was as it should be. As would happen sporadically throughout the evening, Konstantin suggested we go outside for a cigarette. It was around 10:30pm, and we all had a few Coronas in us. Sure, said I, and we joined the other smokers on the steps of the bar.

So we're conversing, everything's normal...all of a sudden, I hear this loud, hollow sound, and see a piece of wood fall at my feet. It was only when Melissa caught me as I was falling that I realized that sound was the piece of wood HITTING ME IN THE HEAD. Pain shot down from the top of my head to my ears and I sat with my head in Melissa's lap for a good 10 minutes as Konstantin took off trying to find and/or kill whoever was responsible. Danny got me some ice, and as I tried to focus my blurred vision, I became aware that people were talking and asking questions around me:

"Did you see it?"
"Yeah it came from up there."
"Where?"
"That guy's apartment, the one who always throws stuff."
"What?"
"Maybe it fell from an air conditioner?"
"There aren't any air conditioners."
"Oh. Fuck that guy!"
"Is she dead?"
"I don't know..."

And so on. As the pain started to subside and I determined that I was not bleeding from the head, I began to grasp what had happened. Apparently, there is "some guy" that lives above the bar who likes to throw "things" out of his window. Usually it's just water, but I guess the heat got to him or something because yesterday it was a PLANK OF WOOD. I mean...I just...I don't...I mean what are the odds??? I think I actually yelled that as I sat up. Why me? Did he aim? Did he not like my hair? Melissa walked me back inside where I promptly requested some advil. They were wary, however, to give it to me, fearing that the combination of alcohol, ibuprofen, and head trauma would surely knock me into a fatal coma. JUST. ADVIL. PLEASE, I said. I took three with a glass of ice water and asked for a reenactment. This, in a nutshell, is what I was able to ascertain:

The precision of the drawings directly correlates to the clarity of my memory. I asked Danny if he kept the plank, and he handed it to me over the bar. Here, Melissa poses with the Thing That Almost Killed Me:

Just? Good Christ. I went to bed terrified that I secretly had a concussion and didn't know it, but thankfully I awoke this morning, and with only a minimal headache. If I press on the bruise I can still feel it behind my ears; I'm not exactly sure what that means but I figure if I'm still alive it's probably not too serious. Fucking PLANK of WOOD!

Already, today is Not Going Well

2006-07-31T10:18:00.000-04:00

Man, I am having One Of Those Days. It started at the unfortunate hour of 6am, when I awoke with crazy thirst, had a glass of water, and then could not get back to sleep until 7:15, at which point my alarm went off. I slept at my mom's house last night, and my sister took the train with me this morning to go to her internship in the city. However since she doesn't know her way around, I was enlisted to help her get there via taxi. No big deal right? Wrong. Have you ever tried to get a cab in Herald Square? It's pretty damn near impossible. Also, somewhere during the 20 minutes we spent looking for one, I stepped in gum. I finally got to my office, where of course my boss was waiting for me. Usually, he does not come in until around 10, but because today is Not My Day, he was here, and miffed. I explained my situation but he just reminded me that I was 13 minutes late. There's something about being reprimanded that gives me a sense of anxiety and failure in my stomach. So that's great.

It's about 10:30am at the moment, and I'm trying really really hard to prevent this day from becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hopefully, I will not have to add to this post 15 more times today. I have my Taijutsu class later on which should be fun, but if things progress the way they have been I'll probably end up fucking up one of my backward rolls and breaking my neck. If that happens, I'd like my epitaph to read, "Here lies Athena: She saw this coming."

Your Child Is Retarded: One Woman's Analysis of The Imaginative Genius of Pee Wee Herman

2006-07-27T14:00:00.000-04:00

As most of you should by now know, Cartoon Network has recently started airing episodes of the 1980s children's television show, "Pee Wee's Playhouse". As I've been rather busy lately I hadn't gotten a chance to watch it until a few nights ago, but let me tell you, I was blown away.

From the moment that little claymation beaver chewed away at that tree in the beginning sequence, my brain was transported back to my developmental years when I would watch this show with intense curiosity. It all came back to me! "Chairy", the Penny animation, the aluminum foil ball...I'll admit I regressed as I continued to watch, and frequently bounced around on the couch as I pointed to the screen squealing, "Oh YEAH!! I TOTALLY remember that!". Sigh.

But this trip down memory lane made me realize something; we have nothing today that even comes close to this kind of creative stimulation for children. I mean, this man finds an old sock on the floor, picks it up, draws two crude eyes with marker as he sings a nonsensical melody, and voila! Instant puppet. And it was hysterical! I wanted to make a sock puppet right then. Each episode consists of little more than a heavily made-up man going about his crazy business in a funhouse, with no plot, no morals, and no logic. BUT CHILDREN NEED THIS! Because what are children, but tiny "kind-of humans" who live in their own little world with their own views of reality and who do the craziest things?! For some reason unknown to me, parents seem to want to suppress this instinct, and create little functioning members of society in their offspring. But the brain is such a crazy place, why limit it's potential? Kids should be encouraged to marry potato salad and dance around all crazy with an 80s themed sqiggles and shapes background!

But then came the Pee Wee "scandal". Surely, thought parents, all this gallivanting around will lead to nothing but pornography and long hair. What if my child learns to masturbate by watching his show? And then gets arrested? And shames the family name and ends up selling oranges on the highway? Better make something a little more generic and politically correct, like a cartoon about a hispanic child who will stare intently at my son or daughter while she repeats over and over "Where's the bridge? Can you point to the bridge? Where is it? Where? Point to it! Where is the bridge? Is it there? Where?" Perfect.

So Pee Wee went the way of so many classic and idea-forming children's shows, along with "You Can't Do That On Television" and "Ren & Stimpy". Heaven forbid something should air that challenges a child's sense of structure. Or that distracts from his or her busy schedule of becoming trilingual before age 5. It seems parents have become so obsessed with catapulting their children into "success" that they skip the crucial step of making sure they can use their imaginations. And I'm not just talking about floating genie heads and talking fish; imagination can come in pretty handy when you have to do a little thing called "problem-solving". It comes up pretty often in life, and it's the imaginative ones that don't end up 35 and living in their parents' basement because they can't cope with life. There have been numerous articles written lately about the inability of collage-age kids to deal with the pressures of school and life away from home. Their parents are actually calling the deans of these universities to take care of things for them! I mean come on. Put down the Ikea catalogue, have a meeting with your advisor, and go play some ultimate frisbee with the hippies on the quad.

I propose that we need a return to sock puppets. There are entirely too many toys out there that do the work for you. Babies that talk and wet themselves, legos that come with instructions, action figures that walk unaided. Where does the child come in? They need to figure some of this stuff out on their own, no? Is that not what we learned in Sociology 101?

So, I for one salute you Pee Wee Herman. Even though the FCC will only air your show on Adult Swim after all the little blank slates have fallen asleep, you remain a beacon of hope in a world of conformity.

I cut you!

2006-07-26T22:18:00.000-04:00

So um, you know what's awesome? Knife fighting.

Today was the last day in the "learn how to use and defend yourself with a knife" series in my Taijutsu class. I'm sure it'll be revisited at some point, but I've for sure gained some valuable experience this time around. Or perhaps...invaluable experience? Inflammable? Flammable.

The point is, knowing how to use a knife even just a little bit is pretty rad. Although, I did end up with the "pointy end" quite unfortunately in my mouth during one altercation today. It's ok, it was plastic. Still, plastic hurts when it's scraped against your gums. Man, knives! You know?

I learned some tricky moves to use if someone has a knife pressed against your throat...did you know there are things you can do in that situation to avoid a severed artery? I pretty much figured once you're at that point it's a one-way ticket to horrible bloody death. But no! It turns out there are several maneuvers that, by some mysterious force not yet fully understood by me, result in your attacker on the floor while you step on his hand and wrist and he is rendered immobile. Those crazy Japanese!

I mean listen. I'm not a "violent" person. But if I've got some person all up in my sauce with a knife I'm gonna go ahead and say I'd like to know not only how to avoid being fatally wounded, but how to make sure that they in turn are hurt to the point of incapacitation. Within the limits of the law, of course. I'm not going to get all slashy slashy on their face for no reason.

So, in conclusion, "knives". They are just as badass as you think they are.

Double Take (get it???)

2006-07-21T15:08:00.000-04:00

Ok, when did Mark Summers become the CEO of Ford?

Seriously look at these two! A Ford commercial came on the other day and I was sincerely confused to see some dude's name under what was clearly Summers' image. Is this their new marketing campaign? Did they turn the showroom into an obstacle course where you have to retrieve slimy flags out of the glove compartments of the new models and only if you beat the other family you get the car? Cause that's actually pretty genius.

(Expletive) Censorship

2006-07-21T00:48:00.000-04:00

I have created a new blog! Huzzah. Faithful readers, if you wish to know the url, please do not hesitate to ask me.

Siren Festival 2K6

2006-07-17T17:22:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday was spent wandering around Coney Island; once again it rained, once again I drank a lot. Woo!

The rain was nowhere near as bad as last time, and it actually helped to filter out all the lame people who didn't want to get wet. We stayed and it eventually became quite sunny, and were able to get close enough to the stage to hear the music. As it turns out however, "close enough to hear the music" encompasses about a one-mile radius. I realize it makes me sound like an old person to say this, but I really would have enjoyed it more if the bass had been slightly less seismic. Get off my lawn.

Octavius and Kyle were in rough shape, having stayed out until 6am the night before, but they rallied and went from dead tired/nauseated...

...to mostly insane.

