Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
I was just standing there gaping and then three other people were walking by me and saw what was happening and I said "UMMM" very loudly to try and get them to agree with me that this was absolutely preposterous and naturally they ignored me and kept on walking because dead people come out of the back of hondas and are on the sidewalk ALL THE TIME. Why not just start transporting dead people on the subway during rush hour. I don't know what to say except that while I recognize that I live near a funeral home and I should have suspected these sort of things, apparently every person who has died and used this funeral home in the past two years had the decency to get wheeled in while I was either at work or sleeping or was otherwise disguised in some way so that I didn't know with 100% certainty that in fact there were dead people near my apartment.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
1. Regrowth of my eyebrows since ACCIDENTALLY over tweezing
3. Michael Jackson
5. Not having HPV
6. My job
8. Being a wonderful listener and friend
10. My nose job
11. My landlord renting my apartment to me again at a lower rent
12. Bret Michaels
13. Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew
14. More insider reports on Scientology
16. Noticeable lessening of my prune chin due to cumulative effects of Botox over time
18. My parents finally stopping trying to suggest that I should go back to working in a law firm
19. Looking better than most of the people I went to high school with
20. The American Express smiley face commercial
21. Dog shows
What are you thankful for? Tomorrow I will post a comprehensive list of things that are still left to complain about.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
"I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?"
--Sir Walter Scott
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
So today, the HR manager at my job walks into the room where I sit and informs us all that there is one extra swine flu vaccine left if anyone wanted it, because a few months ago she had booked some vaccines and I guess someone who thought they wanted it chickened out last minute. When she first sent out the email I spent a full day panicking about whether I should sign up because every segment on 60 Minutes and Dateline is like "Veterans from Iraq with Swine Flu" and they're making it seem like literally everyone has swine flu. Well, I have news for you because nobody I know has swine flu and if they did they certainly would never admit to it because who gets these sort of things unless they're a medieval peasant.
Anyway, I ultimately came to the conclusion that I was certainly not going to voluntarily ALLOW someone to inject this disease into me on purpose, so when everyone was asking me today why I didn't just grab up the "free" vaccine and I had to explain to them that now that I am no longer an international bunion model, I am forced make my living based on my intelligence and I can't afford to go around getting autistic from these vaccinations. My boss then attempted to claim that adults can't get autism from vaccines, which is ridiculous because if the whole idea is that these vaccines CAUSE autism in babies, why would you miraculously stop catching it when you're an adult? In any event, I conceded that even if I WAS to become autistic it wouldn't be a huge deal because autism is now curable with a wheat-free diet and certain Scientology prayers.
In my ongoing quest to figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do during the day on the weekend, I got an email last week saying that this charity organization where dogs go to hospitals and cure people by their mere presence, was having a “casting call” for wannabe therapy dogs. I kind of didn’t want to go to this thing at first because their website said that if you get accepted into the program you have to sign a pledge where you agree to bathe your dog within 24 hours of a facility visit, which appeared to be code for bedbugs. In any event, I decided that we should go because they framed it as a “casting call” and since Perry has already been on Oprah AND in The New York Times AND is literally an Ambassador for his breed the next stage in celebritydom is getting involved with a charity.
In any event, we roll up to this doggy daycare place and apparently every dog owner in downtown NYC thinks their dog has what it takes to be therapeutic. I had to fill out this four page form where they asked leading questions like “Does your dog bark excessively?” and “List some of your dog’s dislikes” which immediately put me in the the awkward position of having to conceal Perry's rabid hatred for dwarves and pug faced dogs.
Finally, the trainer calls Perry and three other dogs into the training room for our “skills” test and right away this bitter old woman with a Papillon makes some underminer comment to the trainer saying like “I don’t think you’ll be out of here by 3 today, there’s a lot of people waiting outside,” and then trainer says that she doesn’t care and that actually this audition is a test for the temperament of both dogs AND owners - ZING. So she had us do all these tests, like give your dog commands and see if he listens and doesn’t bite. The worst test was that the dogs were supposed to walk by a pile of sumptuous treats and somehow IGNORE them, walk away, sit, stay and then go down. So three of the dogs go and more or less ignore the treats and do the commands. On our turn, we walk toward the treats, I tell Perry to “leave it,” and naturally he lunges after them and I have to physically drag him away. Perry then somehow mistakes my “down” command as “give me your paw” and launches into his famous paw- other paw-high five routine which I had specifically instructed him to save for our grand finale.
