Somebody in here it's your birthday

Yesterday my blog turned four years old.  If cukr kazdy den were a human, it would now be a hyperactive, overdramatic, pre-diabetic toddler.  And if I were a good mother, I would have celebrated this yesterday but I am currently absorbing the 55-odd hours of sweaty laughter that is the Del Close Marathon.  (I'll try to give a rundown of this madness later, but so far let me just say that Horatio Sanz is looking svelte and John Gemberling is still opposed to wearing shirts.)  ANYWAY...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BLOG!!  I started you out of complete boredom during a box office job and now look how you've blossomed.   We've laughed, we've cried, we've drunk too much booze and eaten too much sugar - and isn't that what life's all about?  Well no... I'm sure life's actually about a lot more than that.  But I'm only 25 and what do I know?  

I'm half asleep.

Let's eat some Funfetti.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: I heart Web MD

Hey, remember when I had mono? That was no fun. I was bored out my mind and just surfed the internets all day reading terrible things. Good thing Andrea is my voice of reason.

• 8/16/08 - 3:08pm

molly: oh my god, i'm reading horrible things about mono

apparently if my liver is damaged badly enough, i may have to avoid alcohol for up to a YEAR

andrea: STOP

molly: i thought i used up all my bad karma!!

i know it, i need to stop

i'm convincing myself i'm getting hepatitis now

andrea: you DO NOT HAVE HEPATITIS

molly: but what if i dooooo? what if that's why i'm dehydrated??

oh wait, i think i've had that vaccine

so unless my vaccine didn't work, you're probably right

it's just a ruined liver

sigh

andrea: you're fine

you weirdo

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: drunk, drunk on the range

This evening I met some expensive scotch. And I met it HARD. If I were to have a conversation with myself right now it would probably sound a lot like this:

• 7/25/08 - 12:41am

andrea: lonesome drunkie

drunken on whiskey

whiskey and saddlebags

made of tequila

on the prairie

molly: i want a saddlebag made of tequila!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have half a bag of pita chips to eat and some Wham! to listen to. Thanks scotch.

I smell pancakes and gin

Oh good god holy shit. Someone has taken my dreams and packaged them into a restaurant: PERMANENT BRUNCH! You guys, it serves all brunch all the time!! You can get fancy caramelized plum pancakes and mushroom-ricotta eggs at 1:00 in the AM if you want! Genius.

Oh and it gets better: it is a block away from my favoritest bar. Anyone want get waffles and then gin and then dance to Al Green on the jukebox all night?

Birthdays was the worst days, now we sip champagne when we thirs-tay

As you may have noticed, I listen to and love every kind of music. I spend much of my time reliving my dream past with David Bowie, The Who, Velvet Underground, and The Clash, but I also appreciate some Miles Davis and Liza Minnelli (LIZA!). And sure, OK, I recently rediscovered my original cast recording of Chess and sang along with the whole thing (hey, the show birthed the ditty "One Night In Bangkok" mmkay?)

But you know what's in the forefront of my mind right now? HIP HOP. Pure, unadulterated ODB, Mos Def, De La Soul, and company. This is mainly because I've started taking hip hop dance classes again and have become introduced to current hip hop/pop/dance that I wouldn't be listening to otherwise. Kids, Bev B is the coolest and if you ever find yourself in midtown twiddling your thumbs you better get your butt into BDC and take one of her classes. It's worth it if only to hear her yell "look in the murrr" (look in the mirror) and "crump it! crump it! booty!" (flail wildly).

ANYWAY. I had a point here somewhere.... oh yes: if I had it my way and didn't have to work all day and magically still had a steady flow of cash, I would take dance classes all day and throw dance-off parties at night. Let's have mini one right now, shall we? Here's my lineup of choice:

This not only has a good warmup beat, but is also a sweet video. Stretch it out, but move yo' head:

And then we gotta - GOTTA - follow it with this.




I'm starting to give in to Lady Gaga's charms. It's bad. Also: we totally learned a dance to this in my class so if you ever in the club and I be there and this drops... check yourself.

And then, sure, yes, we should crump and booty shake to this:



LOOK IN THE MURRR!

*PS: Sorry I can't fit in the whole width of the videos. I tried to edit the HTML code but then messed up my entire blog and had to re-design it from memory because I don't actually know how to edit HTML so... just follow the link to watch full screen. Okey-doke???

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: work shmerk baby jerk

Not only does Dreaface have the patience to deal with dumb babies all day (she is a NANNY, folks - Mary Poppins whatwhaaaat?), she is also an excellent stylist of every fashion. I want her to pick out my outfits every morning and then follow me around with a camera. Needy? Definitely.

