In theory I like the idea of brunch, but in practice, brunch is disgusting and a no-win situation. Take, for instance, today, when my parents came in to NYC for a "birthday brunch" with me and Aliza and I was faced with the age-old brunch menu problem. Basically the options are some sort of eggs - omlettes, scrambled, and other things - or a completely gross but exceedingly delicious stack of pancakes, french toast, waffles etc. While my heart says "pancakes" my brains says "eggs" but the problem is that I have never really gotten back on the egg bandwagon after an unfortunate egg incident in college, whereby I made scrambled eggs for myself every single day for a month and then grossed myself out, resulting in egg overload and an extreme repulsion to both eggs and ketchup for an entire year. So basically that leaves me the pancakes/french toast option, but that's like eating 30 cookies for breakfast, which, while delicious, is a one way ticket to obesity.
So every time I sit down to brunch, I'm forced to choose between eggs that pretty much make me want to throw up, and pancakes where I know I'd feel like a disgusting slob and spend the rest of the day monitoring my face in the mirror for bagel-face syndrome and walking around uncomfortable and angry and about to burst out of my jeans. Ultimately I went with the eggs today because shit has to be looking top notch for the ATL Meet the Editors Happy Hour on Tuesday and if I ate the buttermilk pancakes I wouldn't have enough time to undo the damage, but someone needs to look into this brunch problem very soon because it's getting out of hand and someone needs to invent another option, and don't say granola or a salad because nobody wants that shit for brunch.
I make no secret of the fact that I believe in astrology, gargoyles, runes, divining rods, Ouijia boards, natal charts, psychics, horoscopes, tarot, spells, seances etc. but one of the most powerful forces out there is wallet karma. When I was in law school, I was in a bar in New York during the summer and my wallet was stolen from my bag on the floor. Losing the contents of the wallet wasn't a giant deal, because I only had like $5 and had like a ridiculous $2,500 limit Capital One credit card in there and losing my license wasn't a huge deal because I knew that if I got another license picture it would turn out amazing due to the fact that I kick shit into high gear for my license pictures. I was mainly bummed out about the wallet itself, which was a velcro camouflage army wallet that I got in 7th grade and had been using ever since. I am EXTREMELY attached to this wallet, to the point where Career Services at my law school recommended I get a nicer looking wallet so that when I pulled it out on interviews and lunches people wouldn't immediately not give me a job because my wallet indicated that I was homeless, but I refused to do so because if people are going to not give me jobs based on the fact that they suspect that I'm homeless, they need to get a life.
Needless to say that I was completely devastated by the loss of my wallet, but about a week after itwas stolen, my parents received a package in the mail with no return address. It turned out to be my wallet, with the $5 cash missing, but everything else in there. This is because if you love something, set it free, if it comes back to you, it was meant to be, if it doesn't, it was never yours to begin with. I had used that wallet loyally for 11 years and the wallet knew that and wanted to return home, so it influenced the spirits of the people around it to give it back to me even though they had originally stolen it. So when I found a wallet in the back of a cab this weekend, I returned it, because there's such a thing as wallet karma. You have to return one in order to get yours back. This also applies to cell phones, as I lost mine last year but in law school I once found one and returned it. I'm telling you, this shit works.
Any fool knows that the most important part about rolling up to a high school reunion is looking SHAMAZING and being zit free. As such, I've been trolling my favorite online shopping sites for the ultimate outfit and over the next few days I'm going to post pictures of the top contenders under the heading "Reunion Outfit" with the brief description of the look I'm going for and then I'll figure out how to get one of those voting things on here if they're free so people can vote. If they're not free, my anger may increase.
Um, people are reading this blog. I know this because there's a sitemeter on the right hand column and you're living in Narnia if you think I don't check that shit every hour day. And yet, no one comments. People just take take take like I'm giving away free words and act like I'm unemployed which I happen to be and that I have absolutely nothing better to do than occasionally amuse people, and yet you readers stingily do not posts comments or send me emails. For instance, my post on open positions in my Facebook cabinet? ONLY ONE PERSON APPLIED. Is that a joke? Not acceptable. Frankly I am offering up dream jobs with outrageously amazing pay* and everyone is acting like their resumes are so chock full of executive experience that they could not possibly benefit from a job IN A CABINET. And so it has come to me begging people to comment on the posts which I am prepared to back up with the threat of NEVER POSTING AGAIN** and THEN WE'LL SEE WHO SUFFERS.
