The post where I get all girly

I'm pretty sure that it's a bad idea to "accidentally" wander into the clearance area of DSW...



... but I'm also pretty sure that if these shoes could play music, they would play the entire Summer of Sam soundtrack.

Thanks, IRS!

I just got my tax refund yesterday and already I have spent nearly half on the following:

- Fancy mascara and lipgloss
- Improv classes
- A bottle of Tanqueray, some tonic, some limes
AND
- A bunch of groceries at Whole Foods

In other words, I bought me:

- Some pretty
- Some funny
- Some liver damage
AND
- Hopefully a small percentage of healthiness

I also intend to buy some new running shoes to redeem the rest of my soul.

THANKS AMERICA!

Finally catching up with the club kids

OK, I know I'm way late in jumping on the Kala train, but I just noticed that M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes" completely rips the main riff from The Clash's "Straight to Hell." You're probably all yelling "DUH" at your computer screens right now (all three of you), but you would think I'd just discovered that eggs come from chickens, given my amazement.

I still give props to M.I.A. for turning it into a hypnotizing song with a gunshot chorus - and if you're going to sample, you might as well do it from a worthy band - but The Clash wins points for that one super-serious bass note, "It ain't Coca-Cola - it's rice." It makes me giggle (sorry Joe and Mick, probably not what you intended).


I'm going to have to keep playing the first 20 seconds of each song over and over until the novelty wears off.

Easter candy ingested thus far:

Malted milk Robin's Eggs: 8
Marshmallow peeps: 6
Lemon cookies: 2
Giant chocolate-covered s'mores thing from Economy Candy: 1

Prognosis: Diabetes

They're the people that you meet/When you're walking down the street...

In one of those rare but beautiful moments that makes me feel like all of New York City is my own tiny neighborhood, I saw the same pair of people twice on the train today. It was a young-ish mother and her young son, who was probably about 5, and this woman blew my mind a little. Apart from the fact that she had some amazingly huge false eyelashes, she also made child-rearing look as simple as making pancakes.

When I saw them this morning, they sat across from me and I got sucked into watching the mom trying to get her son to eat a banana. She peeled it for him - even carefully peeling off the icky strands of quasi-peel - and broke it into manageable pieces. Which her son promptly dropped onto the floor. Well, all but one piece that his mom rescued while he looked hopelessly at her. She just sighed and picked up the pieces and held on to them. She didn't even shoot him a dirty look.

And THEN, when I got on the train tonight (after the gym, which included 30 minutes of the let's-kill-your-abs class, thank you very much) I saw them AGAIN. Crazy. They got on right after me and the moment they entered the little boy started crying about something. When his mom asked him what was wrong, he of course just kept bawling for no reason. She just sighed again and let him cry against her coat. Wow.

I am still in awe of this woman's patience. Usually when I hear screaming children on the subway, I fantasize about them disappearing to somewhere really cold, but this woman just took it all in. Which is why I've practically got the boarding pass for the train to Hell and this woman will get a walk-in closet in her Heaven suite. Seriously though, it was a magically sappy moment.

In other news: I can't guarantee more sappiness, but I'm guaranteeing more posting. Because I suck at it lately. Did you hear the one about the doll people and the alligator? No? Good, because I'm going to tell you. As soon as I do my taxes...

More lessons

Last night I learned that if I eat turmeric, the almost-oh-so-subtle clear elastics on my braces will be permanently dyed a lovely shade of electric piss. That's the price I pay for obeying my compulsive need to make authentic curry vegetables at roughly 10:00 at night. This is how interesting my life has become.

I don't think anyone really stares that closely at my teeth anyway, but if they do I'll just tell them that I glow in the dark.

And in lesson part 1.5, completely unrelated, I learned today that I should not have waited so f-ing long to buy M.I.A's Kala. Of course, it helps that I got it for only $10 today at a Virgin sale, but DAMN, I am roughly 9 months behind the rest of the world. I had heard the major singles, but who knew there was a mashed up cover of the Pixies in there?? DAMN again.

