Nutrition for the SOUL

When I got up today, I told myself I could NOT spend ANY money, because I am POOR. That's right, POOR WITH THE CAPS LOCK. I have been rationing myself a set amount of spending money every week and it usually works out fine, but due to a lot of mindless spending and a lot of wine when my friend was visiting last weekend, I am in debt to myself. Meaning the current rationed amount is in the negative numbers.

So I went into work to pick up the new Harry Potter, because I had Amazon deliver it there, thinking that would satiate me for the day. But no. The resulting glee of having that giant book in my hot little hands made me buy a skirt with pockets from American Apparel (pockets!!), a couple of butterfly cookies from the amazingly cheap Bangladeshi bakery (is it Bangladeshi? god, I'm ignorant), and a six pack of Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat. That's right, I found BLACKBEARY WHEAT at the Foodtown. Fucking. Amazing.

And then I scrounged up the $1.62 to buy three tomatoes and an apple. Hmm, where are my priorities? With premium beer and the Weasleys, my friend.

Because I'm mean

Yesterday morning was an unusually packed one on the Manhattan-bound F train. I can almost always get a seat right when I get on, but this time I had to stand. I was not happy. So when a bunch of people got off at Jay St, I instantly grabbed the closest seat.

Then I noticed a woman standing right in front of me with a little boy in a stroller. I thought, "Oh crap, I should really give her my seat. That would be the polite thing to do." So I sipped my coffee and thought about whether or not I felt like being polite.

And while I sipped my coffee, the little boy kicked all the legs around him with his mini-Croc-covered feet, made a variety of loud beeping noises, kicked the Crocs off, and stuck his bare big toe up his nose.

And I thought, "Yeah... my feet hurt anyway." So I put on my sunglasses, closed my eyes, and turned up my iPod.

I CANT HELP THE MOOD IM IN, BUT RIGHT NOW IM THINKING THAT THE NARCISSISM OF THEATRE PISSES ME OFF

I just ate eleven mini donuts from the amazing Japanese store. They were fatty and sugary and wonderful.
Fatty fat fat.
Sugar.
Eleven.
ELEVEN.
Mmmmhmmm.

(Now I'm going to wander to a nondescript location where I'll do nondescript things like brush my teeth, twirl in circles, ride the bus, watch the news, protest the oppression of women, etc, etc, on and on whatever who cares.)

(No, I'm not drunk.)

I was all sunshine and giggles until...

I was so happy to finally be home at a reasonable hour tonight because I could finally DO THE LAUNDRY! YAAAAY! It's cooler than a roller coaster! OK, maybe not, but I was excited to wash things because this means I don't have to keep wearing the same pants over and over.

I decided to use the machines in the basement of my building, which I don't often do because there are no change machines and there's no where to sit and hang out, meaning I have to walk the four flights of stairs multiple times. I suppose I could hang out, but it's a little scary down there and I'm always afraid that the cat-sized rat and the Blair Witch are hanging out the dank corners. BUT I did the laundry there anyway because I had the exact amount of needed quarters and the laundromat was closed anyway. Little did I know everything was going to suck.

I washed a giant load (only $1.50!), transferred it to the dryer, started that up (only $1.00!!), and went on my merry way back to my apartment to wait it out. But, oh man, when I returned to fetch my fresh and warm clothes, they were STILL WET. What the crap?? I know it definitely started because I put the money in and watched it go. And it said the cycle was finished so it must have run the full time... right?? I had no choice but to take them out because I had no more quarters.

My only conclusion is that the rat or the witch decided to be extra sinister and opened the dryer door and closed it again just to mess everything up. And then they watched in their respective corners and laughed their extra sinister laughs when I came to get my stuff and yelled in shock and anger. So now my apartment is draped (rather creatively, I might add) with wet articles of clothing. Good thing I currently live alone because there is underwear on every doorknob.

So my moral is: don't do laundry in the basement. I should know by now that the laundromat is far cooler anyway because they play Spanish soap operas on the telly and have a cushy couch for waiting for dry clothes in comfort.

Fuck you, laundry basement monsters.

Just like this - only bigger and better!

Yesterday I was going to start a week-long series called "Crazies on the Subway" featuring the craziest people I see on the subway each day. But both yesterday AND today there were no crazies. Yep, you read that right: no crazies. I must have been asleep.

So I'm going to instead take this opportunity to express my love for the mini chocolate meringues from Trader Joe's. They are the best bite-size pieces of amazing-ness and I don't care that my party guests thought they tasted like cocoa cardboard because now I get to eat the WHOLE TUB. It helps that they are pretty much made of pure sugar. And heaven. *Sigh*. Farewell Nutella; enter meringues.

Um... so... coming soon, "Crazies on the Subway."

asscat

Dear Cat,

We seem to be having some communication problems. This is going to be harsh, but I'm going to be completely honest. I think I would like you more if:
-you didn't chew on every plastic bag that catches your eye and make me think you're going to die from choking.
-your hair wasn't on every piece of clothing I own.
-you didn't push your head into my face like you think you're all cute or something.
-you didn't poop, ever.
-you didn't bite my socks or scratch my yoga mat.