A good day, I felt. I would have liked to ride the Cyclone but my companions had to (forcefully) convince me that it was probably not the best idea given it's track record and my inebriation. I suppose I can see their point. After seeing Art Brut and Serena Maneesh (a band I'd never heard but thoroughly enjoyed) we decided to walk around the boardwalk and play some games. I completely lost to Kyle at the water gun race, but he gave me the yellow Care Bear stuffed animal anyway. In other news, Octavius, I'll be needing that yellow Care Bear stuffed animal that's in your backpack.

Oh yeah, and I wore a wig. For no reason whatsoever.

Yeah!

EDIT: I completely forgot about the best part of the day:

While in line at Nathan's I witnessed a middle-aged caucasian man with a gold chain walk up to the counter, order his food, then lean towards the server and order a "Sprizzite".

My day has been made

2006-07-13T16:05:00.000-04:00

The best thing ever just happened.

I'm sitting at my desk, putting together the DVD menu for this kids editorial reel we're making, and my boss gets this wistful look in his eyes and confesses it's his secret dream to work on My Little Pony stuff.

"My Little PONIES??!!!???" I exclaimed. "I LOVE THEM."
"Oh me too," he says. "We're giving the Hasbro execs this reel. I think they want us to do something with My Little Pony."

Shut. Up. If we get to work with MLP I may die of happiness.

I think my head just exploded.

Dear Metromint, Die in a fire. Love, me

2006-07-12T11:01:00.000-04:00

This morning as I was approaching the subway I was handed a free bottle of water by a street team of eager young guerilla marketers. I accepted it, as I like free things. However, upon closer inspection I saw inscribed on the bottle's sexy label the words, "Spearmint Water". Spearmint. Water. I give up on society.

I could deal with the whole "fruit water" thing; I personally do not enjoy it but for those who find juice too sweet it's an acceptable alternative, I guess. But mint? That's where one has to draw the line.

For my money, it doesn't get any more unpleasant than when I drink water directly after brushing my teeth. It feels like I'm drinking straight up mouthwash. But hey, maybe you're into that kind of thing.

Am I wrong? Is not mint meant exclusively for mouth-freshening? You're not supposed to eat your toothpaste, right? Have I been doing it wrong all these years? Mint should only be ingested in ice cream form, I feel. I don't even understand mojitos, especially when you get pieces of leaves stuck in your straw. Yeah, foliage tastes awesome in my drink, thanks.

But I digress.

The slogan reads, "pure. simple. mintwater." Now, I feel pretty confident saying there is no spearmint in pure water. There's nothing simple about it's being there. You had to put it there, Metromint. I checked out the website; it's of course all "refresh, renew, relax...etc.". Retarded.

AND, I love how it's called "Metromint". This is going to be great. You just KNOW putting the word "metro" in there is going to make it cool by association. Listen, I worked in advertising, I know how this stuff works. You slap a city-related buzzword on there and all of a sudden every twenty-something who wears his collar up is carrying a bottle next to his double-frappuccino and ipod video. I've seen it a thousand times.

"Omigod, have you tried Metromint?"
"Oh I knowwww I picked some up at Whole Foods, it's sooo invigorating."
"Tell me about it, I just about can't even get through my post-work pre-yoga run without it."
"Forget Pom, this is my new life blood."

It makes me sick. I don't even want to think about what they're going to charge. Hey, you know that thing in your kitchen that has that odd protrusion coming out of it? It's called a sink. And that stuff that comes out? Water! For free! No, no I'm not lying. I swear, you can totally drink it and live off it. No I promise! People have been doing it for all kinds of years, no joke!

God help the next chipper young blond that tries to give me a bottle of this disastrous fusion. Get back on craigslist, find yourself a job that doesn't involve peddling abominations of nature, and get the hell off my block, asshole.

So Flipping Excited

2006-07-10T09:10:00.000-04:00

OK briefly, I'd like to talk about how super excited I am about this Saturday's Siren Festival taking place at my new Favorite Place, the incomparable Coney Island. Seriously I mean, what? Free? All ages? Like 9 bands I really want to see? Free? What's going on? Who are you, Coney Island? Why do you know all of my desires?

I recommend highly that you attend. I know Melissa is coming with, other people I'd like to call out include Brian, Nora and Doc Oct, Char and Chris, Nick, Sean, and really anyone else that likes, you know, awesomely good times.

Check out this link for details.

Coney Island is like an abusive relationship

2006-07-07T15:24:00.000-04:00

It's like, you're not even sure how you got there, and you know you shouldn't stay, but even after you get the crap beaten out of you you're kinda like, "well, maybe I'll just start drinking and hope that makes it better."

Melissa and I found ourselves in Coney Island two weeks ago during a torrential downpour. Did I say torrential downpour? I meant apocalyptic flood.

Now, some people might have given up after their umbrella started to leak, but not us. In the five years we'd lived here neither of us had ever been to CI and fuck if we were gonna leave now. Rain or no rain, we were gonna see us some Mermaids. You see, that Saturday marked the "first official day of summer" according to CI-landers, and of course, what better way to celebrate than with a parade of New York's craziest dressed up like fish-people? Behold!

The first thing we did was check out the bumper cars. With a sign like this, how could we not?

We then sought refuge in the 99 cent museum where they had funhouse mirrors, vintage posters, and a movie about an elephant being electrocuted. Following that, we sat down for some Nathan's fare, where we were accosted by an old guy with an American Flag t-shirt and his posse of Mexicans. I gave the one with three teeth my french fries and we ran away.

As we walked along the boardwalk, we were hustled by a small man in a pirate hat yelling lewd comments and baiting us to "shoot the freak." Obviously, we are not going to say no to that. I mean come on! Shooting paintballs at a live human target? Yes please!

But just when we thought all was right with the world, we boarded the Top Spin.

Why did I think this would be a good idea? All I wanted to do was go on the haunted house ride but somehow we got suckered into getting on this thing, alone, with our purses, in the rain. No one even warned us! I am positive no one is supposed to be upside down that much! We were met with applause from the onlookers after we got off, but were way to nauseated to manage a thank-you. Never again, Top Spin.

After that all we could manage was sitting down and watching other people act crazy for a while. We decided it was time to go when the Nerdiest Man In The World sat down next to us and started chatting us up. Never a dull moment!

In conclusion, I just can't quit Coney Island. Please try not to judge me, and understand that while I appreciate your concern, you'll have a hard time prying me away.

ha HA!

2006-07-06T12:39:00.000-04:00

Take that, bugs! I have defeated you! It's over! You never even had a chance!

It's been over a week since those bastards last bit me, and thanks to my watchful eye and fallout shelter-like living conditions, there's been nothing living in my room but ME.

I am awesome.

WAR!

2006-06-28T10:55:00.000-04:00

It's on.

A little less than two weeks ago, I awoke with a few small itchy bites on my left arm. No matter, I thought; it's probably a stray spider. A couple dabs of hydrocortisone, and I had forgotten all about them. The next morning I rose to find still more bites, this time on the opposite arm. How annoying, I mused. Consulting Charlotte and finding that she was bite-free, I once again chalked them up to a rogue bug. But by the third morning, I was Concerned.

As is more often than not my first move when I encounter the unknown, I did some internet research. I google web-and-image searched for common pests and their corresponding bites, and was able to determine that it was most likely fleas. Yikes, I thought. But hadn't I just had the cat checked out at the vet? Well, these things happen, I told myself.

Immediately following work that day, I went to the pet store to purchase anti-flea paraphernalia for both cats and all furniture in the apartment. Total: $40. I spent the next two hours spraying down everything I could conceivably reach, and then some. I practically bathed the cats in the animal spray (much to their chagrin), and stripped my bed of all its bedding. I vacuumed the floors, couches and my mattress and bleach-cleaned all surfaces in the bathroom. I then took all clothes that had been in or around furniture, plus whatever was in my laundry basket, and took them, with the bedding, to the Laundromat. Two more hours and $10 in quarters later, my room was neater than it had been in months. I took the hottest shower I could stand and got into my still-warm-from-the-dryer PJs. Just then, Donnie called.

"Yo. Pepper's got bed bugs. I can't stay at his place."
"Bed bugs?"
"Yeah we woke up with all these bites."
"...What do they look like?"
"Like these red dots on our arms"
"Fuck."
"What?"
"I just spent the last four hours massively cleaning and spraying for fleas."
"It's probably bed bugs. There's an epidemic in New York. You'll have to get rid of your mattress."
"But I just got a new one! No way."

I began to panic. Bed bugs?? Surely not. Whoever heard of bed bugs in this day and age? Didn't I see something on the Discovery Channel a while back about how bed bugs are only in like Guatemalan hostels? I resolved to deny the possibility of bed bugs and stick to my flea theory.

The next morning I woke up with bites on my legs. Still, Charlotte had zero bites. Desperately looking for answers, I got back on the internet to do some serious research on any and all differences between fleas and bed bugs. What do the bites look like? Where should I check for bugs? Would there be any evidence? Do pets carry them? What is the incubation period? How common are they in my neighborhood? And so on. Unfortunately, with seemingly no presence of anything living in my room, I was unable to identify the culprit. Everything I read told me that flea bites and bed bug bites are nearly impossible to distinguish, and I had a pretty equal chance of having either infestation. Wonderful.

I decided I needed a professional opinion. I went to the doctor on the 6th day to try to at least identify the bites which were by now unmanageably itchy. Not entirely unexpectedly, he told me he didn't know what it was that was getting me, but he prescribed some steroids and an antihistamine. Total cost including meds: $35. He told me to see a dermatologist if the situation didn't improve.

The situation did not improve. By the 9th morning I was officially Freaking Out. My allergic reaction to the bites was such that it looked as though someone had taken a lead pipe to specific areas of my forearms and ankles. Tiny red dots where "something" had drawn blood were visible on each bite/bruise, and when I showed them to people, I was met with shock and sympathy. I made an appointment with the dermatologist.