So after all the testing is done, she gives us the results and there were three possible outcomes: rejected, need basic obedience and then therapy classes, or just proceed straight to therapy class. She tells the bitter woman with the Papillon that her attitude sucks, she tells Bogey who was clearly the Valedictorian that he can proceed straight to therapy and she tells this other puppy that he needs to basic training to get his shit together.
Then she comes up to me and I’m pretty much shitting my pants which is pretty ridiculous considering this entire thing was literally an audition for the “privilege” of PAYING for 5 weeks of therapy classes to then VOLUNTEER my time. But by some miracle, she tells me that Perry can actually proceed DIRECTLY to therapy classes and I was like “um, are you kidding me?” and she told me that she passed him even though he seemed “confused” by the whole testing situation, but once he “understood what was being asked of him” he would get on board.
She also informed me that before therapy classes started in January, Perry would need to practice his shit so he could “graduate on time” with his future classmates. She was basically calling him special needs in front of the other dogs which I found extremely insulting because the same shit happened to me once in elementary school, where they confused my name with this girl Marna and they took me to a reading “annex” despite my protests that there had been a terrible mistake and that Marna was the REAL idiot and I was the one with ADVANCED reading skills. I had to spend an entire day reading aloud humiliating sentences like “The cat is in the box” until I came home and told my mom what happened and pitched my Marna theory, which she agreed with and then called the school to kick some ass.
P.S. No, every post is not about Perry, the last few ones just HAPPEN to be about him so just calm down.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Naturally, Perry and I were SPECIFICALLY EMAILED in a listserv to participate in this event by the Bedlington Terrier Club of America, which is only the MOST PRESTIGIOUS Bedlington Terrier organization in the
If you can bear to be in the presence of such greatness, I invite you to attend the Meet the Breeds expo tomorrow and Sunday, Oct. 17th and 18, at the
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
While it is gross and distasteful to have that many abortions, the major issue here is that Irene admitted to having sex with her husband 15 times, which is absolutely disgusting. My parents had sex three times (ALLEGEDLY), once for me, Aliza and Jenna and I assure you that was more than plenty. There is certainly no need to have sex 15 times with anyone under any circumstances and it in fact may be illegal depending on the state.
What this article further fails to mention is that Irene is apparently trying to copy the Duggars, that Fundamentalist couple with their own TLC show who have had sex 18 times, with the main difference being that the Duggars forgot to have abortions and just kept having kids. Michelle Duggar attempts to come across as so devout and "modest" by wearing pioneer hair and ugly long skirts, but the jig was up the minute the audience realized that 18 kids = 18 sexytimes, which was only three more sexes than Irene. With all the bad press about Jon and Kate Gosselin, it is at least comforting to know that they only had sex twice and the 8 was a result of fertility treatments.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The past few weeks have been, in a word, NOT IDEAL. My lease came up for renewal, I had tooth issues and best of all, my hair started falling out. Like I would start blow drying my hair and my brush would fill up with lost hairs and then by the time I got to my desk I looked like Big Foot because hundreds of yellow hairs coated my black sweater. Hair falling out is bad, but it’s actually worse for me because it’s not like I have 10,000 hairs to spare and also if this was culminating in my having to have short hair or going bald, that would be a serious problem because my face looks fat with short hair. Predictably this resulted in me losing my shit several times at my desk and my boss, who is a legitimately nice person, tried to cheer me up by buying cupcakes, which was thoughtful but ineffective unless I could wear the yellow frosting on my head.