• 9/19/08 - 11:30am

andrea: dear god thank god its friday

molly: no joke

of course it's going to go by soooo slowly though since i don't have much to do

andrea: i haven't even finished my first cup of coffee yet

i barely started it

and she's been screaming for an hour and a half

molly: where's baby nyquil when you need it?

man, i will never understand the screaming endurance of babies

andrea: seriously, you would think someone is pulling her skin off

and she does this everyday to one degree or another

because she's tired

tired

GO TO SLEEP BABY

molly: yeah, don't cry about it, weirdo

i don't get it either

andrea: i'm going to throw myself out a window

molly: nnoooooo i need you to be alive so you can fix my hair!

um... and love me

FYI: I'm pretty sure Drea has already abandoned The Weekly Widget & Sassoon. Tears. I'm going to try to keep it up anyway because it forces me to at least write a teeny tiny bit in here every week and gives me an excuse to sort through every gchat conversation ever. Although, I'd like to point out that she's the one who got all CAPS LOCK at me when we birthed this:

• 6/8/09 - 12:57pm

andrea: we should each just go through our archives and post a different chat on our own blog every day until we run out

still kind of like stealing the idea, only...i really want to do it and ours are better anyways

molly: yes, me too

we wouldn't even have to do it every day

because i'm a slacker

andrea: you wouldn't remember

what about one a week?

molly: it's true

yesssss

omgeeee do it today!

but surprise me!

and then i'll post one and maybe it will be the same one because we share a brain!

andrea: yes!

BUT YOU HAVE TO DO IT!

we'll do it every monday!

molly: deal!!

But she posts, like, actual photos about her real live life and stuff on her blog on a fairly consistent basis so maybe our blogs just complement one another more nicely. When my lack of relevance and photos bores you, head on over there. But in the meantime, stick around for some snarky references to the past and meandering thoughts.

I can't wait for the Forever 21 knock-off versions

I wonder... how do runway models keep straight faces?


Also: I wonder if there is a PETA for Muppets somewhere composing angry letters to Jean-Charles de Castelbajac.

Thanks to Popserious for exposing me to this madness.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: boys, you probably want to skip this one

Maybe we have a future in writing copy for those dumb ads in teen magazines.

• 7/27/08 - 11:36pm

molly: great time to try on bathing suits and dresses

i'm a midol commercial

andrea: you are not, because i'm not there to hand you a brownie

and then we laugh and twinkle together

except in my commercial then we both look at the camera and say "BLOOD"

with big smiles

molly: your commercial wins

i think after we say that we would also kick each other in the shins

and then cry about it

because we are so full of hormonal anger

andrea: YES

molly: and then say BLOOD again

andrea: YES

best commercial EVER

EVER

"Apparently, Cory would rather listen to the game then try and understand the emotional content of Romeo & Juliet."

When I was in my awkward pre-teen, junior high years, I started buying those lame "teen celebrity" magazines - like Big Bopper and Tiger Beat, ugh - with the pull-out posters. My friends and I were way into Joey Lawrence, Rider Strong, and Jonathan Taylor Thomas (affectionately known as just "JTT").

(I was actually smitten with Dean Cain and religiously watched "Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman"... but that's another story for another time.)

Rider Strong, especially, was the big heartthrob of our age group. As the tortured adolescent bad-boy Shawn Hunter on "Boy Meets World," he won us over with his skater hair and flannels.

I admit that he was the hook that initially got me to watch the show, but soon I got sucked in to the plot every "TGIF" Friday.

Which is why this article blew me away today. It sounds like Owen Roberts and I had similar childhoods in terms of TV pop culture. Although I did have a television, we only got about six channels on a good day and I was not allowed to watch TV on school nights (unless it was "Family Ties," "The Cosby Show," or "Life Goes On" - because those are wholesome, I guess). So my exposure to the cool stuff was limited to the TGIF blocks of quirky-family-and-friends comedies.


I always ended up watching "Boy Meets World," but not until now had I thought so deeply about the Cory-Topanga and Cory-Shawn dynamics. In fact, Cory Matthews as a whole is a surprisingly empty character in comparison to everyone else.

Does this say something deep and significant about our generation? Are we all like Cory, directionless and hopelessly "average?"

As Owen says:

What gives my life meaning? My own sense of self-worth has been derived, though not so self-consciously, from various "passions" over the years, and then, you know, family and friends and girls. For a while it was playing soccer, and then music, and then reading books, with a fair amount of overlap, all things that can be done well or not well. But I have often questioned, like Cory, whether I have any talent, the kind of talent that would justify doing those kinds of things in a way that would make other people notice or even give me money.