After extensive scrutinization of the affected areas on my body, Dr. Davis informed me that something was, indeed, biting me. Probably while I slept. Probably in my room. Great. Since Dr. Davis was "out of my insurance network", I was forced to pay her the full $200 up front for her diagnosis. They told me they will file a claim, and I await reimbursement. I went down to my pharmacy to fill the prescriptions for (more) steroids and some topical cream ($20), where they informed me that they would have to special order the anti-itch ointment and I would probably get it the next day. That was the final straw.

I don't mind telling you that I cried a little bit then. I was on 34th street, it was midday, I had to get back to my office, and I was trying really, really hard to pull it together. Breathe, I told myself. You can totally handle this.

I called my mother.

"I don't know what to do the doctors don't know what's biting me and they gave me steroids and I look like a leper and I need to get rid of my bed but I can't afford a new bed and I can't stop itching and WHAT IS BITING ME"

She told me to calm down and then generously, AMAZINGLY, offered to pay for a new bed. "GET RID OF EVERYTHING FABRIC", she instructed. "Call 1-800-Mattres (leave off the last s for savings) and get an inexpensive bed. Have them deliver it tonight. You'll be OK." I felt better.

IT WAS THEN THAT I DECLARED WAR.

I called the toll-free number and ordered a full-sized mattress, box spring, and bed frame. Total cost: approx. $350.

I went to Kmart and bought:

-new sheets
-new pillowcases
-new pillows
-new curtains w/rods
-a new rug
-new towels
-Tide
-A bug bomb
-bug spray
-garbage bags

Total: approx. $240

I went into my bedroom and threw away:

-sheets
-pillows and pillowcases
-comforter
-comforter cover
-mattress pad
-rug
-curtains
-any clothes I hadn't worn in 6 months or more
-towels
-mattress
-box spring
-bed frame
-couch

It was while I was disassembling the bed that I saw them. Under the box spring, hiding in the gauze.

BED. FUCKING. BUGS.

I yelled at them. Yeah, I did. I sprayed bug spray directly on them and watched them die, while yelling at them. I think they were actually already dead but I had to be sure. I emptied EMPTIED my room of all furniture and clothes. I put ALL of my clothes (all) into garbage bags and loaded them onto a cart. I set off a bug bomb in my barren room and went to the Laundromat. I washed everything in HOT water and then transferred them into multiple dryers for 84 minutes each on HIGH. Total cost: approx. $20 in quarters. Charlotte came and met me and took me out for a drink. I was wearing the only thing I didn't wash; brown capri pants and a white t-shirt with black socks and adidas sandals. I've looked better. However she insisted that we go, and even dressed down enough to be somewhat at my level of style. We looked awesome. After drinks I went back to the Laundromat, folded everything, put it in new garbage bags, reloaded the cart, and went home. It was about 1:30am. Charlotte had aired out my bedroom so I swept, then Swiffered a LOT. I then threw away the clothes I had been wearing and took a very hot shower. Wrapped in one of my new towels, I assembled my bed, made it with the new purchases, and put away all of my clothes. I got dressed and sat down. It was 3am. I glanced over my shoulder at the floor by the head of my bed and saw a bug. crawling. on. the. wall.

Again, I became dangerously close to complete hysterics. I could have easily lost it right then and cried forever. I was on the cusp. But instead I got really, really mad. With eerie calm I took the cap off the bug spray and POURED it onto this lone bug. It died instantly. I then SOAKED the perimeter of my room where the floor meets the walls and moved my bed to the center of the room like an island. I sprayed the bed frame and wheels and the floor around my island. I slept fitfully.

I awoke for the first time with no new bites, but I was still nervous as I knew I'd have to move my bed against a wall eventually, and there may yet be survivors. Work dragged on as I thought about what steps I could further take once I got home. I knew that somehow what I'd done wasn't enough. So I got home and got rid of my lamp, my nightstand, anything made of paper that wasn't a book, and anything on my shelves that wasn't jewelry. I then moved the bed out of the way and vacuumed the holy hell out of my floor. I got in the corners. Between the radiator bars. In the electric sockets. Everywhere. Twice. I got to know my floor. Every paint splatter, splinter, and discoloration. I repositioned my bed against the opposite wall and placed my small table, the only piece of furniture left, far away from it. I put the important papers and things I could not throw away in a sealed garbage bag and set that on the windowsill. I placed a flashlight by my bed. I showered, and put on PJs and socks and went to Melissa's for a little while. I got home, changed my socks and clothes, and got in bed. Since the war declaration no one, including pets, has been allowed in my room except me. I spent a good 20 minutes closely inspecting the floor and bed with the flashlight before I fell asleep.

That was yesterday. This morning I woke up with no new bites and thankfully the old ones are getting better. I pray PRAY to all things holy that this is the end. Apart from moving there is nothing else I can do. Actually I lied, I am buying some resin today to create a seal around my entire room which I hope will prevent any further invasions. For the next week or so my room is a pristine, sterile bunker. No shoes. No animals. No opening the door. I won't even bring my purse in there. If it isn't new or wasn't exposed to boiling hot water for an hour or more, it can't be in my room. At least until I'm sure I'm bug-free.

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. It has exhausted me physically, emotionally, and financially. And I don't even know if it's over! I've read all these horror stories about people that have lived with them for months or years and never get rid of them and spend thousands on exterminators to treat their places multiple times and even move and the assholes still follow them. I refuse to let this be a part of my life. Just, no way. If I have to throw everything I own away and just start completely over I will. Not allowed. Not in my house.

So bed bugs, I hate you. And I will kill all of you if I have not done so already. Do not crawl on me while I am sleeping, or ever. Do not get into the cracks in my walls. I have memorized the exact placement of every dot on my floor and walls and if you are among them I will know immediately. I am armed. I am vigilant. You underestimate me. Also, you owe me about $950 so, you know, if you could get on that.

Girls, can we talk about something?

2006-06-22T16:42:00.000-04:00

Listen, I'm an open-minded person when it comes to fashion. I live in New York, in the East Village, where everything from pumas to pasties are acceptable. I am totally supportive of the desire to express oneself through one's attire. But please ladies, stop wearing tank tops over t-shirts.

Just...pick one and stick with it. You can't have both, it will never look good. No, it won't. And here's why:

Firstly, there's the issue of fabric compatibility. I find that the women who embrace the t-shirt/tank top amalgamation uniformly choose fabrics that not only don't go together, but seem to actually repel one another. Examples? Silk and cotton, suede and linen, wool and polyester...the list goes on. The reaaason these fabrics don't work, girls, is that the tank top was never meant to have anything beneath it but your bare skin. It is a summer garment. You wear it when it's hot, and sleeves and collars have no place in or around it. Why are you messing with it? When you add the t-shirt, what results is a wrinkly mess of cloth underneath your fitted tank top that makes you look a five-year-old who got lost in her mother's closet. It looks awful. Yes, it does.

It just...it confuses me. Because it's not laziness that prompts the decision; clearly you were trying to be stylish or something. But you can't just put on one of everything that looks good in your closet an call it an outfit. I mean why stop at shirts? Why not wear your bathing suit over some jeans? Or a miniskirt and some ski pants? Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch, I just need to get this out of my system. I saw three women wearing this anomaly yesterday alone; that's more than I've seen since 7th grade when this short-lived trend died out along with triple-ponytails and Bedazzlers.

I know I'm not alone on this one. Yes, there are some trends that fade in and fade out; surely in second grade I never imagined that my cowboy boots and leggings combo would look good at 23 but, well, here we are. Unfortunately girls, this is not one of those trends. Just put down the t-shirt and go find yourself some nice assless chaps like everyone else in this city. God.

All of this is Awesome.

2006-06-19T12:21:00.000-04:00

OMG everyone.

The BEST thing ever happens sometimes in my apartment. We have this wine rack in the kitchen. It's pretty small and made of wicker and has little spaces into which the bottles fit nicely. What is awesome is that the other thing which fits nicely is MY KITTEN!

She loves to escape into these little pods and oftentimes will fall asleep while in there. I managed to capture one of these moments.

Just look! Is that a fine '97 Pinot Noir? No! It's Ninja, being the cutest thing on the entire freaking planet.

Man oh man.

The other awesome thing I snapped a photo of is this AMAZING Hello Kitty Guitar. Ho. Ly. Crap.

Imagine my surprise as I'm casually walking down the street and spot this baby. Awestruck, I took a moment to let my brain absorb what I was seeing. I then maneuvered my cell phone behind the locked gates of the storefront, just to get a clear shot. I want to learn guitar just to buy this incredible instrument. Do you think the notes are sweeter? Cuter? Pinker? I think they must be.

I dare you to contest the awesomeness of these photos!

SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE!

2006-06-12T10:02:00.000-04:00

No, ladies and gentlemen, I did not use the zoom feature on my camera phone, I was actually that close to The Rapture last night.

My dear friend Kevin graciously invited me to the secret show, which was a benefit for a friend of the band who sadly has cancer. He was there though, partying it up with everyone else.

Here's some more photos, so you can see just how close we were.

This dude is awesome. Not only can he play about 9 different instruments, including like 7 cowbells, but he's one of the best dancers I've ever seen. Check out those moves!

They put on a great show, as expected, and we got a sneak peek at some of the songs from the new album coming out this fall. Many thanks to Kevin for a wonderful evening.

And now for good measure, some intensely cute pics of Ninja.

So. Passed. Out.

Ninja, how do you be so cute?

2006-06-08T01:41:00.000-04:00

I got a kitten! Her name is Ninja and she is the tiniest.

My Big Fat Greek Set-up

2006-06-05T16:24:00.000-04:00

All right. So, in case you don't recall, this past weekend was my "Not at all awkward father-daughter trip to D.C". I had been dreading this excursion on many levels, but let's not get into that now. Let's just explore the events of our sojourn, in the most humorous and objective way possible, shall we?

