i threw three drawerfuls of clothes from my dresser up on the shelf in my bedroom closet. hopefully they won't fall. packed up most of my clothes in one duffle, as well as sheets and towels. now i've bargained myself into bed, as i usually do when i have to pack. this involves me saying, "self, you've done so much today and been so productive and it's so damn hot, why don't you just go to bed and get up early in the morning and finish then?" "no, i should do this now and then sleep the sleep of the innocent." "oh, who wants that? just go to sleep. sleeeeeeeeeep. slllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppp." "okay!"

so i'm in bed, and i'm going to sleep, and i'm going to get up at 730a and pack my nice clothes in a valpak, and my white and blue bedspread and pillows in another duffle, and try to pull stuff i don't need from my laundry basket because why transport stuff i won't wear, and shoes and random stuff in my suitcase and a box of a couple books and cds and screenplay stuff. i took a cool (not pins-and-needles cold, just cool) shower and now i feel clean and clean and clean.

i can do this. i can.

<jdb> recognize when you are failing versus when things around you aren't working.
<oppsie> i think my problem is being unable to see the difference.
<oppsie> i don't know why i have no confidence. i wish i did. but i feel like it's unchangeable, like i never did.
<jdb> what would you do differently if you were more confident? how would it qualitatively change day-to-day life?
<oppsie> i wouldn't worry so much about everything. i'd just trust that it would be okay, and that i can make it so.
<jdb> is there anything which prevents that from being true right now?
<oppsie> yes. me.

posted at 11:28 PM

oh look, it's another midlife crisis.

i wish confidence grew on trees. and that i could go five minutes without worrying about something, big or little or just plain medium-sized.

my eyes are hot. but not sweaty hot. it's a different kind of heat, the kind where the sky meets the floor all in a rush, and ends with blood and a bang.
posted at 9:28 PM

packing sucks. it is so hot and hideous, but at least now i am working on cleaning out my dresser and basking in the bedroom a/c. while i cleaned this afternoon and jill rooted me on, i'd do about 45 minutes in the living room, then we'd hide in the bedroom for 15. it was the only way it was bearable. it is seriously 90 degrees in my living room. i almost wish i had a thermometer just so i could verify that. but i was truly productive, truly. i finally got rid of all the boxes i had just deposited in corners when i moved in, so i guess i'm finally admitting i live here (plus i just renewed my lease). now i have a lot of space. it's scary. maybe i'll fill it when i come back at the end of september.

i think the heat is sapping my memory, because i was midway through the last bowl of soup that i thought was the only thing i'd eaten today when i suddenly remembered that after my haircut and buying the rubber sheet, i stopped at a little japanese place called saji's and had an outstanding lunch of cold soba noodles and veggie and shrimp tempura. that experience was just completely wiped from my brain, as if it never happened. i only vaguely remember it now. and this morning when i woke up, i had a really weird experience: i had slept in just my underwear because it was so hot, and put my pjs in the corner of my bed by the wall. when i opened my eyes i looked next to me and they were gone. where did they go? did they somehow get tangled up in my covers, or fall down the miniscule crack between bed and wall? i turned on the light and looked. nothing. zip. doodah.

then i noticed that i was wearing them.

i'm losing it, for real.

ps the mail was late, and the checks are here. hooray! (this means this is all really happening. urp.)
posted at 8:52 PM

short hair rules. although i wish i had the bravery to allow myself to cut it all off and get a really cool buzzed butch haircut. because that's what i'd really and truly like. unfortunately i think i'm destined to have hair at least an inch below my ears for the rest of my days. martha gave me another wonderful haircut for under $35 with my columbia student (shh) discount. i tried to sked a pedicure as well, but they were all booked. oh well, maybe in nh. i arrived at the salon drenched in sweat because the asshole driver of the 1116a m4 bus refused to wait for me as i sprinted down the block to the stop and just as i got there he decided to pull away. prick. so not only did i not get the reward for sprinting of sitting in the mega-a/c of a crosstown bus, but i had to walk all the way to the salon. it's a long walk, and it's uphill, and even though it was 1130a it was already 95F. so i was totally sweaty and gross, and i still am, even though i am hiding in my bedroom while trying to motivate to clean the apt. at least i had a few moments of bliss at the haircut: when they washed my hair, they used freezing cold water. it was delicious.

after the haircut i went to the linen store at bway/109 and bought a vinyl protective sheet for my mattress while i'm gone. then i made a pointless trip to the post office to check my po box one last time; it was empty, and already has a nice piece of paper taped over it that, reading through it backwards from my vantage point, says to forward my mail. neat, although i wish i hadn't wasted the hot, hideous trip time.

i'm waiting for jill to arrive and be my cheerleader while i do it. there's just something very depressing about cleaning and packing by one's lonesome. also i need somebody here to tell me not to panic and freak out, because i just checked my mailbox and subletguy's checks still have not appeared. i called morrow and he told me not to panic and that it would be alright and that subletguy wouldn't have set up a key handoff with him if he wasn't legit, but i don't know. i'm still thinking he could flake out at any moment, no matter how nice he seems. i am so so so paranoid. and i hate it.
posted at 2:45 PM

i cleaned the tub with paper towels and the wonderful substance known as mr clean (not to be confused with mrscott), did a semidecent job but it'll do for now. if subletguy wants it cleaner, that's his business. while i was doing it i managed to cramp both my ankles. that was not fun.

then i took a cold shower. a cold shower is much more of a challenge than you'd think. the body does not respond well to cold water, even though it sounds so crisp and clean and inviting. or mine doesn't, anyway. it took a sort of zen attitude to coax myself under the stream of frigid liquid, but once i finally doused all body parts it was quite delicious. oddly enough, i don't think i've ever taken a cold shower (not even when ass drunk and trying to sober up) other than at camp, where there is often no choice. if i were staying all summer in this hades of an apt, i suspect i'd be taking them regularly. and i suspect i'll be taking one tomorrow before, during and after i clean and pack. tomorrow's high is near 100. right now i'm in my bedroom with the door shut and the a/c blasting as well as it can blast (it's really more of a little trumpet than a blast, a trill as opposed to a glissando), and it has cooled down enough for me to sleep. out in the living room it's truly unbearable. oppresively hot and humid, and at least 20 degrees hotter than in my room. and i'm not exaggerating. would that i were.

i've been falling asleep since at least 6p and all through dinner, so i think it's finally time to shut my eyes. plus they are very, very itchy.

today was my last day of work. now the real work begins.
posted at 1:55 AM

teneza just regresared to her casa in fredericksburg, taking the 145a train. we were home about five minutes before she left for penn station, after a lovely but sweaty evening out with feldy. we went to queens to eat at one of his favorite places, kabob palace, run by a generous and kind and personable egyptian named ali. ali is one of two people who work at the place, and he owns it as well as running the kitchen. all cooking is done in two frying pans. there are 15 seats at most in the restaurant. unfortunately, the air conditioning is highly inadequate, so i was very uncomfortable throughout the meal and towards the end thought i was going to have to run out of the place screaming into the street where it would be marginally cooler. but the food was excellent, and ali crafts it with care. we had an appetizer plate of a bunch of middle eastern starters (falafel, hummus, eggplant, etc), and two entrees: bluefish and lamb. i actually had no lamb, as i was pacing myself for an anticipated trip to the arepa lady.

when we arrived at the arepa lady's corner, she was there (thank god, not a wasted trip) but she was just getting set up. so we wandered up and down roosevelt ave for 20 minutes, the heat nearly destroying all brain function, and then returned to her station and waited another 20 or so for the arepas and cachapas to be ready. then we got in the car and drove home, chowing down, slowly, surely. mmm. arepas. it had been a very long time.

and now teneza is gone and i am so unfuckingbelievably irate. she drank all my bottled water without asking and left a ring - a ring, people, WHO LEAVES A RING - around the bathtub by washing her feet or something. it's vile. and now i have to clean it. alone. by myself. because she left without cleaning it, without even admitting it when i brought it up. and after her first shower there were heel prints - again, dirty feet, because she wears a lot of open shoes like flipflops - in the tub that would come out. and yesterday when i got home from work my bathroom floor was purple because she'd been wearing purple shoes. when i mentioned it (i try to frame these things in a joking way and not accusationally because even though i'm the one that is rightfully pissed, i know that if i'm just like 'you left a fucking mess in the bathroom, please clean it up' she's the one that will get mad, because that's how things work) she was like 'i did?' as if she hadn't noticed. and she only went to clean the purple up - and i had to show her how, jesus fuck - after i said please clean it up.

GRR. GRR. GRR.

i hate houseguests, especially inconsiderate ones. seriously. hate hate hate. HATE HATE HATE.

and i don't even want to get into my father and his incompetence with email. we'll see if he's still speaking to me tomorrow after the bitchrant i sent him. or if he even receives it.

my hate is bicoastal.
posted at 1:05 AM

re-interview went well, probably better than the first, and he was very understanding. so that's good. plus we talked a little more about trains.

as a reward i decided to go to staples and tour the merchandise (CIO) because i need to get another bookcase for my apartment. the selection was grim, although it was good to see what little they had as opposed to just browsing online. i hit up mister softee on my way back to the office and, thwarted by the lack of chocolate eclairs in stock, got a "crunch cone" instead. the crunch cone is vanilla softserv dipped in chocolate shell and then dipped in "crunch", which is sort of cookie-like and crunchy. i'm not sure if it's really either cookie or naturally crunchy, though.

so as i was walking back north, tonguing my crunch cone with great gusto, i was in the crosswalk of 42nd street when who should be coming in my diection but ben goldstein, of the michigan daily. ben is two years behind me in school. ben is an asshole because he has been in the city for a month interning for stuff magazine and hasn't bothered contacting me. but ben's name is ben, so we must forgive him, because it is a most excellent name.

guess i was about due to randomly run into somebody i know on the street. still, strange, strange, strange.
posted at 3:25 PM

teneza and i are watching this week's six feet under. she likes it. so do i, but that's not news. i got home a little while ago after another long, stupid day at work (i watched the tick which was amusing and well-done but just didn't appeal to me, i felt it was very boring. and i watched scrubs, which i liked for the most part and had some very funny, sharp writing. too bad it has an annoying ally-like voiceover/inner fantasy visualization that i predict will be history by episode five.) it is so fucking hot here, i can't wait to be somewhere with central air, or at least better a/c, of which my nh apt has one or the other. everything is sweating. my eyeballs are sweating.

after work i went to my uncle's for dinner. it was pleasant and good, especially since he, amazingly, had the a/c on. usually it's stuffy and hot in his apt during the summertime, but it was tres cool and inviting. zach and rebecca were present as well, and dinner was a massive huge salad that we hardly put a dent in. midway through the meal josh ran into the kitchen and discovered, hey, i was there, and consequently tackled me in my chair. cute, until he decided the best way to torture me tonight was to attack me with his feet. then he left to play his computer.

after dinner we had some dessert and chilled. uncle morris mentioned his printer seemed to be busted and should he get a new one and i said let me take a look and i looked and i pulled out the ink cartridge and, just as i suspected - this is the first guess of any good techie - he had installed a new cartridge but had failed to pull off the little plastic tab that covers where the ink comes out. duh. problem solved. during consumption of dessert josh had a piece of chocolate bobka (the last chocolate bobka!) that was put out for him. the package of bobka, which looks like a loaf of bread, was up on the counter. after he finished the piece, he went to the bread product drawer, where the bobka loaf usually resides, and rooted through it claiming he was still hungry. then he pulled out a loaf of bread in vaguely similar packaging to the bobka. zach and i looked at each other and started giggling because we figured josh was mistaking the bread for the bobka, and that he'd notice soon.

but he didn't. he brought the loaf of bread to the table and started opening it. this took him a while, it was a tricky tie. then he reached in and, we assumed, would shortly realize his mistake.

but he didn't. he got a big smile on his face and said "oh i think three ought to be enough" and pulled out three slice of bread and put them on a plate and began eating the crusts off of the top slice. then he balled up the remaining bread from that slice into a tiny orb of dough. he proceeded to the same with the second slice, wrapping the crustless bread around the little ball like he would roll a snowball into a bigger and bigger globe of frozen crystals until it was suitable for a snowman. the third slice went the same route.

then he started taking bites out of the now-humongous bread ball, chewing, swallowing, while zach and i tried our darnedest not to crack up and lose our shit.

we were moderately successful. josh almost ate the whole thing before it disintegrated into tiny scraps of reconstituted, mushed-up grain.

and now i am home, and the only bread i have is molding in my fridge.

