Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Monday, July 6, 2009

In every wish and dream And happy home You will find the kingdom of The Gnomes

Everything comes in giant waves, no?

I woke up quite under the weather this morning completely unable to swallow coupled with aching eyeballs.
Not suitable for nannying.
I had to call out of work of course because little babes don't need my germs no siree. (Suri?)

It was an unpleasant day of not eating, not really drinking, not really moving... just rolling around in my bed having feverish dreams and intermittently feeling the disgusting tingle of the sunburn on my lower back rub against my sheets.

Then I dragged myself up around 230 this afternoon to get ready to go to therapy on the upper west side.
For some reason I thought today would be a really good day to delve into some ol stinky garbage issues I've had since I was a kid that possibly affect my current behaviours.
Might I remind you, this is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and is all about living in the moment mindfully. It is certainly not about having an hour long self absorbed cry fest.
Well...today I failed at mindfulness and self control.
I sweat all over Claude's nice Eames lounge chair and snot up about half his box of tissues.
I cried the entire time basically and I had that weird awful sobby choked voice that it just unbearable.

So that happened.

I came home to rest and take some pills and drink some tea which was nice but then I got shit on by someone who shall remain nameless.
I really dislike being disliked does that make sense?
I always feel this weird pity for people who berate those who care about them. It makes me think they are so beyond fucked inside that I have to figure it out and then assist them in some way.
Maybe they just don't like me and thats why they talk shit.
Either way, its essentially a lose-lose sitch.

So as of 7 minutes ago it became Tuesday and this horrible Monday ended and I am glad for it.
I embrace every moment I have with those I love but today was pretty loveless for the most part.
Thats why I'm going to think about all the happiness I had this holiday weekend.
I am so so thankful for the people in my life who give me positive thoughts and unconditional acceptance.
I hope these photos make you feel good.


On the train out to NJ to celebrate the 4th, it appeared as though Levin was not set to have a good time with the ladies. But I had faith in his ability to find enjoyment in all the vagina he was about to be stuck with for 48 hours.


Porto sits with me and is never embarrassed when I talk too loud or say "wet dick" in public.
Maybe she is embarrassed but she doesn't scold me which is nice.


Marshy like disease time.


Beer.
Meat.
Livy's salad.
Dinner in the yard.
It was an immediate killing it type of situation upon arrival.

We walked to the fireworks at the river and somehow ended up with the perfect seats despite a crowd of 125,000 people. Supposedly 125G, Nancy may have exaggerated.


Levin posted up Americana.


This is real.
Real emosh. (emotional? can i say emosh?)
Stephanie cried a few times and forced Levin to hold her hand dramatically.
I enjoyed that.
I mostly clapped furiously and wiggled with excitement.
Red Bank fireworks are by far the best I have ever seen in my life.
There were hearts and purple things and star showers and hibiscus shaped ones with red lanterns in the center that floated away as the explosion faded.
Steph and I now have a plan to be cremated and stuffed into a tube WITH fireworks so we can be shot into the sky and transcend time and space like magik.
I made up that last part about transcendence.


Levin caveman duties.


This is what drunk ghosts probably look like.



The next day, the actual July 4th, we had a plan to remain at the beach until the fireworks went off on the ocean around 9pm.
It is very hard to be at the beach for ten hours.
But Ilona and Werman showed up which was entertaining, especially because Ilona was wearing her mans underpants as a babin suit.


Werman is a good beach DJ.


Look at these butts!
Look at these mexican blankies from 7-11!


Stephanie's beach walk is so good, she does it a certain way 'so nothing shakes'
Shes my tiny pony.


If they have a baby I think they should just name it Jew.
No other moniker would really explain a creature from their combined beings.



Jey and BabyBows finally showed up late in the day.
They did not disappoint on Jersey costume prep.
Best part is they sort of always look like this.
I just never realized what I was looking at.
Glory.


I wish I had thought of this first.

I don't think it is possible to blog anything after the beginning of the sunset.
It was too good.
Dogs running on the beach.
So much color.
Music and swimming and all kinds of good things.
Heavenly is a good adjective in very few occasions but here it may apply.



