Read the rest of the article here.

Damn, this is getting pretty heavy for a Friday. Why don't we all just YouTube some episodes and admire Topanga's killer hair, OK? OK.


Also: THANKS This Recording! I've found enough procrastination reading for at least the next two weeks!

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: spice up your life with bad grammar

Some people get bored and join a sports team or take a trip to an exotic land. We just drop letters and verbs:

• 2/5/08 - 12:52am

andrea:

in order to spice up life, i am going to start typing like this:

i a m typ ing li ke t his

i w ant spac es wh ere spa ces shoul d n ot b e

molly: and i will no verbs

this fun

andrea: s ee , i' m no goo d a t gramm ar. I wou d o mit al l th e wr ong thing s

molly: whoa! forecast here wednesday 62 degrees

earth hot

andrea: earth over man

earth over

no more polar bears or penguins

except on lost island

molly: and maybe planet of the apes.

We funny.

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

All I want to do is dye my hair black again and tease it into a giant poof and get into shenanigans like the Maries in Daisies:



I want to look like this every day:

Yes, weird bumpy hair and all.

When someone figures out how to get back to 1966, they better take me with them.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: I'm here to help

• 7/18/08 - 11:00am

andrea: migraine

and you're gonna have the best night ever

and i hate you

molly: excedrin, lady

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: how most conversations go

• 1/9/08 - 11:32am

molly:i put fresh ginger in my travel mug a few days ago and now my coffee keeps tasting like ginger

i need a new travel mug andrea: ew.

molly: and stronger coffee

andrea: why would you ever do that?

ew.

molly: it's the best cure for a cold, i swear

steep fresh ginger slice and 1/4 lemon in hot water, add a big spoonful of honey and you're cured

andrea: what ginger coffee?

ginger beer

molly: just don't put it in a travel mug

andrea: ginger balls

ginger ale

molly: no no, now my coffee tastes like ginger bc of that

andrea: ginger rodgers

molly: whateverzzzzzz

ginger FACE

We are so mature.

Also, that whole idea of me posting other exciting things in between these weekly posts? Totally not happening. Maybe I need to start another weekly series called "random blog posts" and see how that works.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: why I stick with pineapple

I still gag a little when I read this.

• 12/7/07 - 11:21pm

andrea: goddammit i hate paypal

molly: i glanced at that and thought you said "i hate papaya"

i was going to tell you to calm down, it's just fruit

andrea: i DO hate papaya

molly: me too

andrea: don't you hush me up

molly: it smells like vomit

andrea: it looks like vomit too

vomit. fruit-shaped

molly: with seeds

andrea: ew

molly: SEED VOMIT

VOMIT OF THE SEEDS

I LOVE CAPS LOCK

andrea: ME TOOOOOOOO

VOMIT SEEDS

WOOOOOOOOOO

Hasn't killed my love of caps lock though.

The Weekly Widget and Sassoon: fantasy politics

• 1/6/08 - 11:07pm

molly: i was going to tell you to listen to the debate but it's just ending

andrea: ew. no

you just give me tho mollystyle highlightsmolly: well i spaced out a little toward the end

but near the beginning they totally set up hilary and barack for a face off

andrea: Man, I need to bone up before the lection

I don't know anything about either of their platforms

molly: charlie gibson was basically all like "so hilary, you say barack obama doesn't ever get specific about any of his issues, why don't you explain why you hate him"

andrea: and all i read of the times are the arts & science sections

molly: and i was all "oooohh snap"

andrea: (just like college! ew.)

molly: yeah you gotta

GOTTA

andrea: and she was all "cuz he's a beeeoootch"

molly: and then barack jumped up and kicked in the face

ZING

andrea: and then they had a dance fight

a JAZZ DANCE FIGHT

molly: yeah the debates would be much more interesting if it just turned into celebrity deathmatch

oh MAN that would kill me

andrea: no no, celebrity dance match

so much more creative than coming up with speeches and prepared answers

in my movie, the world makes no sense

Fancy

Since I seem to have given up on ever getting a real night's sleep, I decided to instead take these precious moments to class up the place a bit more.

The new header is thanks to Liz Wolfe. I discovered her art one day and got excited about it, mainly because it features CANDY! And WEIRD THINGS! So thanks, Liz, even though I don't know you for real real. I think it would be the best thanks if all four of you avid readers go check out her website and start loving it too. Do it.

Meanwhile I'm going to force myself asleep and hopefully not have weird dreams from listening to Pink Floyd at 1:00am.

Widget and Sassoon will blow your mind

It's Monday. It's boring. Andrea and I are job-hating. So why not start a weekly series of ridiculous conversations? Yes? YES.