with all this sweat, the skin on my hands is very soft. or maybe it's just sweat grease grossness. whatever, it's dark, i can't see for shit. just feel.

that's the way life usually is.
posted at 11:51 PM

we had a going-away lunch today for me and another departing researcher. it was at john's pizza, which has coal-oven pizza, which was good. i ate too much and had some good beer. the best part was towards the end when (surprise) we were talking about tv - how more "real" shows about high school do less well than "fake" shows - and then research editor robin and i discovered out mutual addiction to mscl. commence heroin-like bliss-out. i feel angry and upset and wonderful all over again, not having thought about it in a few months. and i have theme to episode six, the substitute, in my head. so good. so hard.

the draft was quite fun last night. i was a little pokey when i arrived because i couldn't find tony and anna, my editors, and i went to the media mess hall and ate some gross, cold food. then i went back down to the floor and sat in my assigned seat for a while - first row behind the media on the floor in front of the stage, but in front of the main seating for the audience - and doodled between a couple of spanish-speaking journalists who kept jostling me with iberian elbows. then i spied tony and anna coming down a set of stairs and bounded over to see them. funny, but i actually haven't seen them in person since my interview at the pspsports offices. they were glad to see me, i met a couple of nbacorp guys including some guy named michael levine who not only went to umich but worked in the football program and was a film major. we talked briefly about gaylyn. then the draft started.

watching from the floor is basically like watching on tv. david stern and his massive neck came out every five minutes to announce a pick, who would come up to the stage from the right, shake the neck's hand for a photo op, continue walking stage left and down and then up again to a quick interview with tnt, then up into the crowd to a balcony for an interview with espn radio. meanwhile, charles barkley, kenny smith, et tnt al were right there on the floor as well joking back and forth and pontificating on the picks. i watched from the floor until the piston's pick at #9, with which they selected rodney white out of unc-charlotte. good choice, good frontcourt help, but we still need a center. oh well.

after that i went up to the media room, where picks were brought to do interviews. it was pretty low-key, although a lot of that was due to the fact that the highest pick i talked to was #10, and no high schoolers. joe johnson and kedrick brown were pretty bored, troy murphy seemed nice but a little cocky, but the one i really fell in love with was brendan haywood. he seemed intelligent, personable, and genuinely nice. maybe it was the draft day sheen of first-round money, but i was taken with him. i hope he does well. i hope i get to do a story on him in the future.

so, it was fun. i didn't freeze up or freak out. my interviews recorded really well.

(of course, i managed to accidentally erase another important interview on the disc earlier in the day because i am a fucking bad luck idiot. although i'm starting to wonder if it's really bad luck or something else entirely. typical, though. fucking t-y-p-i-c-a-l.)

---text pasted by scott to Emrys' Tavern---
Jhebert says: "Has the whole world gone topsy-turvy?"
Jhebert says: Let's list the signs of the apocalypse:
Jhebert says: Scott is working for Intel
Jhebert says: Microsoft's decision was overturned
Jhebert says: The world's best golfer is black; The world's best rapper is white
---end of text pasted by scott to Emrys' Tavern---
Wainstead says, "next thing you know Heller will be coding in Perl, wm will join the Democrats, Merlin will give start listening to polka, oppsie will go to work for Ron Jeremy..."
the Customer-focused well-modulated executive solution heller laughs.
heller says, "if I start using perl as a regular coding language then the apacolypse *is* near. that's not a joke. "
Wainstead says, "actually oppsie would probably like working for ron jeremy."

posted at 2:53 PM

i never learn. i allow myself five seconds of happiness and relief and ego, and then i fuck it all up all over again.

why am i like this? why don't i learn my lesson? how much more is it going to take?

(at least inside stuff editor finally admitted to liking my mopete story. and tomorrow is free going-away lunch for me and another researcher here. and i skedded a "follow-up" interview with slaughter to "clarify" some "previous answers" for "me". and in a few hours i'll be at the draft. speaking of, poor shane battier. i'd hate to be him, get drafted #3, and end up with the grizz.)
posted at 1:47 PM

we went to new green bo for dinner. teneza left her purse at home, but she just paid me back. it was good. bottle of good wine. good food. good new green bo. mmm.

summed seems to have finally hit the city. it is hot, hot, hot, even though the sun is down, and tomorrow looks to be worse. to combat this, teneza and i just doubled up and threw my air conditioner in my bedroom window. i'm not convinced it'll be at all effective, but we'll see. of course we managed to dislodge the phone cord from the jack (it's right next to the window, which is the point of entry for the line) which tied me up for half an hour while i decided that actually the a/c had blown out my cordless phone since my other cable seemed to be working okay. i finally went to the source. yup. 30 minutes of sweat wasted.

i'll mop it up with some real world casting, boom diddy.
posted at 12:06 AM

holy shit, i just got sprung. vroom.

(haha, i also just got a voxmail from teneza and she's stuck outside my building because she can't operate the outside door lock. haha.)
posted at 6:15 PM

still at work, no sign of reprieve. grr.

gentlemen, WE CAN REBUILD HIM. we have the technology. (actually, which pope is the dead pope? i put my money on the one that looks like a beardless, non-blueskinned papa smurf. there's just something about that red.)
posted at 6:01 PM

just when you think it can't get worse, the new story you've got to check is worse than the old one, no publicists are calling you back as usual, you've given up your privacy for the remainder of the week, and then, AND THEN, you suffer the horrible fate known as ASS-PEE. (i wasn't going to mention this, but pete insisted, not to mention i guess it's just a natural progression from ass-babies.)

i have to go throw up now.

morrow and i went to sushi zen for lunch. it's restaurant week, which means a bunch of nice expensive restaurants around town have lunches for $20.01; morrow called this morning and got us a res. it was quite tasty.

i'm paying for it now, though.

sigh. squirt.
posted at 3:16 PM

home finally. i took a cab. teneza called about crashing on my couch tomorrow night. i said yes, and then she revealed she's crashing on my couch tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that, and the night after that. oops. oh well, it'll be fun and i can make her help me organize/clean my shit in prep for my egress. but i won't be able to lie on the couch in my underwear. and i remembered in the elevator on the way out of work that i missed my dermo appt this morning. i'm tired of being such a consistent fuckup. i'm bored with being such a fuckup, period.

i do it to myself, i do, and that's what really hurts.

oppsie1: i work at tvguide. as a factchecker.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: TV Guide checks their facts?
oppsie1: yeah. hard to believe.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: So do you like have to call brad pitt up and be like "Yes, is it true you like it in the ass?"
oppsie1: brad pitt, no, tom cruise, yes.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: I thought he'd sue if you tried anything like that.
oppsie1: he only sues if you don't pull out in time.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: *laughs* Pull out in time for what? Is his ass gonna get pregnant with ass-babies?
oppsie1: yes.
oppsie1: ass-babies are a very serious problem, you shouldn't make fun.
oppsie1: don't you read the national enquirer? it's an epidemic, the worst we've seen since GAY CANCER.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Wow. I bet it's hard raising a whole gaggle of ass-babies. How does Tom Cruise do it?
oppsie1: ass-nannies.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Do they come out of his ass too or is that just a job title?
oppsie1: yes.
oppsie1: most of his movie salaries go towards air freshener.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: That's a lot of cute hanging pine trees.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Like that junkie guy's room in Seven.
oppsie1: it's a veritable deodorizing forest.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: So to speak.
oppsie1: so to speak.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: I better get some ass-rubbers.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Just to be on the safe side.
oppsie1: yes. you can't be too careful when it comes to the threat of ass-babies.
oppsie1: you have one, and then BOOM you've got fifty. they're like rabbits.
oppsie1: ass-rabbits.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Do I need to use saran wrap if someone's going to rim me? Can I get pregnant with the ass-babies from oral-ass contact?
oppsie1: that's a myth.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Okay.
oppsie1: ass-babies only come from ass-to-ass contact.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: *scribbles notes*
KeefKeefKeefKeef: So I'd need to pull my ass from Tom Cruise's ass before I go poop in order to prevent the ass-baby pregnancy?
oppsie1: well, that's not quite how it works, but you're starting to understand the mechanics of it.
oppsie1: basically the only way to prevent ass-babies is to wear the ass-condom.
oppsie1: or have an ass-ectomy.
oppsie1: that's why ass-ologists are in such demand these days.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Does it go all the way over my ass? WIll I be unable to have ass-sex if I have an ass-ectomy?
oppsie1: there are a lot of great mechanical asses available to the consumer these days.
oppsie1: they're doing great things with plastics.
KeefKeefKeefKeef: Oooo. Real-Ass.com?
oppsie1: yes, and you can compare with some of the other industry leaders. icantbelieveitsnotass.com is a biggie.
oppsie1: hooray, i am free.
oppsie1: *goes home*
oppsie1: (kick ass.)

"so now i hang out down by the train's depot
no, i don’t ride, i just sit and watch the people there
they remind me of wind-up cars in motion
they way they spin and turn and jockey for positions
and i wanna scream out that it all is nonsense
and their life’s one track and can’t they see it’s pointless?
but just then my knees give under me
my head feels weak and suddenly
it’s clear to see, it’s not them, but me
who’s lost my self-identity
and i hide behind these books i read
while scribbling my poetry
like art could save a wretch like me
with some ideal ideology
that no one could hope to achieve
and i'm never real, it's just a sketch of me
and everything i’ve made is trite and cheap and a waste
of paint
of tape
of time"
posted at 10:20 PM

at the post office this afternoon i took another important step in the road to nh-ville: i forwarded my po box and apt mail to my nh sublet. major plunge, major, although not as major as subletting to random subletguy from atlanta who sounds fairly normal and stable. morrow will meet with subletguy at the apt to hand off the keys and make sure he passes his psycho-detector, and not in that order. i know that morrow will have no qualms about refusing to turn over the keys if anything smells fishy to him. so, good. supposedly i'll have a personal check for the first month and a cashier's check for the deposit arriving on my desk by the end of the week.

let us pray, pray, pray.

ps i'm still at work. ugh.

"sara spelled without an h was getting bored
on a peavey amp in 1984
while zak without a c tried out some new guitars
playing sara with no h's favorite song"
posted at 9:00 PM

task #1 for the week completed, interviewing dr john brooks slaughter for gecc. (not to be confused with the hair band or sgt. slaughter. he was very engineer-y.

left to go: nba draft, james franco/james dean, unbreakable, shark week, the triangle, mushnick on sports. i'm already exhausted.
posted at 3:02 PM

morrow and i made soup. mushroom barley soup. we dirtied an obscene amount of dishes, all of which i just washed. i now have prune fingers. we drank two sixes of coors. we watched american movie, three episodes of undeclared, the big lebowski, and sex and the city. i drank five coors, actually, or so morrow insists because he said he drank six and there's one left in my fridge. soup-making was good. we inaugurated my stock pot. SHAHBEZ came to look at the apartment and was normal but accented and scary. too bad right now he's the frontrunner.

soup soup soup.
posted at 11:02 PM

marzipan apricot burgers.

it's a midwest thang y'all.

(morrow's birthday dinner was much fun. the other erin and i enjoyed each other's company greatly.)

"i ain't happy, i'm feeling glad
i got sunshine in a bag
i'm useless, but not for long
the future is coming on"
posted at 1:33 AM

okay, where the fuck is SHAHZEB (or GOZER, or ZUUL)? i am never going to sublet my apartment. this is worse than finding somebody to fall in love with me, and there's a lot more money on the line. HATE HATE HATE.

i managed to get tamales and replenish my water supply in the five minutes it stopped raining today. so that's something, at least. and i ran into matt and mikey's grandma at bway/110. totally random, although she lives close to there. we only talked for a minute, i was about to enter riteaid for the water endeavor.

HATE

HATE

HATE

i've been listening to music all afternoon: ben folds/rockin the suburbs; matthew good band/loser anthems; ted leo/pharmacists/the tyranny of distance; george strait/something special; snow patrol/when it's all over we have to clear up (thank you keef for that last one.) and i did something i haven't done in forever, thanks to their free shipping deal: bought a bunch of cds at amazon. i am a naughty splurging monkey. of course, as i was checking out, i discovered that $35 worth of my gift certificates had expired. yes, i suck more and more with each passing day. (on the plus side, i used a $10 promo and had $15 in old gc's sitting in my acct, so i still saved some moolah. but that's a minor plus compared to the loss of $35. sigh.)

so i got bob dylan/blood on the tracks; joni mitchell/blue; replacements/let it be; beatles/revolver; rio bravo on dvd. with that last one i think i basically have my top five movies of all time on dvd. if only i could remember what they are.

and now i'm getting kenny's recording of the ben concert the other night. quality remains to be seen. or heard, anyway.

damn, i am boring. the highlight of my day has been remembering to move the mushroom barley soup meat out of the freezer and into the fridge so it can defrost for tomorrow.

