Son of Manus

Putin on the Ritz

2010-05-02T23:07:00.002-04:00

Speaking of war crimes, which we weren’t (although I was in my head), I just spent the weekend writing a paper about Chechnya. Oy to the fucking vey on that.

Writing papers SUCKS. I feel like I just passed a kidney stone, except a kidney stone would be less painful. I hate the whole process. You do Internet research, read reams of boring shit, start out with a fairly good idea (which I know from last year is more than half the battle – hello, serfs!), but having to actually put it into words is a fucking nightmare. At one point you’re like “this is so easy and awesome, I’ll be done in an hour” and then twenty minutes later you read what you’ve written and you’re like “this sucks cock, I need to start over.”

I locked myself in my apartment at 5:30 pm on Friday and didn’t emerge until 6:30 on Sunday. I feel like a heroin addict. But the good news is, I will absolutely ROCK the Chechnya category in Trivial Pursuit at the Cape this summer.

Wait – we’re not going to the Cape this year? Fuck.

MY New York, Bitches

2010-04-26T23:59:00.006-04:00

Every Sunday the Post interviews a celeb about his or her favorite spots in New York. A few weeks ago they interviewed Peggy Olsen from Mad Men and I was VERY excited to learn that she goes to the knitting store in my neighborhood, which means that Don Draper and I are practically dating.

Anyway, since the Post has been dragging its feet about contacting me, I took the liberty of making my own map.

1. Rudy’s Bar and Grill
9th Ave. & 44th St.

They have free hot dogs and cheap pitchers. There’s a fiberglass pig out front. The last time I was there, I met a guy with his name (Franklin) tattooed on his arm. What more do you need? Stop reading and go there now.

2. The Hairy Monk
3rd Ave & 25th St.

This is where I watched the Red Sox win the World Series in 2004 and it’s still my favorite Red Sox bar. There's a strong possibility I appeared on Japanese TV here during the 2007 playoffs.

3. Two Little Red Hens bakery
2nd Ave. & 86th St.

The best cupcakes in town. (And chocolate chip cookies.)

4. Cowgirl
Hudson St. b/n Charles & 10th

Excellent margaritas, although they are a little too strong for a certain someone I know.

5. Bistro Les Amis
Thompson St. & Spring St.

My FAVORITE restaurant in the city.

6. Riverside Park

Central Park is infested with tourists, demon children on scooters and annoying Upper West Siders. I wouldn’t be caught dead there in the summer (unlike Jennifer Levin). Instead, I recommend Riverside Park. While you have to deal with many shirtless, rollerblading geriatrics, it’s right on the water and you can pretend you’re on the Cape. Also, it has the Boat Basin Café which is super fun.

7. Lenny’s
Columbus Ave. & 84th St.

What can I say. Lenny’s owns me.

End Run

2010-04-23T22:27:00.008-04:00

To the surprise of absolutely no one, my dreams of New Jersey Half-Marathon glory were over before they even started. I mean, I lasted all through December so that has to be some kind of record. To be fair, I do have some kind of random radiating foot pain that makes it hurt to walk to the subway, let alone run 13 miles. It's just not right that we live in a world where, if you tell people you’re running a half-marathon to cure cancer, you’re a hero, but if you tell them you drank your weight in tequila last night, you’re some kind of degenerate. Runners are just as addicted to their vice as I am to mine. PLUS, I don’t clog up central park every weekend my empty wine bottles. It's just really, really unfair.

ANYWAY, my next feat, which doesn’t involve shaking people down for cash (I mean, unless you want to donate to my cause, I’m certainly amenable), is to visit every Red Sox bar in New York before the end of the season. By my initial count, there are 11 RS bars in the greater NYC area, including Brooklyn and Hoboken (who knew!).

My first stop will be the Hairy Monk in the next 10 days. Stay tuned.

Lone Wolf

2009-12-12T19:09:00.006-05:00

Today was my second Saturday morning “group” practice so naturally I skipped it. I mean, I’m totally down with running four miles (and by “running” I mean “gasping for breath” and “dry heaving”), but I fail to see why this has to take place at 8:30 on a Saturday morning. I also have a problem with the “group” part of the group training session. How am I supposed to live up to my reputation as a crazed loner if I am flitting around with hundreds of former cheerleaders in full makeup who are way too excited to be outside at 8:30 on a 30-degree Saturday morning? The obvious answer is, I’m not. Like Rocky, I train alone. Which, by the way, I’ve been doing for a whole week now and have nothing to show for it except a bad attitude and a groin injury.