I especially would like it if when - in a moment of brief and naive happiness - I decided to cuddle with you on my lap, you didn't decide it would be awesome to climb on my shoulder and claw holes in my really cool t-shirt.

I think I would like it best if you were a goldfish.

Maybe we should just be friends... or better yet, distant acquaintances. Meaning you get to live in the coffee table with the doors on it while I live everywhere else. OK?

Kisses,
MOLLY

Nutella is the new pink frosting

Kids: crack is whack (you were right Whitney). But you know what's whacker?? NUTELLA.

Nutella has suddenly replaced the pink frosting as the every-hour-of-day craving, the item that is ending up on everything: graham crackers, rice cakes, tortillas, sweatshirts. Notice how all of these items are relatively healthy until spread a thick layer of hazelnut/chocolate love on them? Well, except sweatshirts, but those are healthy for cold arms. And cold souls. The point is that Nutella so fabulously transforms an everyday snack into something CHOCOLATE and FATTENING.

So if you're looking to get fat the chocolate way, kids, Nutella is the way to go. If you're looking for hard drugs, I have nothing to say. Except this:


It's not even worth a crazy reality show with your husband, OK?

There goes the neighborhood

Hey kids! I'm back in NYC! So those damn rogue vehicles better look out. I'm TITANIUM, bitches. And now that I'm back, I'm of course spending way to much time wandering around stores and looking at stuff that I should not be buying.

Which brings me to the subject of H&M. Usually, I love H&M. Everything is pretty cheap and they currently have a poofy purple skirt that I'm obsessed with. But sometimes I just feel too old for it, as if I've stepped into a giant junior high girls locker room. No, H&M people, I actually don't want want to listen to Panic Unecessary Exclamation Point At The Disco while I step over piles of leggings that have been dropped everywhere. I feel like I'm 45 already and telling people that in my day music had words and not just eyeliner and we respected our accessories. REALLY, H&M, let's establish special shopping hours for those under 17 or something. And don't let Madonna design "fashion" ever again.

On a completely separate side note, my best housewarming gift so far? A big container of neon pink frosting. Hell. Yes. Totally not helping my back fat problem.

With a Z

Holy crap, it's Liza Minelli's birthday! And I didn't know until THIS MOMENT. I totally would have had a Liza Minelli party! With lots of sequins and fake eyelashes and vodka! Um, if I didn't live with my parents right now. Wow, I can't believe she's 61. Well, actually I kinda can ... I thought she'd be, like, 73 by now.

And in other news, I am a middle-aged gay man trapped in a young woman's body.

exclamation point

I hate how the moment I follow a link to Myspace from my email, their page greets me with "You have to be logged in to do that!" - complete with the explanation point. Why so hostile, Myspace? I just got to your page, I wasn't trying anything illegal, I wasn't looking for child pornography or heroin dealers, so calm down.

On a completely separate note, I learned from my weekly Topshop email that they now make harem pants. Or, ahem, a harem pant, so as not to be confused with pants, which is what the crazy Brits call their skivvies. Anyway, it looks to me like someone in Shaghai got confused with Hammer pants. Or maybe these are for overgrown toddlers. Either way, I don't understand. Topshop is amazing 95% of the time, but this is obviously from that 5% that makes you go "Wait. What?"

You have to be a crazy Brit to wear the harem pant!

I'm so full...

...of cheese.

It's true.

Ugh.

truffle shuffle

I am turning into a big blob. Today I told myself:
"I will eat healthy food"
"I will eat three healthy meals composed of real things, not just baked goods and breakfast cereal"
"I will not stand idly in the kitchen opening all the cabinets and wondering how I got Hershey's syrup all over the place"

Well. Some of this came true. I did eat two healthy-like meals so far (because, for some reason, I naturally got up at 7:40am and decided to stay up). But in between my healthy-like meals, almost unconciously, I ate:
-Two handfuls of imitation Honey Bunches of Oats
-Four tea biscuit things
-A Japanese lollipop
-A chocolate pizelle cookie
-A handful of Trader Joe's trail mix
This is all completely compulsive; I don't even realize it until the crumbs are all over me. It's like those people who claimed they gained weight from taking Ambien because they would wake up and eat in their sleep. Except I'm not taking Ambien. And it's daytime.

I suppose I should just enjoy my fatness now that I have this "vacation" from the outside world for a while. The only person that has to see me in a bathing suit anyway is my physical therapist.

*sigh*

Please pass the Hershey's syrup.

HAIR

I got a haircut last weekend and, as I was feeling dangerous, gave in to the suggestion that my mom pick out the style. Plus, she paid for it so I figured it was fair.

I've decided that I either look like Karen O:

Or Fabienne in Pulp Fiction:


Or maybe just a mid-18th-century boy who wears britches (no picture for that ... you can imagine it).

Hair is such a difficult thing. Especially now that I have allllll this time to obsess about it.

Come on down!!!