"running away seemed like the easy
thing to do because i wanted time
to put a smile back on my dour face
for once nothing's missing and i feel fine"
posted at 3:26 PM

up reasonably early for no particular reason other than i think i may somehow have gotten eight hours of sleep. what's up with that? (i'll tell you what's up with that: two pints of sam adams, that's what's up with that. also, a bad dream.)

i got out of work in record time and met peter at the theatre underneath virgin megastore long before our appointed hour. i rule. the screening also ruled, because we got free medium popcorn and pop. the movie, however, did not. it turned out that i'd totally blanked on the name the score, starring none other than brando, norto, and deniro. minus five points for me, eh?

but minus twenty points for frank oz and the million screenplay cooks in the kitchen, because the score was horrible. absolutely, positively no character development or emotion. nothing other than a bunch of actors not even acting, just actioning. straight story from start to finish, hours devoted to a "score" that we have no reason to care about other than it will get brando's character out from under and angela bassett will stop withholding nookie from deniro. and story, in this case, is not enough. what a waste. obviously norto only took this so he could work with the two legends, but still. waste, waste, waste. (also, i think brando must have insisted on dressing himself from his personal wardrobe at home, because he kept showing up in these flowery print robes and ascots. uh.. okay.)

i called aaron after the movie and moved on up to the east side to see his apt (matt wasn't kidding when he told me he had to sleep in the kitchen), which is small but not bad. we went to some random restaurant/bar kind of place that was okay, caught up on what we were both up to. i think the biggest news of the night was aaron's announcement that he was "sort of seeing" a 30-year-old. uh. okay. too funny. and i took no end of ribbing on account of lowering myself to speak words with mopete. maize and blue to the end, that aaron rich.

i want tamales, but it's drizzling. but why let that stop me?

"the clock never stops, never stops, never waits
she's growing old, it's getting late
and so he forgot, he forgot - maybe not
maybe he's been seriously hurt - would that be worse?"
posted at 9:50 AM

two hour lunches that go uncommented upon when i return to work are so excellent. i met onmag editor at a japanese place a few blocks away. was way nervous before i went, of course, because i always worry especially in one-on-ones and plus we'd never met in real life, just talked on the phone once and the rest was over email. but it was fine, perfect, really; commiserated about the stupidity of timeinc's system for getting me paid, talked about where she wants to take the e-people page and also the possibility of adding another entertainment-related page, and agreed that, hey, i should keep writing for the magazine and pitch features and stuff. so, it was good. plus she laughed at everything i said that was funny. yes, i am one funny motherfucker. oh, and i got mirsky gossip. mmm, mirsky.

i'm taking the fact that i passed marc! summers! in the lobby on my way out of work as a sign that lunch was going to go well. physical challenge, my ass.

so y gave her current roommate kayla my screen name. technically, y is crashing at kayla's dad's house. kayla is going into the fourth grade.

i'm im'ing with a fourth grader. oh my god.

ZYXkayla : do you have a boy friend :)
oppsie1: haha, not right now. i wish i did.
oppsie1: but i have a lot of friends who are boys.
oppsie1: do *you* have a boyfriend? :)
ZYXkayla: no , r u kidding
oppsie1: yeah, i'm kidding.
ZYXkayla: good
oppsie1: so here's an important question
oppsie1: backstreet boys or nsync?
ZYXkayla: nsync
oppsie1: good answer!
oppsie1: i do not like backstreet. i like nsync. they are much better.
ZYXkayla: yeah
ZYXkayla : do you like Cher
oppsie1: cher is okay.
ZYXkayla: your kewl

posted at 2:41 PM

while walking to the subway this morning i was thinking about how i hadn't talked to aaron rich in a while, and that i should email him and say whassup and do you want to get a beer or see a movie or something and how much did you hate moulin rouge because i know that if he saw it, he'd loathe it, but then i remembered i'm supposed to see a movie with peter tonight if i can get out of work early enough (also weird: i can't remember exactly what movie we're supposed to be seeing. it's something that's not out yet because it's a junket screening, but i'm totally blanking on specifically what it is), so i decided i wouldn't email him. or i would next week. typical me.

i just got an email from him. why does that always seem to happen, that i'm thinking about calling or emailing someone i haven't talked to in a really long time and then boom! they get to me first? does that make me a bad person? or just lazy? or both? something to think about, i guess.

so thanks to herr rich, i can start working on my rio bravo prop collection. neat.

oh good, he emailed back. beer tonight, movie or not.
posted at 10:42 AM

just got home. could have left work hours earlier, but the siren song of afghan kebab house #3 - aka free dinner - was too much for little me. lamb korma that seemed to be all lamb and no korma, but was very tasty all the same. plus some coke, which means caffeine, which means i can now keep my eyes open.

i got some responses on my new batch of sublet ads. i'm showing the apt to some people on saturday. i'm not very optimistic, but it's something, at least.

i think i'll finally kill off those pesky buffy episodes sitting on my tivo.

<bossh0g> Shawn Bracken: Ball Sac Defender
<bossh0g> <Shawn> so crabs, we meet again!
<bossh0g> ok i got it
<bossh0g> we need to make a short film
<bossh0g> a parody
<bossh0g> PLANET OF THE CRABZ
<daillone> HE CAN TALK! HE CAN TALK!
<daillone> SHIT IT FUCKIN ITCHES!
<bossh0g> get your claws off me you filthy crab
<bossh0g> at the end he finds out that humans evolved into a VD that only crabs can catch
<daillone> or maybe he finds out it was 'joes crab shack' all along
<bossh0g> the possibilities are endless
<oppsie> much like the planet series itself

"all i used to be will pass away and then you'll see
that all i want now is happiness for you and me"
posted at 9:25 PM

i lied, all the stress is still here. nobody is going to sublet my apt because it's too much money, even paying what i pay, and now i'm questioning everything all over again and it's a snowball effect. if i don't sublet it i can't go to nh and y is screwed and i am screwed because i have no job down here because my position at tvg has been filled for the summer. nothing ever goes right. why am i still living where i do, why don't i try to move and find a new place. shit. fuck.

i think i'm having a stroke. or will. soon.

resolution #1: if i have to sit around in nyc waiting to sublet with no job, i am going to clean my apt, i mean fucking pristine, and i am going to clear off my desk, and i am going to start my writing regimen no matter where i am.

everything i touch turns to bloodless stone. i'm like this living breathing bad luck omen.

get your shit together and make the best of this, erin, and stop fucking bawling in your cube because that is just pathetic and embarrassing.

statement d: i could deal with all of this much better if i didn't have to go around knowing how good i can feel when the circumstances are right, vis a vis 3a tuesday post-moulin rouge. it's these ridiculous ups and downs. lithium. lithium.

i hate complaining all the time.

maybe all of this is retribution for unwittingly wearing my grandaddy tshirt to shiva one night, totally oblivious to what it might mean. or maybe i actually ran over someone's dog or daughter.

twingo16: okay, let's prioritize our crises here
twingo16: but yes i know, when it rains it pours, as they say
oppsie1: this is a shitstorm
oppsie1: i am so upset and angry and freaking out that i could conceivably shit out a horse right now.
twingo16: well thank you for making me laugh through my tears with that visual
oppsie1: that's why you keep me around. on the off-chance i might move a barnyard animal through my bowels.

posted at 2:43 PM

moderate stress alleviation: i emailed research editor robin to ask where the fuck the seattle stuff was and, lo, it was reassigned since i got that hbo shit dumped on me the other day. thanks for letting me know earlier and saving me a big huge hideous stress ball. grr.

lamb kabob pita==bliss.

visions of mr roachy on my arm!=bliss.
posted at 2:00 PM

after discovering one of mr roachy's legs lying in my bed like a gift from the tooth fairy, i changed my sheets, hydrocortisoned the COCKROACH BITE and took an allegra, then went back to sleep. had weird dreams involving yelling at the landlord to put screens on my windows. sigh. the shit just keeps coming. i picked up my laundry, dropped it back at the apt, then promptly forgot to bring my ngb leftovers to work with me (on the semiplus side, i guess i can now buy some white rice and cook it up to have with the leftovers, rather than the previous plan of.. no rice). now i'm starving and considering patronizing kwik meal #5 again because yesterday it was so goddamn good and i really need goddamn good. haven't gotten the copy or backup for some stupid story on the seattle mariners that's closing today, and i've got a web story on the tour de france, and i think my head might explode for the fiftieth time.

HATE HATE HATE.
posted at 10:56 AM

apparently i have just contracted the plague. sigh.

Of course, what litany of pests would be complete without the cockroach. They are filthy creatures that leave a disgusting trail of spittle and waste wherever they go. One problem with cockroaches is that they can survive for up to a week after being decapitated, and then they only die of starvation. Although they don't produce any poisonous secretions, they carry human filth around with them as well as a number of diseases including polio, typhoid, and hepatitis. The only way to be safe is check your house for them thoroughly.

yes, i think i'm within my rights to legitimately ask, "why me?"
posted at 6:49 AM

i should probably google for information on cockroach attacks but i'm too tired. this will surely result in the discovery that there's a 90% fatality rate.
posted at 6:46 AM

i surveyed the bed area but clearly this calls for drastic action when i'm more awake. but i'm so tired, and it's so early, and i was in deep sleep with a wonderful dream about mr fabulous (is that why tptb sent this horrible wakeup call?). can i conceivably go back to sleep? or try?
posted at 6:42 AM

oh my god, i think IT BIT ME.
posted at 6:31 AM

it is not cool to wake up and find a cockroach on your arm.
posted at 6:25 AM

so fucking tired. got out of work around 8p after spending literally two hours trying to determine if paris is the "city of light" or the "city of lights". the answer, as given by the french consulate and confirmed by the french government tourism office in los angeles, is "city of lights". another day equivalent to a parade of shit. decided chinatown was necessary to erase the horror, ended up at new green bo. mmm. shanghai kau fu and shredded pork in garlic sauce. mmm. mmm.

ima watch some tv and then ima pass out, y0.
posted at 10:06 PM

well isn't this just great, doesn't this just take the cake. that caltech bitch flaked out on my sublet. now i am totally fucked. thanks. thanks a lot.

come on, shithead, throw me another one. i can take it. i can take it.

(i can definitely take a repeat performance of the new cart i tried for lunch today, kwik meal #5. they are bangladeshi. they are clean-looking. they made me a lamb kabob pita that was out of this world.)

"i mean, what's your encore? do you, like, anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?"
posted at 2:01 PM

things are getting swimmy. day was ass, got thrown this hideous story on band of brothers with all this crap in it, plus the five fucking other stories that i just got dumped. watched hbo stuff from sunday and american high. things are getting swimmy. i'm going to go pass out in my bed.
posted at 11:28 PM

i dare say the day has turned shitty in a record small amount of time since i set foot in the office. although this implies that it wasn't shitty before; this is just a new, unexpected level of shittiness. walked in, red bull unholstered and ready to go as i rounded the corner to my cubicle, and there on my chair was a big pile of not-my-story. somebody is out sick today. guess who's picking up the slack? excuse me while i puke my guts out.

also after the movie last night, jill and i went back to her place to watch undeclared. it is fabulous and i want to try to write an episode this summer. i want to watch it with morrow and bounce ideas with him.

too bad the tape was defective and unspooled in jill's vcr.

(on the plus side, both onmag and inside stuff featuring yours truly have hit newsstands, and i am on the masthead of both. second to last page of onmag, first three items; page 21 of inside stuff, right side of the page.)
posted at 10:23 AM

no more caffeine, need to replace box fan with broken handle/balance leg/speed regulator/everything, have to figure out some way to get a/c unit in my bedroom window. didn't sleep, like, at all.

when you lie in bed, cells boiling in plasma, minutes ticking into hours, your movie/music high disappears all too quickly. that's the real reason this sux0rs so much.
posted at 8:49 AM

there's no excuse for still being awake except riding a wave of good-movie cheesy-music giddiness. i want to sleep but i can't. tomorrow is going to be the death of me when i have to be awake. if you can call what i'm going to be "awake".

but i love feeling this way. i don't ever want to stop. i could stay awake forever, i know it. my body says no, but my brain says yes.

i just wrote terry one of my semi-annual "this is the way i feel inside but never bother telling anybody" emails. poor t-boz. sometimes i wonder if he'll take this internal honesty the wrong way, the icky gross homewrecking way instead of the kindred spirit way, but i think he knows me better than that. i hope. but i'll just have to wonder since he NEVER RETURNS MY VOXMAILS OR EMAILS. terry, you are fired, but i can't help pouring my heart out to you anyway. maybe it's because you don't respond and not in spite of. or that i just don't care which it is.