M.I.A. just may help me pick up the mess that was January and give a glimmer of hope for February.

January = doom

I was going to write a cute, snappy intro to take the load off this entry, but screw it. It's late and I'm a bit of a wreck so I'm getting right to the point: first Brad Renfro and now Heath Ledger?? What the hell is going on?? I can't say I was ever completely infatuated with either of them; I never had lip-gloss-kiss-covered posters of them or anything, but... damn. I suddenly feel like pieces of my youth are being torn away. And I was just starting to gain some respect for Heath Ledger. Maybe this just hits me so hard because I worked another shitty, 10+ hour day and didn't sleep well again. But... still.

The Boss threw out the foreboding warning that these things happen in threes and someone was bound to be next. And then I got home and found out Bill, my old Lighting professor from college, died last night. He had cancer and we all saw it coming, but that doesn't make it any better. Maybe he doesn't complete the celebrity triumvirate The Boss was darkly predicting, but he's a celebrity to anyone who went through his fundies class at UVM. He scared the crap out of you on the first day, but by the end of the semester you were asking him to please please let you hang from the ceiling to focus that Leko.

OK, I'm going to attempt to rescue this post from the pit of depression it's sliding into. Let's remember the people who are still living and still get along and love spending time with one another:


Wait... what? I think this was taken in a parallel universe where January = happy happy fun time. (Thanks, NY Times. Look at me, crediting your image)

Here's hoping that tomorrow brings happier news...

At least I'm not punching someone's teeth out...

When I have one of those shitty, 10-hour, nonstop days, sometime I think about that group therapy scene in Fight Club. You know, the one where Ed Norton is at one of those sad groups where people are dying and they're all doing guided meditation and that lady is telling everyone to "go to your caaaaavvvvve." And then Ed disappears into a silent icy world with a giggling penguin as his "power animal." Awww. So I that's exactly what I did after my shitty day today.

That is, if by "going to my cave" we mean cooking a massive batch of blondies AND ginger cookies, drinking gin and orange juice (with my mind on my money and my money on my mind), and catching up on old podcasts of All Songs Considered. Yeeeeeah.

So... maybe not a cave at all, but I'm still holding out for Helena Bonham Carter to show up.

"Le vrai Moleskine n'est plus"

I finally, finally got my 2008 Moleskine last Friday and I swear I am a much better person now. My heart rate has slowed, my cholesterol is lower, and I can speak Czech again. It's amazing.

I've learned my lesson for sure, though, that I cannot wait until after the start of the new year to buy one next time. Being the cheapskate I am, I thought that this would ensure me scoring one at half price, especially with the abundance of them in a large city like New York. Riiiight? Nope. Instead it ensured a NEAR EXTINCTION of them which led to ensuing panic that I would not be able to organize my life on one full page per day for all of 2008. OK, by "NEAR EXTINCTION" I mean impossible to find at major bookstores and many art stores between Houston and 70th St of Manhattan. It doesn't take much to make me panic.

ANYWAY. After calls to multiple Barnes & Nobles and a wild goose chase on foot to multiple locations, I finally found it at Lee's Art Shop on 57th after some divine intervention from a woman at Borders who directed me there. I snatched it up with a gasp as soon as I saw it, afraid that someone else might take it first. Although there were about 10 others on display. And clearly no one cared about them but me.

And so, Lee's Art Shop, thank you for selling Moleskine planners, thank you for putting up with my exhausted ramblings of joy, and thank you for being YOU. Everyone: go shop there.

Shall I continue my ramblings? Sure. In going through the process of transferring the many important dates from the old planner to the new, I came across some words I scrawled across the page of Sunday, May 27 . I often use the Moleskine as a journal/diary/whatever when I really need to get something out of my brain and onto paper. I have no idea what the circumstances were here, probably 365-related, but I appreciate them in retrospect:

Why do I have this sudden rush of cocky euphoria? A confidence to do everything and be awesome and say fuck you to everyone in my way? But I'm happy about it too, whatever "it" is. Even though half my electricity's out and I just ate about 18 cookies and 3 glasses of wine and I've spent half the day on the subway, I still feel generally euphoric. It's like, I'm going to be amazing at life. HA.