The trip started off as expected; my father arrived about 4 hours early to the train station and proceeded to call me every hour to leave frantic voice messages on my cell phone. (Note: any and all Spiro quotes should be read with a heavy Greek accent. There are some small Greek phrases that I suppose are only funny to me and other Greek speakers, but just assume they are hysterical.)

"AtheNa. Thees ees your fatherrr. hWherrrre are you? hWhy you are not there? I am heeeerrre, at thee tren stassssion. I donnot know hwhere you arre."

I received four messages like this one from the hours of 9am to 11am. I was scheduled to meet my father at 11:30am at Penn Station, for a 12:05 train. He got there at 8:45am. JUST TO BE SURE. Also, every time he called, he gave me the address of the train station. The train station in the center of New York. Where I have lived for 5 years.

I arrive at the station, 15 minutes early.

"hWherre were you re kouritsaki mou?"

"Baba ('dad' in Greek), I'm 15 minutes early."

"I thought maybe you werrre sleeping."

"...I have an alarm..."

He then takes inventory of my ensemble. I am wearing nice black jeans, nice boots, and a black sleeveless turtleneck. I also have a backpack full of clothes for both casual and fancy occasions.

"Ah, hm. OK, you ah...you donn't wear a drress?"

"For a 3 and a half hour train ride?"

"Your fatherrr wearrs a tie and nice suit. You haf maybe otherrr clothes?"

I make a futile gesture to my backpack, and when this fails to register, I say simply, "Yes, Baba."

"Ah, Ok. Good. You will change therrre? Yes, Ok."

As we walk downstairs to the Amtrak platform, I try to lighten the mood by making a joke about even remembering to pack my toothbrush, but he is busy freaking out over the train times. See, the other fun thing about Spiro is that he is insanely controlling, so he has to be able to see for himself exactly when and where our train is on the big train schedule board. Unfortunately, due to severe glaucoma, he is virtually blind. So instead of asking me what the schedule board says, he gets as close as humanly possible to it and then shouts back at me,

"ONE-FIVE-SEFENNN? WE ARRE ONE-FIVE-SEFENN? THEE TWELF-OH-FIVE TREN? AtheNA!"

Head down, I walk over to him as quickly as possible and quietly ask to see our tickets.

"Yes, Baba. It says the train is on time. There's no track number yet, it's too early. Let's go sit down."

So we find some seats, and put our stuff down. Now, as most of you know, throughout the day there are many trains pulling onto various tracks, usually within minutes of each other. You're also aware, I'm sure, that not everyone is going to the same destination. My father has yet to realize either of these things. So every time an announcement was made about the status of a train, my father would grab all our stuff and start walking towards the platform.

"No, Baba, that's not us. It's only 11:45. Our train is later. Sit down, I'll tell you when they announce our train."

Of course, the train is 20 minutes late.

"Theesse trens in Amerrica, re gamoto only herrre...you go to Eurrope, thee trens are (he snaps repeatedly.)"

Finally, train 157 arrives in the station. Spiro forcefully manhandles an old man out of the way and runs down the escalator, shouting for me to follow him. I apologize to the startled gentleman and proceed.

We find some seats, and settle in for the trip. I won't spend too much time talking about it; I basically spent my time trying, in vain, to quiet the rude and loud remarks made by him to the other passengers for the duration of the ride. Just.

3:30pm we arrive in Maryland. We are picked up by Mr. Morton, the husband of my father's friend Effie. I'm told we'll be staying in their house, a huge relief as this means I will get my own bedroom. I shake his hand and introduce myself politely, but before I can get my name out my father interrupts,

"Ah, yes theese is AtheNA, my daughterrr...ha, ha, yes you see herrr father wears a suit and she ees like thees... (he points, grimacing, at my outfit.)"

"Would you like me to be wearing a ballgown?"

At this, Mr. Morton laughs. I like him for this.

"Yess well, she grrraduated from NYU and worrrks on Park Avennue, and ees going for herrr Masterrr's in thee fall."

This is something my father is excellent at; in under five minutes he establishes a power dynamic in which I say nothing, and he rattles off my accomplishments like a show dog owner. SIT, ROLL OVER, GOOD GIRL.

We get to their house, and I meet the rest of the fam, including my apparent betrothed, James. Now, up until this point I had assumed that while I joked about this trip being some sort of bizarre Greek setup, it was actually just going to be another boring dinner during which I am ignored because I don't speak Greek well enough to participate in the conversation. Then we'd go home, be in bed by 9:30, and meet some more obscure Greek people the next day. But no! We sit down in the living room and Mr. Morton says to James,

"So, what time are you two going out?"

I freeze. He looks at me with an equally horrified expression and says,

"Oh, um, well I have to work tomorrow so...we should leave soon? I mean if that's Ok?"

"Wha..um..sure?" (What?)

I then feel a *tap tap tap* on my shoulder and my father says to me,

"Now, yes, of courrrse you will go and channge."

I go upstairs, put down my things, and laugh for a good three minutes. Oh. Good. Christ.

After I get dressed, I go downstairs and attempt to make as quick an exit as possible. Thankfully, James picks up on this and we getthehelloutofthere. To my immense IMMENSE relief, as soon as we get in the car he turns to me and says,

"Man, this is so awkward, I'm sorry."

Fuck, I was just relieved that he spoke English. I said, "Don't worry about it, this is all hysterical."

Surprisingly, we actually had a totally normal and even fun time. We even had a very in-depth talk about my father and our bizarre relationship, and he gave me some pointers on how to deal with him. We then talked about the sheer madness of our parents' trying to set us up despite our protests and 10-year age gap. But what can you do. A delicious steak dinner was followed by pool-playing at a sketchy dive bar with two rowdy Marylanders named Joe and Cecil. All in all, not a bad Saturday night.

Of course, because I got home late I got a lot of, "Soooo...you guys had a good time last niiiiiight?" From the parents. Great.

The next day was, as I'd guessed, a lot of meeting random old Greek people. I stayed out of the conversations while my father apologized for my lack of knowledge.

"Herrr motherrr, she does not speak at hhome. I dunnot know hwhhhy."

As requested by my father, we were dropped off at the train station an hour and a half before its departure. When he asked how my evening had gone, I tried to explain the humor of the situation but was only met with,

"hWhyy this is funnny?"

Sigh. He was very disappointed that his match-making efforts had failed, but was in a surprisingly good mood for the ride home, singing in Greek for about a third of the trip. Loudly.

I'll assume he made it home; when we got back to New York I pointed him in the direction of the subway and walked as quickly as I could in the other direction. I'm seeing him again on Wednesday for dinner with some friends of his, who apparently have a cousin I just HAVE to meet.

Sunburn! And, Philippe!

2006-05-29T21:40:00.000-04:00

Stick a fork in me, I'm done!

Or something.

Over this uncharacteristically sunny and warm Memorial Day Weekend, I became rather sunburned. It happens every year at the beginning of the summer, but for some reason I never remember the pain with enough clarity to avoid the sun. I imagine it's the same sort of phenomenon that allows women to keep having babies. This is why I plan to become a childless albino hermit. Can't "become" albino, you say? Watch me!

Anyway. Here's some pictures of my really, really sunburned skin. I even added a little dude with an "agah!" expression, because my phone has that feature.

Here's Andrea and Jimmy, equally if not more sunburned than myself. They were playing cards because it's an activity that requires a conveniently limited range of motion. You'll also notice the giant bottle of Cocoa Butter; it's the only thing that soothes horribly sunburned skin, and we fight over it. But not too aggressively.

And this is Philippe! (Pronounced filleep-ay)

My grandmother found him under our house by the outside shower just crawling along, making his way across the pebbles and berries. He looked lost, so she took him upstairs, washed him off, and created a little environment in a tupperware container complete with small rocks, a water sponge, and a tiny plastic Palm tree.

He is so mobile! And fast! He does not sit there like most boring turtles I have come across. He moves about constantly and blinks his little eyes (which is very cute because he has to squish up his whole face to do so). And sometimes he only blinks one eye at a time. What a truly remarkable turtle.

FO SHIZZLE

2006-05-22T13:19:00.000-04:00

From time to time, my Jersey friends will throw a fabulous theme party. We've been doing it since high school and really, it's pretty great. This Saturday's soiree was Hip-Hop/bling themed and yes, we had a case of 40s. Old English of course.

Oh no you di-in't.

Looks like I'm going to have to kill again.

2006-05-19T09:47:00.000-04:00

Wow. WOW!

Incredibly, Time Warner Cable has failed at Cable Installation Attempt: The Sequel. I suppose I should have listened to Charlotte on this one. But I thought, really, how can they fuck up a simple installation? Well, this is how:

So I left work early to make sure I would be home precisely at 6pm, as the Installation Window was from 6-9pm. If you recall, Installation Attempt Number One failed due to my apparent absence at 6:30pm...even though I was in fact, home. But I thought, hey, I did get home 15 minutes past the hour, maybe his watch was off, maybe I just missed him, etc. Not this time though. This time, I was going to be ready and waiting.

As soon as I walked in the door (5:35pm), I called TWC to confirm my appointment, just in case. The representative informed me that yes, I should indeed be expecting a technician between the hours of 6 and 9pm. Excellent. I settled on the couch in the living room with a book and a blanket. I wanted to be close to the buzzer, and I thought maybe my bedroom was too far away. I was not taking any chances.

I did not move from that couch for the next three hours. I wanted to shower, as I did have plans for the evening, but there was no way I was going to risk missing this dude. I waited, patiently, glancing every now and again at my television set and thinking, believing, that any moment now I'd be able to turn it on and channel surf at my leisure.

SORRY, NO.