I just called J. Crew to ask them what the difference was between the Petite Kelly shirt and the Petite Slim Stretch shirt because for the life of me, I couldn't tell the difference. You would think Kelly would be fat fit, with no stretch, but that is not the case, as in the description it describes itself as "slim fit" with a "hint of stretch." They come in the same colors, and though one says it hits at the "high hip" and one says its "below the hip,"neither of these descriptions make any sense due to the fact that there is no such thing as different areas on the hip and J. Crew needs to give me a break. The only difference is that Kelly costs $54, and Slim Stretch costs $59.50, and before I go spending $5.50 extra in this economy, I want to be damn sure that the Slim Stretch has a diamond lining and is made with the silk of beetles from Siam whereas the Kelly shirt does not.
In any event, so I'm on the phone with "Carole" and we go over the two shirts for a few minutes and finally she says "they look the same to me, let me ask my manager" so I'm waiting on hold listening to some advertisement asking me if I knew that J. Crew now has yoga loungewear which I was actually unaware of and thus found helpful, and then Carole comes back on and tells me that the Slim Stretch shirt has long sleeves and the Kelly shirt has 3/4 sleeves. I then ask Carole if J. Crew is offering to sell me 3/4 of a shirt for $54, and holding the last 1/4 of the shirt for ransom at the asking price of $5.50 and she said "I wouldn't call it ransom, but the sleeves are extra" and I said that that given the complete lunacy of this notion, unfortunately I would be unable to purchase either the 3/4 pirate shirt or pay their king's ransom of $59.50 for the entire shirt because I have a strict policy against extortion and kidnappings.
So tonight Megan invited me to the filming of next season's catwalk "walkoff" for the two finalists on America's Next Top Model. At the end of the season of ANTM, they always flash something on the screen that says something to the effect of "Are you interested in becoming a top model? We're looking for all different kinds of girls of different shapes and sizes from diverse backgrounds" because every season that they have at least one blind model or fat model, so when I apply my gimmick would be that I'd be the short average looking model who takes mediocre pictures. So last season as I was threatening to send in my application, Megan cut and pasted to me a disclaimer on the ANTM site which says in very small print, "Applicants to appear on the show must be at least 5'7." Because you can be fat, blind and NOT EVEN A WOMAN to be a female top model, but they have to draw the diversity line somewhere and being under 5'7 is just unacceptable and IMMEDIATELY disqualifies you to be a model. Well, apparently Tyra and Miss J haven't seen my Blue Steel look and my bunion, both of which I will be showing them tonight, and once they do I am pretty confident that their 5'7" requirement will go out the window. I remember telling my neighbor Becca when I was 7 years old that it was my dream to become either a ballerina or a model and now I feel like my persistence in this arena has finally paid off.
Old nose and pruneified chin culminating in moderately disastrous high school look
Next week is my ten year high school reunion. As you can imagine, things have not exactly worked out the way I planned them to when I was in high school. Back then, I thought in ten years I would be rolling up to the reunion on a yacht, docking the yacht and driving off it in my Ferrari and then showing up with my fiance/husband sporting a giant canary yellow diamond pear shaped engagement ring that was at least 3 carats (suitors, take note) and be either the wife of some repulsively rich CEO or be a famous writer or comedian or somebody important. I would deign to talk to all the people who were mean to me in high school and allow them to kiss my ring and have an audience with me while they begged me for a position in my court or alms for the poor. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would show up to my reunion pretty much unemployed, wearing cubic zirconia earrings and have both my yacht and Ferrari in the shop due to bad timing. While my fellow classmates might be "happily married" or "employed" or "very rich" if they show up repulsive and obese that means I win and I am now attending Iron Body: Core twice a week as well as increasing my treadmill speed to 7.2 for 35 minutes in order to ensure this victory.