Speaking of groin injuries:

Too Much, Too Soon

2009-12-03T12:19:00.003-05:00

I’m Robert, your TNT Staff coordinator for the New Jersey Marathon and Half Marathon! I don’t think I could be more excited to work with you this season and cheer you on come Event Day!

Really?? You couldn’t be more excited?

Ok, I know he means well, but you can’t expect my black Grinch heart to grow 10 sizes on day one. In two months I might be so crazed on endorphins I will be spearheading a trip to Guyana, but for now, his unnecessary exclamation points are stressing me out.

It's on

2009-12-03T11:24:00.003-05:00

Sooooo, went to the info sesh last night and against my better judgment, decided to sign up for the half-mare. (Hey, offer me a free t-shirt and I’m yours forever.) It’s not the first time I’ve made a decision in a bar that I will probably regret and most likely not the last. But it’s for a good cause. Namely: me getting in shape and finding a husband. Okay, maybe not the latter, because I doubt there are many would-be marathoners who run a 25-minute mile, but now that I’m an athlete Mike Lowell will for sure notice me and maybe my next event can be in whatever city he gets traded to.

The only issue I have so far, besides not even being able to run a mile at the moment (details, details), is that they are pushing this whole fundraising ponzi scheme a little too much for my liking. Like, hello! It’s called Team in Training, not Team in Selling Amway. How about sending me some info on how you expect me to actually RUN 13 miles instead of sending me 25 pages reminding me I have to raise $2,500. I know I have to raise $2,500. My plan is to pester and annoy everyone I know for money every day until I reach that goal. So pony up, people, or it’s going to be long winter. (I mean come on, just the visual alone of me trying to run ANY distance is worth at least $100 off the bat.)

Details to come on how YOU can help me, and, you know, save lives and shit. (I mean, for real, do you want to be responsible for all those people who died of cancer because you didn’t donate? I didn’t think so.)

Runner? I Don't Even Know 'Er

2009-11-30T18:59:00.006-05:00

I'm back, bitches.

You're welcome.

So, apparently there's something about December that makes me act like I have a head injury. Last year it was boot camp, which turned out to be surprisingly ok, if expensive. This year I've decided to think about considering training for the NJ half-marathon in May.

I know, I know. Shut up. I hate running, I hate runners and I hate charities that don't involve me or animals. I mean, seriously - how is my running 13 miles is going cure anybody of anything (besides curing me of wanting to do something retarded like running 13 miles for no reason)? I also think the world would be much better served if the fundraising money were going to an actual good cause like prosecco or season tickets to the Red Sox.

That being said, I'm sick of looking like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade balloon and I hate the gym and I can't afford to pay $300 per month for boot camp. Until Mike Lowell steps up and starts paying for my personal trainer, this is my only recourse to get in shape. Plus it has the side benefit of allowing me to be smug ("Sorry, can't go to your baby shower, I have to get up early and run for CANCER"). It could also help channel my rage in a healthier way than, say, opening fire at Starbucks.

The benefit for you, the reader, is you get to give me money (for charity... yeah, that's it - charity) and in return you get to see me looking ridiculous in public (more so than usual), which I intend to document (possibly). Win-win.*

*Okay someone just told me this involves 8:00 runs on Saturday mornings in the winter. Problematic.

Well, all I am committing to right now is the information session on Wednesday which is being held in a bar, so how bad could it be? Right. I'm sure it will be super fun.

12 Days of Bitchness

2008-12-19T21:06:00.018-05:00

On the 12th day of Christmas, Mikey Lowell gave to me...

12 Obama posters

11 hours on Facebook

10 puerile comments

9 pseudo beaches

8 "It's on you, Babe"s

7 winning beagles

6 guys named "Jimmy"

5 trips 'round San Juan

4 whiffle balls

3 dead mice

2 douchey hats

And a black eye with a bruised cheek

Das Boot*

2008-11-20T19:54:00.002-05:00

I recently suffered a stroke and decided to sign up for a 5:30 am fitness boot camp. Let’s put aside the fact it’s at 5:30 am for now (but have I mentioned that I don’t do mornings? That the last time I voluntarily got up early was never?) and let’s discuss the fact that I am so out of shape that I get chest pains reading the words “boot camp.” No, really. Chest pains. That radiate down my left arm. And let’s talk about how I got beat up in gym class (or would have if I’d ever gone), and how I was ALWAYS picked last at camp (don’t even get me started on camp) and how the last time I actually exerted myself was when I pushed an old lady out of the way to get a subway seat.

What in holy hell was I thinking?