"i hope you don't mind that i put down in words
how wonderful life is while you're in the world"
posted at 3:51 AM

the sickly sweet nectar of obsession is inbound.

"i'm sick, and i'm in love."
"you seem the sort of person who confuses the two."
posted at 12:43 AM

i bounced into my cube this morning, all vim and vigor and excitement to spend the morning watching my tape of game six, even though i already knew the outcome (f you, shaq-fu). booted the computer, hit the power button on the tv, and beheld.. mtv.

uh. shit. did somebody put it on mtv this morning for some reason, or did i fuck up yet again and set the vcr correctly but fail to change the cable box, a classic erin move i have perfected over years of practice. on the slim chance it was the former, i rewound a bit and hit play.

nope. i taped three hours of friday night music videos. why me? why me? but let's make lemonade: beyonce knowles's hair is a little to farrah for me to let it go unremarked upon. is she still trying to milk that whole independent woman pt 1/charlie's angels symmetry or what? because honey, that is so six months ago.

but my god, it is just not fucking possible for the pop video to be any better. unless it was just three minutes of jude law flexing.

naked.

(actually, it would be better if that inexplicable bookending girl was not there. thanks, i'll take another three seconds of chris doing the running man over you, skeezball.)

i am drinking a cup of coffee. this is an experiment. i am not a coffee-drinker. but i drank coffee both mornings of the weekend and did not go into my mid-afternoon slump of stupor and sleep, and it felt magnificent. we will see what happens today, if it was the coffee or the environment or both or neither. an experiment. hopefully with positive results.

this is do-or-die week for subletting my apt. caltech girl and mom should be coming in to look at it this week and sign a lease. i pulled one off a website. it's pretty standard, except there was all this stuff about the landlord in it that i summarily removed because landlord steve doesn't need to be involved in this little endeavor beyond giving me the okay to do it, which he did. so i cut it all out except for clause "c", which i subsequently unidentified as clause "c" or any clause at all.
posted at 1:00 PM

i return relaxed, refresh, rejuvenated, and alliterative. amagansett was highly good. i did something i haven't done in a long time: i read. i read two whole books in two whole days, and i feel like it's a preview of what's to come this summer: writing. reading. and not watching. read stephen king/on writing (finally; it's been sitting on my shelf since gabe got it for me for my birthday, kind brother that he is, and i had been putting off reading it for the scare factor. and it was, but it was good, and i may use some stuff in it as a blueprint for my summer of discipline and self-betterment) saturday, myla goldberg/bee season sunday. the latter i got from lisa schwarzbaum when she was cleaning out her office one day iirc, she had liked it. i liked it too, especially given my morbid fascination with the spelling bee.

but what i liked best was remembering how good it felt to read, to lose myself in the pages and the grafs and the sentences and the words and the letters and the spaces and block everything out. to not notice the phone ringing or the birds chirping. to look up and wonder, "how did i get here?" and lose all track of reality.

this summer, i am going to write. and i am going to read.

services friday night were quick and painless, and afterward we went to il vagabondo for dinner which was italian and hearty and fairly good. arrived at the house shortly after midnight, in heavy fog. saturday, alternately read my book, read chapters of two (multitasking at such an early age, how admirable) lemony snicket books to josh, was tortured by josh in one way or another (in a genius bit of reverse psychology, a method of dealing with six-year-olds that i find rarely works, i have him thinking that i hate to have my back scratched. this is all the more irksome to him because he doesn't understand why i hate something that everybody else loves - irksome to the point where whenever he could, he was scratching my back (well, whenever he wasn't giving me noogies on my scalp or indian burns on my feet or otherwise physically abusing me in some way or another). hopefully he won't figure out that i'm lying for a long, long time, although i think he's onto me about claiming that i hate having my feet tickled because i don't laugh nearly enough when he does it. too busy enjoying the fruits of my rusing to perpetuate the falsehood, i guess.), and baked shortcake for strawberry shortcake after dinner. zach and i took josh to the video store in the afternoon, where we rented the last temptation of christ (z is reading the book at the moment) and he rented pokemon 2000 and some fifth-generation spin-off of an american tail. after watching half an hour of p2k, i think that it would be useless to see if when tripping on any sort of hallucinogen because it's already so visually ridiculous. we watched temptation after josh went to bed. there was a strange aural/visual dichotomy at play, because a nearby house was having some sort of party with loud music (perhaps james has a country home i don't know about?) that was at a high enough decibel level to bleed under the video. so we're sitting there watching jc watching magdalene get the business (literally and figuratively), and jungle boogie is pulsing underneath.

sunday more of the same. it poured all day, buckets and buckets of rain. we thought it would come saturday; it didn't, but it sounded like it did, which i later found out was actually the sound of a thousand tent caterpillars crapping in the woods. "what's that noise? it sounds like it's raining." "it's caterpillar scat." (if a caterpillar shits in the woods and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?) we also played a game i'd never heard of, that they have two sets of with copyrights of 1962, called mille bournes. it was complicated but fun. it's amazing how many games there are in existence, and how relatively few of them we come in contact with over the course of a lifetime.

scat-erpillars.

"how will you ever pay for your sins?"
"with my life, judas. i don't have anything else."
posted at 12:03 AM

how much do i suck? for the third time in a row i forgot to set the tivo to record the basketball game. this time i'm totally screwed because i don't have time to run home before i have to be at shul, and there's no tv in amagansett, and there's nobody around to tape it for me. my only hope is that i can record it on my tv at work and watch it monday. this is what i get for spending the whole day watching pilots. subsequently: the education of max bickford was really good, which scares me because that means cbs has two good pilots. richard dreyfuss looks really old, though. that makes me sad. i'm not ready for him to be really old. philly, the new bochco with kim delaney, was good but not outstanding; so far i prefer her on nypd but i'm willing to settle, it was really time for her character to exit the show. and i watched a piece of smallville, a new wb series that goes back to the marvel comic well one last time to show a weekly hour of clark kent suffering through adolescent angst. the whole pilot is temp-tracked with bits of incidental music from snuffy and contact and other recognizable (at least to me) sources. oddly out of place yet comforting.

okay, the tv/vcr on my desk is set to tape the game. now, off to the upper east side for a little jew action, and then the hamptons.
posted at 5:46 PM

finally passed out sometime around 2a. not sure if it was because i had the power of sleep or the power of benadryl. whatever, i had some weird dreams involving stealing cars and guns and car accidents and big mean crime partners. who knows. got up, threw my shit for the weekend in my bag, pulled on dress clothes that i think/hope are appropriate for family fun services tonight, went to the train and rode with sublet dan to work. first day back. blah.

but not too blah. i have no assignments for the day, research editor robin told me to just relax and take it easy today (well i'm just relaxing), and we got all the pilots - and when i say all, i mean all - inhouse already so i'm watching a bunch. inside schwartz wasn't awful except that van earl wright kept showing up and the ex-girlfriend sucked, but hopefully that's the role that's being recast. ellen, again was dumb. i'm in the middle of american wreck which so far is really good (bonus: no laugh track). interestingly, main characters of both schwartz and wreck are jewish, which is pointed out in jokes. weird.

it's amazing that the $46 million jackpot got claimed. maybe the winner will use it to buy a whole lot of this great invention.

well i am eating a mozzarella, tomatoe and pestoe sandwich that i purchased at au bon pain for $4.99 plus .41 tax for a total of $5.40. i will wash it down with a can of caffeinated coca-cola with a free wild safari with the purchase of any regular admission ticket. after that i think i'll relax a bit. CIO
posted at 12:18 PM

it is just laughable that i wore long underwear to bed last night. laughable.

i really need to figure out a way to get my a/c in my bedroom window. josh bogin and i tried last year but it didn't seem stable. maybe i can pay off the super to do it. hmm.

what am i doing here again?
posted at 1:16 AM

well wasn't that a fun trip.

dad drove me to the airport and, as usual, started in on me and my career and his impression of it as lack thereof. these little exchanges usually end with me not knowing what to say and instead crying because on the one hand i know he's my dad and he believes in me and on the other why would he say these things if, deep down, he didn't. this time the trigger was asking me if i'd transcribed the scraps of paper i had with contacts written on them collected at shiva - shiva! - into my palm or laptop. obviously he knew i'd never be that organized, because that is what being organized is measured by, and i had just jammed them in my pocket for further use. this leads to the conversation about how i never call any of the contacts people get me and how i'm spinning my wheels and how i'm never going to get anywhere if i don't make an effort.

it's bad enough that i don't have confidence in myself. for him to not have any either is even worse.

then he says he doesn't remember me telling him about onmag, and he doesn't know what else i've been doing other than working at tvguide. like i haven't been doing any writing, like i've just devoted myself to wageslavedom. like i haven't told him about everything i've been doing. like mopete didn't call the fucking house and wake him up. later, he admits he remembers me mentioning the nakednews thing.

so he did forget.

it wouldn't be so bad if i knew how to respond. and it would be easier to hate him if he didn't mean well, if he was really a bad guy. but just like i don't know how to talk to people, to call them cold, to engage in conversation, i don't know how to respond. or even where to begin. except with: "stop."

scraps of paper get lost.

plane was delayed leaving metro by air traffic control in nyc, which the flight attendant made abundantly clear as we were leaving so we wouldn't blame them. whatever. actually weren't that late getting into la guardia, but luggage took a while. cab home. asshole cabbie didn't help me with my bag. asshole.

my apartment is way too hot. i'm never going to sleep.

"bored in the role, but he can't stop
standing up to sit back down
or lose the one thing found"
posted at 8:41 PM

gah. awful night. my room was (and this never happens) too cold, so i was waking up every hour on the hour, not to mention i somehow managed to turn my alarm on for 9a, and i couldn't find an extra blanket without going upstairs but even after i found long underwear bottoms and a longsleeve shirt i was still freezing, and i feel like ass.

shower, dress, lunch, airport, nyc.
posted at 11:36 AM

why did i stay up to watch the recording of game 4? all for naught. all for bullshit.

shiva tonight not horrible. played air hockey and connect four with david harold and andrew. then some people i don't know accosted me and i had to pretend i knew them and they know i live in harlem and dad told them my block was nice. that was an odd surprise. i still don't know who they were, they slipped away before dad could tell me. maybe they were talking to some other dad, the one i know would never refer to my block as "nice." after, gabe and i went to the levinsons', which was good. i think i can pry a scrip for sonata out of marty when i go home again in july (and, good news, i am still covered by dad's insurance in michigan - $10 copay!). could be the solace i seek for the sleep that i need.
posted at 2:07 AM

david harold and andrew came over to hang out and do work. we watched total recall and then vroom to hellenic for lunch with mr fabulous and katie banks. it doesn't get much better than that. i had two with everything and fries and a coke, as did most everyone at the table but picky picky katie banks and david harold. it warms my heart thrice over that they drove all the way from ann arbor just to dine with me. that's so rad. also they brought the sd video, which looks pretty good what little i've looked at of it. i don't really want to look at it again, or watch it again. that sick feeling again. and the bottom falling out.
posted at 4:19 PM

that was long.

funeral was sucky. bill lieberson greeted me as lynn, which put a damper on things to say the least. i didn't go in the viewing room. i don't do that.

day lasted forever. headaches, allergies. family picking over my appearance.

food was sucky.

shiva was sucky.

then i left with shelly, which was not sucky, and she was going to drop me at home because i was wiped but then she said she had an extra ticket to the norup play, which was grease and her daughter sarah was rizzo, and i jumped on it and we went and it was at berkley and it was hysterically funny/bad/good alternately. weitzman's younger brother played danny. the last time i remember seeing him, he was a tow-headed four year old running around the burton book fair. now he is twelve and dark-haired. it was like watching a little mini-weitzman, or a weitzman caught out of time. none of the boys could sing worth a damn, which made the show even better, although eli weiner sure can dance. sarah lived up to the hype and was unexpectedly excited to see me there. what a change: normal kids. a good way to end the day.

i was finishing seventh grade ten years ago. so why does it seem like no time has passed at all?