I don't know if the "HA" is meant to be self-doubting or an "in-your-FACE" kind of thing, but I wish I felt generally euphoric like this more often. And had cookies and wine so close at hand. Good thing I got a larger-sized Moleskine this year - more room for random scrawlings. Get ready.

Happy 2008 (minus a few days).

The best part of Christmas

I'm actually a sucker for Christmas spirit. I like pulling out the Perry Como album, the ornaments I made in preschool, and - of course - eating the frosting off of all the gingerbread men. But there is also the best Christmas movie ever:

I took a shower washing every body part with actual soap; including all my major crevices; including in between my toes and in my belly button which I never did before but sort of enjoyed. I washed my hair with adult formula shampoo and used cream rinse for that just-washed shine. I can't seem to find my toothbrush, so I'll pick one up when I go out today. Other than that, I'm in good shape.

Someday I'm going to use that as my "contemporary" monologue at an audition and blow everyone away. If you don't know what movie that's from, I'm a little bit concerned for you and maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore. But Happy Holidays anyway.

Lessons

I learned an important lesson about myself last night: if you give me a juice-glass sized cup of wine, I will chug that shit like it's Minute Maid.

Do that three times and it is not improbable to find myself at a random rich person's 40th birthday party with a Stella and a Heineken in my bag, dancing with a 10-year-old in front of a video screen.

I need to stop being a lush. Or maybe I need to start crashing more open bar parties. I haven't decided yet.

what now?

I know it's sickeningly cliche, but I'm having that quarter-life crisis (assuming my life span will be 96 - and yes, I just had to use a calculator to figure that out). Sure, I like theatre and film and all that stuff I got an actual degree in, but that was back when I lived in the pretentious bubble of college life. Two and half years later those career titles that were so easily blurted out are sounding less tangible and interesting.

What about the other skills and/or interests I have that don't really fit on a resume? For example:
- I love magazines, all kinds and everything about them. I like the pictures, the fonts, the glossy pages, and usually the actual articles too.
- I often have an anal-retentive urge to organize things by size.
- I can make pretty kickass playlists and I tend to hijack the music at parties.
- I eat way to much sugar and would live off of cupcakes and ice cream if they magically didn't make me fat.
- I am a wanderer, both in the sense that I like to take ridiculously long walks and that I'm never going to be done traveling around the world.

So where does all that get me? A gig as a DJ at a well-organized bakery on an airplane with built-in newsstands? With some acting/directing/filmmaking/writing thrown in there somewhere? As awesome as that sounds, I doubt I'll find it on Craigslist, or on any kind of classifieds page. How do I turn this mish-mash of stuff in my head (yes, mish-mash) into something I want to do every day?

And this, my friends, is what I think about at 1:30 on a Friday night/Saturday morning. Maybe I should concentrate on getting a social life first. Or at least some sleep.

Wow, this post got all serious and boring. I'll leave you with a picture:

See? Even at graduation I knew this whole "real life" thing was not going to be as cool as everyone made it sound.

Now you see me, now... I'm coffee in a can!

Here it is folks, the moment you've been waiting for!

From the land that brought you human Tetris, bad English, and, yes, canned coffee... IT'S A VENDING MACHINE DRESS!


It's meant to be a defense against getting mugged on the streets, a quick hiding place of sorts, but really I think it's just another genius move in the Japanese world of fashion. People will totally be wearing these at every junior high in Tokyo! You just wait.

Read the original article here and watch the accompanying slide show; it's amazing.

Now I want some canned coffee. But the real kind, not the fabric kind.

"You want Cream Wheat or Rice Creepy?"