I scheduled an appointment with my GP, who drew blood and said she had no idea what it could be, and recommended Shen Min, a “Chinese herb” that “really helps.” She then told me that I “might want to use” Rogaine because it helps with stopping hair loss. I informed her that unfortunately, dignity prevented me from spraying special water on my head in an attempt to miraculously regrow hair and that at this point why not just get one of those upside down tomato gardens and stick my head under the UV light and see if that helps.
On the way back from the doctor’s appointment, I stopped in “InVite” an upscale vitamin store where they sell the exact same crap as Vitamin Shoppe except for $4 more due to the increased effectiveness. Naturally, the “vitamin associate” on duty was wearing a completely absurd toupee that looked like it was out of the Sabotage video, and as I awkwardly explained to him that I needed some Shen Min because my hair was falling out, he insultingly AGREED that my hair was looking limp, and further recommended garlic and folic acid. Because when a man in clown toupee gives me hair advice, I listen.
In any event, after a few days of taking Shen Min pills and not seeing instantaneous results, I decided to bite the bullet and buy Rogaine. I specifically decided to buy the Rogaine at a Walgreens as opposed to a Duane Reade, because the Duane Reade keeps embarrassing products like Rogaine and condoms at the pharmacy counter, and who needs the double humiliation of requesting an embarrassing product and then being judged by someone with an advanced degree. At Walgreens, the Rogaine next to the dandruff shampoos behind one of those plexiglass windows with a buzzer, which I pressed and thereby triggered a loudspeaker announcement that said “Sales associate to the hair aisle.” A girl walked up to me and asked me what I wanted, and I said “Rogaine for Women” as loudly and as proudly as possible in shrewd attempt to make it seem like I was buying it for someone else because if you’re buying it for yourself you’re supposed to not make eye contact and be embarrassed about the fact that you’re 29 and putting magical water on you head.
The end result is that I have “telogen effluvium,” which sounds like an 18th century consumption disease but is actually just hair loss due to acute stress. Megan found it on the Mayo clinic and then I printed it and showed to my dermatologist who agreed with it and then charged me $50 for agreeing with it. It’s going away and my hair will soon be back to my usual lustrous mane.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sent via email from Megan. Note last few ingredients.
things we need to get from my house:
- food processor
- rolling pin
- apple peelers
- lemon zester
- measuring cups, measuring spoons
- baking soda
- baking powder
- cinnamon, allspice
- butter - package of 4 sticks, unsalted (i would just use my own, but it's in the freezer and we don't really have time to defrost)
- 1 small package unbleached all purpose flour (the smallest package is about 5"x4" - that will be plenty)
- 2 lemons
- 1 small container plain yogurt, full fat if possible, NOT skim (smallest container will do - we only need about 2/3 cup)
- 1 small package plain white sugar (i have some but don't want us to run out half way through - we only need a couple cups though, so again, smallest package will do)
- package of eggs (we only need ONE, so if you can find a half-dozen instead of a dozen, buy that)
- plastic wrap, tin foil (disregard if you already have)
- disposable pie tin
- disposable baking dish for cobbler (8"x8" square or 9"x9" square - small rectangle is also fine, but we won't fill up a full brownie pan sized rectangle, so that's why i'm saying "small")
- margarita mix
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
People always ask me why I check my mail every few weeks instead of every day and it's because the entire purpose of the mail is to send people bad news slowly and to do it in the most passive aggressive manner possible. Every time I get my mail, someone's notifying me that I went over my minutes, used more electricity this month or trying to guilt me into sending $5 to someone with lymphoma. In any event, I checked the mail tonight and sure enought, it contained ANOTHER BILL from Manhattan Eye & Ear. Is that a fucking joke. Apparently ME&E thinks they can send me a bill in May for $750, make me think that I've paid it all then then sneak attack me FOUR MONTHS LATER for a $260 "1 Eval/Mgt Est Expanded Focu" in the hopes that I forget that I actually paid them $300 three months ago and that I get overwhelmed and tricked by the words "Eval/Mgt Est Expanded Focu" which appears to be a Chinese buffet item. They also outrageously thought they could cut the bill on August 8 and make it due on August 18, like it was some kind of emergency that I pay IMMEDIATELY when they in fact specifically waited till August to send it to me in the hopes that I would be on vacation so that I wouldn't see it and they could send it on to collections because the main part of bill collector's job satsifaction comes from ruining lives and embarrassing people.