Olivia took photos of me with seashells over my boobies like a mermaid laying in the wet sand.
And me and Jey holding hands in the creek reflecting the pink from the sky.
And Stephanie dancing with a scarf like a bird.
And water dives and poodle chases and Micheal Jackson beach house blasting celebration.
All those parts are in my head where they belong and I wish I could share them but I just don't know about that.
I would have to be so much better of a writer...

We had one more little trip to the beach Sunday after I ate probably 3 entire bagels and drank 14 glasses of juice.
Then to Jeys to eat all the food at her house.
Also to show off my sunburn.


And sing this:


Then to the ferry to see another sunset and go back to the reals.



Out-feeeeit!








The moon!



This to that.


I walked South Street to my apartment and was greeted by a giant dead bird on the stoop.
It stared at me for a few minutes then whispered Welcome Home.

*PostScript thank you mom for taking care of us and loving us and feeding us and having a place for me always

Monday, June 29, 2009

The Bee The Butterfly Man

Monday night penis joke!




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.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Hawt and Bahthud

Someone should become a serial rapist, and their criminal name should be Con Edison.
Why do these bastards fuck me directly up the ass every 30 days?
I seriously might have to start lighting my home with only the dollar store Jesus candles.
And I'll produce heat by devising some kind of cat powered machine. They will run on a little wheel all day long and it will set off sparks on some sort of generator.
I don't have it all sorted out, but it all starts with the idea, you know.

Thats how I feel today basically.
Full of great ideas provoked by exasperation.

I have an unexpected day off and I've spent it watching documentaries online, cleaning up, and food shopping.
I found myself walking around Pathmark fake smiling and gritting my teeth because it was one of the worst experiences I've had in weeks.
I swear to god, there were at least 6 or 7 of these common folk:

I understand that we all have bad days.
I understand that some mornings, we open our eyes, roll over, and just SIGH.
Like ok. I dunno if I wanna get up and out.
I don't think I can handle an hour in the supermarket uuuup and dooooown everyyyyyy aisle.
It will be torture!
Well guess what?
Thats called being human.
Laziness is best combated by FORCING yourself up and out and seizing the day. Grab yer food stamps and hit the pavement sister!
If you have to SCOOT your way to the frozen food section to stock up on Banquet microwave tv dinners on sale for $1.29, you might just want to give in commit suicide right now.
Because despite how cruel it sounds, I have always been a strong believer in Darwinism.
There is a reason why sharks have pointy teeth and giraffes have long necks and ants can carry like 10 times their body weight.
BECAUSE THERE IS NO WAY TO SURVIVE OTHERWISE.
Humans being able to motor themselves from their bed to their over processed non-nutrient having saturated fat food sources... one day its just going to have to stop.
Or else I might have an aneurysm solely prompted by frustration.
You should be in a motorized scooter indoors under the following circumstances:
1. you are handicapped. Nuff said.
2. You can't use your legs for some sort of medical reason/recent surgery/exploding kneecaps/whatever the fuck
3. you have some sort of nervous system or musculature issue aka Lou Gherigs? Something like that.
4. You're super old. What qualifies as super old? 95. Thats old. 63? Not old pal. Not old.
5. You are playing some kind of joke for a hidden camera show.

If I see you stand up out of your Rascal to reach for the 2 liter America's Choice grape soda, you can walk. So walk.
Also, you're totally in the way of those of us who have places to be.
AKA me.
I just wanna go home and wash some dishes and dance with myself in my living room on my day off.

I think in order to make myself happy, and to uplift my readers who have now maybe had their day ruined with my negativity...
I would like to propose that a spring celebration be planned in my home within the coming month.
Stephanie my dear Stephanie will have returned from Italia.
Olivia my dear Olivia will be back from LA.
Jeylan will be back from stupid Texas.
Brooklyn girls my dear Brooklyn girls, I never get to see them any more for some horrible reason...
Therefor.
I would like to bless my revamped domicile with cakes and drinking and girls and boys and hopefully some lip glossy kisses.
My planning begins now I think.
Any and all proposals and schemes related to this feista are welcome.

Some inspiration:


(oliviamalone.com duh)
















PS I can't wait to wear shorts.
Please when you read that, say it like this, sort of fast and hysterical:
"I caaaynt wait ta wear sharts!!"
Then wiggle your steepled fingers.