Marion did not think it was that funny because it was in her soup. PS Marion is in Richmond now. Hi I miss you. Road trip!
In other news, I think it is weird that Bowery Electric has that mirror wall outside. I don't understand the concept. Furthermore, the interior of that place is not so bad (recent realization) Too bad no one ever goes there. They need some sexy bartandrahs and some special hipster djs and its in the bag. Or drink specials. Always a good idea. I just right now put it together that thinking outloud on a blog means it is inevitably going to be bor-hong. I am falling asleep just writing this.
Today was therapy day and my best friend I mean therapist, Claude, discussed with me why I am afraid to be gentler with people. I told him its because I play the role of being absurd and uncouth so well that it gets laughs. I don't know who I am really if I'm not saying something negative that in turns comes out as humorous. I told him I'm willing to bet if I soften up I won't be nearly as entertaining. Case in point, this blogging sitch right nyah. He told me when I want to be mean I should pretend that part of me is like the asshole cop everyone hates, who can never just be decent and let shit slide. I thought that was an amazing suggestion so I'm going to try it. When my mouth is ready to say "Hey fuckface I bet yer hung like a baby I can tell because you've got lady hands. I hope yer whore mom buys you a new car for your birthday then you accidentaly drive it off a cliff" I will tell that part of myself to shut up. I will be telling the asshole cop character inside me to shut up though, so it will be like a lil trick on meself. Hooray for tricks!
Speaking of tricks I learned a few from this guy the other night
I have more news but I would rather eat my green beans in peace instead of doing this.
I just touched my cat's butt by accident and I'm really disgusted by it.
Something else I'm disgusted by is the state my legs are in. I look like a teenage runaway who lives under a bridge and has a vitamin deficiency. I have been tearing up South Street on my bike as well as having too many drinks and aggressively dragging said bike up and down stairs and such. That explains the severely bruised ankles/calves/thighs. I have this super irritated shredder cut that looks kind of like a tiger tried to climb up my limb. Its is a little swollen and still fairly dirty. I fell. That's the whole story.
So today Claude, my cognitive behavioral therapist/new best friend told me in jest that I should tattoo 'I don't date losers' on the palm of my hand to serve as a personal reminder. We talked for at least 20 minutes about the fact that I specifically chose to continue seeing men who I am FULLY AWARE are unavailable. AKA substance abusers, cheaters, jobless drifters, emotionally invested in other women, depressed, etc etc etc. To be totally honest, this is something I swear to God, I didn't know I was doing. Heres a sample of how blind I am:
Claude: What exactly do you want from ____? Me: I think I have no idea what I want. I think I wish things would just be happy and awesome. The men I like, they are actually good people, seriously Claude. Claude: OK. Good. Are they available? Me: No. Claude: OK. So you have to stop seeing them. Cut it off. Its OK for things to just not work out. No one is a 'loser' we are just humans. You are not picking losers, you are just being *MALADAPTIVE. Me: But that means I don't win. (THAT IS VERBATIM. VERBATIM) Claude: Riiiight. So you're winning right now? I mean... wouldn't winning be dating people who want to be with you? And respect you? And are ready? Me: What? This is stupid. I win if I make it work. Claude: Guess what. You just made my job easier. Repeat yourself outloud. See how it sounds. Me: Oh shit.
Aaaaaand SCENE. Tada! Then he gave me some exercises to do and things to research and looked at me like a little gnome and wiggled his glasses and said, "Its all about the path. Thats all. Just the path." That gave me a panic attack but I settled down and was fine. Great Job.
*Maladaptive behaviors refer to types of behaviors that inhibit a person’s ability to adjust to particular situations. This type of behavior is often used to reduce one’s anxiety, but the result is dysfunctional and non-productive. For example, avoiding situations because you have unrealistic fears may initially reduce your anxiety, but it is non-productive in alleviating the actual problem in the long term.
Enough about that for now. Here's some things me and Gob did together recently. (not this Gob)
Gob and I looking at the river while weird Chinese people fish and set things on fire.
Gob and I looking out at machinery and dome as pictured below.
Awkward running father who did not understand that one would need wind in order to successfully fly a kite. Men alone with children is interesting because of their completely sporadic fits of logic. Its there...then its not? Oh here eat this popsicle for breakfast. What? You refuse to now eat these eggs? Why??? Lets fly a kite! Shit, there is no wind. I guess I'll just walk around with you with no water and long sleeves on this very hot afternoon until your mother gets home. Shrug. I love men, I do. And the idea of a loving father, a fun father...its a Dream. Its special! But. Lets face it. Theres a reason why kids think dads are fun and moms are pests. Somebody has to be the pest or every kid in the world would have rotten teeth, dirty faces, infected fingies and weird brown bag lunches with little to no nutritional value. I generalize because its funny.