Sigh. 9:20pm rolls around and I am Angered. I call TWC, navigate through the tedious automated menus, and finally get an actual person on the phone. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hi, yes, I'm calling about my installation appointment that was scheduled for today between 6 and 9pm?
Very Nice But Entirely Unhelpful Representative: I'd be happy to help you with that. May I have your account information?

(I give it to him)

VNBEUR: Oh. Well, it's showing me here that it's been cancelled.
Me: ...
VNBEUR: Um...
Me: (trying to be polite) So....why?
VNBEUR: Well...it doesn't say really...
Me: ...
VNBEUR: Oh wait, here we go. Oh, it says that he was there 5 minutes ago...
Me: ... Well that is incredibly not true.
VNBEUR: Um...well...it says he couldn't open the door.
Me: Did he buzz?
VNBEUR: It doesn't say.
Me: Did he call?
VNBEUR: It doesn't say.
Me: I see.

At this point, I am quietly furious. Later, I will get loudly furious. But my state of shock is such that I am unable to manage more than short, hyper-polite, passive-aggressive responses. Read on.

VNBEUR: OK well let me see, maybe he's still outside.
Me: (runs to the window, desperately looking for a truck)
VNBEUR: Ohhh...yeah he just punched out. He's gone.
Me: OK. Listen. This is the second time this has happened. I have been home the entire time and it is completely impossible that he tried to get in and I didn't hear him. Trust me.
VNBEUR: Well ma'am I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience...let me see if I can get you something tomorrow.
Me: No no. Call him. He cannot have gotten far.
VNBEUR: Well unfortunately the dispatch office closes at 9pm and there's no way to get in touch with him. He only has a radio.
Me: ... Fine. What do you have tomorrow?
VNBEUR: I'm checking...

As an aside, this guy should have gotten an award for the performance he gave. What followed was the most contrived sincerity I've ever heard:

VNBEUR: Ohhhh. Oh noooo...no don't do this to meeeee...
Me: ....what.
VNBEUR: Siiiiiiiiigh. Well, it's showing me here that the only thing available is on Tuesday.
Me: No. Don't you have anything this weekend?
VNBEUR: Well unfortun-
Me: Just, stop. OK. When on Tuesday.
VNBEUR: 2-6pm. Can I put you down?
Me: No, I work all day. I need something after 6pm.
VNBEUR: Oh, well, then... we don't have anything until Thursday.
Me: Wow. Of course.
Alright. I mean, I don't even know what to say, sir. I have been on my couch since 6pm. I left work early. I am telling you this because you need to know that there is no possible way I could have missed this person.
VNBEUR: Haha..hah...well um, I'm leaving a note on your next appointment, "call cell phone..."
Me: Write "BUZZ THE DOOR. IT IS 4B." Write that. And my cell phone number.
VNBEUR: OK...writing it....
Me: OK now, since we have to assume that this will get fucked up somehow, what do I do when he does not buzz.
VNBEUR: Well he has to.
Me: You would think! But what if he is retarded, and also has no cell phone?
VNBEUR: Hah...well, he's a technician, he has to have a cell phone.
Me: But you just told me he only had a radio.
VNBEUR: Oh...well...he'll have to use a pay phone.
Me: Right. And when that doesn't happen?
VNBEUR: Listen, I'm going to give you your first month free, OK?

I mean, listen. I felt for this guy. I'm sure he gets people calling and yelling at him all day about the unbelievable incompetence of Time Warner. But we live in New York City. I would love to know where in this town you can simply open the door to a building without buzzing first. There is absolutely no way I can believe that he wouldn't think to buzz. And if he was unable to figure this out, I'm not sure I want him installing my cable, or being in my house for that matter.

Don't lie to me, Time Warner Cable. What happened was, the dude was late, he didn't feel like working anymore, his shift was technically over, and all he wanted to do was go home and stand guard in his living room in case anyone decided to walk through his front door which apparently is left open at all times because no one has told him about buzzers or doorbells.

Tell me that, tell me that he was late for his threesome with two Russian prostitutes, tell me that he's suffering from heroin withdrawal and he had to go meet Juan the drug dealer, tell me he doesn't give a fuck about me or my cable...but DO NOT tell me that he tried to buzz my goddamn apartment. Because that is a lie.

Kicking Ass: A Photo Series

2006-05-16T15:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I took lives. It's not something I'm proud of, but it had to be done. Take a look.

Oh no! A dangerous man is about to attack unsuspecting me!

Bam! Not today, mister!

He tries to come back for more, but I elude him.

And then kill him.

Then this dude tries to take me down!

But he's bitten off more than he can chew.

And so I break his spine.

WHUT.

Amen, Brother

2006-05-15T15:24:00.000-04:00

Listen, I don't begrudge anyone their belief system, nor am I about to judge others for their personal choices.

But, this article is pretty funny.

Purity Balls.

EDIT:
Proof? Proof.

Random goings-on that are not particularly interesting and do not really tie together in any significant way. But you are bored, and will read this.

2006-05-15T10:57:00.000-04:00

Jyes, ees time to hayve the updatink. I don't know.

So I actually wanted this update to be titled, "Funny things in my Phone, Vol. 3", but my phone is dead at the moment so I cannot access said things. Perhaps later.

In other news, it's been awhile, and things have happened. Things like, my new futon cover. VERY exciting. But really, it is actually very pretty. And there are pillows.

This Thursday I am getting cable installed! I am excited because this means I can lounge on the new futon cover and watch episodes of Lost and Big Love and The Office that I've missed. I do not want to celebrate prematurely however, as Time Warner Cable has already failed at Installation Attempt Number One. Don't worry, I yelled. I am hoping things go smoothly on Thursday however, because I don't give second chances. Next time, someone will have to die.

Which brings me to my next bit of news, I recently signed up for Taijutsu in Chinatown and sometimes Queens, where I will be trained to defend myself against potential attackers, lecherous men, and incompetent technicians. I am especially excited for the weapons class. And punching people in the heart, as the opening page of the website demonstrates.

In less exciting news, my father is coming to the tri-state area for AN ENTIRE MONTH, beginning May 25th. I am NOT looking forward to this, because I already know how it will go. This is exactly what will happen:
I was informed (not asked) that we are taking a train down to D.C. the first weekend in June to "spend some time with" (read: set me up with) the son of some well-to-do friends of his in Greece, who are just "really great (rich) people" and their son is "a good man" (a doctor).

Now, nevermind the fact that I have to spend upwards of 4 hours on a train with my father, time which will be monopolized by his complaining, yelling, and possibly crying, I then have to spend the weekend in a hotel where I will not have my own room, and will be going out to horribly awkward dinners and whathaveyou with people I have absolutely zero interest in meeting or talking to. NO IT SHOULD BE FUN THOUGH, REALLY.

The rest of the month will have my father calling me daily, insisting that I take a bus out to Jersey several times a week to visit him (because he does not do public transportation) at the home of his crazy and old greek friend Jerry. Jerry is a crazy lawyer who has three cats and rooms full of antique asian statues. Only.

I would not be so upset at this if I thought we'd be having normal conversations and pleasant interactions. But these meetings of ours serve only two purposes: 1. to show me off to friends and relatives, 2. to tell me I am a bad daughter. Sometimes I think, "Hey, I'm 23 and a self-sufficient adult...probably he won't do that this time, as he will realize I am not 11." But no no. I am still denied an opinion of my own, and all thoughts/feelings/reactions I have were obviously planted there by my mother.

Wow, when did this update get so hostile! Fuck that noise, I am not about to get all disgruntled up in this bitch. The important thing is, I have oatmeal in my bag, and I'ma go make some.

Once I get my phone up and running again, I'll have some good pictures to post, including one of Mr. Ru rocking out on my keyboard. Yeah!

Songs!

2006-04-30T19:24:00.000-04:00

You can now listen to two (2) tracks by Bad Friends at this url!

We recorded them not two hours ago in Melissa's apartment using her very large iBook. Gus was eating things loudly so we put him in his cage, but we still had to work around the constant fire engines, car alarms and crazy homeless people outside. In addition, Donnie and I are both ridiculously sick which makes it really easy to sing. Really. I mean why is flipping everyone sick all of a sudden? I think this is the Bird Flu you guys. I think this is it. Get the duct tape.

Pandemic aside, I'm pretty pleased with how the tracks turned out, and I bet the rest will be even better once I learn how to use Garage Band.

I Am Sick

2006-04-29T17:27:00.000-04:00

I mean sick. Can't get out of bed sick. Can't hear out of my right ear sick. Oh what was that? Did you say something? Sorry I can't hear um, anything. No wait *cough* I wanted to say *cough* something *cough* but I can't *cough cough* BREATHE. *Cough*.

So it's about 5:30pm...I see that it is a beautiful day outside. Unfortunately I cannot confirm this, as I have not left my apartment since last night/early this morning when I got home. Oh. Yeah. That's right, I went out last night. In BROOKLYN. Best idea ever. I am the SMARTEST GIRL.

Just. Why did I think it was a good idea to not even wear a jacket? I can only attribute my excellent judgement to the fact that my brain is lacking oxygen, due of course to the crap in my lungs, head, and body in general. GOD I FEEL AWESOME. Do you know that I beat-boxed in the street last night? What's my plan here?

Best of all, I have that weird/disorienting feeling of being in an alternate universe; that thing that happens when you haven't been outside all day and/or take a nap in the middle of the day and wake up feeling like you missed life. I have done both of these. By 2pm today my biggest accomplishment was that I had already gone through an ENTIRE box of Kleenex tissues. I am currently on box #2. To add insult to injury, the cat is shedding in sheets, which at this point I am convinced he is doing on purpose to torture me.

I want my mom to make me soup. I want to be tucked into bed and given toast and juice and watch cartoons. But no. I have to go to WORK in about an hour to update the website after the LEGO Batman premiere on Cartoon Network (which you should watch by the way. And then see more stuff here.) Then I'll drag my ass back here, where I will continue to listen to The Arcade Fire and Fiona Apple in my bed and fall into a Dextromethorphan-induced coma.