Boot camp doesn’t start until Dec. 1, but I got my first email from instructor “Stacy” today. Stacy sounds very strident. (Then again, what did I expect my boot camp drill sergeant to sound like, rainbows and kittens?) Stacy likes to write in ALL CAPS a lot and has a moral objection to juice (“avoid juice. And that means always, not just on camp days.”). That’s kind of scary. I mean, what did juice ever do to her? Did juice burn down her house, kill her family and rape her pets? I may not be the biggest fan of juice (unless it’s paired with vodka), but I don’t have anything against it. And if she’s anti-juice, I seriously doubt she’ll approve of Amstel Light. Is she going to shame and bully me until I become one of those people who only orders water at dinner? Will I one day go to a party and nurse a single wine spritzer the whole night? I don’t know about this. I mean getting up a 4:45 am is one thing, but becoming a teetotaler is another thing entirely.

Also, Stacy says I have to make short-term goals for the first week, such as “I will show up to camp every day” and “I will not eat out during the first week.” Unfortunately, I already have plans to eat out every night the first week. So my goals will be have to be more along the lines of “I won’t order from Lenny’s more than once a day” and “I will only drink white wine and vodka because clear liquors are healthier.”

Yeah, I can see how this might not work. But I’m going to try it, and lucky for you, I’ve decided to come out of retirement to chronicle it (just like Brett Favre!). (Don’t thank me, accolades make me uncomfortable.) Since it doesn’t start until Dec. 1, I have ten days to eat and drink as much as possible. If you need me, I’ll be at Lenny’s.

*Yes, I'm aware that "boot" actually means "boat" and not "boot."

Sick and Tired

2007-09-11T15:00:00.000-04:00

Now that I have a normal schedule, I’ve been looking for some kind of evening volunteer opportunity to supplement my TV watching. Problem is, I don’t really like sick people or poor people or rich snotty people. Isn’t there a non-profit dedicated to beer drinking and baseball watching? Because damn if I wouldn’t be really good at that.

Speaking of charities, I’m so sick of all these “Walk for My Vagina” charity events that clog up Central Park every weekend. I don’t understand how a bunch of assholes wearing pink boas and taking up all the seats on the C train is going to cure cancer, but then what do I know. If I ever catch a life-threatening disease (which I will, because I constantly make fun of them), I’m asking my friends to please hold a giant kegger at Rosemont Park instead of annoying everyone on the planet with a “when I’m an old lady I’ll wear purple” bullshit charity walk.

Whatever. Don’t email me. I already know I’m going to hell.

McSteamy

2007-07-19T09:39:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to say thanks to all of you who called and emailed to make sure I was okay during the GIANT DEADLY EXPLOSION that rocked Manhattan yesterday. And by “all of you” I mean “nobody.” It warms my heart to know there is so much care and concern for my well-being. To think, I almost went to the Bath & Body Works on Lex and 45th yesterday, but didn’t. And now I might never be able to, thanks to the CLOUD OF CARCINOGENS choking the city. But that’s okay. I understand that you are busy with your own lives. Not to mention “Law and Order” was on last night, and let’s face it, if you don’t catch that the first time it airs, you’re screwed.

No, I totally understand. I mean, I’ve been away so long, I might as well have never existed. It’s like, “Kate? Did I know her? Was she blonde?” That’s okay. You all just go along with your lives and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. All I ask is you check the obits for my name once in awhile.

Hall of Shame

2007-06-28T17:22:00.000-04:00

You've heard of True Yankees, but what about True Yankee Fans? Are you obsessed with Derek Jeter? Do you remember nothing that happened before 1996? Is your name Vinnie? Take this test and find out if you are a True Yankee Fan.

True or False:

1. Boston sucks
2. The answer to any baseball argument is "the Yankees have 26 rings"
3. The Yankees won all 26 rings between 1996-2000
4. Babe Ruth prevented the Red Sox from winning the World Series between 1919-2004
5. Mets fans are fags
6. Manny Ramirez is a punk
7. 2004 never happened
8. Derek Jeter is the best player ever

Multiple Choice:

1.When is it appropriate to mention 1978?

a) While watching VH-1's I Love the '70s
b) When discussing the premiere date of the movie Grease
c) Anytime the Red Sox are more than two games up
d) All of the above

2. What is the proper way to catch a routine fly ball during a meaningless game in early July?

a) Line up the glove and your body with the ball. Point your fingers to the sky with your palm facing the ball. Extend your arm, keeping it slightly bent with the elbow down
b) Run towards it, but let it go foul
c) Take a running leap, pirouette, dive head first into the stands. Stand up bleeding from every orifice and pump your fist

3. Derek Jeter:

a) Has calm eyes
b) Is full of Intangibles
c) Is heterosexual
d) All of the above

4. Best part of going to a game at Yankee Stadium?

a) Monument Park
b) Mystique and Aura
c) Skanky hos from Jersey

5. Which sentence is correct?

a) "Yo, me'n Vinnie's goin' t'da game t'mah. Youse shoul' come."
b) "Vinnie and I are going to the game tomorrow. We'd be delighted to have you join us."
c) "Fuck you."