Death is part of life. But maggots eating squirrel eyes is still gross. FDR is literally killing it. (ba-dum CHHHH!)
Tank top balding sandals guy and his giant turtle, who may in fact be his romantic lover. PS the turtle lives in a boat house. Baller.
This has nothing to do with my bike rides, but please look at this man on the train. His toupee was SO UNBEWEAVABLE in person. It looks like a hair hat! I have never seen anything like it. It was so shiny and wiggish and his little remaining wiry gray hairs poked out all around its border. He also had the weirdest kit I have even seen, dirty denim with elastic waist and cuffs? One velcro shoe one with laces? A fucking confetti party time pattern umbrella? An expensive-ish watch? I'm pretty sure hes one of those people who tries to sell you free things like copies of the Onion or 'appraisal on air conditioning unit installing' coupons he got in the mail. Super Saver! He probably also eats people.
The opposite of scary train guy is this kid, who I met at Stephanies bday BBQ.
He was really good at scrounging our food and also tried to plant an avocado pit in the dirt so the park could have a fruit bearing tree. I gave him bubbles and a pop ice. Then I played ball with him. His face makes me happy so I am going to go to bed before something ruins it.
Thinking back on my final days in the first quarter of my life, I am quite depressed. I haven't done much in the way of leaving my apartment since Friday to be honest. I smell a little bit like maple syrup, but its better than the smell of Chinatown in early September. In case you're not hip to it, it smells like farm animal vagina. Plus hot garbage. Plus corpse.
Anyway, My birthday party was a success in one way and one way only. My friends. They are amazing. They pooled together and bought me a beautiful little painting of what else, horses. Its pretty dreamy. I also received a few beautiful tenderly transported plants from B, cookies and wine, a hand woven top from Mexico, luxurious chocolates, and a keg of beer. I would rather not discuss how the evening ended after 20 shots of tequila (all clearly tallied on the Tequila Terrorist Wall) but it wasn't good. I slept essentially on the floor, and my last thoughts were, 1. why am I eating cuban bread at 6 am? and 2. how am I going to change? There is something I really want to change, its going to take time but I think I can do it. Namely, i have to stop looking to others for redemption. I'm not a bad person, I'm just a creature of habit. I'm one of those people who you see in the back of the bus hitting themself on the side of the head mumbling. I really really don't have a whole lot of confidence in my ability to be "the best I can be." So typically I find myself making sad sad phone calls around 5am essentially asking for answers. Such as: Why me? Why not me? Am I a bad person? etc etc.
Gross!
That is all more than I wanted to share, but after 3 days in bed I think it's time to wake up and smell the hot garbage, for real though.
Here is a recap of the final days. The final days of the "early twenties" I am now in my "late twenties" which gives me a shiver down my spine and a tickled gag reflex. When I reread that I saw it as Egg Reflex which I think I will use from now to describe when chicks can't wait any longer to get preggie. Hey pal don't blame me, its just my egg reflex. No doubt.
This is a window display on the upper east side that makes me think of the past and the future at the exact same time. Its so good and so bad. Its just a total mess and a dream. Sometimes I look at it and I think my brain will explode then the wave of calm rises and I say internally, "I wish I was a mannequin in a bathtub for eternity." Then I pray that I never say that out loud by accident.
Location for precious kitten adoption: 71st and 2nd.... Don't sleep on this. If you want a cat go get one, they are cuter than a 16 year old boy trying to grow a mustache.
Cheddar Melt.
* I literally just told Stephanie that we are all on the boat in the seas of discontent. That is in fact how we talk to eachother.
Anyway, kitten day was Wednesday, and Wednesday night our friends Delta Spirit were in town to perform on Conan O Brien. They are very nice boys, that is how you know they are not from New York. You can also tell they are not from New York because they enjoy smiling.
Here is the link to their performance, too bad embedding was disabled but if you care you should click on it
Actually, before we went to say hello to the boys, we went to Good World for some reason and watched Bogdan eat the largest pile of mashed potatoes in history. Drinks are getting very expensive, more than I can handle, so any bar where you know someone...thats the destination. Do not front, because Good World may be cheesy but nothing is ever too cheesy to go drink at a discount.
Things get fuzzy after the potato pile.
Then I start doing shit like this outside of Hi Fi. (Which, by the way, had strictly male patrons that night. The testosterone mixed with casual boredom and pool table talk was absolutely unreal.)
This is what Jon and Sam look like when I tell them to think of kittens.
This is just about the last moment I remember.