We are Bad Friends

2006-04-27T16:05:00.000-04:00

I am in a band! We are awesome.

Check out our website here. I made it. It took a long time.

I will let everyone know when we have our first show, which will be SOON.

Coloring Gone Awry

2006-04-12T11:13:00.000-04:00

I really, really like coloring books. A lot. And I don't just like them, I appreciate them. I ALWAYS color inside the lines, and I make sure that the colors are all in the same family to avoid any clashing themes. In my formative years, when my motor skills were not quite up to par, I would discard any pages on which I had even slightly wandered outside the lines. I am serious about coloring.

Woe was me, then, when I discovered much to my chagrin that my coloring partner (who shall remain anonymous due to the embarrassment he/she would undoubtedly feel) was completely devoid of the Aristotelian logic required to successfully complete a page in my My Little Ponies Coloring Book. I have evidence. It's a disgrace.

Here is my side of the page. Notice the seamlessness with which the crayon marks flow together. Why, it's almost as if I hadn't been using crayons at all, but rather some material that allowed me to simply lay down the color of my choosing, resulting in a perfectly flat layer. Take a moment to really look at that. Beautiful.

Sigh. Here is the other side. Not only are the colors completely nonsensical, but one of the Ponies has a different color head. I...I just...I don't know.

And look! it appears as if this vandal has actually created extra elements on the page. That is unacceptable. Do not invent things that are not there. Not in my coloring book.

Once again, a close up of my side. Note the brilliance of colors, the subtle variations in hue, and the RAINBOW, people. That is a goddamn gorgeous rainbow.

So. Can it be salvaged? I...I don't know. But I think the real question here is, where did this person go wrong? What could have happened in his/her childhood that led to such atrocious coloring habits, and what can be done to help? You see, to really understand the impulses, we need to look deeper into who these people are, and try not to judge too harshly. It cannot be their fault entirely. Perhaps, one day, we will be able to pinpoint the problem when it arises, and with a little guidance we can save millions of honest coloring books around the globe.

Oh, and...

2006-04-06T10:07:00.000-04:00

Today's weather? 55 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. The end is nigh, people.

Hang on a minute...

2006-04-05T13:20:00.000-04:00

It is Spring, right? I just want to make sure, since I'm looking out my office window right now and all I can see is a BLANKET OF SNOW. I'm pretty sure I was brunching in sunny 70 degree weather on Sunday...yes, yes I definitely was. Hm. It appears we have finally environmentally fucked ourselves into eternal winter. Awesome.

ΖΗΤΩ H ΕΛΛΑΔΑ!

2006-04-03T10:12:00.000-04:00

What do you get when you mix Astoria, 50+ New Jersey congregations, and about 300 Yayas? The Greek independence Day Parade, of course! Yesterday marked the 75th anniversary of NYC's GIDP, with blue and white floats cruising up 5th avenue along Central Park. To give you a little background, Greek Independence Day marks the end of a destructive war against the Ottoman Empire, which started in 1821. It's why we hate Turkish people. Independence was finally granted by the Treaty of Constantinople in July 1832 when Greece was recognized as a free country. Naturally, we celebrate with meat, flags, and scantily clad women. Do I have pictures? You better believe it.

Here we have a gentleman dressed in the traditional Greek soldier uniform. The epitome of masculinity, he marches proudly in his elf-like shoes, knowing that his manhood will be protected at all times by those stylish wool tights. The Scottish got nothin on this guy.

I mean, really? Who did this intimidate?

This poor girl has been dressed in what the women of 19th century Greece typically wore. Floor-length skirt? Check. Poufy white blouse? Check. 5,000 gold necklaces, bracelets, and bangles? Blazer? Head-wrap? Check, check, aaaaand check. It's a good thing Greece doesn't bake in the Mediterranean sun all day. That would have been uncomfortable.

Fortunately however, Greek fashion has evolved, and the oppressive garments of yesteryear no longer plague the youth. Behold! This float was one among many showcasing Greece's, um, virility . Que the techno.

I got to see my sister march with the Wycoff G.O.Y.A (Greek Orthodox Youth Association), and it reminded me of my days as a Greek child; reciting old Greek poems in front of impatient geriatric immigrants in Greek school, learning the traditional dances and performing them (in the traditional outfits, of course) for the priests, and going to various religious retreats and meetings with my fellow Goyans, where there was more flirting than God would probably be comfortable with.

If nothing else, the Greeks understand the importance of tradition. I'm happy to see that nothing has changed much since I was a teenager; the boys still put more gel in their hair than the girls, the girls still wear outfits to church that I wouldn't wear to a nightclub, and the parents still turn a blind eye in that hopes that at least they'll marry each other and have Greek sons who never cut the umbilical cord. Sunrise, sunset.

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other

2006-03-24T09:31:00.000-05:00

There is a popular restaurant/bar in my hometown called "The Office." Appropriately enough, the place is decorated to resemble a study of sorts; there are shelves of old books, typewriters scattered around, and framed pictures of stodgy Victorian men and women on the walls. Imagine my surprise then, when I noticed this particular portrait among those stoic faces:

Can't see it? Look closer:

Wait...is that...?

YUP. It's Beaker. You may remember him from such classics as "The Muppet Show", "Muppets Take Manhattan", and "Muppet Babies."

Needless to say, I was pleased. Meee mee mee mee meeeeeeee!

Athena Has Fallen Asleep At The Party

2006-03-21T16:44:00.000-05:00

Seriously, why does this always happen? I'd say it was probably around 2 or 3 in the morning when this photo was taken at our party last weekend; an entirely reasonable hour at a party. It's not like I was overly intoxicated, or hadn't gotten enough sleep...so why do I look like I was just taken out with a baseball bat and stored in the corner to be forgotten about and collect dust? Am I getting old? Have I lost the ability to party like a Rock Star? Someone get this girl some coffee.

Grad School!

2006-03-20T16:23:00.000-05:00

Before I'm overrun with classes and papers and student loans, I'm taking this time to be excited about getting into grad school! I'll be getting my Master's degree in Art Education and will begin taking classes part-time in the fall. I received my acceptance letter from NYU last week, and posted it on my fridge like a dork.

Though I know it will be nothing like college, I'm still excited to go back to school. I think a big part of my excitement also has to do with having something to look forward to. While I'm very happy with my life, I do tend to feel like I'm in a state of suspended animation some of the time. Knowing that in a relatively short time I will be certified to start a whole new career gives me that same sense of anticipation I had a few years ago. Up until our early twenties we go to school and "prepare" for our "real lives" in measured semesters. Since graduating, I've had a tough time accepting that I could do one thing for years at a time, every day, with little to no day-to-day changes. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and have fun learning the animation business, but I know I won't be able to do this forever. I tend to get restless very easily, and need things to change usually every few months. Hence the multiple body modifications and hair colors. But juvenile impulses aside, I do think it's healthy to switch things up sometimes. The happiest people I know have lived in many different places, had multiple jobs, and as a result tend to be able to see things from many different perspectives. Which is good.

So we'll see how it goes. In other news, Happy Spring! Is it warm yet?

A Weekend in the Land of "Pop"

2006-03-20T14:20:00.000-05:00

So as most of you know, I traveled to Michigan this weekend to visit Graham. While I was only there a short while, I definitely had a most fabulous time. I'll have pictures to post soon; I took them with a disposable camera, so I'll have to drop that off at some sort of store to have them developed.

I actually had a very enjoyable flight over. I am not what you would call a "fan" of flying, so I was pleasantly surprised when I was able to make a friend, enjoy some Chardonnay, share funny anecdotes, and experience little to no turbulence during the hour-and-a half flight. An excellent start. Graham met me in baggage claim, and we took the Soccer Mom van that he stole from the spanish department back to his place in Ann Arbor, where we watched a movie (Chumscrubber, pretty good) and did some serious chilling out.

We awoke early the next morning (or rather, Graham awoke early and watched cartoons...I slept until 11) and headed over to a For Real rummage sale. Folks, this place was awesome. There were floors upon floors of various items; old prom dresses, obscure books, ugly posters, computers circa 1985... all selling for $5 at most. I bought a belt that would easily have cost about $35 in NYC for ONE dollar! I paid in quarters! Graham found a sweet "Science Alliance" t-shirt and valet-style maroon blazer with killer gold buttons. So much fun. From now on I will try to purchase my irony exclusively in the Midwest.

Saturday night was filled with activities. First, we went to dinner at The Dearborn Inn with Graham's parents, his sister Hilary, and her fiance Luke in honor of Graham's mother's birthday. Not only was the food delicious, but we were entertained by a Charlton Heston look-alike piano player who, with the exception of his creeps-inducing "Send in the Clowns", was quite enjoyable. After dinner, Hilary and Luke departed, and the rest of us drove to downtown Detroit to the Matrix theatre; where Graham spent much of his life pre-NYC. We saw a play called "Homelands", about Detroit's historic yet sadly abandoned central train station. The play was very moving, and it was really nice to experience a part of Graham's life pre-our meeting. I was able to get a sense of his involvement with and importance to the theatre (him having co-written the play back in the day) and it filled me with girlfriend-ly pride. After the play, we went back to Graham's parent's house for a bit, where I got to see some great photos of him as a child (and in Spiderman pajamas) and enjoy some birthday cake and Vernor's. Many thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Atkin for a wonderful time.

It was a good thing we had napped, because the night was not over. After a quick change into some steppin' out clothes back at Graham's, we were off to "The Bang". This is a monthly event much like NYC's Misshapes, where the hipsters of Ann Arbor come to dance and wear their sunglasses at night. We danced to almost every song, and got in some quality people-watching. The night ended as it always does, with Squeeze's "Bang Bang", a completely fun song, and, as it turns out, completely impossible to find anywhere on the internet. You can check out some photos of the event here; I believe we make a few cameos, Graham more so then me. He is very tall.