Short Answer:

1. Explain what it means to be a True Yankee. List three players and describe the exact moment they became a True Yankee.

2. What's your favorite thing about Derek Jeter?

3. Name one Yankee who played before 1996 (hint: Jeggie Rackson).

Essay:

Which of the following is most important: Pride, Power or Pinstripes? Why? How do Derek Jeter's intangibles contribute?

Extra Credit:

How many rings does Derek Jeter have? (Be careful, this is a tricky one!)

Vernal Equinox

2007-04-23T01:01:00.001-04:00

Wow, twice in one week. I’m on FIRE. Kind of like A-Rod…oops NOT! Anyway, I’m just popping in to say, well, nothing really.

Today was a very eventful day because not only was it the first Sunday in forever that the weather’s been good AND I haven’t had to work, but also the Sox swept the Skanks and my cat brought a mouse onto my bed. Somewhere there’s a Jorge Posada joke in that, but I’ve had way too much wine to think of one.

The calendar and weather may (finally!) suggest spring. But there are three things that must occur before it’s official:

School shooting
Blue Angel plane crash
Toddler falls out window in Bronx or Southie

Oh well, two out of three ain’t bad.

Revenge of the Nerds

2007-04-17T15:49:00.000-04:00

Yesterday’s VA Tech shootings prove something I’ve known for a long time: English Majors are bad-ass. Don’t fuck with us. You thought the worst we could do is beat you at Jeopardy. How you like us now, bitches?

A Ronald Miller Story

2007-02-26T02:07:00.000-05:00

The results from my January (and most of February) poll are in. I'll be expecting a call from a certain third baseman any day now. However, I will wait until he gets back from Florida before I start getting antsy.

Anyway, there is a new poll. Please vote. I would vote for all of them 100 times if I could. I mean, I can, because it's my poll and I can do anything I want, but I'm committed to poll integrity. I'm no Hugo Chavez of blog polls.

I picked Can't Buy Me Love because it's the best movie ever. Patrick Dempsey (who I did not even think was cute at the time - but OMG did he age well), Malachi, the airplane graveyard, "chips, dips and dorks" all add up to movie nirvana. Do yourself a favor and rent it ASAP. You will thank me.

Wake Up Little Susie

2007-02-26T01:52:00.000-05:00

You would think that local news in New York would be all about mob shootouts and human trafficking rings, but no. It’s February… it’s snowing… it must be Armageddon. We clearly need live-shots from every borough because how else would we know how to survive that 1 to 3 INCHES. Oh my god, I’d better hurry out to the store for supplies. Wait - it’s after midnight. The liquor store is closed. I’m so fucked.

Congratulations, Martin Scorsese and The Departed for your Best Fake Boston Accents Oscar. But that was the only nominated movie that I’ve actually seen, so I feel like it was a shout-out. I feel you too, Academy. I’ll forgive you for not picking Mark Mark.

News from Yankee camp is that Johnny Damon has left for a few days for “personal reasons.” Yeah, that’s what happens to big fat TRAITORS who marry strippers. I’m sure it’s totally innocuous. I’m sure he didn’t knock up a 15-year-old groupie or anything. See, if you’d stayed in Boston, Johnny Boy, you wouldn’t have these problems.

I just saw a Viagra commercial where the attractive “older” (probably my age) guy decides to tape the Big Game in order have sex with the hot young babe. However, he tapes the game on his VCR. Way to go, Grandpa. Don't forget to crank up the Everly Brothers on your Hi-Fi while you're at it.

Take the A(Rod) Train

2007-02-24T13:02:00.000-05:00

The C train (also the A train when it’s pinch-hitting for the C) is the A-Rod of the subway. In a game against Kansas City in April - the middle of the day, rush hour, anytime you’re NOT in a hurry - the C train is all home runs and RBIs. It comes right away, there are no delays and everything is fine. But come playoff time -Saturday morning, after 11:00 pm, when you needed to be at Penn Station 15 minutes ago- it’s completely useless. It’ll take 45 minutes to arrive; you will be stopped at 59th St. for 15 minutes; or, like A-Rod in the clutch - down one in the bottom of the ninth with two on and one out - it will ground into a double play by completely skipping your stop, forcing you to walk four blocks out of your way and fight off all the douchebags in Times Square when you are already a half hour late for work. Also it’s blue, just like A-Rod’s lips.