Enter The Weekly Widget and Sassoon, which will be brought to you fresh every Monday. I'm not gonna lie, we totally stole this idea from Jed and Sara, but maybe they stole it from Dave and Staci and maybe a zillion other blogs doing it because the internet is killing all my "original" thoughts.

ANYWAY we have so many gems archived in Gchat that we can't keep it to ourselves anymore. Also, my blog is suffering from a lack of interesting topics so this will guarantee that I actually post more than once a month.

"Why the hell are you weirdos calling yourselves Widget and Sassoon," you ask? I don't really know. It was Halloween and we were drunk on 40s and mini wines and pretending we were in a Wes Anderson movie.


So YEAH! Let's DO this! I'm too busy (read: LAZY) to search way way back for the super gems, but here's a taste from February to get you started:

• 2/19/09 - 11:55am

andrea: there's nothing like buying monistat from a grumpy old man first thing in the morning

just nothing.

molly: i hope you gave him sexy eyes

andrea: i'm pretty sure i gave him grumpy eyes...

molly: darn

i almost irished my coffee this morning

came real close

allison had some jameson sitting out and i was like... what if...

andrea: ph MAN

or "oh man"

molly: pppphhhh man is good too

i hear it

andrea: what if...your day was AWESOME

molly: HA

true

Check back every Monday for more! And check out Andrea's blog too! We'll each be posting a different favorite chat, in no particular order. Although there is a chance we may post the same one some week because we have the SAME BRAIN. I actually wanted to call this series SAME BRAIN but Andrea thought that was lame. She's probably right. Although I don't know how hip Widget and Sassoon is either. Whatevs. You'll love it.

Spring cleaning

It's springtime, which means I'm wide awake and deciding that everything needs to be cleaned up and pastel and white-ish.

So... wipe your feet.

I have only worn gym clothes and pajamas all day

I swear Crunch saves all their best videos for Saturdays. This was the actual lineup I saw today while sweating profusely:

Billy Joel - "Tell Her About It"

Talking Heads - "Road To Nowhere"

Violent Femmes - "Blister in the Sun"




Blondie - "The Tide is High"

And - for a big finish - Dexy's Midnight Runners - "Come On Eileen"

Goddamn. That was an amazing time on the elliptical, let me tell you.

Also: I want every outfit that every chick is wearing in these videos. Except maybe Eileen's overalls.

Cat injection!

I've been getting allergy shots for a really long time now. OK, by "really long time" I mean about a year and a half. It just feels like it's been going on forevvvvver. My body is apparently taking a long time to build up a solid defense to the things I'm allergic to, specifically dust mites and cats. It weirds me out a little to get the allergy itself injected into my arm, but I guess that's the only way.

Besides the fun of having an excuse to get out of my office is the fun of chatting with my crazy allergist. I won't give you his full name for fear that you will steal him away from me and learn to do better impressions of him than me, so for now he'll just be Dr. M. Here's a sample conversation that we had today:

Dr. M: "How was your last shot?"

Me: "OK. Well, actually my eyelid swelled up again. [For real - this actually happens pretty frequently] Why is that? Is it because it's near my sinuses?"

Dr. M: "No."

There is a long silence. I can't tell if he's prepping the shot or just pausing for drama. Then he whips around and looks at me all serious:

Dr. M: "Your cells have something called a 'sensory memory.' When your body is under attack, your cells can react in unpredictable ways. I don't like that. I'm lowering your dosage."

Wow, DRAMA.

Me: "Oh... that's uh... interesting."

Dr. M: "No, it's not interesting, it's WEIRD."

You said it, Doc.

He is just full to the brim with dramatic moments. Sometimes he's lecturing me on how to do my taxes and other times he's muttering about these kids today and their iPod phones. He's like that uncle you getting cornered into talking to at family gatherings and suddenly you've been talking about how wind-up watches are better than battery watches for like 25 minutes and all you can think about is how he's blocking your access to the hummus.

I'm afraid I can't do that Dave...

Um... whoa.



Will this just be a fancier version of 2001 or will it actually be awesome? I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a man-vs-computer knife fight.

Housekeepiiiiiiing!

This morning I dropped a mushroom behind the microwave, which sits on a handy rolling cabinet thingy.

When I rolled out the cabinet and poked around with the Swiffer, I found not only the mushroom, but a sponge, a few packets of Splenda, a ladle, and a packet of ramen. I'm not kidding.

Sooooo... might be time to clean the kitchen.

I need to get out more

Warning: I may already be asleep as I'm writing this.