Tomorrow morning I plan to call ME&E and inform them that I will be paying the new bill IN NARNIA and that they can take whatever fake new bills they're planning to send to me for future invented Eval/Mgt Est Expanded Focu's over Columbus Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas and throw them out the window because I already paid for this shit and I have insurance now so they need to calm down and stop treating me like an indigent.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Sunday night before my new job was supposed to start, I was settling into bed to read Jesus, Interrupted when I took a sip of water and nearly blasted through my ceiling from tooth pain. It felt like 30 knives plunging into my gum and eventually faded 30 minutes late into a dull throb, to the point where I was thinking of creative ways to deliver the speech to my new boss the next morning about how I realized that it was my first day on the job, but I just showed up to let him know that I was actually taking a vacation day that day so I could attend to the raging cavity on the upper left side of my mouth which god had planted there to destroy me. Luckily I fell asleep and the next morning I was delirious from "waking up for work" at something referred to as "7 AM" which I previously hadn't know about, that I went to work, forgot about my tooth and started my first day on the job. At about 10am, I could no longer go on without coffee, so I trudged to a deli called "Pinnacle" in midtown, which is the pinnacle of efficiency due in part to the cashiers' hysterical screams of "NEXT! WHO'S NEXT! STEP DOWN WHO'S NEXT!" from the second you walk in the door, and purchased a small coffee.
Upon sipping the coffee at my desk I screamed because the hotness hit my apparently rotting tooth that I had forgotten about, thereby trigging horrible cavity pain. Two of my new co-workers said, "Are you ok?" at which point I had to explain to them that it was actually completely typical for me to do things like develop my first cavity in eight years on the first day of my new job where I had no accrued vacation time and when health and dental insurance were finally within striking distance but not yet mine and that they should just act casual if they saw me during lunch hour putting a string around my tooth and tying it the office doorknob and slamming the door.
I then called my mom during my lunch hour, cried and got the number of my friend's dad who is a dentist in NJ, and I begged him to clear some time on Saturday so that I could use my first weekend while working in over a year to attend to medical emergencies. Stay tuned for My Tooth, Part II, where I visit the dentist for the first time "since the office converted to electronic records," according to the hygienist and discover that something strange and costly has happened in my mouth...
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Down to business. During The Bachelorette this season, the running theme has been that no one is attracted to Jillian with the guys saying shit like "I usually date blondes" to Jillian's face and exclaiming in confessionals that they're "surprised" in spite of themselves how much they like her. You'll recall that at the beginning of the show, the producers even had Jillian explain to the camera that just because she's unattractive doesn't mean that she's not deserving of love, which is patently false and deeply offensive. Given that they tricked a bunch of attractive men into thinking they were signing up for a show to compete for someone hot, it's not really surprising that Ed was simultaneously dating and sleeping with two other women the entire time and writing text messages about how Jillian's "not his type" to them. I mean, if he was having problems getting it up with her in the Fantasy Suite with rose petals, a thatched roof and while rubbing two gallons of Hawaiian Tropics all over each other, there is a 0% chance that he will be able to get it up in real life. Check out the only interview Jillian and Ed did to address these rumors, where they both twitch, blink a zillion times, fidget and generally act like normal people who have nothing to hide do. It's especially great around the 5 minute mark where Jillian acts indignant and outraged that anyone would care about her private life with Ed, apparently forgetting that she just appeared on a show that focused exclusively on her private life.
In any event, I STRENUOUSLY URGE you to pick up a copy of Us magazine with Ed and Jillian on the cover. It gives a four page timeline of his cheating, before, during and after the show, includes some of his absolutely hilarious texts and emails to these women ("this is the summer of vagina") and these two "humiliated" women further humiliate themselves by talking about their absurdly desperate and slutty behavior. I read aloud the story to Megan while getting a manicure and people around me were like listening in but pretending not to.