"and i sure as shit don't fucking roll."
posted at 10:51 PM

pretty good day, tempered a bit by failures on the food tip. gabe and i were halfway to noble fish before i remembered it was monday and thus closed; reversed ourselves and went to nami sushi in ferndale, which was decent but not noble. then just now we attempted jimmyjohns but at 1030p it was closed! what up with that noise? nothing, that's what. grr. we ended up at the eatery. we had cousins matt and mikey from boston in tow, they are staying here tonight. tasty, but not as tasty as when my waitress patty is serving and makes sure my corned beef hash is well done enough for me. boring day otherwise: saw fam at bobbi and rob's house, watched tv, napped, watched pi with cousins, ironed my shirt and of course managed to dirty it with the iron, not realizing the iron was dirty. par for the course. and naturally it's the only dress shirt i have here.

mr fabulous informed me that he and anderson are working on transferring all our performances to dvd, because apparently anderson's roommate has some sort of dvd-authoring system. we'll see. it would be pretty kickass if it worked, though, especially since everything was originally shot on dv. only problem i can foresee would be that my dvd player can't play burned cds, so i don't know if can play homemade dvds either. but it'd still be pretty kickass, especially since everybody else i know who has a dvd player has a newer generation that can play cdrs. that's the price i pay for being an early adopter. i'm also hoping mr fab can dump it to vhs before wednesday, when he and i and katie banks are skedded to consume coneys at hellenic. although katie banks says she doesn't eat coneys. well, she will by the time i'm through with her. mwahaha. mwahahahahahaha.

limo ride early tomorrow morning, then funeral. oh, the excitement.
posted at 12:11 AM

allergiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiies allergies, something's living on my skin. spring allergies had finally died down in nyc and now back in tha d i'm sneezing my brains out again. (this also happened when i came home for the festival and then went back to nyc, triggered in both places.) it's good i travel prepared with drugs drugs drugs. still, it sux0rs. also i forgot that the dog needed to be serviced so i didn't set my alarm; luckily i woke up around 9a and she hadn't caused any havoc, so fed and watered and let her out.

i wanted to go to ann arbor today to get my videotape but guess what? fv office is closed today. i sent marylou an email begging her to reply. we'll see. i am pissed pissed pissed. i'm not going if i don't know for sure i can get the tape, because i'm not making a second trip, but today was the one day i could feasibly go without ditching family obligations. i think wednesday will still be doable but i am pissed pissed pissed. this is going to require a lot of sushi to submerge my anger.

"open up, it's me again"
posted at 10:38 AM

trip in wasn't bad, arrived 1230p although we sat forever and a day on the runway after landing and it took forever and a week for my luggage to emerge from the bowels of detroit metro. also something really weird happened: i got on the plane and brushed my nose a bit because it was itchy and then it turned out my finger was covered in blood. i haven't had a nosebleed in like decades. and there i was sitting in my seat with blood pouring out my right nostril and nary a kleenex to be found. luckily the lady next to me had some and donated to my cause. i'm a little thrown by this: is seeing that lady with the bloody nose on the subway last weekend coming back to haunt me? do i have a nasopharyngeal tumor? inquiring bleeders want to know.

it's kind of strange being in detroit when i haven't had time to mentally prepare myself for it. although, thinking about it, i guess i don't really need to. it's home. even when i say i'm going back home to nyc on thursday, detroit is still home. and i miss it, even if it's just the idea of it and everybody has moved away or is moving away or moved on, including me.

i think i'm going to a2 tomorrow and throw down with marylou. i want my fucking videotape. i am not leaving her office until i have it, even if i have to pry it from her cold, dead hands.

gabe and i hit greene's on the way home. it was good but not up to the usual standard, probably due to the rubes running the grill. not greasy enough. (and that's not usually something said about greene's, believe you me.) oh well, at least it's not giving me intestinal distress. i'm sure there'll be plenty of that to come this week.

didn't have to go to the hospital.
posted at 11:03 PM

1055a flight, carmel car picking me up at 915a, which is fairly mad early. i'll get up and pack in the morning, although i already figured out dress clothes. sort of. 815a should do it, quick shower, deal with most hygiene things when i get to detroit. cut a few minidiscs but not enough to get me through, i don't think, so i'll still have to bring my cd player. or maybe not - if i bring the mp3 converter and futz with it enough i'll have discs to bring back, so i'll be okay. yeah. i'll do that.

damn, er used to be a good show.

want more beer. sleep instead.
posted at 12:17 AM

the makings of mushroom barley soup are in my fridge, but now i'm going to have to move them to freezer because mushroom barley soup making day has to be postponed until next weekend. blah. so don't want to go to detroit. getting a bereavement fare is going to be a pita since there aren't actually any funeral arrangements yet since he's still in the hospital. is it bad to want to time it so i don't have to go to the hospital? probably not. i've done my fair share of hospitals, and i don't need to do any more. maybe i'll put off getting plane tickets until something actually, uh, happens.

sublet guy came around 2p, seemed to like the place, and we agreed on $1600. that's more than caltech girl, so right now he's in the lead. we'll see. then i went to the tamale lady and got two tamales and an umita. all three were a little undercooked but still tasty. and then to fairway for the mushroom barley soup meat meat meat. (i'm letting morrow take care of the mushrooms and carrots and celery and other random ingredients that i didn't feel like getting or don't have on hand.)

i don't feel upset, or distraught. just kind of: "oh." probably because i've been expecting this for a while. probably because it's the right thing to happen.

grandma just called to make sure i was in the loop. surprisingly, i am. usually marriages/pregnancies/deaths aren't revealed to me until the absolute last moment. heh.

so i guess i'll have to do my own taxes next year, given that grandpa toby has always done mine. insert morbid death and taxes joke here.

for now, though, i'm going to pick up some beer and watch the first episode of six feet under. appropriately selected, oddly enough.

oh.

"we put the fun back in funeral."
posted at 6:53 PM

i guess my patience paid off a bit. after about another hour or so of bass in my ear (IN YOUR EAR), it petered out and i nodded off. i had a weird dream involving an extended family car trip (meaning my extended family, not a long trip, although it was a long trip as well) around upstate new york, and it was raining a lot, and we were all eating steak from the grill except i did a terrible job of grilling mine, it was a bit overdone and my dad and uncle steve's were nice and red. then i looked around a store full of great clothes that i liked, like hooded sweatshirts and overalls and socks for $2.50/pair, it was called elaine's and it was supposed to be shut down but i found an open entrance where they were doing business. then dad came and tapped on the window glass and it was time to go and we fought over the seating arrangements and then i had to sit in the back and there was maxine. ugh. i couldn't properly close the door or the window from inside the car and they kept accusing me of doing it wrong on purpose. i also was really afraid of how i was going to get home because they were going to detroit and everyone else heading in the direction of nyc had a full car. i was the odd man out. then i woke up. a nice bonus two hours, except for the appearance of the wicked stepmother.

should shower soon. there's a guy coming to look at my apt. hopefully he'll pay more money than caltech girl. ah, capitalism.
posted at 11:35 AM

[jameswatch2k]: 645a. 645a. 645a. this time, definitely him. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE. i am not just relaxing. i have been lying in bed for an hour, seething. and now i'm going to go do that some more.
posted at 7:45 AM

the couch is gone, hooray! i had an obstacle-free path to my mailbox, which contained a big, beautiful paycheck. i love getting paid. i love money. i heart filling up my bank account with ones and zeros.

i went to dinner with jen. nuwanda. it is offensive and outrageous ($2000) that we have not seen each other since i moved to nyc. that's a whole year. she lives in brooklyn, not far from joe garden as it turns out. offensive and outrageous. we met at zen palate but the line was huge so we walked to little india (she's a vegan, so dining choices aren't quite as wide as normal) and ended up at one of the generic places. good meal, good people. i got a taj mahal beer that was labeled in the menu as "taj mahal larger beer" and it was more money than the kingfisher but i was still unsure if maybe it was just a typo of "lager." i ordered it anyway. it arrived, a giant bottle - labeled "taj mahal lager beer." so it was really taj mahal larger lager beer. heh.

i don't know why jen and i haven't seen each other more often. or at all. i filled her in on all the avalon gossip and we talked about jobs and lack of direction and all the other blah blah blah. it was good. it's scary to think about how she used to come visit me when i was in high school and she was in college. and now we're both in the real world.

we are old. we are fucking old.

tha block is hot tonight, as lil wayne might say. everybody is out tonight. a bunch of people are sitting out on lawn chairs drinking 40s and watching the basketball game, they've brought a tv outside to watch. i kind of like things like this. i'm watching alone, though, inside, vaguely naked. it's hot out. and in.

i just called dad to report on the day, as per usual. turns out grandpa toby is in the hospital. i have the unpleasant suspicion i'm going to have to fly home for a funeral in the next few days. blah. sucky sucky.
posted at 9:46 PM

there is a couch in the lobby of my apt building. it's been there for three days. it disturbs me for many reasons. the lobby to my building is not very large, basically a small entrance, the stairs and then the mailboxes are in an alcove to the right of the stairs. because of this the couch is standing on end, and it almost reaches to the ceiling because it is a large, long couch. it is dirty and gross and probably home to many cockroaches. it is standing in the mailbox area, so if i want to check my mail - and i want to check my mail - i have to squeeze by the dirty gross standing on end home to many cockroaches couch. if my clothing or my bag become home to many cockroaches due to me squeezing by the couch to check my mail, i will be very, very mad. i hope the couch leaves soon.

i risked the infestation of many cockroaches and checked my mail yesterday. i received my invitation to shtim's wedding. it's pretty, very neat and clean. it was addressed to "erin and guest". who's coming with me? i'll open the bidding at $10.

work has gone from suckage to sewage. sigh. i would like to have a day where i do not feel drained and exhausted. maybe i have mono. that would be a neat trick, though. heh.

Note:<888>06/08/01 Friday 6:00 A.M. EDT: I noticed a few unusual items in the Greenwich Hospital Thrift shop yesterday. They have a 2.5 foot by 4 foot black and white framed print of the Conyers Farm lion for $400 and a Concorde 4 ounce silver plate liquor flask for $15 and a large 4 foot by 6 foot solid oak desk for $100. I guess some people are still doing spring cleaning. Historically a number of residents have kept lions around their properties for some odd reason. I am not sure if they are indiginous to the North American continent or not. Usually a golden bear scares them off. However, I am not an expert; for all I know it is all old wives tales. I think I will continue to relax at home after I wake up today. Time to send out Scott's Notes. CIO
***
JamesMorrow123: Just relaxing
oppsie1: well have a good morning.
JamesMorrow123: CIO
oppsie1: <888>
oppsie1: dammit i want to know what that means
JamesMorrow123: this is why we must find mrscott
oppsie1: we could email him and ask. hmm.
oppsie1: i could email him with my anonymous hotmail acct
JamesMorrow123: yes
oppsie1: "dear mr. scott: i have been enjoying your account of your daily activities as well as learning about greenwich connecticut. i was wondering if you could tell me what <888> means, because it has intrigued me. well that's all for now. have a good morning."
JamesMorrow123: YES!
oppsie1: the name on that acct is POKEY PENGUIN
JamesMorrow123: perfect
JamesMorrow123: i should set up mtlion@aol.com and start harassing him
JamesMorrow123: "I'm on the roof right now just relaxing. Have a good morning"
***
MtLionInCT: I am on the roof right now.
MtLionInCT: 888
MtLionInCT: CIO
oppsie1: well i am peeing my pants now. i think i'll go try to relax. have a good morning. CIO
MtLionInCT: I am the reason your allergies are acting up.
MtLionInCT: have a good morning.
MtLionInCT: I used to live in Mt. Scott, Colorado.
oppsie1: i am going to purchase a golden bear at the greenwich hospital thrift shop. i noticed they had one yesterday for $3.45 plus .24 CT sales tax. i hear tell they are a good defense against mountain lions.
MtLionInCT: No! Not a golden bear!
MtLionInCT: Is he referring to Jack Nicklaus?
oppsie1: well he did chat with that returning golfer for quite a while. twice.

posted at 2:59 PM

got home around 830p. the wimmin story finally closed after we got pizza for dinner. on one of my slices there was a small hair embedded in the special mozzarella cheese topping, and i pulled off a huge section of cheese and ate the rest of the slice because there wasn't that much pizza to begin with so a replacement slice would be a difficult acquisition. sometimes i don't know why i do the things i do, and my body decided to take its revenge by marshaling my intestines against me. i don't know if it's because of the pizza or because of the new drugs i'm on. neither the pizza nor the drugs seem to be working, and i want to hide in my apartment for many months until they do. i need a body exchange program. the really pathetic thing is that i'm a fairly healthy, normal person except for these superficial, nagging issues. i've never had any major health problems, instead spending my childhood being jealous of my brother and his. i expect the shit's going to hit the fan sometime in karmic retribution. or that it already is. maybe sooner, maybe later.