Here's a rough breakdown of my average day lately: roll out of bed at 7:45am wondering why the hell I'm awake, propel myself to work with caffeine, spend 8 to 10 hours smiling and nodding doing shit that no one else wants to do, jet to my evening box office job for 2 more hours of smiling and nodding, propel myself to the gym for as long as I can handle, get home around 11:00pm, eat cucumbers and tortilla chips and drink lots of gin, then finally collapse into bed. And then wake up and do it all over again. I'm starting to forget what day it is.

BUT, hallelujah, there is a moment of zen. OK, two moments if we count gin. Or three if we count sleeping on the subway. OK OK, but the TOP moment of zen is going to the gym. For reals. I know, I know, but I'm one of those weirdos who actually likes the gym, mainly because it gets out a lot of pent up aggression and gives me the illusion that I'm getting svelte. And and AND because... there are endless ridiculous music videos to watch.

That's right. I recently joined Crunch and, while at first I was mad that they don't have endless cable channels like my old YMCA, I have slowly become obsessed with their heavily curated music video channels. The top one by far is the "'80s Pop" channel. I can't tell you how many times "Nasty," "Forever Your Girl," and "The Metro" have powered me through a tough incline run. But then - oh wow - I saw the gem of them all yesterday: Sting's "We'll Be Together".

Oh crap, I don't know how to embed a video, but please please follow that link. It's amazing. Here's a screen capture teaser:

(PS: Kurt Cobain totally stole this look about 4 years later.)

The highlights:
- Sting wears a gigantic sweater with a picture of Olive Oyl on it.
- He plays a charmingly scruffy artist and faces off with a douchier version of himself for the affections of a lady who looks vaguely like Cate Blanchett.
- There are some amazing Paula Abdul-esque dance moves, including drunken-fight dancing. And chair dancing. And push-ups dancing. And chicken dancing. WIN.

WOW I need a social life. But don't you feel like having a dance-off now? I do. But I should probably try out this "sleep" thing instead.

**This just in: the more cultured and observant Andrea noticed that Sting's sweater does not have a picture of Olive Oyl, but TinTin. Either way... wish I had those knitting skills. Or any. I guess Drea wins a sticker or something. (4/2)

Aw shucks

Watch out internets: my friend Andrea has joined the blogosphere.

I'm sure I've mentioned her before - she's also known as Drea Drea, Dreaface, and Fancy Miss Sexypants (um... she doesn't know about that last one). I'm guessing fancymisssexypants.blogspot.com was taken, so you'll have to go to ohlordrun.blogspot.com instead. Go! Do it! I'm even adding her to my sidebar, that's how special she is.

I was going to announce her blog by jealously pointing out how often she writes (sometimes THREE times a DAY, people) and making up excuses for why I don't update often enough (I update Twitter instead! I'm working too much! I'm doing really important stuff!), but then I read this. She totally wrote precious compliments about my anti-social behavior! Awww, it feels so justified now!

Well, in return, Dreaface: I get totally baffled about all the people you know. You always have the perfect companion no matter what you're doing: brunching, biking, shopping, dancing, library-ing, sailing. Yeah, sure, sailing - you could even find an awesome sailor pal.

Yeah, sometimes it's great to do things by myself, but sometimes it's just as great when someone else is there to hang with you. I hestitate to invite people on my escapades because I often feel like my activities are too mundane or dorky. (Does someone want to come see a Czech movie and then go to Bed Bath & Beyond with me tomorrow? No? Really? You sure?)

So in summary: you're MY hero, Drea. Not only because of your vast social circle, but also because you know how to cut my bangs perfectly and you save all my drunken voicemails. If you ever do get a cat though, you better believe I will hide it in a coffee table.

Now: let's blog the shit out of this internet.

Organic cures

This weekend has been a bust. After months of getting a gross cold roughly every three weeks, I got the mother of all of them this past Thursday. Chills, headache, nausea - the whole shebang. It's getting to the point where I think I may be having a relapse of mono, which would suck a lot. If anything, my immune system seems to be pretty destroyed. I have no idea why my body can't just pick itself up and behave.

Of course all of this got dumped on my body the weekend I finally had plans and was going to be a hip, social person. I was supposed to go to an improv show Friday, an improv practice Saturday, a party and a P&N/Thermals show Saturday night, and a Superbowl party today. Instead, I got to stay in bed.

The kicker was when I woke up this morning to find a text saying not only did P&N have an awesome show, but MICHEL GONDRY and PAUL SIMON showed up!! What the HELL? Is every part of the world against me right now?? Yes, my life is turning into garfield minus garfield.