Yes, I'm aware I previously titled a post "The Curious Incident of the Lactaid in the Night-time" but this post actually DOES have to do with Perry's extremely bizarre nighttime ritual. Every night when I put on my long nightcap and shuffle around my apartment with a candle on a plate yelling "Perry, bedtime!" Perry gathers all of his dead chipmunk AKC toys in a pile in the living room and then proceeds to hide each toy, one by one in various places around my apartment. He grabs a chipmunk by the mouth, attempts to squeak it to make sure the squeaker is broken and then surveys the apartment for the ultimate hiding space so as to secure the chipmunk for the night and make sure thieves do not steal them from him under cover of darkness.
You would think this process takes like 3 minutes - like grab a chipmunk, hide it under a cushion and be done with it, but unfortunately, each of his 3 chipmunks takes about a half hour to hide, because sometimes Perry deems the original hiding space not safe enough. For instance, Perry typically initially hides the chipmunk under some pillows on my floor but minutes later he's moving the chipmunk to underneath the bed because under the pillows was too obvious, or because I spotted him hiding the chipmunk and therefore ruined everything. Seriously, when I interrupt his hiding rituals, he has to UNHIDE the chipmunks and then REHIDE them somewhere else because while by day I'm Dr. Jekyll, taking him out to pee or taking him to the vet, turn off the lights and put me in a room with some stuffed chipmunks I just lose all reason and cram them all in my mouth and confiscate them.
While this entire thing was hilarious to watch the first time around, it takes an HOUR AND A HALF every night for Perry to perform his OCD rituals and the entire time he is squeaking, jumping and digging and when I wake up in the morning the apartment looks like a crack den. When I tried to tell the Oprah people that half of the mess in my apartment wasn't mine, they were like, "You need to stop blaming your messiness on your dog" and I was like "No, it's true, I didn't do most of this, but yet I'm still getting blamed for it and Perry comes out looking like a victim" and then they told me to "grow up" and "take ownership" over things.
Because there is no news left to report in the world, CNN posted this article about potentially the most ludicrous thing I have ever read. Apparently a woman who met her husband IN A CHATROOM, married in real life and then proceeded to have a wedding ceremony in SECOND LIFE, caught her husband's avatar having VIRTUAL SEX in Second Life with a Second Life prostitute and is now divorcing him in real life. I'm not going to sit here and pretend to understand what the hell Second Life is because when people have tried to explain it to me in the past it seems like it is basically a video game in which extreme nerds across the world convene and attempt to assume non-nerd identities in another dimension by ironically creating "avatars" and doing things on a screen instead of working on getting a life in First Life, i.e., reality. I can assure you that the game makes 0% sense, but the gist of the CNN story is this husband did not cheat in real life, his avatar just had sex with another avatar. In a video game.
Putting aside for a minute the fact that I will be shortly conducting a comprehensive investigation into how exactly video game characters have sex, the most genius part of this story is the deadpan last line in the article: "Taylor is now in a new relationship with a man she met in the online roleplaying game World of Warcraft." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. But seriously, I feel like this video game garbage has gotten out of control and I am very hopeful that Obama will issue an edict jailing all nerds and eliminating science fiction so that people can start respecting the U.S. again.
So as I was drooling looking at all the items at Shopbop that are 30% off today but yet still out of my price range now that I am "unemployed," I came across a new alarming brand of Civil War/Troubador boots called Golden Goose. The brand is called Golden Goose not just because people in Grimm's Fairy Tales wore them but also because you have to OWN a Golden Goose in order to afford them. That's right, Shopbop is charging A MINIMUM OF $1,080 for a pair of these already been worn scuffed up boots from the Battle of Tippecanoe. While this is moderately alarming, it in no way compares to the above pictured FOOT BOOT for people with one inch calves who wish to look like they bought normal sized boots, put them in a Shrinky Dink oven and then apprenticed at a dude ranch in the 1930s, all for the reasonable price of $1,220. Is Shopbop joking me? Is Golden Goose joking me? Foot boots? FOOT BOOTS? I can't go on.