watched a bunch of sex and the city second season eps because i have to give the dvds back to annoying cubicle guy tomorrow. i've had my estrogen fill for the month and then some.

i think i need to be careful with mrscott. i can feel him creeping into my thought processes, plus i keep laughing aloud to myself when i am sitting in my cube or walking around the office because i am thinking about something funny he wrote. this is dangerous on many levels. i tried telling research editor robin about mrscott but i ended up collapsing on her floor with giggles in my mouth and tears in my eyes. it was a bit embarrassing. i think i've spent more time smiling and laughing in the past 48 hours than in the past 48 months combined. i ended up having to email robin because i was unable to form words. i think i should limit my mrscott reading to a certain amount per day, sort of like a ration. my addictive obsessive personality makes such steps necessary. yeah.

well i am just relaxing. have a good evening. CIO

oppsie1: gabe got a little hottie haircut. heh.
orangina51: which gabe?
oppsie1: my brother
oppsie1: mr fabulous doesn't need to get a hottie haircut.
oppsie1: he's hottie by default
orangina51: hee hee
oppsie1: i can't believe i just typed the word 'hottie' multiple times.
oppsie1: feel free to shoot me.

posted at 11:57 PM

i got frites for lunch. i'm now regretting it. the walk to and from the post office/frites, however, was well worth it. first i verified that yes, i could temporarily forward all my po box and apartment mail to new hampshire for the summer. then i got my frites, and then as i was walking back there was a big fat guy in a red tshirt with a walkman on and i could see he was singing aloud with it because his lips were moving but as he approached me i could hear him and it turned out he was just saying "eating pussy" over and over again. i'm trying to decide if i should be frightened, but at least he wasn't saying "mountain lion" repeatedly. after that i passed by a starbucks and as i was walking towards it a little starbucks elf emerged from the inner coffee sanctum and had a tray of sample drinks and i acquired a free raspberry mocha chip frappuccino. and i must say that it was a perfect complement to the salty frites. until i ran out, because the sample was small.

i think mrscott is having an unpleasant influence on my blog prose.

the work week just continues its parade of suckage.

"but now he rides a comet's flame
and won't be coming back again
the earth looks better from a star
that's right above from where you are
he didn't mean to make you cry
with sparks that ring and bullets fly
on empty rings around your heart
the world just screams and falls apart"
posted at 1:14 PM

EAST COAST EAST COAST. yeah, so. too bad it wasn't the bucks taking the lakers to town, or better yet the pistons, but you can't always get what you want.

i should probably sleep, but i just keep laughing and laughing and laughing.

twingo16: do you know how much more motivated i would be to write this if jimmy fallon were here in bed with me?
twingo16: actually, i would probably be embarrassed, b.c the diet pepsi has made my tummy a little, um, bubbly
oppsie1: you could blame it on the mountain lion
twingo16: there is not enough room for me, jimmy, and the mountain lion. someone's got to go.
twingo16: how far into delusion do you have to creep before you are declared criminally insane?
twingo16: is it before or after you have a national celebrity boyfriend and large, dangerous mammal in your bed?
oppsie1: it depends if there's a mountain lion involved.
oppsie1: oh shit, you beat me to it
twingo16: "well, i just drank 16 fluid ounces of a reduced calorie Pepsi-Cola product from a Martha Stewart Everyday collection tumbler and i took my blood pressure, and it is 135/80. I checked the apartment thoroughly for mountain lions, though I'm still worried about the dishwasher. It seems like a good place for a mountain lion to hide. Time to relax."

posted at 1:01 AM

this game is great. go sixers, take those golden bitches to the hole. holy jeez, iverson just drained one from orange county. good god. eastern conference, one love, one love.

but not as great as my love for the fact that pet shop boys are going to be performing at pine knob when i'm in detroit. oh shit yes. $55 for pavillion? i think so, mr billete.

okay, two out of three commercials feature kobe bryant. that's a little bit of overkill.

"i never dreamt that i would get to be
the creature that i always meant to be
but i thought in spite of dreams
you'd be sitting somewhere here with me"
posted at 11:33 PM

long ass day. er chicks are endless and i am sick of their shit. i'm also sick of hollywood publicity skeezes. their typical mo is to tell you to fax in any questions or requests, no matter what you're calling about. so i call to ask a mere two questions regarding spelling of names and the bitch on the phone gives me the party line and asks if i can just fax my questions and i go "NO! that is a huge pain in the butt and all i want to know is how to spell a couple things, do you think it might be possible to just do this over the phone?" and she was totally cowed, i schooled that bitch's ass like the lakers are going to do to the sixers in a few minutes. owned. ownage.

still got some calls to make tomorrow but hopefully fairly painless. it turns out the la writer will be in town on friday, in the office. she can meet me in the flesh and realize i'm just some snot-nosed kid challenging her words. great. at least she was civil to me this afternoon and didn't make me feel like a moron.

came home, heated up a knish, now i'm watching sex and the city second season dvd, but i'm turning on the basketball game in a few minutes. east siiiiiiiiiiiiide. also when i put my box fan in the window upon returning home from work, the handle snapped off. it had been broken on one side for months, but tonight was the final straw. now i have to hoist it with two hands. that's annoying, because the fan is kind of dirty. my choices are, as i see them, to a) buy a new box fan for like $20 at riteaid or b) buy some duct tape for $4 at riteaid. either way, a trip to the store is in order.

also i am now obsessed with mrscott.com. jeremie stumbled across his site while googling for greenwich stuff. it is the best thing ever, the find of the century. this guy is either a mad genius or a psychotic lunatic. every time i read about mountain lions i practically pee my pants. i mean, what the fuck dude. i want to stalk this guy in greenwich. i want to make him think he's under surveillance. maybe i'll get a mountain lion costume and fuck his shit up. also, what the hell is jello mixture? i hope the answer lies in the archives or perhaps his memoirs.

Note:<888>05/27/01 Sunday 1:05 A.M. EDT: I put the bathroom closes hamper on the bedroom Danish table for easier agress to the toilet. The bathroom cieling is aluminum studs and sheet rock open to the higher false cieling, so it is not a secure location from a mountain lion. CIO

posted at 8:57 PM

i'm working on this cruddy gorgeous ladies of er cover story and my bitterness is just phenomenal. mostly it's that i have to deal with the la people and the writer in particular, and for some reason she either acts like i'm putting her out by calling her and asking questions that it is my job to ask (double-checking, mostly), or she chews me out for not coming to her first. either way i end up feeling small. what the fuck. people just piss me off, like, all the time.

on the plus side, i sent myself to nitrate heaven for lunch. two jumbo grilled dogs with spicy brown and a coke. cheap, tasty, fulfilling. as all things should be. total cash outlay: $3.20. makes up for dropping that money bomb last night at MARY'S FISH CAMP.

<rz011> if i was straight i'd have sex with brittney spears
* rz011 is in love with brian boytano
<KRomeleoN> i like the bass player from The Monkees
<KRomeleoN> hes aged like a fine wine
<Man250> lets change the subject

posted at 2:24 PM

buh. headache, possible hangover threatening, obscene amount of shit to do at work today. this does not look good.

plus i was too depressed yesterday to properly respond to brandon, who apparently views himself as my blog villain. (he isn't. a taskmaster, maybe, but we all know i need that almost as much as i need a million dollars.) note to self: stop writing about work that technical bosses read before they read it. it only leads to heartache and guilt complexes and self-flagellation.

shit, there i go doing it again.
posted at 11:58 AM

man, that was a good dinner. i am now pleasantly, slightly drunk, on both food and drink. as in, if i had not had half a bottle of wine and a guinness, i'd still be feeling this punchy, because the food at MARY'S FISH CAMP is so unfuckingbelievable. i met morrow at 7p by the subway, and we got lost in the wilds of the west village before backtracking and realizing we had to go in the opposite direction to find FISH CAMP. which we eventually did. about a 40 minute wait. worth it, worth it, worth it. this time we got a dozen oysters, that delicious pinot grigio, a lobster roll, and the soft-shelled crab. (we tried to get the lobster knuckles appetizer, but they ran out, and the lobster pan stew, but they took it off the menu for the summer.) orgasmic. afterwards walked north on 7th ave until we hit 14th street and flannery's bar, which i went to long ago with rossiter. (which reminds me i need to email mr drake.) a guinness apiece, then homeward.

mmm FISH CAMP. mmm pete leaving me a message on my answering machine while i was out from army in mississippi (i-p-p-i). mmm pete referring to himself as d. heh. mmm.

JamesMorrow123: i just found a bicentennial quarter
JamesMorrow123: when i was a little kid i convinced other kids they were worth 50cents and exploited it to my advangtage
oppsie1: i didn't see your first sentence at first, about finding the quarter
JamesMorrow123 : i found a bicentennial quarter.
oppsie1: yes i am aware of that now
oppsie1: i thought you meant the kids themselves were worth 50 cents
JamesMorrow123: they were worth less

posted at 10:45 PM

HOLY SHIT! now i'm going to have to start watching again. holy shit. holy shit.

so in my mail this morning i get an email from jill soubel regarding shannon's bachelorette party. i'm invited. this pleases me. juliya is also invited. this also pleases me. i can't reveal what we're doing in the event that shannon stumbles across this, because it's a surprise. however, i don't know if i'm going. why? because it's the same fucking night as tim's bachelor party. so now i'm in a real spot, and i'm fucked, because no matter what i do i'm going to be ditching one for the other. on the one hand i feel like i should go to the bachelorette party, because i'm a girl and that's what girls do. but on the other, i've known tim since i could breathe, and i've known the rest of the boys at least as long. and i'm one of them. they're the ones i played d&d with when we had no friends, and they're the ones i spent my vacations and my holidays with. they're the ones that i miss and think about and want to be with, even when they're assholes and i hate them. and especially when they're not and i don't.

clearly, somebody wants me to get an ulcer.
posted at 9:36 AM

i was going to sleep. i was. i can't keep my eyes open. i can't. i was. sleep. me. to. sleep. yes.

guess who picked tonight to blast his stereo?

sigh. i'm watching the diff'rent strokes marathon on nickelodeon, and i popped a benadryl.

no email from brandon or inside stuff. my goose is cooked.

i just checked my snailbox and there was a letter from the academy foundation - my breathless fedexing of ytwt for the nicholl was not for naught. (i actually knew this a few weeks ago, or suspected, because my application fee check got cashed.) i am entry #3458. there about 5500 entries. that's a lot. as i scanned the letter saying "hi! you're entered!" something looked a bit off. then i realized it was because they had the script title was yours truly, well taylor. uh. wtf. did i manage to typo it on the script cover or write it wrong on the entry form? shit. i am a moron. i was in such a rush that i theoretically could have botched the title somewhere along the way. this would be a new low of idiocy on part. goddammit.

i immediately emailed nicholl@oscars.org with my entry number and the correct title. whoever mans that address responded within an hour. that's pretty neat. so now it's fixed. they said it was probably their fault, but now my paranoia is rising, rising, rising. but at least in august when i find out i didn't make it past the first round, they'll reject the right title.

television advisory: alert! alert! tomorrow morning at 7a begin two of the best episodes of saved by the bell EVER. in the first, screech's parents go away, zack throws a party at screech's house, and the gang must work together to repair a broken bust of elvis. but the second episode of this wonderful pair, oh ho ho, the second episode.. is the jessie-on-drugs episode. all sbtb fans and people who were not asleep in after 1989 know that this is the holy grail of sbtb episodes, for it contains the gang's intervention and jessie's meltdown to the tune of "I'M SO EXICTED.. I'M SO EXCITED.. I'M SO.. SCARED". ah, those were the days. tivo is rarin' to go.

best. episode. ever.

"and quit calling me hubby!"
posted at 10:56 PM

it is done done done. it is ass, but it is done done done. i should be jailed for using the phrase "now more than ever". that's gross. i also love that i made 230 tvguide dollars while working on my own shit. i actually had some research stuff to do today, some of which i did, and some of which i.. didn't. oops!

christ, i am tired.

i am also a fashion victim today. the pants situation has reached critical mass. my khaki pants are now unwearable. today i wore a navy blue tshirt (half my wardrobe, with various images) and green pants. green pants. green pants.

note to self: hie thee to old navy.