Monday, July 27, 2009
You didn't think I'd leave you hanging for the FINALE of this season's lackluster Bachelorette, did you? Join me and other bitter people tonight at 8pm EST as we rip Jillian, bug eyed Ed and false eyelashes Kiptyn to shreds in what will be undoutbedly the most shocking/romantic/helicopter heavy finale ever. My bet is that she WAS going to choose Kiptyn and then when he's standing at the final elimination he lets her know that he never actually liked her and by that point and she has already eliminated Ed, so she ends up alone. Don't say I didn't call it. Also, if Reid comes back on and Jillian attempts to interfere with my relationship with him there will be a major problem. In unrelated news, Aliza went to Chicago last weekend and said she looked for Ed but was unable to locate him. Not sure what that means in terms of the show.
Monday, July 20, 2009
There are some rumors out there - that I "got a job" (it's temporary until/if they make me permanent) that I need a "root canal" (will address in separate post entitled, "My Tooth"), that I'm no longer watching The Bachelorette (vicious lie). I'm eggzausted from working 73 jobs, but I just had to share some sad news.
This morning, Perry and I were taking our 7:34 am constitutional when I saw a framed black and white picture of Emey Hoffman, the shop's owner, in the window of the bike shop on 6th street. It is a well known fact that framed pictures only appear in windows when people die or move away and then die.
I stopped walking on 6th street during business hours about a year ago because one of the bike mechanics Gabe who was kind of cute in a Titanic engine room coal shoveler sort of way found my blog and kind of asked me out via email and rather than email him back or acknowledge him in any way I thought the most adult and reasonable method for dealing with the situation was to avoid walking on 6th street altogether and to walk down Avenue A near 6th street in a wool hat and hooded sweatshirt carrying Perry so that he wouldn't blow my cover by looking like a sheep. It was hard to stop walking by the store - I had walked Perry past it for over a year and had gotten to know the guys in the bike shop, including Emey, the elder stateman of the joint who directed the younger mechanics. Emey sat in a beach nylon chair outside the shop during the spring, summer and fall and inside the shop during the winter, but he wore shorts year round. His hands were always black with grease and he would drink beers starting at 4pm and always offer me one, "ice cold." Occasionally he would save bones from his lunch to give to Perry, but mostly Perry would jump up on his lap just to sit and depending on his mood, Emey would talk about his four Dachsunds (Newton and Samantha were two of them), his ballistics invention which he claimed some company stole and said it was going to make him millions, his 35 year war with his landlord who was constantly trying to get him evicted from his $375 rent controlled apartment, his "capo" protection, his separate room in his apartment for "relations" with his wife and his staunch defense of John McCain despite my arguments that his face was legitimately falling off. I was complaining him once that since I got Perry, I've never had a meal undistubed because he's constantly harrassing me for my food, and Emey said, "You get a dog and you never get a meal in peace again. That's the deal." It told him at the time I wanted to rip up my high school yearbook and make that my yearbook quote.
The last time I saw Emey I was last December, when I walking up toward St. Marks with Perry. He was walking down toward 6th street and I didn't know what to do because I if I had ever ran into any of the bike shop people, I had planned on pretending that I moved away and that's why I hadn't been by the shop but now I was caught read handed. He said hello, and I said hello back, and then I returned home and felt like a shithead and thought about telling Megan about this situation but I felt like I would have to explain why it made more sense to rearrange my walking patterns than deal with the situation of someone asking me out and I didnt' feel like being told that I needed to go back into therapy or that I needed to get over myself.