Now that I am stuck home whilst waiting for my bones to heal, I'm back to watching bad daytime TV. My parents only get seven channels, so there aren't even that many channel surfing options. My two hours of late-morning physical therapy exercises are now accompanied by me flipping between Rachael Ray (the talk show, not the food show... although I guess there is food still involved) and Martha Stewart, then The View and The Price Is Right.

Which is how I came to my latest revelation today that The Price Is Right is stuck in a weird time warp that combines the mid 1970s with the early 1990s. Seriously, the decor is all orange and purple with glitter trim while the models wear stuff that I think my sister wore to her junior prom in 1993. Today, when the magic walls parted to reveal a new set of skis, the model was wearing this giant parka with three big navy, teal, and magenta stripes. And I think that was all she was wearing. Yep, just a parka and heels. But the point is, I swear my best friend in fourth grade had the same exact one, funnel neck and all. These women may as well start flipping up their bangs with huge amounts of Rave.

The only change on The Price Is Right - one that makes me a little sad - is that Bob Barker no longer has the microphone that looks like an over-sized lollipop on an extra long stick. The top is now a bit more streamlined and is almost the same shape as a normal, modern-day microphone. It still has the extra long stick though. Maybe while the decor stays in the '70s and the models stay in the '90s, the microphone is stuck somewhere in between. But I'm not sure I mean the '80s.

I spend way too much time indoors.

i'm actually alive

Just wanted to say a few things:

-Yes, I'm still here, I did not desert my beloved [nonexistent] fans. I just got hit by a van, that's all. Just a minor thing, really.
-No, I'm not going to write a lot right now because I can only type with my left hand and right index finger. O pity me.
-And maybe it was a bad idea to drink that big delicious mug of tea because now I'm going to go to bed and as soon as I get in my PJs, brush my teeth, and get all cozy in bed with a magazine, I'll have to get up and pee. Damn you, liquids.

PS: I love commas.

,,,,,,,,,,

whew

In my moment of panic last Friday, I actually wrote Jelly Belly:

Your Question :Does the bacon flavor contain real meat extracts? Because
that's scary when you're a vegetarian and you're eating an assortment in the
dark.

They wrote back today:

Our Solution :
Thank you for visiting our site. We hope the following information
answers your question.
Thank you for your e-mail.
Bertie Bott's does not
contain real bacon; however, our sardine Bertie Bott's jelly beans are
flavored with cod liver oil.

OK, I feel a little better. But, ew, don't eat the sardine flavor.

oh my god bacon. or garlic.

OK, since I decided I couldn't sleep without really discovering the truth, I had to check out the official Jelly Belly website.

And, holy crap, Jelly Belly is the manufacturer of those psycho crazy Harry Potter-esque Bertie Bott's and they have a BACON FLAVOR!! Oh god I need to bleach out my mouth.

BUT, I figure that Economy Candy would not be that mean and mix the Bertie Bott's beans in with the standard Jelly Belly assortment. Right??? Because in that case, it very well may be one of their "rookie" flavors, Roasted Garlic. But still, WHO WOULD WANT A GARLIC JELLYBEAN? Probably just the same stupid ten-year-old that wants a bacon-flavored one. The fact is, neither should be a jellybean.

So, yeah, no idea if I ate a Bacon one or a Roasted Garlic one (or three), but either way I will never eat Jelly Bellys in a darkened movie theatre again. And I need a lot of Listerine right now.

For Dreaface

I'm finally writing again because I have something to write about. OK, maybe two things. OK, actually two and a half.

1) I have a JOB, people. A real job. OK, kind of a real job but at least a real job in the sense that it's not an internship. I'm going to be a front desk assistant at CAP21, a cool studio/conservatory/performance space that I am too lazy to explain right now. That's why I take the time to post LINKS. Yay. Yeah, the pay and hours aren't ideal to start with, but it's a good starting point for NYC and it helps that it's full of crazy artist/theatre people just like me. Plus, as I was leaving my interview they were all really excited to show me their new coffeemaker and shelving units. I know it doesn't sound that exciting, but trust me, these are my people.

2) I saw The Science of Sleep today, which was pretty f-ing amazing. Michel Gondry is my hero. But I can't even begin to describe the film without sounding like I'm high. Go see it! Oh, and...

2.5) While watching I ate way too many Jelly Bellys and three times I swear I chomped on a bacon-flavored one. WHAT?? This can't be happening.

sick

I feel like a five-year-old.

Due to the plague that has invaded my body I have been subsisting on primarily the following: saltines, Cheerios, applesauce, soup, juice, and popsicles. Ignore the fact that I wash it all down with green tea and I could be back in preschool. At least in preschool it's completely accepted to fall down on the floor and take a nap.

Luckily I have the Sudafed-induced heart palpitations to keep me alert.

Thank you, Byrne Dairy

Today I bought ten ice cream sandwiches for only $1.99! That's right folks, TEN melty, sugary, dairy confections for only TWO bucks. And THEN I found out that today (ok, yesterday, since it's now after midnight) is National Ice Cream Sandwich Day! It was meant to be. AND they even got whisked to a freezer without serious meltage en route. Now I need to just not eat them all by myself.

Sadly, I think that's the most exciting thing that's happened to me all week.