Amazingly, we woke up semi-early on Sunday, and after watching Saw II (Seen), we headed over to the UofM campus to do some walking around. We revisited the comic book store and the J-pop store, where I was able to purchase some of my favorite Japanese candy and a verysmall bear magnet. We then bought lunch at Zingerman's Deli, a famous eatery in Ann Arbor known for it's international foods. I had an awesome sandwich.

I got back to New York around 9 last night, feeling kind of lonely but having had a very nice, and very event-filled time. As much as I dislike traveling thousands of feet in the air at unnatural speeds in a heavy man-made contraption, I do like going new places, and visiting my boyfriend. So I'll probably be going back at some point. MICHIGAN'D!

I kind of love this store?

2006-03-13T16:45:00.000-05:00

Check it. So I walk by this place all the time but have only ventured in recently. I'm pretty sure it makes most people uncomfortable, but as for me, I kind of love it.

Have you ever seen the movie House on Haunted Hill? It's mostly a crap movie, but it's got some seriously creepy scenes dealing with homicidal mental patients and various body parts torn asunder. This is what came to mind upon exploring Obscura: Antiques and Oddities. Was I okay with that? Yes. Don't judge me.

A brief list of goods availble:
- Old box of false teeth, in various stages of decomposition
- Various black and white photographs of dead persons, ages 0-100
- Various taxidermied animals, also in various stages of decomposition
- "Something" in a jar of liquid
- Devices that were at one time used to explore the insides of people
- Sword(s)
- Bugs
- Arsenic

Obscura is located at 263 E. 10th Street between 1st and A.

Funny Things In My Phone, Vol. 2

2006-03-13T12:20:00.000-05:00

After perusing my cellular telephone for a brief while this morning, I realized that I have much to share. I do apologize for the sub-par quality of these photos/videos however. Maybe someone wants to buy me a new cell phone? I am open to that.

Aminals

This is Ace. One of the animators at work brings him in sometimes. He snorts and is very soft and compact, like most french bulldogs. He also likes to follow me around, perhaps in the hopes that I will feed him some small morsel of something. However, I dare not, as his owner keeps a watchful eye on him at all times, and sort of Creeps Me Out.

But look how cute!

In other cute animal news, Mr. Rupert was being a bit rambunctious the other day, so I thought he needed to calm down for a little while. Hence, the Ru-wrap. I find this stabilizes him quite nicely, and amazingly, he did not protest once. I proceeded to pat his little head until he was quite sedated, and once left to his own devices, he stayed cocooned awhile before sauntering slowly off to find something to scratch.

Parties, people, and debaucherous behavior in general...

This is me, getting ready for one of the many parties I attended this past weekend. This was friday night, the night of Steven Spencer's "Lowering of the Drawbridge" party. It was a fun time, and I'm happy to say, no one was severely poisoned to the point of death.

Moving on.

The next night was the second Dual Apartment Party, hosted by myself, Charlotte, and Melissa. In my opinion, it went fabulously well. Here we have Mr. Nicholas Luter, graciously posing as what I like to call, "the confused german".

Here is Sean, being not as cooperative, and holding his breath in protest. Reeeeeeal mature, Sean.

This is Hannah and her cousin. I do not remember his name, but I do remember that he is 19 and carries magazine clippings of himself modeling in an undershirt and nothing else, as he kneels and lifts his hands towards the heavens. How very. So I told him if he wanted me to take a picture of him he had to drop-trou and pray to god. I do not think he found this amusing.

The Ipecac Challenge

This is exactly what it sounds like. In short, after a long week of hard work, several employees of Treehouse Animation decided it might be fun to experiment with induced vomiting. Clearly, hilarity ensued. Sorry Eric.

Good times, crappy Verizon phone. Good times.

Heels Were A Bad Choice

2006-03-02T16:49:00.000-05:00

So, I am kind of afraid to walk home. I discovered during my lunch hour that I cannot take but 5 steps before I come dangerously close to falling all over the slushy sidewalk. My shoes have no traction whatsoever, and in this weather that's like walking onto a freshly zamboni'd ice rink in stilts. I can only barely avoid an embarrassing spill by focusing every ounce of my brain on NOT slipping. This means walking very, very slowly, and probably with my arms out, which will undoubtedly make me look like a fool and have everyone silently mocking the genius who wore high heels during a snowstorm. I can only hope that most conscientious store-owners have salted their respective sidewalks. Otherwise I am going down ladies and gentlemen.

Oh Good Christ

2006-02-23T17:41:00.000-05:00

I CANNOT stop looking at this hedgehog. I mean my god I've had the browser open to cuteoverload.com ALL DAY just so I can sneak looks at his little tongue sticking out. JUST LOOK AT IT!

How can it be so cute? Really, How Does This Happen?????

I MUST OWN ONE.

An Informal Survey:

2006-02-22T16:44:00.000-05:00

I present to all of you a Hypothetical Scenario. Please help me out by posting your vote in the comments section; I am very curious about the outcome of this survey as it will, I'm sure, help cure various diseases worldwide and also end poverty. Every answer saves a puppy.

Please choose the answer which best describes you:

I would break up with a significant other with whom I was very much in love if he/she were to __________:

a.) contract Pink Eye
b.) gain 300 pounds

You must choose one and only one. There are no wrong answers, except to not answer at all. Also it would be helpful to list your reasoning behind the answer, but simple "a" or "b" answers are fine too. Responses can be anonymous. Please remember that this is a strictly hypothetical situation and any similiar situations that have occured or may occur in the future are purely coincidental.

I will try to chart your responses and have a graph available by sometime next week. Thank you for your participation.

I got a Bad Massage

2006-02-22T10:21:00.000-05:00

Alllllllright. Let's, for a moment, forget the pretentious implications of getting a massage in the first place, and instead focus on the recipient of a gift certificate for one (1) massage, and the events that took place on the day she chose to redeem said certificate. It's important that you come with me on this journey, and not judge me along the way.

Here's how it went down. I had been thinking about when to cash in on this Christmas present for some time. I didn't want to just rush into things. Oh no, this had to be special. I don't know if you know this about me, but getting a massage is one of my favorite things. I'm not even talking about professionally; I'm not one of those chicks who lives in a spa and spends half her paycheck on "mani-pedi's" or other such indulgent services. No sir, I'm totally fine with asking friends, relatives, loved ones to spare a few minutes to ease the tension in my neck, crack my back, or play with my hair (I love those 5 minutes of scalp massaging when I get my hair cut). Anyway. The point is, my mother had generously paid for me to enjoy a 75 MINUTE massage at Bliss, a very nice spa in NYC. 75 minutes! Being massaged by a trained professional! Now, I had up until then had a professional massage twice before in my life. Both were 30 minutes long, and both were Totally Awesome. So I mean, I knew this was going to be GREAT. Hence my desire to save the experience for a time when I really Needed it. I wanted a ball of tension to store itself in my back like a hibernating animal. An animal that could only be coaxed out by soothing music, fragrant candles, low lighting, and the hands of a skilled Swiss woman.

Alas, it was not so.

I scheduled the appointment for the Monday following the first week of my new job. I thought this would be a good time, since I had been feeling very stressed out due to my not having any job at all for almost a month. I almost scheduled it during this time of unemployment, but I did not feel I would really appreciate it as much then, as I had so much time to be at home relaxing and watching cartoons. As it turns out I was right; my first week back in front of a computer left my back crazy knotted and by 5pm my fingers tended to go all tingly. So I called up Bliss, found out the 49th Street location stays open until 10pm, and scheduled an 8pm "Blissage". Having a massage to look forward to made the weekend all the more enjoyable, and I was actually excited when Monday rolled around. Looking back, I should have seen the warning signs.

Since I get out of work at 6pm, I figured I could take my time getting uptown, maybe see if Game Stop had anything new. But it turned out that that day we were Exceptionally Busy and I had to stay late. I ended up leaving at 7:15, leaving just enough time for me to get there by 7:45 to "check-in". It is Bliss policy that you arrive 15 minutes before your appointment to give your name, sign some forms or something, et cetera. I didn't question it, I just didn't want anything to cut into my Massage Time. So I left work hurriedly, already stressed about arriving late. Then, after waiting a good 20 minutes for the 6 train, I finally realized as it was pulling in that I was stupidly on the downtown side. Sigh. So I crossed the street, went back underground on the correct side, swiped my card AS the train was arriving, and THWACK, slammed my hip into the turnstile as the screen flashed JUST USED. Aghghgh. I ran over to the attendant and frantically tried to mime my situation as I listened for the "bing-bong" that would mean the doors had closed and I had lost my chance. Miraculously, the guy understood my flailing, and opened the gate just in time for me to run up to the train doors and have them swoosh closed in my face. SORRY ATHENA.

Somehow, I walked in at 7:46pm, a bit flustered but mostly relieved. I was shown into the women's dressing room to disrobe and re-robe with an actual robe. This robe was very comfortable, and I finally began to relax as I was shown into some sort of waiting room where there were small snack-y things, tea, white wine, ice water, and magazines. I poured myself a glass of wine, put some olives and a crackery thing on a napkin, and waited for my masseuse to come fetch me. I was feeling good. Warm. I knew that in mere moments, I would be whisked away to room of melting relaxation. BUT NO! I was snatched from my reverent anticipation by a shaky and DEEP voice, the voice of a dude.