<bossh0g> whats a matter wayne.. is your sport jacket and t shirt too tight?
<iamsancho> haha
<iamsancho> spencer youre so mad at me
<bossh0g> have you sucked up too many jock fumes at that fucking stupid bar near your house?
<angstrom> uh oh, here comes pump up the jam!!!
*** nar is now known as jockfumes
* jockfumes . o O ( puff puff )
* jockfumes gets all up in kamee's business.
<iamsancho> WHATS A MATTER YOUR BOSS PISS IN YOUR COFFEE AND DEMND YOU DRINK IT AGAIN?
<angstrom> worst episode ever!

posted at 7:38 PM

for some reason, i am supremely amused by the shit going down in nepal. i think it is equal parts that i get to say "nepalese" a lot, and that sounds kind of like "nipple-ease," and because i suspect the nepalese were just bitter that israel and the palestinians were getting all the press, and because it leads to lines like this one:

Palace officials had no explanation for why there was an automatic rifle present at a dinner party.

eyes still leaden. haven't made much progress on the story for a few hours. the day is slipping away. but at least i'm wearing my favorite underwear.
posted at 4:12 PM

just banged a red bull, although my eyelids still feel like they have a grand piano sitting on them. i'm feeling very stretchy. i had a dream involving going to see memento with sheri at the state, except the refreshment stand was on the first floor, and alexis spotted us on the street and joined us and i was very freaked out, and i got popcorn and a coke except all they had was pepsi, and when i got to my seat i ate all of the popcorn only to discover there was butter all over it and like a quarter cup of butter liquid product sitting in the bottom of the tub and i was disgusted and went downstairs to the refreshment stand to ask the vending guy to replace it, but we both agreed that i'd already eaten all of it and wasn't really hungry for more so he just gave me a coupon for free popcorn instead.

story is coming along nicely, although i fear it may grind to a screeching halt when i get my research stuff for the day. stupid day job getting in the way of more important endeavors. the nerve. THE NERVE.

"last night something pretty bad happened
we lost a friend
all shocked and broken
shut down exploded
jeddy 3 is what we first called him
then it was jed
but jed's system's dead
therefore so's jed
we assembled him in the kitchen
made out of this and
made out of that and
whatever was at hand
when we finished jed we were so proud
we celebrated
we congratulated
at what we'd created
jed could run or walk, sing or talk and
compile thoughts and
solve lots of problems
we learned so much from him
a couple years went by and something happened
we gave jed less attention
we had new inventions
we left for a convention
jed had found our booze and drank every drop
he fizzled and popped
he rattled and knocked
and finally he just stopped"
posted at 11:06 AM

and here we have it: i have plugged and played and now i am going to pass out. that's right, i am actually going to put off the intro until tomorrow when i am at work. is this a new low?

nope! hahahahahahahahahhahahahahaha.

yeah, i'm losing it. also, somebody has been setting off either firecrackers or an uzi on my block today. i keep hearing them. however, no screams follow the noise, so i'm leaning towards the former. what a pity. this place could use some rubberneckable carnage other than the shit i have currently come up with in microsoft word.

don't hate me because i bargain with myself.

it's really ridiculous that i cannot make a deadline. but lo, my deadline (new, extended and improved) is tomorrow, and tomorrow has many hours in it, and brandon is in a different time zone. what luck! what blinding, outstandingly excellent luck!

oh, and i've been attempting to im my cousin zach all night, only it turns out i was apparently attempting to im my ex-aunt. oops. yup, it's been a real winner evening.
posted at 2:08 AM

i am so fucked, solomon. i am the king of the story cop-out, for sure for sure. arg. poor brandon expects brilliance and creativity from me, and i'm just going to write a multi-graf intro (although, admittedly, it will be brilliantly creative, and not just because i'm opening with the konami cheat code that first popped up in contra) and then do a bunch of plug-and-play profiles where everything is quotes, cleanly ripped off from his very own monthly "inside engineering" feature in the magazine. i am so, so bad. i think i'll offer to rewrite it if he so desires, as well as bake banana bread. the worst part is he'll probably read this before i get a chance to send the story and an explanatory email tomorrow. whee, look at me, no holds barred in the information department.

so mrs hong called around 6p to say she was in manhattan and could she come look at the apt right now? i said yes and then threw on clothes, brushed my hair, washed up, and did a whirlwind cleansing of the apt that involved a lot of piling and shifting. that's right, i haven't bothered getting dressed today or moving off the couch other than to cook some lunch (mac'n'cheese, hamburger, yum). she shows up a while later and she's all asian and accented and stuff, and she looks around the apt, and then she asks how much and i say $1850 and then she says she saw another place for $1500 and would i come down to that and i like an idiot don't even bargain with her! man, she out-tribed the tribe. i did, however, say that for $1500 her daughter would have to pay utilities. so it's not that bad. i'm still coming out on top.

she better take the apt.

the basketball game was pretty great until ray allen busted his knee and the bucks went down with him. also seeing iverson's mom's claws on the conference trophy right before they officially awarded it to philly was highly traumatic. she is a scary-ass skank ho. i transcribed my presto interviews during the commercials and halftime. how multitasking of me.

i am so fux0red, solomon.

<_jdb> hm, something physical hurts, and it's causing me to realize some things are actually a lot more private than others.
<_jdb> "ow, i zipped my penis accidentally." <- okay to talk about.
<_jdb> "man, there's something fucked up with my ass." <- harder to talk about.
<_jdb> i can't put my finger on why that is.
<oppsie> but you can put your finger in why that is.
<_jdb> in thinking about it, i think The Ass Discussion is one of the ones where you can rate your closeness factor with friends. in fact, general physical maladies.
<_jdb> Okay to mention flu: Not a complete stranger.
<_jdb> Okay to show bruise on hip: Regular Friend.
<_jdb> Okay to mention itchy rash on back: Good friend.
<_jdb> Okay to talk about that goddamned STD exgirlfriend gave you: close friend.
<_jdb> perhaps to be revised with s/exgirlfriend/that takehome trailertrash barfly/
<_jdb> Problem with ass: spouse.

posted at 1:01 AM

i mopped the rest of the apartment and attempted to call the sublet mother, but nobody answered. i just tried again and talked to what sounded like a teenage boy. he sounded quite unsure. perhaps mrs hong (well-hong? karl hungus?) will call me back later.

sheri is encouraging me to have a secret crush. sheri is very, very naughty. naughty sheri.

(hint: my encouraged crush is not on joe fusion. i forgot to mention that i met him last night at joe garden's. how random, finding another monkey in the flesh. but my potential secret crush could be on another monkey. or it could be on somebody else entirely. or i could be making all of this up and there is nobody. the world is full of possibilities. mwahaha!)

wait, what the fuck am i doing? gah. naughty sheri, you are a BAD INFLUENCE. not to be confused with the bad lieutenant, who is in monkey trouble, along with the bad child actress.

i watched the series finale of sports night this afternoon. once again, my blinding hatred of the programming executives at abc is cooking my organs in their own juices. why, why, why?

barrett oliver is so damn cute. the neverending story is on foxfam and i am using it as a procrastination tool. (i also mopped the rest of the apartment.) it's such a good, sad, scary movie, especially when you're a kid. rockbiter is especially tragic. but most of all, barrett oliver is so damn cute.

this is a rollercoaster ride, the best scandal of the summer! but he's no steve torino.

okay, enough. food, then work. no, really.

"they look like big, good, strong hands, don't they? i always thought that's what they were."
posted at 3:43 PM

monkeypiece theatre was honey bunches of fun. i got there a little after the first movie, the barefoot executive, began, because i didn't realize quite how deep in bfe joe garden's house is. let me tell you: it is so deep in bfe that even dirk diggler's king-sized cock couldn't penetrate 19 temple court without the help of a swedish made penis enlarger. also the trip was leaning on the traumatic tip because for a little while there was an old lady sitting across from me who had a bloody nose. it was really quite horrifying, because she'd clearly had it for a while when she got on the train, and it wasn't dripping so at first i didn't realize what was going on when i noticed that her finger was covered in dried blood. like, hey, where's that coming from? then i saw that the entire left side/nostril of her nose was caked with plasma and platelets. she didn't really look like a homeless crazy, but something was not quite right. and her face kept twitching. and other fingers had traces of blood. i tried not to look but it was a mighty, fruitless struggle.

i don't want to get old and have nasal hemorrhages and run out of kleenex and bloody up my hands. there's no dignity in that.

anyway, the screenings were fun, with a break in between during which i actually *gasp* talked to people, joe and a couple of his neighbors from down the street and some other random people i'm not sure who, and that was nice, and it was packed, and i had four beers or beer products over the course of the evening but didn't really feel any of them except for a profound sense of tiredness and exhaustion. so much for the wagon. also consumed many fine, fine banana products. i give monkeypiece theatre a hearty thumbs up. the second feature video was monkey trouble. oddly enough, i was present during the autographing of joe's monkey trouble poster by thora birch, in chicago, because an onion guy was in the roundtable with me and barrett and got the poster signed and i went "hey do you know joe garden" because i knew he was a monkey maniac from harold the brilliant and onion guy whose name is josh klein goes "yeah!" and it was crazy crazy crazy (just thinkin' about you, baby). but i have to say, i kind of wish harold had been there, because that would have made the night that much more excellent.

train ride home was from hell. i figured it would take forever and a day after the trip out to brooklyn, but it still sucked. i got off the d at 59th to catch the 1 only to discover, hey, the 1 isn't stopping at 59th tonight, and the d is running local, so i should have just stayed on that and walked a couple extra blocks. grr. i waited for the next d. grr. at least i had grandaddy/the sophtware slump and bright eyes/every day and every night to see me through - i dumped those cd's to an md this afternoon. sounded gorgeous. i heart md.

also, because i am a total fucking motard, i left my good umbrella on the f train. i'd been so good at not losing it, and to lose it on a night when it didn't even rain (of course) just makes it that much worse. now i have to go buy another, because my two backup umbrellas are a dinky miniumbrella and a massive huge taller-and-heavier-than-little-me umbrella, respectively.

tired and headachy now. pop some ibu, catch some z's. (in a fit of sheer genius, i took allergy meds before leaving because joe's email led me to believe that he had a cat. in fact, he has two. my prescience is commendable.)

oppsie1: i got mail from g bitching because i haven't responded to his email. that warms my heart.
wingsil: tell him to do you
oppsie1: i wrote back it was because i wanted to accost him on im, which is true. but he hasn't been on.
oppsie1: uh
oppsie1: i'd like that, actually. g is rad.
oppsie1: you would like g.
wingsil: if i didn't, would you stop lusting after him?
oppsie1: sure.
oppsie1: i don't really lust after him though.
oppsie1: i don't know where you got that idea.
wingsil: yes you do
oppsie1: g!=gabe burnstein
wingsil: oh
wingsil: god
wingsil: WHY MUST YOU CONFUSE ME SO
oppsie1: hahaha

"so i wait for the f train
and connect through a friend of mine
to a yesterdaydream
'cause i'll have to be high to drag the sunset down
and paint this paling town
bled white"
posted at 2:10 AM

it's pouring out, just in time for me to go to brooklyn for monkeypiece theatre. nice try, weather gods, but rain can't keep me away from simian hijinks! next: shower. dress. subway.

i think i'm going to burn photoshop to a cd so i can install it on my laptop. one of my goals for the summer is to attempt to do something vaguely cool with the site design here. or at least, vaguely cooler.
posted at 6:20 PM

[jameswatch2k]: i'm actually not sure if james is to blame for this; the music seemed to be coming from the back of the building or maybe the street beyond. either way, there is no excuse for somebody to be listening to HOT 97 (i know this because they did at least a dozen station calls) at 645 in the fucking morning on a weekend! gah. i almost wish it was coming from downstairs just so i could go bitch him out. with this new front i have no recourse. gah. i absolutely cannot wait for the blissful serenity and solititude of nh.

i finally roused myself a little before 11a, failed to convince ben and chet to come in from stamford for dim sum, threw on some ratty clothes and left for zabar's. i was actually down in the subway station when i remembered: hey, its saturday, and saturday means tamales. it had been so long since i'd visited the tamale lady due to being out of town or itchy for like months on end, i'd forgotten she existed. blasphemy, i know. i emerged at street level and walked crosstown. got a tamale and an umita. good but not the best they've been. then i did go to zabar's and i am such a no-will power oinky oink that i did get a bagel and creamcheese and lox and then i went and bought some cookies and some knish (stupid bitch ho didn't put the in the special knish foil-lined bag, grr) and some fresh-squeezed oj that looked good.

and now i am sitting around in my underwear, because i can, and mopping, because i have to. sticky floor==suck.