So what does any depressed weirdo like me do? Impulse buy organic groceries. I'm pretty broke, having just wrote the rent check, but I justified it by telling myself I needed to get outside and clearly I need some vitamins in me. I spent far too much money, but it was actually a perfect outing. I came away with soymilk, agave, baked tortilla chips (so healthy, I am), arugula, a perfectly ripe avocado, an onion, raspberry Soy Delicious, strawberry Silk yogurt, a big bunch of bok choy, and oatmeal body lotion... all for roughly $37. Oops. Luckily as I passed all the discount stores on the way home I had melting ice cream with me and couldn't stop for tupperware and Japanese erasers.

So all this is going to cure my immune system, right? I'm hoping so... I'm getting at the end of my rope. I'm starting to forget what it's like to feel rested and healthy. I'm blaming January for now.

The best part of my outing was getting to actually see the sun. By the time I got back to my place it was 51 degrees. Amazing! I actually creaked open my window, cranked the Destroyer, and sat on my fire escape. Um... and maybe I blew some bubbles. Come on, wouldn't you??


I'm thinking February is going to be okay.

Puttin' on my Ebert glasses

Last night was pretty eventful: I drank a great T&T, watched pieces of Blazing Saddles and Starksy & Hutch (cable! I have cable!), and ate rice cakes. Tuesday nights are wild when you're broke. So continuing in the recession fashion, I re-discovered another cost-free pastime: watching movie trailers!! (I'm a dork!!)

After some intense watching and thinking, I can now save you from having to arrive at the cinema on time and offer you my brief summaries of the upcoming film season. Well... the season based on the trailers I felt like watching.

Let Them Chirp Awhile: Hipster New Yorkers write plays and walk dogs and sleep with one another and stop cutting their hair. I predict Of Montreal makes a soundtrack appearance.

Fired Up: OMG! These boys are, like, totally going to cheerleading camp so they can touch lots of girls' butts! They are soooo going to learn a heartwarming lesson about how camp is wicked hard and girls are super smart.

New In Town: Baby Boom minus... babies. Sort of. Also, Frances Conroy, what are you doing?? Step away from Renee Zellweger and get yourself back in a legit dramedy where you belong!

Confessions of a Shopaholic: AKA Legally Redhead (zing!). A Carrie-Bradshaw-wannabe spends tons of money all the time every day but then gets a job and shows people that she can have smart moments and falls in love with... some normal guy... and... shops... less..... zzzzzz.

12: It's 12 Angry Men set in modern Russia! Morality arguments in a freezing cold auditorium!

Let the Right One In: A 12-year-old vampire befriends her neighbor! Bloody murder in the freezing Swedish suburbs!

The Pink Panther 2: "Huuut dahhg. Hoot derg. Herf donng." Okay, I couldn't even bring myself to watch this preview, but you can imagine.

Now aren't you happy to have that extra popcorn-buying time? I thought so.

OMG! I haz a blogger!

Hey, so I had this crazy dream that I had a long-neglected blog and what do you know, it was TRUE! Whoa. Luckily the dream about me having to re-take my PSATs pants-less was not true. Whew.

Sorry friends, I'm in the midst of moving from Brooklyn to Queens (yeah, for reals) and hurriedly constructing holiday presents and it's sucking up all my brain power. I'll be back by January with something wittier than this, I swear. Maybe I'll make some naively optimistic New Year's resolution about it.

In the meantime, dry your tears and look for me here or here. Or maybe here. Hah, just kidding on that last one. We both know I don't own a flatiron.

HAPPY HOLIDAAAZZZZE!

Alive

Two years ago on this day at this time I was lying in a bed surrounded by lots of people and being pumped full of morphine. Not as awesome as it sounds, since I was broken in nine places and burned in others and completely in shock. Actually, around this exact time of night I think I was getting my face stitched up by a hottie plastic surgeon, so things were getting a little better.

It was only TWO years ago that I got smashed up by two large vehicles, and yet it seems soooo far away that sometimes I almost forget it really happened. Seriously. If it weren't for the scar on my leg that looks like a map of Asia and a part-titanium arm that predicts the weather, I would have to pull out my medical records to prove it. Sometimes I'm just so shocked that I'm still standing. And still jumping, running, eating, dancing, laughing, and brushing my teeth. Holy shit.

I'm still a typical girl in that I rarely look in the mirror and love everything I see; I probably criticize myself far too often. But every now and then I think "whoa, I just walked up all those stairs" and "damn, I just put my hair in a ponytail" and remember when those things seemed impossible. And then I think "thank you, knees, for bending properly" and "thank you, arm, for stretching so high." Thank you knees. Thank you arm. Thank you shoulders and teeth and lungs and fingers. Thank you EMTs and nurses and surgeons and physical therapists and person who donated the B positive blood that got transfused into me (weeeeird). Thank you brain for being functional enough to let me write this.