Maybe 20 minutes later I went into sleuth mode, never to reappear. Of course, being the retard I am, I covered my unfinished cocktail with my wallet so no one would drink it. Then I told Sam I was going out for a cigarette and got into a cab alone. For no reason. This is why I am a total creep. Also an idiot. Who wants to deal with that? I'll tell you, in due time, no one.
Wait, I also recall seeing this guy: Here is TallJake. If you want to feel like you are having the worst de ja vu of your life, scroll down to one of the pictures of TallJon, his spot-on doppleganger. Universe collisions. Less unsettling than you would think.
This story sucks. Thursday Bianca got here and I have missed her. She has been driving cross country, buying vintage clothes to sell on ebay, which sounds super fun but apparently is hard? I get it, because I think I have sold about 2 things on ebay and it was a nightmare. Tons of time spent.
Of course we had to go do karaoke because what else would we do. I would like to say that I am really good at singing Nothing Compares 2 U and really bad at singing Easy Lover. I think I sang at least 3 Genesis songs. It was kind of a dad fest.
So this place we went to on 17th is amazing because there is a wall phone in the private rooms where you pick up and say "Please bring me a vodka soda with two lemons and a little cup of ice, thanks." Yeah and two seconds later here comes a really happy asian with just what you asked for.
The videos are so beautifully early 90210-esque.
The video for Heart 'Magic Man' was a total babefest.
Speaking of babefest, Chevy Chase anyone?? I am not even partially kidding.
This video makes no sense. Big Chev is maybe 9 feet tall. That would make Paul Simon about 3 and a half feet tall. Tops.
Also a great one. We all wanna be big big stars.
Thursday went along not that well post karaoke, Bianca and I did a lot of aimless wandering where we ran into people I didn't want to see and had no idea where we should get a drink. Yes, this in a place where there are about 4 trillion bars. Manhattan becomes very unsatisfying for me once in awhile so i just want to lay in my bed and watch internet television. And eat takeout. And after I eat takeout I look for things in my freezer like snicker ice cream bars and zucchini pancakes. Then I drink about a liter of grape juice and sleep for a minimum of 10 hours. Then that phase ends and i stop hating the Lower East Side and I rsvp to everything and anything and drag my friends around like a crackhead trying to smoke up every rock of life in sight. All or nothing maybe.
That being said, Bianca being with me during this time of dodo-ness was the best thing in the world. She has been through a lot of confusion and soul searching, and fuck you if you think thats funny. Its not. The people that are most inspiring are the ones that love you when you're not fun, when you're extremely flustered for no reason and panicking because you tried to make scrambled eggs and got yolk on the floor.
On with it.
Happy Birthday Baby.
Forefront: Raffi. Backround: Ball Breath.
Olivia Malones Thumb showed up, thank god.
Alex bought me a keychain of a silver lobster that says I Love New York. Makes sense to me. Please See TallJon to the left and refer back to TallJake. They are in no way related. Wrap your brain around that.
Here is Denise laughing at WeinerDog, further proof that Denise will laugh at anything.
If there was an island where all people do is tell stories about shit that recently happened to them, Stephanie would be the unequivocal mayor of said island.
Lil Way-ner. (like weiner. Anyone? Anyone?)
Your name is Butch. Why do you look like you're crying? Butches don't cry. Not even if they get kicked off the football team or only catch one trout on the fishing trip.
Then this happened. Berel you are the weirdest manchild I know. Katie is just someone I have no comment about. I think her name should be legally changed to Whoops.
*All jokes at the expense of friends are innocently posed.
Supposedly Alex was soon after mauled by the WWF version of my birthday self.
Sam was very very sober and looked like a porcelain doll from heaven.
Jiwonji appears for fairly short intervals then I say, Hey where is Jiwon? Not where I last saw her. Sounds like someone. me.
Bianca passed out from too much cheap vodka and some benadryl I forced her to take for sneezing all fucking day. Jeylan came home from work and wanted to kill whoever it was playing with my punching bag at 3 am. Some teenage chicks appeared and that was the weirdest thing ever. One of them looked like Suri Cruise, which Stephanie kindly pointed out right to her face. The after hours arrivals are always the fucking weirdos that you're not even tight with, they just wander in all noisy and brazen, usually with nothing to drink or one shoe on. Some bullshit like that. All in all, things ended quite horribly and once again there are tags on my walls and the smell of beer lingers. That may also be because the keg is still in the living room half full.
But all clouds have a silver lining. My silver lining arrived the following day, roundabout lunchtime, when I entered my room where Bianca and Sterp and Lucy had slept. This is almost enough to force me to go on:
This person in considered attractive in the fashion community.
Meaning someone pays her money to wear their creations in hopes that other people will view it and think it is an appealing garment. Just wanted to make sure we are all on the same page.