what doesn't suck is ben, dearest ben, fabulous ben, wonderful ben offering to drive me to manchester when i move. how sweet is that, in both senses of the word? now i don't have to deal with the hell of finding the cheapest rental car, or picking up the car, or dropping off the car. i will buy the gas and make banana bread. this is good, good, good.
posted at 5:07 PM

so much for justice. i decided at halftime to have a bowl of frosted flakes. silly me. as i was pouring the milk the bowl jumped off the counter and onto the floor, shattering and spilling shards of ceramic bowl, cereal, and milk all over the kitchen floor. it wasn't horrible to clean up, but i'm going to have to mop tomorrow. the clean-up effort aggravated my finger, so now i've got a huge bandaid on it to protect it and it's making typing a pain in the ass. grouse. grouse.

okay, let's try this cereal thing again.
posted at 10:47 PM

why am i so goddamn fucking tired? i have been yawning all day, the kind of yawns that take over your body and turn you into some sort of howdy doody-esque ventroliquist's dummy for their bidding. i'm so irritated and irate. i have somehow managed to get a papercut on the tip of my left middle finger. a little fuck you for my fuck you, i guess. also i have another headache. i hope i have a big, hideous brain tumor that is eating me alive from the inside out, because i am feeling right now like i do. and not because of the headache. i want justice. i want reciprocity.

new years eve y2k, jesus fucking christ. my life is fucking puh-theh-tik, phonetically speaking.

i got out of work mad early to discover that the offensively beautiful day that had been happening around lunch time had morphed into gray. shame. hopped subway to chinatown in search of soft-shelled crab. crab acquired at ny noodletown. $14 for two big ones. good. not great. i think i've been ruined by mary's fish camp. conveniently, i'm okay with that. i got bubble tea on the walk back to the train, consumed on the subway, and now i am home. in my mailbox was a packet from the fvdept. i got momentarily excited, like maybe the reason mary lou hasn't answered any of my email about the videotape of sunday drive is that she'd already mailed it. hahaha no. so on that note, the package was disappointing. independent of that, though, it is a package of brilliance and benevolence, for it contained five, count em, five different malcolm in the middle scripts. i love you, fvdept, and i love you, phil the librarian. thank you for taking care of me.

and i don't love you, mary lou, because you don't reply to my emails. wtf, woman.

np: built to spill/ancient melodies of the future. i don't think it's out for a while. it's really good. i think i will make it my mission to cut it to md this weekend so i can spend time with it on the train.

sports craziness abounds: first jesus shuttlesworth smells something rotten in olympic tower, and now jeff weaver is on springer. must be something in the water.

this reminds me a) that game 6 of sixers-bucks is on tv in a minute and b) i haven't turned my tv on in at least a week. hmm. well, no time like the present.

ahmad rashad's earring is highly annoying. i think he should loan it to bob costas. the world would be a better place, for sure.

twingo16: my mom apparently used to word "shitbum" in class yesterday
twingo16: i just thought that was amusing. now she thinks she will be fired
oppsie1: well, how did she use it?
oppsie1: as in "mark twain ate some rotten bananas and developed a shitbum" or as in "you there in the front row. yeah, you shitbum. i want that paper on my desk NOW." ?
twingo16: no, apparently when my parents were in high school, they called druggies "shitbums" and my mother was relaying this anecdote after the kids were saying things like "mrs. singer, were you HOT in high school? mrs singer, didn't you smoke and do drugs?"
oppsie1: oh.
oppsie1: i don't think she should really worry.
oppsie1: tell her i have every confidence she will remain employed. especially if she uses either of my examples of usage of 'shitbum'. those will probably help.

"do you know what it feels like for a girl?
do you know what it feels like in this world for a girl?"
posted at 9:00 PM

did the stuffing, did the dew, did the deed. sent mopete in for criticism and hatred, along with a note of apology. i goated the asshole on the train on monday who refused to let me plug my laptop in so i could charge the battery, rendering my computer useless during the painful, endless, awful 7 hour ride.

which reminds me that i have not properly discussed the weekend.

<written on memorial day>
i booked like hell out of tvg at noon, uptown to my apt, threw my shit in my suitcase, almost made it out of the apartment before noticing that my little black dress had somehow slithered out of my valpak and onto the floor, oops, put it back, zipped to the subway, pit stopped at zabar's (oh zabar's, light of my life, fire of my loins, cheapest, most delicious bagel/creamcheese/lox available in the city, nay, the country, along with most excellent chocolate croissant goodness) with suitcase in tow, continued in sweaty huff up broadway to uncle's apt, arrived at building, left suitcase in lobby, went to apt, guess what, aunt and uncle so totally not there. wipe sweat off brow. commence eating.

they showed up as i was finishing, and we got in the beemer and vroom to boston. not very vroom, though. it was basically stop and go all the way up to hartford, when traffic inexplicably dissipated - is hartford really that much of a holiday weekend destination? who knows, but after that it was smooth sailing and we actually arrived at the hotel in time for dinner. and what a dinner it was. this is the third bar/bat mitzvah i've suffered through up in boston, and i was dreading the friday night hotel dinner like nothing else because the previous two were so hideously tasteless. this time, though, this time, this time, we are staying at the westin instead of the icky doubletree. upgrade deluxe: fab room, fab dinner, fab family.

best moment of the night: cousin rebecca rips out a huge belch, as if she's forgotten she's not in her dorm room at haaaahvahd. or maybe later, when she remarks, "the more i think about that burp, the more disgusted with myself i become."

saturday: services. boring. spent most of them out in the lobby with cousin josh, who is finally learning to read. bully for him. afterwards, dad and the re st went sightseeing down around haaaahvahd and surrounding environs, and i came back to the hotel to transcribe mopete and work. ha, yeah right. got into pajamas, got into bed, watched a couple of movies on cable (pieces of: something bad with chuck norris (although i guess that goes without saying), the cripple movie with frankie muniz, something with leaf phoenix and the xmas story/dirt bike kid, the skulls), then finally got up and took out laptop and recorder and cell phone and called y to inform about tomorrow's plans and then called kenny and then i was going to transcribe, really, really, really i was, and then gabe came back and, well, it was time to don the little black dress. oops. i am so very, very bad. also hoseless, since i never bothered buying those, either. oh well. it's almost memorial day. that means bare legs are acceptable.

party was fine once the food started flowing. famished sitting in the room all day and gabe decided to taunt me by getting lobster bisque while sightseeing. f him. photos suck, parties suck, my feet suck, itchy sucks. took my shoes off during dinner and spent the next half hour trying to get them back on. apparently all calorie intake sunk directly to my dogs. food, at least, was worth it. array of drinks at the bar tempting beyond belief, but i held strong.

sunday: brunch. more good food. ah, food. then y showed up and confused my family (excellent work, senor) and we took a bunch of food but not enough and got in the car whose name is fred and is forest green and is a new civic and is nice and comfortable and vroom to new hampshire. we took 95 up to 3 and then got off onto daniel webster highway and drove through pretty much every town from nashua to manchester, which was cool. i wanted to see everything, and i did, pretty much. new hampshire is rad. manchester is rad. i give manchester a thumbs up twice over.

i'm not sure exactly what i was looking for, or if manchester is it, but i think it's close. and close is all i can hope for, because nothing is going to be as perfect as i want it to be. the building with our apt is lofted and i believe an old mill building. we are going to be on the fourth floor. there is an elevator. ima keep my bike inside where it is safe, so safe. it's about a mile past the baseball park/stadium, and the only ten-pin bowling in the area (we went to two other bowling alleys, both of which were candlepin. what up with those crazy new englanders and their skinny pins? i thought we were actually going to bowl, because i love bowling and y hates bowling, but i convinced her by my relentless whining and wheedling along the lines of "can we pleeeeeeeeeeease go bowling please please please?" and offering to pay for it all. and we got close. we went to king lanes in goffstown, which is east of manchester and is where y is currently crashing at this guy tom's hou se down by a little lake, and his house reminds me of ben and jeff's place on the lake in dexter/wherever (actually, hmm, ben is from manchester, michigan, isn't he, aren't you, ben? how serendipitous), and king lanes has this silly logo mascot thing that looks suspiciously like mr butt from doonesbury, and no lanes were available because of league play, and then we noticed that, haha, it was candlepin bowling. so we sat there and watched for about twenty minutes, watching these families do their weirdo new england bowling, and it was cool, but i didn't want to waste my bowling opportunity with y on candlepin, so we left). i gauge that it's about two miles from downtown manchester proper, and the area isn't very hilly, and it's doable on my bike. there's also a bus stop around, and i picked up a manchester transit authority bus map for further study. i studied it during my two hours wait at boston's south station for the train this morning, and it is quite possibly the world's worst bus map. no stations are actually marked on the map, routes overlap so as to become unreadable, and nothing is properly, realistically mapped. gah. i think what i'll do is just get on the bus one day and ride it to all the stops, just to see where it goes.
</written on memorial day>

i spent all of memorial day traveling. at 845a we left for nashua so i could get the bus to boston (the one that left from the manchester bus depot didn't get me there at the right time for the train). bus arrived boston at 1055a. my amtrak train was for 125p. wait. wait. wait. consumed mcd's. so good, so bad. train arrives. i get on. it is packed. i am unable to find a window seat. i park myself next to a mildly cute guy who, oddly enough, is somehow in gamedev because he's working on documentation for some sort of game engine. and he's listening to dead can dance. how bad can he be? i listen to music for a while. i get out m laptop and sort of look pointedly at the lone outlet by the window that his laptop has been plugged into, charging, for hours. does he catch this?

no. cocksucker. my batter drained out and i noisily put my laptop away and he didn't do a damn thing and i got zero work done. cocksucker.

meanwhile, the train kept stopping literally every half an hour because the engine was broken. when this would happen, we would sit for a while without air conditioning or lighting. they replaced the engine at new haven, but apparently they replaced it with another broken engine. it took fucking forever to get home. we got lapped by a metronorth train. gah. not a good way to end the trip.

oppsie1: i went to get shawarma for lunch from the glatt kosher cart. and i get there, and there are two people in line, this black woman and a jewishy white guy
oppsie1: the woman wants a "shawarma g-eye-ro"
JamesMorrow123 : ha!
oppsie1: she does not want the white sauce but she wants hot sauce and a lot of meat
JamesMorrow123 : i'll bet she does...
oppsie1: no keep cutting, no keep cutting
oppsie1: she is intimidated by the white sauce which he explains is sesame and blah blah
oppsie1: it takes forever
oppsie1: finally she takes her food and leaves
oppsie1: the guy ahead of me gets falafel, and now there's another guy behind me
oppsie1: and the cart guy, who has another jew hiding in the cart with him, says "black people just don't understand how it is supposed to be eaten"
oppsie1: and then he starts talking about how it is written in the torah
oppsie1: and i like a fool smile and nod with him which i guess now makes me a racist cart patron
JamesMorrow123: well what are you gonna do? give him a lecture on tolerance?
oppsie1: right. he mutters some more about the bible and then i get my shawarma
oppsie1: and when he hands me back my change i go "todah rabah!" and he looks all pleased and says you're welcome in hebrew
JamesMorrow123: well now i guess you are part of the jewish bloodsucking interloping conspiracy against the black man.

posted at 1:07 PM

so let it be done, so let it be written. (not necessarily in that order.) i'm less than a hundred words away from my assigned count, but even after three bowls of sugar-laden frosted flakes i cannot keep my eyes open, so i will finish in the morning at work. also left to do are stuffings, but those are easy because i have a lot of random shit from the phoner that doesn't fit in the story. it turned out good. it's a good story. i just don't know if it's inside stuff-y enough. but at least it's not as albom-y as i thought it was going to be. small consolation.

ate more ibu a little while ago. headache is submerged right now. sleep while i can.

Peterson sits on the bench, his shot unused as his fifth-seeded team of upstarts, under the slam-dunk leadership of Vince Carter, takes on the team with the best record in the East.

orangina51: not to be crude, it's late and my brain is not processing things correctly but this sounds like sperm: 'his shot unused as his fifth-seeded team'

okay, so it's not the best sentence i've ever written. in fact, it's one of my least favorite in the story, so maybe i'll rewrite it. but not because it smacks of sperm. 12-year-old boys love sperm. 12-year-old boys are my target audience. i swear the rest of the story is not nearly so matt gargan's boy. really. honestly.

mostly.

ps crispy prawns with walnut sauce NOT A GOOD IDEA unless you are at hop kee in chinatown. i must remember that for the future. stomach==unhappy.

orangina51: today sucked btw. i spent most of the day being angry for no real reason.
oppsie1: was there a non-real reason?
oppsie1: or was it irate hormone BITCH ANGER? because i get that sometimes.
orangina51: i think it was BITCH ANGER
oppsie1: actually i get that all the time. i am perpetually full of BITCH HATE.

posted at 1:52 AM