I meant to post this last week, but apparently Ivanka Trump is converting to Judaism for her fiance Jared Kushner. You may remember that when I was a sophomore in high school, I went on a summer program in Nice, France. The program included a suggested packing list which my mom adhered to RIGIDLY, which resulted in me bringing two pairs of shorts, one longsleeve shirt, one pair of sneakers and five pairs of underwear. My hairdryer didn't work out there, I had clear braces and my nose was original. I was poised to be a giant dork, and this eventuality came to pass when the entire NYC private school system rolled up on the this trip, including Ivanka Trump.
Ivanka had Louis Vuitton luggage, height, nice hair, bags full of money and a modeling contract, but she did have a wide nose, and a weak chin. The only things I had that she didn't were breastaculars, a normal chin and Judaism. Well, turns out the jokes on me because after getting a chin implant and giant breast implants she is now once again trying to one up me by converting to Judaism. Could she try any harder to destroy me? No.
I've received so many nice comments via here (and elsewhere) about the Oprah show, so I just wanted to say thank you (really) to everyone who has been so kind and supportive. I was obviously scared shitless about how I'd look on tv, in the sense of both the plastic surgeries I'd need after seeing myself and the way I'd come off to viewers, and love it or leave it, I think what you saw was pretty accurate overall.
My mom (who is a psychiatrist) called me after she had seen the show and said "You came off as histrionic and a little bit emotional...which is true" at which point I said that I would actually prefer not to broadcast my alleged personality disorder which she had NEVER BEFORE TOLD ME I HAD on national tv and that in light of this conversation I would be jumping off the nearest cliff, which she responded to by saying, "See, this is exactly what I'm talking about."
The entire time the Hapro crew was making over my apartment, I "struggled" with the question of why me? Like was this god/Oprah rewarding me for past good behavior or was this god/Oprah saying that I was on the right track on my life or was this completely random and was not indicative of anything I might have done or not done. In the end, I think Occam's razor is that the producers - who were some of the most gracious people I've ever met (seriously) - by the grace of god, liked me. Whatever the case, I was/am humbled that they chose me and believed in me and am deeply DEEPLY appreciative that Harpo thought I was worth spending so much time, money and effort on. And yes, the place is still clean.
Click here for a slide show of pics and some information that you won't see on today's show including these quotes from me:
"Complete genius." "Stop the cameras, I can't deal." "It looks like I've lost my mind."
Note in particular picture 20, which potentially is the most unflattering picture of all time, I appear to be half asleep and only have 3 teeth. Great!
No one is going to be leaving my funeral until a slideshow of pictures of me and Perry plays to the song Womanizer by Britney Spears, and the following things are read:
So my Oprah show airs tomorrow, ABC at 4pm, and this preview clip I would say makes me look moderately insane. Not that I really have any disclaimer for what you'll see tomorrow if you tune in. They stormed my apartment completely randomly (I was not nominated) and filmed me for two days, which became a total of about 10 minutes of tape for the actual show. I think the producers chose me because they liked my story (quit corporate job to pursue writing dream) and because I seemed like a character out of Sex and the City by virtue of owning bags full of shoes and immediately announcing my nosejob just to clear the air, and some of the filming was aimed toward building those ultimately deleted storylines. My reactions to their surprises are crazy to the casual viewer, but they are in line with my usual overreacting self and the spirit of the entire footage. So if I come across as needing to go to Bellevue IMMEDIATELY it's because a) I probably do, and b) you're not seeing everything. And if I end up on The Soup for this, someone will pay dearly.
One of the problems with watching tv is that sometimes commercials come on that make it clear that my entire life up until this point has been a complete joke. So yesterday afternoon as I'm watching MTV's True Life: I'm Deaf, this commercial comes on with Sharon Lawrence who I think appears in Law & Order: Criminal Sex Unit talking about how polar bears are disappearing. The camera cuts to footage of two insanely cute polar bears on a small patch of ice that is adrfit in the water, and Sharon explains how the polar bears' natural habitat is disappearing and how mothers are too weak to feed their children and polar bears are drowning, and unless I give $16 a month, I am personally responsible for murdering the two polar bears in the video and possibly liable for the extinction of all polar bears, both of which assertions I fully agreed with.