And - at the risk of getting all motivational-speaker and Chicken-Soup-for-the-Soul on you - I think you should do the same thing. Look in the mirror and say "thank you feet and hands and spine and brains and hips and teeth." For just one second, appreciate how insanely awesome it is that your body works because you never know when it might not for awhile. Or forever.

Now go be alive. Do it.

October is also boring

These past five weeks have apparently been so monotone and event-less that I couldn't even update my blog. Or maybe I've just been lazy. That could be it.

*Sigh*, OK, here are some things that happened, in brief:
- Mono went away... mostly
- Went to an awesome picnic with some PPK folks and stuffed myself with veggies and baked goods
- Saw Hair for the second time and Equus for the first time - lots of naked
- Continued the quest for a new apartment... still looking
- Made a sweet Fall music playlist to help me survive the cold (really, I'm excited about it)
- Turned 25 and freaked out a little about the idea that I have reached a quarter century and have no idea what I'm doing with my life
- Hung out with my sibs and sis-in-law in Ithaca where highlights included yelling at the presidential debate, seeing real live nature foliage, and eating the best apple crisp ever

And now: I'm sick with a cold, procrastinating doing real work, and thinking about how cluttered my room is with un-folded laundry and books.

Happy Wednesday!

I promise to have a real post about something interesting... soon. I promise.

Mono is boring

That Citrus Smirnoff in my freezer is getting awfully iced-over and lonely.

(I know... Smirnoff... I'm poor, OK?)

Alright, liver and spleen, listen up: I have spent roughly 17 days sitting in bed being bored (with the occasional outing to the supermarket or the dollar store - yahoo) and I'm ready to move on to more thrilling and grand activities. I would even settle for going to the gym so I could watch cable on the treadmill.

Last night - a lovely, cool, end-of-August Friday - I celebrated by eating ice cream, watching all the rest of the "Upright Citizens Brigade" I had from Netflix, and reading three-quarters of a Calvin & Hobbes compilation. Wild.

And today, instead of going to the beach and a sweet birthday party, I will probably make my bed, re-arrange my iTunes playlists, and watch the last disc of "Six Feet Under" - Season 4. Maybe also make a bunch of cupcakes and eat them all while pouting at the wall.

Get it liver & spleen? Calm down, stop threatening to explode, and let me return back to society in the very near future. OK? OK??

At least I can finally stomach coffee again.

Shameless self and not-self promotion

Someone call Elite. I'm starting my look book:

I'm on an album cover! Looking really excited! Because I am!

If you have not yet experienced the joy that is Pretty & Nice, drop everything you are doing and listen to their tunes. Right NOW. Their new album, Get Young, comes out this fall and it's going to rock your face off with it's falsetto-singing, drum-banging, guitar-wailing power.

Yeah, I kind of suck at reviewing albums and music and such. I am much better at describing music by describing the activity I would most like to do while listening to it. For example, Belle & Sebastian = making breakfast; Queen = putting on makeup and drinking gin; Joy Division = crying. See what I mean? So in that vein, Pretty & Nice =
- pretending to do gymnastics
- running and then sliding down the length of a polished wood floor
- eating frosting out of the can while bopping my head
- dancing around throwing paint on things a la jazzy Jackson Pollock
- jumping around barefoot (as you can see)

These all involve motion because you cannot stand still when you listen to Pretty & Nice. Or at least I can't. But they can, for some reason:

They are so oblivious. Even when I multiply myself. Hmm.

The boys are on tour through the beginning of September so check out the dates here and then go to a show and dance around. You won't be sorry. And if you go to a NYC show, you will likely see me looking much like these photos. Minus the romper and hat. Maybe.

(PS: the awesome album artwork is by Andrea Morales and Kelly Assaf and the press photos are by Brian Tamborello. Check them out too!)

Another $20 and 6 days later...

I knew this "virus" was more exciting than it appeared to be... I have MONONUCLEOSIS! Also known by it's hip street name, "mono," - or, if you're thirteen, "the kissing disease" - it's characterized by an intense need for sleep and... more sleep. And then some sleeping.

While maybe perhaps I have been partaking in some spit-swapping, I think my body is actually paying me back for packing my schedule full of every possible event and then marinating it in vodka. And trying to do it all on five or six hours of sleep per night. But my liver says NO.

Yes, my liver is Russian and looks like that guy. I'm not eating those crazy mushrooms, though... sorry liver.