In any event, internet research tonight revealed that the black and white frame was right: Emey died January 7th of this year, unexpectedly of a heart attack. I wish I would have known earlier and could have paid my respects and now I feel like a complete buffoon for staying away so long and for such ridiculous reasons. Rest in peace, Emey. I feel better knowing that Pretty Boy, the other block mascot, is there to keep you company.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Last night I was out because sometimes that happens and during the entire evening I got frantic texts from Risa and Frank the Tank about the insanity that was going down on last night's episode of the Bachelorette involving Pilot Jake and 1/8th Asian Ed (who Tiffany agrees with me is 1/8th Asian "or more" and Tiffany is 100% Asian). So I come home and my DVR has failed to record The Bachelorette and instead has two Interventions that weren't even new episodes, so I had to wait until today to watch it on ABC.com. I just got through those grueling 2 hours and here are my preliminary thoughts:
1. Reid could not be any less attracted to Jillian and Wes has Botox on his forehead.
2. Breakdance Mike hopping up and down when he saw his twin brother and his mom was completely unacceptable, but I kind of felt bad for him during his exit interview when he said he was in love with her because I think he underestimates his own attraciveness level and mistakenly thinks that Jillian is like a goodlooking catch.
3. Jake was wearing a PILOT'S COSTUME for no apparent reason because he did not fly a plane out to Austin, he himself admitted that he "caught the first flight out." Jake also suffers from unspeakable corniness, which is most evident in his tucked in and bloused out shirts. I'm not sure why he was like crying and having a heart attack over revealing the completely unshocking news to Jillian that Wes had a girlfriend, considering Jillian just eliminated him and they're not friends in real life. Also, the crying over the railing scene was classic Jason Mesnick, nice try.
4. Jillian needs to stop asking everyone "I am your type?" because the question is pathetic and really needy. If you have to ask that question then you already know the answer.
5. Can someone explain why they COMPLETELY ignored the issue of Ed's job. So like, he returned to Chicago and his boss was like, "it's too late, you're fired" so he returned to the show and claimed that it was because he was thinking about Jillian. Why would Jillian or anybody want to date Ed if he doesn't have a job. I'm unemployed but I would certainly never date someone who was. Like what are they going to do after the show's over, move in to Ed's parents' basement and eat DiGiorno pizzas in his den? You have to be practical about these situations, although I supposed the Tacori engagement ring by Tacori would be free, courtesy of Tacori, so he wouldn't have to worry about that expense.
6. Kiptyn's parents were pretentious but they seem rich which is a plus. Kiptyn also seemed more attracted to his goodlooking sister than to Jillian, for obvious reasons.
7. Jesse's brother looked like Encino Man and his vest/tie combination at the end was straight out of a Color Me Badd video.
8. I fell out of my chair when Jillian arrived for the rose ceremony to HARP music dressed in a yellow "grecian" gown, like she was some mystical princess or her beauty was otherworldly. Seriously, get out of here. She is a troll and I would actually argue that she gets worse and worse looking with every episode.
Monday, June 29, 2009
A few weeks back at 2am, I ordered the Blueprint Cleanse, which is one of those juice cleanses where you pay $195 for bottles of magical elixir that allow you to drop weight while also achieving the highest levels of spiritual enlightenment. I ordered three days of the cleanse, because I figured doing one day was for losers and doing five days was for absolute maniacs, and I ordered "Level 2 - Renovation Cleanse" which is the middle level for people who on the one hand don't have martinis and fries for breakfast but on the other hand don't repulsive eat SoyJoy bars and birdseed for every meal. The drinks were delivered in neon coolers and I was instructed to immediately transfer these holy juices into my fridge so that the "antioxidants" or whatever made these juices miraculous would not be destroyed by heat and their healing properties would be preserved for all time.
In any event, I started the cleanse on Monday when I rolled out bed at 11am and was told by a friend that I was already "late" in starting my juices. I drank some warm tap water, as instructed by the Blueprint instructions, in order to "awaken" my system and then dove into Juice One, which was a spinach-colored green and included kale, celery, spinach, green apple and a bunch of other disugsting ingredients. The juiced smelled like new magazines and tasted like spinach mixed with sewage, but with a sickly sweet aftertaste. I nearly threw up and had to chug the drink and chase every sip with water and immediately brush my teeth afterwards. Juice Two tasted like mint Mentos dissolved in lemonade and I put off drinking Juice Three for a few hours because it was the same as Juice One. Juice Four, which was tasted like a weakened margarita minus the alcohol, Juice Five was rancid Juice One, and Juice Six was a "cashew milkshake" that appeared to be made of Aveeno oatmeal bath for use on chicken pox.