Well, at that point I cried hysterically, scribbled down the address of the World Wild Life Federation and made plans to close up shop here, move to the Arctic Circle and spend the remainder of my days blowing cold air onto the ice so that it doesn't melt and the polar bears could continue to roam free. Right before I was about to delete this blog and bring Perry to the pound, somebody texted me to ask me if I could not delete The Pick Up Artist on my DVR from this week because her DVR forgot to record it and I got distracted and forgot about the polar bears situation. This has definitely happened to me before, where I swear I'm going to devote my life to some noble cause because of some moving commercial or an Oprah show about poverty in South Africa, and then The Da Vinci Code comes on TBS and makes me lose my focus.
The only way I can assuage my guilt in these situations is that I firmly believe that it's the thought that counts and the polar bears know that I'm with them in spirit and thinking about them and the fact that I have already cared for a stuffed Gund polar bear named Snuffles for many years. I know the bears would give me $16 a month if they met me and heard about my plight but they might not move to NYC, so I'm going to pay it forward by giving WWF $16 per month but hold off on moving to the Arctic Circle for the time being which I think is a reasonable outcome.
CNN posted this article on people experiencing post-election blues. They quote people who say that they have nothing to look forward to, that the election filled a void, and now they are just kind of left stranded without any direction. The psychologist who opines in the article says to "Grieve. Mourn. Let it out" in order to get over this depression, but I have three other ideas that may be just as effective:
I just saw this article on CNN about how when Obama was asked whether he'd been in contact with past presidents since his election, he said that he had been in contact with all "living" presidents because he didn't want to get all Nancy Reagan on people and do seances. HAHAHAHAHHAHAAH. I knew there was some reason I voted for him. Seances are amazing and 100% hilarious.
Here is the preview for my Oprah episode that airs on November 12th on ABC. Check out :29 for me making what is potentially the most insane face of all time. If you need me, I'll be jumping out the window.
I work directly across from the Abercrombie & Fitch on 5th Avenue and every day there is at least 70 people waiting in line to get in. What the hell is going on?
Above 14th Street
Dear Above 14th Street,
I have witnessed this incredibly disturbing scene on the weekends, when hordes of people in light colored Mudd jeans, hooded Victoria Secret "University of Pink"sweatshirts and Sketcher sneakers stand in line with cameras waiting to get into this ridiculous store. A very close friend of mine has been to the Abercrombie in The Mall at Short Hills, NJ, and this friend can assure you that all A&Fs smell like rotting eggs and hot sulfur and have black and white photographs of people that are intended to make you feel that if you're not spending your days playing tackle football or rigging up a boat you might as well throw in the towel now. This begs the question of why people just don't buy A&F clothes online rather than embarrassingly wait and possibly be seen by other people standing in line to buy chain store clothes. This is because the 5th Avenue Abercrombie is filled with an elusive breed of humans found only in Manhattan and Los Angeles known as "models" that are unknown to tourists from the Midwest. The reason I know this is because I also happen to be a bunion model. I hope this answers your question.
Megan recently expressed outrage over not being an "Officer" in my Living in Narnia Facebook group. As I've noted before, angry Megan is an extremely frightening thing, so I quickly made her minister of finance. Aliza then complained that she she didn't have an office, so I awarded her the coveted position of Court Jester. Luckily for you, there are still three HIGHLY sought after officer positions up for grabs in my group. If you'd like to apply for any of them (or ELSE), send me an email or write a comment. I have provided a brief description below of the duties and responsibilities associated with each title. Salary commensurate with experience; serious inquiries only.
1. Grand Vizier - Duties include complimenting me, bidding on my ebay items, doing revision rhinoplasty research on various message boards and reporting back with list of qualified surgeons and reminding me to record Intervention should a new episode be scheduled.
2. Court Composer - Duties include making jokes, immediately notifying me if Weird Al tickets go on sale, contributing to my chin de-prunization Botox fund and finding my retainer.
3. Lt. Colonel - Responsibilities including but not limited to: making my bed, picking up Perry's doody, complimenting me in the event that the Grand Vizier is unable to fulfill his or her duties and remaining vigilant at all times for confirmatory evidence of Bigfoot.