I'm a little bit lucky because I haven't been experiencing the extreme, swollen sore throat that seems to be common with the virus, but it still sucks. These are the last sweet, beautiful days of summer! I should be running around in the parks eating Mr. Softees and drinking mimosas! I suppose that's kind of what got me here though. Instead, I am lying in bed reading cheesy magazines and watching old "Jim Henson Hour" clips on YouTube because going to the grocery store down the street is the biggest excursion I can handle.

Happy early vacation to me! Yay.

Good things about being really sick

According to my doctors I have a "really bad virus," although I'm not convinced it's that simple. When I shell out a $20 co-pay, I want to be told that my headache/fever/vomiting/frighteningly large glands are the result of something with a much better name than "really bad virus." And require better meds than Tylenol.

Alas. It looks like even after a week of fighting, my body is being left to fend for itself. While the battle of the insides rages on, I figured it couldn't hurt to think positively. Here's what I've been enjoying for the past few days:

- Getting to sleep with multiple blankets - even in the middle of August!
- Eating like a picky four-year-old. The staples of my diet are primarily saltines, popsicles, white rice, applesauce, and animal crackers. Actually, I was also able to stomach some carrots, green beans, and avocado today. Gold star!
- The realization that nausea might finally help me drop those last 5 pounds!
- Floating through work and having no idea how I finished those projects or where the time went (so... kind of like every day).
- The best dreams EVER. Including (1) the one where I am in the middle of tech for some show and I'm all pissed off because Miley Cyrus stole my sequined gown for the saloon scene and I realize it's because her dad is the director, even though everyone calls him Paul and he looks suspiciously like Adam McKay AND (2) the one where I "wake up" in a small room within an Australian airport to discover that some guy has taken my blood samples and possibly some of my organs to sell and that's why I'm so sick. YEAH. (That second one was so great and dramatic because I kept yelling "Look how sick I am! What have you done??" and the guy was crouched on the floor crying and yelling "I cahn't tell yuuuu" in an Aussie accent.)

So yeah, fun times all around. I guess while my face keeps sweating profusely and my glands continue to freak me out I can at least hope for some more awesome dreams. And since I probably can't truly blame some Aussie organ harvester, I'll go the usual route and blame the cats:


Damn you, flu cat! I said GET OUT!

Don't worry, no one else wants it

Sometimes, when I am feeling extra bratty, I don't like to eat really good candy in front of other people because then I will have to share. It's inevitable that in the rare moments I unveil a gleaming bag of Jelly Bellys or M&Ms at my desk, my co-workers will have smelled it from their desk in the next room and will magically appear over my shoulder with puppy-dog eyes. But I think I've found the solution: ugly candy. Specifically, this candy:

That's right, the humble Chick-O-Stick, which I re-discovered during a recent morning excursion to Economy Candy.

Yeah, bad news: I learned that Economy Candy is just a quick stop off the F train, meaning I can stop there on my way to work and only add about 15 minutes of commute time. The good news: I can stop there on my way to work and only add about 15 minutes of commute time!!

But really, look at that thing. It looks like an old carrot chewed on by a rabid dog and left under a haystack. And even if someone was brave and asked for a piece anyway, all attempts to break off "just a small bite" leave a pile a crumbs. But luckily no one asked me for one. In reality, this stick of ugly is the best thing ever. It's like the inside of a Butterfinger compressed into stick form and spiked with coconut. I don't even like coconut that much and I think it's genius. And - for those who care - it's even vegan. Here's what Wikipedia has to say:

The Chick-O-Stick is the Atkinson Candy Co.'s most well-known candy, having been manufactured since the Great Depression. It is made primarily from peanut butter, granulated sugar, corn syrup, and toasted coconut, with colorings and preservatives added, and contains no trans fats.

Do you hear that? No trans fats! It's practically organic!! Um... minus the "colorings and preservatives." *Sigh,* I'm in love. But, damn it, just when I was starting to eat healthily again, the Atkinsons drop in to guarantee a future wardrobe of elastic waistbands.

24/7/365

Oh my god, you guys, take a look to the left. Yep, right there. Yep, I added Twitter. Since I can't seem to get my ass in gear often enough to post something longer than a paragraph, why not just limit myself to 140 characters? Plus, now I have a whole new way to obsess about myself and then share it with the world.

You can continue to check it out here on my sidebar or you can also get the action straight from my spanking new Twitter site. I spent all day working on it. *Ahemaherrm*, I mean, in between taking very important phone calls and filing very important papers. Let me tell you, it is SO hard to find that perfect shade of yellow for your sidebar when people are talking to you about, like, money and stuff. Gahhhhd.

Enjoy! (Oooh, and subscribe!)