Now let me explain something. A massage, though performed by a professional, is unavoidably invasive. I mean, first of all, it requires that you be mostly unclothed, and as if that weren't enough, some person is going to be kneading their hands all up into your skin. And sometimes, you get a couple close calls. However, this is not a Big Deal when your masseuse is a nice, experienced, perhaps foreign lady with all the same anatomy as you. I might even be okay with a guy if he were similarly seasoned, polite, confident, and reassuring. My massEUR was none of these things. What he was, was a nervous, young, short (I don't know why, but that made it creepier), and fidgety DUDE. Not man, not guy, not male, dude.

But. This was my Massage. My Massage that I had been waiting since December to receive and I was determined to keep a positive attitude. So. I was led to a room by Mr. Sweatypalms and instructed to once again disrobe and lie down face-up on the table. He left the room while I made myself comfortable, and as I stared at the ceiling I tried to tell myself that even if he seemed weird, he was ostensibly a professional and would at least be able to loosen the knots in my upper back. He came back into the room, and in a shaky voice explained to me that he would be starting with a foot massage, followed by some sort of moisturizing foot wrap, then work his way towards my head, I'd turn over, and he'd do my back and neck. Fine. I figured I'd close my eyes, listen to the alternating Norah Jones and Billy Holiday tracks, and try to forget that a 30something circus midget who was probably a virgin was giving me a rub-down.

I soon realized that this was not going to be possible. As I lay there, I became painfully aware of two sounds that would permeate my session, and my happiness. First, there was the breathing. This dude was breathing like he had just resurfaced from a two hour deep-sea diving excursion. THE WHOLE TIME. I almost asked him if he was okay, but I was afraid he'd have some sort of breakdown and I'd have to console him. This is how disturbing the BREATHING was. Then, there were his sneakers. I do not know what material these shoes were made of, but it most certainly was not made for sneaking. Or maybe it was the way he hurriedly shuffled around the room like he was performing heart surgery and I could die at any moment if he didn't retrieve the essential oils in time. Whatever the reason, audible squeaks surrounded me every time this dude got up, which was often.

So, we're 20 minutes in and I'm decidedly uncomfortable. Then, as the dude is wrapping an entirely too-hot plastic bag around my right foot, some part of the bag rips. I know this not because I feel or hear it, but because he goes "FUCK." ... Do not say fuck during my massage. I am here to relax and you are supposed to be soothing me, calming me, massaging me away from a world where people say fuck in stressful situations. So I ask, "everything okay?" as politely as I can manage, and he explains that he has to quickly go get a replacement bag. Squeaky squeaky squeaky, he exits. I am once again left alone to reflect on my situation. Now, I am fairly certain I am not high-maintenance. I bite my nails. I don't always wash my hair every day. I leave dishes in the sink for extended periods of time. But. This was an Expensive massage, and while it was not my own money that was paying for it, they did not know that and I expected that I'd be receiving my mother's money's worth.

But I digress.

Dude finally returns, new bag in hand. I realize that I could have, and should have said something at this point, but I kept hoping matters would improve. Besides I was already feeling vulnerable enough lying half-nekkid under a sheet, and I was afraid that if I said anything it would shatter the palpable air of tension in the room and he would cry or yell at me or something similarly the opposite of relaxing. So I stayed quiet and pretended to be asleep as he proceeded to give me a scalp massage, which felt more like the routine lice-check at summer camp. Except the camp nurse didn't BREATHE LOUDLY IN MY EAR. Just.

So. That was my "Blissage". It completely Blissucked and I was left thoroughly Blissappointed. Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to again entrust my muscles to a stranger, but until then I'll just have to whine around my friends until one of them grudgingly pounds on my back.

Holy Technology!

2006-02-14T15:02:00.000-05:00

Ok so, maybe I'm behind the times, but I've just recently discovered that while I do not have the proper software to download pictures from my phone onto my computer, I can in fact email them to myself. This is great news, because I have many funny pictures on my phone that I would very much like to share with others. So. With this newfound discovery, I present to you, "Funny Pictures In My Phone Vol.1":

This is from an art opening I went to last week. That big white lump in the middle? That's a giant stuffed panda bear that was exhibited with a bucket of combs and a sign that said "Brush Me Please". There was a 7 year old girl happily combing away as I approached and instead of shy away as the masses of pretentious psuedo-artists and people-watchers swarmed around her, she enthusiastically demanded of all those within earshot that we give said bear a mohawk. Done and done.

Haha. Ha. This is Graham grudgingly posing for a picture while wearing The Cutest Hat In The World. We found this gem at an awesome J-Pop store in Michigan, where I was also able to purchase a small black furry pig magnet, and Hello Kitty socks. I'll be going back. I'll also probably be in trouble for posting this.

This I just had to capture forever. It is the sign that was on the broken ATM in the deli downstairs from my apartment. I think it speaks for itself.

THIS is Mr. Rupert, my roommate's ca-raaaaazy kitty. This is a video of him doing what he does best, biting the crap out of me.

So that's all for now, I'll be sure to post any other amusing scenes I happen to capture with my old yet apparently useful Verzon Wireless Cellular Telephone.

Today Is My Birthday...and a serious post

2006-02-13T12:04:00.000-05:00

And on this day that marks the day of my birth 23 years ago, I find myself thinking about myself-or selves-past, present, and future. I was born during a crazy snowstorm, much like the one that recently pummeled NYC. Whenever this happens, my mother likes to get nostalgic, telling me for the umpteenth time of the 27 grueling hours it took, spent mostly driving through said snowstorm, to bring me into this world (by cesarean section, no less). I mean, Yikes.

Then I'm told of myself pre-my own memory. The infant and toddler me's. I'm told how I was a particularly precocious child; fully articulate by age 2 and able to give my parents lip in english, greek, and french. My father especially likes to highlight my linguistic abilities as now, I no longer remember much greek. This is of course due to my mother's refusal to continue conversing with me in greek after they divorced, simply to spite him. Ever the victim, he can now only sigh and shrug, embarrassed, when he introduces me to friends and distant relatives. A failure before my fourth birthday, I have yet to redeem myself. Sorry, dad.

So I was raised by my mono-linguistic mother, and though she struggled through marital, financial, and personal strife, she provided for me and supported me every single day. I cannot giver her enough praise; I will simply say that she is the strongest person I know, I am and will always be extremely grateful to her, and if I turn out to be half as good a mother as she is, my children will be exceptionally lucky. Love you Mom.

And now I'm a self-sufficient adult, all graduated and employed and a resident of New York City, with 23 years of life behind me. Maybe it's because I spent my formative years as an only child, but I've never been good at being disappointed. So I make it a priority to be as happy as possible at all times. There have been times where I was not successful, or maybe didn't take the best path to getting there, but so far I don't regret anything I've had control over. My decisions have made me the person I am today, and I don't regret that either.

So as I review my life, (which all my greek relatives will tell me is bad luck) I am ridiculously thankful. Considering the fact that I could have been born anywhere and into any circumstances, it's pretty amazing that I have this life. I try really hard not to take it for granted, but I also really make sure to enjoy it. Too many people worked too hard to ensure that I had a good life for me to waste it being unhappy. But so far I'm healthy, I know that I'm loved, and there are so many people that I care about. I truly love my life. But just to be safe, as I type this I am crossing myself and spitting in the air to ward off the devil. As I knock on wood. My grandmother would never forgive me if I didn't.

I Just Made A New Blog!

2006-01-28T12:56:00.000-05:00

I just made a new blog! Formatted slightly differently, it is a comic of sorts, and will hopefully be visited by people. I will try to make it funny.

I have linked to said blog for your convenience; it is titled "East Kill" and you should tell your friends about it. We can all laugh together. And then go to a movie or something.

I Quit My Job! And more things going on.

2006-01-12T17:18:00.000-05:00

Fucking YES. I am no longer working for my oppressive, unorganized, and foreign boss. I beg you, never settle for a crap job! It may seem like a good idea but it is not! To sum up my ex-job: 9 1/2 hour day, no lunch break, no benefits, minimal salary. Why did I do it in the first place? Well, like most other post-modern post-adolescents post-NYU, I needed to get out my house, and get back to NYC. So I took the position, knowing that it would at least afford me that opportunity. And it did, and now I'm here. So F YOU, JOB!

Thus marks the beginning of my unemployment; a time so far (well) spent watching dvds, and painting my room. Oh and sleeping in. SLEEPING IN IS EVERYTHING YOU THINK IT IS. And more. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently.

So. What, you ask, will I be doing in lieu of said horrible job? Haven't quite figured that out yet. But really, it's fine. I'd be lying if I said unemployment was causing me stress. Because it's actually kind of glorious, and I think, deep down, you are jealous. So stop hating. I have been sending out my resume like crazy and have three interviews this week alone so DON'T WORRY. I will emerge triumphant. But in the meantime I am treating this little sabbatical as a welcome vacation, a breather, a holiday. I HAVE ONLY BEEN OUTSIDE ONCE TODAY AND I LOVE IT.

In other news, I am also taking advantage of this opportunity to visit my boyfriend in Michigan. Michigan. THAT'S RIGHT. I really have no idea what to expect from this state. I will go with an open mind however, and try to feel comfortable in the midwestern surroundings. Nora gave me a lecture on midwesterners last night, her family being from Minnesota and all. I'm kind of nervous? I'm used to people telling me outright what's on their mind, but apparently the midwest is a land of subtlety. I think I can look forward to a lot of "interesting"'s and "that's different"'s from the locals upon conversing with me. This I have learned is code for "I am completely unable to connect with anything you are saying on any level." Hm. Still, I am confident I will have many fun times, as Graham will be escorting me to and fro in his home state. We'll be visiting Detroit, maybe I'll get shot!

But I digress. I guess my main point is, if you feel like finding me a job, really, I won't stop you. No no, I am not above asking for help, favors, envelopes of money, or presents. Really I am very mature about things like this, it's a gift. So spread the word: For a limited time only, young, highly marketable graphic designer is available for hire! Don't let this opportunity pass you by folks! I mean seriously. No really...seriously.