Part Time, Experienced Channel Editors/Copywriters needed for start up Social Networking Website concerned with Hair Loss Lifestyle. Start Yesterday.
We need experienced editors – one editor per section – to manage and edit and develop content for the following categories AS THEY PERTAIN TO HAIR LOSS LIFESTYLE:
Entertainment Travel News Fitness Health Fashion Business Political / Activism
This is an outstanding position that will provide you with international exposure on a high traffic, highly ranked website.
Ideal candidates will be creative, imaginative, self-starters, work well independently as well as in a team setting and goal oriented. Preference given to those who live a hair loss lifestyle.
As I was listening to Obama's victory speech last night, I got the sneaking suspicion that I had heard it somewhere before. Well, as it turns out, Obama's speech is basically EXACTLY the same as the lyrics of Billy Joel's We Didn't Start the Fire. Frankly if he wanted to go with song lyrics he probably should have gone withParadise City or Your Remind Me of My Jeep by R. Kelly, both of which are superior songs. Below I present to you the evidence:
Barack Obama's Speech:
At a time when womens voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that We Shall Overcome. Yes we can.
A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
VERSUS
We Didn't Start the Fire Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, television North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe Rosenbergs, H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom Brando, "The King and I", and "The Catcher in the Rye" Eisenhower, vaccine, England's got a new queen Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye We didn't start the fire It was always burning Since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No we didn't light it But we tried to fight it
Regardless, if McCain won I would have had a heart attack ack ack ack ack.
So I accidentally watched the elections last night starting from 6 pm on. The highest members of my cabinet told me to watch MSNBC because it comes in high def and is supposedly less corny than ABC and CBS and less completely delusional and menacing than Fox. In any event, at one point Brian Williams was talking about how McCain needed to win some states in order to do something and then he says the camera, "This night wouldn't be complete without mentioning Tim Russert" and then proceeds to run a 5 minute MONTAGE of pictures of Tim Russert and describes how much the American people miss him, how he's watching over us this election, how news is not the same without him and then mentions that "hilarious" and "memorable" incident during the last election when Tim scribbled on a whiteboard "Florida, Florida Florida."
At another point in the evening, the camera went to Tim's son Luke Russert who was reporting on the youth vote because both as the son of Tim Russert and as a youth, Luke is eminently qualified to report on MSNBC on what's going on in America and in no way was Luke's appearance on the show due in any way to the fact that his father was once a reporter on there. As the night wore on, Brian Williams AGAIN mentioned how Tim Russert was with us in spirit and again referenced that hilarious whiteboard incident and then AGAIN MSBNC went into ANOTHER montage of pictures of Tim Russert sitting down, Tim Russert joking back stage with other anchors and Tim Russert pointing his pen at someone at looking angry.
That's right, MSNBC's top news story last night was the death of Tim Russert, which confirms my suspicions that MSNBC is now officially the Tim Russert Memorial Network where you can get up to the minute coverage of things like the upkeep of Tim's grave, things Tim would have thought and pictures of Tim from happier times such as when he was alive. I will now be watching VH1, MTV and Bravo exclusively because there's apparently no networks that will broadcast news anymore, and don't say CNN because they were so busy bragging about how it was "the place to be on election night" and how they had the "best team in the business" that they actually forgot to report on the election.
R.I.P. Commerce Bank Inc., 1998-2008 Always in our hearts "Gone too soon"
A few days ago I was in Penn Station doing my usual browsing at Elegance and then texting people from Tiecoon when I noticed that the Commerce Bank had been replaced by something called "TD Bank." It was weird because some of the Commerce decorations were still there, like the red stripe and the slogan "America's Most Convenient Bank" on the wall, but it was all green colored and looked like a boring bank that people who have $5 dollars go to, and not millions like myself. No big deal, I thought to myself, Commerce just closed here and this weirdo bank that is CLEARLY NOT America's Most Convenient Bank took over. But then two days ago I was walking by the Commerce on 12th street and 3rd Avenue but something was off - the giant red blood drop that is their logo was gone, the cheerful blue walls with the cartoon figures that I had known and loved had vanished, and the angelic glow of the Penny Arcade was missing. But yet this TD crap also had the old Commerce red stripe on the window and also had the America's Most Convenient Bank" logo on the back wall.