The Blueprint site, as well as two friends who had done the cleanse, told me that at no time would I be hungry, and in fact the website says that I could even go to the gym because I would feel "engergized" and "clearheaded." Let me assure you that I was absolutely starving and my hands were shaking by 2pm, and if I had gone to the gym I would have had to be medevac'd out of there. By 4pm I was enraged and delirious and jealous of Perry eating his food. After I had finished my Aveeno bath milkshake at 9pm and I realized I had nothing left to drink for the day I became murderous and as an anti-crime measure, I ate two tortillas located on the refrigerator shelf directly below the juices and a bag of gummy bears at 12:34am, 24 hours into my cleanse. I obviously did not bother drinking that crap for the two remaining days.
Some, such as Megan, might argue that I took $195 and essentially flushed it down the toilet, but I say that the learning experience I got was worth much more than any money could ever buy. I've never been able to make it past 12pm on Yom Kippur, and I have absolutely no idea why I thought I'd be able to go THREE DAYS drinking sewage, but this confirmed to me that it is far preferable to punish myself at the gym for 15 hours and be able to eat anything I want, than in any way limit or deny myself Thai, Mexican or gummy bears at any time or in any amount as I see fit.
P.S. If for some insane reason you want to try Blueprint yourself, they're having 25% off till July 2nd, probably because people don't feel like ruining their July 4th weekends by being angry and starving. Use code 4JULY25 when you check out.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
After crying at my desk and watching Stranger in Moscow over and over on YouTube for the past three hours, I've yet to come up with an appropriate eulogy for Michael. I admired everything about him - his music, his clothing, his plastic surgery, Bubbles and his patronage of chimp sanctuaries, naming his kids Blanket and Prince Michael, his documentaries, his videos. I remember when I was in law school studying for the bar and the molestation trial was going and I got a text message from CourtTV because I had signed up to be alerted when the verdict was going to come home, and I rushed home and wept tears for joy when they freed Michael. I have so much more to say about this incredible legend once I stop being hysterical, but for now, you can read my reactions to MJ's tragic, tragic death here and here. Rest in Peace, Michael. You are not alone.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
P.S. While you've been away, Candy and Ken have been stealing your lines and are taking credit for them.
In any event, Reid, if you are reading this, you will be pleased to know that I am a Jew but have (somewhat) corrected my wonky nose and have also dyed my hair blonde in a good faith effort to subvert my identity, and at this time I would like to invite you to call me immediately so that we can go on a date where we could feel free to discuss our neuroses and complain about fondue contamination in goddamn peace without being judged by annoying and hideous Canadians who reference Christmas in conversations in a deliberate attempt to make people feel like outsiders.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
After punching myself in the face and bashing myself over the head with a wine bottle, I studied this picture for about twenty minutes struggling to find fault with any of the shoes, looking for signs that they were knock offs or purchased on ebay, or scuffed or ANYTHING that would make me feel better about my own shoe collection, and when I could not, I then considered lighting my closet on fire. What the hell is the point in me having three measley pairs of beat up Louboutins from ebay when "Lawgirl78" who APPEARS TO BE A LAWYER is apparently stealing my life and walking around town with 26 goddamn pairs of pristine Louboutins that should rightfully be in my closet? I have spent the greater part of my adult life watching ebay auctions, saving scheming and setting my Hammersnipe to amass a collection of Miu Mius, Marc Jacobs and the occasional Louboutins, but apparently I have been wasting my time because her collection makes it look like I've been collecting Rocket Dogs or Jessica by Jessica Simpson shoes. It enrages me when other people try to make me obsolete and someone will have to pay for this. The only thing we can hope for at this most desperate time is that Lawgirl78 has a hideous face and a monstrous body. Amen.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Jacqueline needs to get out of here with that garish DVF wrap dress with a camisole underneath
megan: what i can't wait to watch, though
my eyes hurt to look at them
get out of here
she should be shot