She looks like the shit i took after i was abducted by scientologists.
thanks Sam West for sending this monstrosity to me
Aherm. I think I am ready to tackle the blog that is New Years Eve. Jesus H.
To begin, I am unapologetically bossy. So the evening began by me telling Sam and Scott to "hurry up and come over" so I could rush them to Studio B to buy tickets at the door before it was too late. I, of course, had mine already. Control. Didn't matter. The genuinely mentally disabled "just off the boat" car service driver we had took nearly an hour to get us in "the vicinity" of Banker St. We had to get out and take a cab the rest of the way. Do you see? DO YOU SEE? This is why there is no meshing of the clans of Brooknah and Manhattan. Because of the great vehicular divide.
So we get there. The doorman stole my water bottle but let Sam keep hers. Good thing because for once, she was the one hiding the vodka. Then some girl stamped my hand and I told her I had to go do some shit, what was the deal with leaving and coming back? She informed me it was no problem as long as I didn't do too much X and sweat the stamp off. Ok 1997 doorlady, I'm on tappa theeeat. Thanks.
So we were basically in and out, had to go see the Turkish Delight JJ at Southside Speakeasy and handle some biz. New Years Eve is the official night of "Be right back, gotta go pick something up." Duh.
JJ's tatas were on full display and we drank and drank a bit and the music was super crap. Sorry guys, no Coldplay allowed ever in public. But there were excellent people there so no big. JJ and Marty Chops. PS the sign above her head says SHOWERS OF HAPPINESS. Genius. What happened before we went back to Studio B? Nothing I don't think, but I hadnt seen my girl in ages so it was a treat.
Back at Studio B (this is starting to read like a screenplay) we found Sterp (the most beautiful girl in a black mini dress wiiiiiiiiiiiink) and got some wristbands which was helpful. VIP is overrated. There are a lot of dbags lolling around thinking being in VIP justifies all of their lameness. No. It doesn't. Aherm: Fat guy in wife beater. Big Pun was sweatin. Another lovely surprise, there is the handsome Russian vampire Mikael. Awes. So we sit and drink and drink and Kudu plays some serious gay club shit until midnight I guess when we had the countdown. I couldn't hear a thing for some reason. Clubs hurt. Ah, at that time, Krista had arrived yay Krista the sweetest girl in this shitty city. I like to talk to her for long periods of time ignoring my surroundings. Here's Sam and Scott before they started arguing about nothing. Oh Sam. Kiss and make up assholes you know you lurve eachother. Drum roll. Slick Rick the RULER at midnight or somewheres thereafter. AWES. There was some old school new school shit happening, I was the annoying white girl yelling all of the lyrics. I also elbowed people to get camera phone shots. This is where you stop reading the blog, draw my face on a grapefruit, and pummel it. I am pretty sure I was the biggest asshole around at that point. "Hi I don't really dance I just wear sequins and keep my shimmering afro sexahhh. No big."
Yada Yada, Slick Rick, bathroom photos OY, girl talk, cigarette smoking, HEY LETS GO BACK TO SEE JJ! OK, good idea. At this point we have spent our life savings on cabs, whats the damage of some more money wasted? So we walk in the barren wasteland that is Brooknah and run into a giant checkered bastard and his tranny sidekick. Awes. He looks like Leigh Bowery only far less of a doughy mess. His name is Jordan. And he's creepy.
We get back to Southside Rarr Rarr Rarr, Miss Orlinsky shows up after shooting for Reuters in Times Square, how she escaped that is beyond me. It's like 3 am and JJ is faced. I remember asking her for a drink and she said no because she couldn't "find it" Find the drink? Slow down sister you have to make it, you're the bartender. Awes.
So more excess. Same story every year until you have kids and you have to pretend to like staying home watching fucking Shrek on DVD. We shut the bar down I dunno what time I guess 5 something. We go back to JJ's for a night cap/ Ha. Included in the next few hours is 1. me arguing with a tall puerto rican boy who I named 19 (as in his age from the looks of it) 2. Sam and some dude smooching like little birds 3. Katie passing out early snugged in JJ's bed with not a care in the world 4. JJ giggling about all the beers she took home 5. more JJ giggling as she played that SAME FUCKING SONG she used to play in our apt when she was fucked up....that rap bullshit "something something hammock man, what the fuck is a sammich man?" Ugh. Kill me. 6. I don't remember.
I had fun. No makeout sesh. No serious dance fever. But it was a riot.
Until the following day when I crawled out of Brooknah hoping to be the victim of some stray bullet.
Pammy bitched the whole way back to the LES.
Love, the girl who ended 2007 with 13 hours of destruction. Hol.Ler.