Horrified and alarmed, I marched in with my Jamba Juice and H&M bag and asked the armed guard where the hell Commerce went? He replied, "TD Bankbought out Commerce, so it's now TD Bank." I asked him what he meant and he said "Commerce is now part of TD." I then asked him if he was joking me and he said no, so I asked when this happened and why I wasn't notified, and he said he didn't know. I asked him what was to become of the Penny Arcade and he said, and I quote, "It's now the TD Bank Coin Counter." I then asked him if TD stood for Total Devastation because I had signed up for Commerce Bank, had been a loyal customer of theirs for five years, considered it FAMILY and joined it BASED ON THE PENNY ARCADE AND THE FREE PENS, and now they were just pulling the rug out from under me, making me go to a bank that is painted green and looks like its on the verge of bankruptcy and that ruthlessly stole Commerce's logo despite the fact that TD is lying because it has not been number one in customer service for THREE YEARS IN A ROW. The armed guard then said I could speak to a manager if I wanted, but I said no thanks, I'll just go home and punch my pillow and buy my own pens and own dog biscuits and count my change myself because if TD Bank thought that they were going to get any of my future business after pulling this stunt they were actually living in Narnia.
Obviously in times like these words fail us. So I'll just say, rest in peace, my sweet Commerce. I will never forget you.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message Commerce Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
Commerce was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
BREAKING NEWS - My wildest dreams have come true - Bachelorette DeAnna Pappas called off her engagement with snowboarder Jesse Czsnzizikick. This is the most glorious day in recent memory. I have been chronicling my jealousy and absolute rage at this wedding, and finally Jesse will be rid of that beast and free to contact me immediately. This just goes to show that it doesn't matter if ABC gives you a new wardrobe, a personal trainer and lip injections for your own show, you can NEVER stop going to the gym or stop being on top of that shit because one must at all times look amazing because engagements get called off and people get divorced, and I just want to pledge to Jesse that I am willing to purchase the 48 pack of personal training sessions at Equinox as a sign of my commitment to our future.
P.S. If she gets ANOTHER Bachelorette show, I will promptly retire from life on an indefinite basis.
Last Thursday I was on the rush hour train to Montclair, NJ to see the Counting Crows - SEE, I DIDN'T EVEN BLOG ABOUT IT LAST WEEK. I obviously made it onto the train with 1 minute to spare so I was standing between cars with a bunch of people sweating and furious that I am always late for things and always running around and getting sweaty and agitated. As I was trying to calm myself down from killing someone, this fat couple in belted leather coats next to me whip out this olde tyme circus popcorn in those white boxes with the red vertical stripes that says crap like "pop corn" and "hot, crisp, delicious." This is not Pop Secret Lite, this is the kind of bright yellow popcorn that you get in a giant bag if you buy a new car and is rubbery, gross and under no circumstances delicious.
Anyway, so these people are clutching their boxes of popcorn and cramming it into their faces, with half of the kernels falling onto the floor and then greedily washing it down with Coke Zero (HAHA) which the guy then handed to the woman who replaced it into her ludicrously fake Louis Vuitton bag on the floor. Apart from this completely unacceptable scene, the stench from the popcorn was overpowering and infiltrated the air for the entire train ride. It was basically the equivalent of these people slathering themselves in tuna and acting like they weren't ruining everybody's air. I mean, if you're going to open popcorn or salami on a closed train, why not just grab a fan and blow farts directly in my face. In any event, my anger increased to the point of no return and so I attempted to exact my revenge by saying to the person next to me, "Smells like the Big Apple Circus in here," which the person unfortunately pretended not to hear, thereby making me look like a fool in front of the fat couple who continued to eat their popcorn, the latter of which scenario is not acceptable in any way.
I'm a lawyer living in NYC. I have a dog, a great group of friends, an inferiority/superiority complex (depending on the situation), and dreams of writing a book. I am trying to do more stand-up comedy and I will be very insulted when people don't show up because I'm pretty shamazing.
Nevermore
Posts