When I was in the hospital last year one of the food service people actually said this to me. She was completely serious, she just had a heavy accent and had no idea what she was saying. It was one of the few times I was able to have a good laugh in the midst of my pain-and-morphine-induced dreamworld.

And now... someone has made it reality! Well, a drawing anyway:


Mmmmm, toasted lice. Here's a link to the whole site of "terrorfying" breakfast cereals (thanks to Pete).

You know you're poor when...

...you get excited about people giving away hair products on Craigslist

"Shampure" is unopened. I used the conditioner once. I use other stuff now but hate to throw this out. Want someone to take it.

You also know it's time to go to bed when you seriously consider emailing them.

hide your bling

I'm starting to worry about myself. I'm becoming a kleptomaniac.

Although, to be fair, it's not so much maniacal obsession that's driving me as it is poverty. I just bought this shiny new MacBook, so it's kind of my own fault, but still... I'm going to have my pity party and sulk about it.

It started with the hospital gown this morning. I had my (hopefully) last arm x-ray and had to wear this wrap-style gown and I thought "hmmm, this is pretty trendy for the radiologist's... maybe I could make something cooler out of it." And into my bag it went.

And then I started thinking about all the other things I've kind of stolen lately too: two pairs of pants from the lost and found at work, various magazines, cereal and jam from that cabin place in Vermont, and even some quarters from the change jar at work to finance the coffee addiction.

Yep. I'm in so much trouble. OK, work people, if you read this, I will totally pay you back someday when I'm a rich and famous writer/actor/director/collage maker/ice cream flavor creator (<-- how fucking cool would that be??). I will.

And now I want ice cream.

Because I'm paid by the hour

I have been at work since 10am, it is now nearly 5pm, and I have probably done at most 1 hour of real, actual work.

These are the work-related things I did:
-Typed up staff meeting minutes.
-Called some guy about some paycheck problem.
-Shredded a bunch of papers.
-Deposited 3 checks at the bank.
-Opened the mail, then sorted all the mail piles into neat stacks according to size.

These are the non-work-related things I did (notice how nearly all of them are on the internet):
-Dreamed about pizza with roboppy.
-Laughed at bad celebrity fashion.
-Found my new dream friends/social activity.
-Read the latest culture news from the NY Times (but didn't read the real news).
-Browsed Craiglist for free/cheap furniture, cheap bikes, writing opportunities, pictures of apartments I wish I could afford, and "Missed Connections" headlines to laugh at.
-Bought two wee heads of garlic and a vegan cinnamon roll from the Union Square markets.
-Further considered the merits of veganism, or at least considered some vegan cooking.
-Peed FIVE times (I guess I drink a lot... or have a bladder the size of a golf ball)
-Evaluated my checking account and current expenditures and questioned if I can afford to run back to Europe. I can't.
-Chewed THREE pieces of gum... gonna get TMJ.

This is what happens when The Boss is gone for two weeks and I run out of Things to Do on my "Things to Do" list. At least right now when people walk by the office they hear the pitter-patter of typing and think I'm being productive. Hopefully The Boss won't read this. If he someday is... well... Boss, you were in BRAZIL. No pity.

*Sigh*, 46 minutes to go until I can consider jetting out of here. Unless I try to "work" some overtime. That might be pushing it.

"East Village, Circa Midnight" (a true story adapted for the stage)

SETTING: A sidewalk, some scaffolding

AT RISE: A dirty-looking, drunken GUY is standing by the scaffolding. MOLLY enters, carrying two large bags and a large posterboard.


GUY: Spare a penny for the Church of Malt Liquor?

(MOLLY smirks, but continues to walk past him.)

GUY: What does your sign say?

(MOLLY stops and turns the sign around to face him.)

GUY (reading): "The sound of wind or whales." I don't get it.

MOLLY: Neither do I.

GUY: Did you find it?

MOLLY: No, I made it.

GUY (smiling): Even better.

(MOLLY gives him a thumbs up and exits.)


BLACKOUT

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.