Global Whining

2007-02-07T14:10:00.000-05:00

Last week, scientists (or whoever) came up with the earth-shattering revelation that humans are responsible for so-called global warming, which in turn is responsible for rising temps, melting ice caps, super tornados, earthquakes, rampaging elephants, Detroit’s murder rate and the guy at the deli who screwed up my coffee order. My answer to these scientists (or whoever) is okay, what do you want me to do about it? I don’t own a car, an air conditioner or use hair spray, so it’s clearly not my fault. Shut up, scientists. Also, if people are responsible for this alleged global warming, the obvious solution is: get rid of all the damn people. (Which I’ve been advocating for years, by the way.) Instead of all these stupid anti-smoking commercials (“I inhaled a cigarette at a party once when I was 17, look at this picture of my cancer-ridden lung”), the government should make PSAs that encourage smoking. More smokers = fewer people = no more global warming. Duh.

And why stop with smoking? I foresee a whole subway ad campaign aimed at reducing the population. Possible slogans:

“Sharing Needles: It’s fun AND economical!”
“Why have one for the road when you can have two”
“Shake your baby until it stops crying”
“Condom, Schmondom”
“Meth: Not just for trailer parks”

I don’t know. I think these are valid ideas. Meanwhile, I’m going outside to get lunch. The wind chill is 5. Global warming, indeed.

Winter, Discontent, etc.

2007-01-23T15:19:00.000-05:00

Things that are less depressing than upstate New York in January:

Euthanasia Day at the puppy farm
Siberian work camp circa 1923
Downtown Baghdad
Game 7 of 2003 ALCS
Nuclear holocaust

Amstelicious

2007-01-03T23:30:00.000-05:00

The only reason I’ve EVER gotten a free drink in Boston has been because of one of the following reasons:

My friend was bartending
I worked at the place (Deep dish!)
I was at the Last Drop (does anyone pay for drinks at the Last Drop?)

And, although I admittedly get homesick for the “Hub” once in a while (because apparently I enjoy shitty weather and Aerosmith), I will not be moving back anytime soon. As long as buybacks are the backbone of NYC bar life, I'm as entrenched as a cold sore on a sorority girl’s lip.

Rock on!

Year of the Cat

2007-01-01T22:47:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year!

As promised, a redesign (sort of). Pretty new colors and polls!

2007 New Year's Resolutions:

-Will not drink a bottle of wine before browsing iTunes
-Will be open-minded about listening to music that is not ABBA, Bob Dylan or popular in 1973
-Will stop... will REDUCE gossiping about co-workers
-Will limit “Hogzilla” references about upstairs neighbor to 20 per day
-Will make effort to leave apartment rather than living vicariously through MTV

Hiatus

2006-11-28T22:51:00.000-05:00

I’m sure all five (literally) of my readers are despondent at the infrequency of my posting. However, I’ve been really busy lately, what with Thanksgiving, the Laguna Beach season finale and my ongoing plot to kill the upstairs neighbor without getting caught. (Stupid Russian government stole my idea of using polonium-210. Jerks.)

Anyway, I’m just stopping by to say with the holidays approaching and all the social (read: drinking) opportunities they afford, things are likely to get worse. There may not be anything new on here until 2007. However, there is good news. I plan to launch Son of Manus 2.0 in January. I’m not exactly sure what that will entail, but hopefully the “2.0” tag is sufficiently irritating.

On that note, I hope y’all have a fabulous holiday season. Remember to keep the Christ in Christmas (as in “Jesus fucking Christ, I hate these goddamn tourists!”) and I will see you in ’07. (Or earlier if I get a special message from my cup of eggnog.)

Bonnes Fêtes!

De-Parting Shots

2006-10-27T14:08:00.000-04:00

So I work with this guy who is a Cardinals fan (he’s from St. Louis, which is surprising, because I thought the Midwest was a myth, like Atlantis), and we share a workspace. He has a cutout of Tony LaRussa’s head taped to the computer, which I find kind of disconcerting. However, I can’t say anything to him about it because A) until recently, I had a picture of David Wright with an “I heart Kate” thought bubble taped there and B) if Tony LaRussa’s head can do anything to end this interminable World Series, I’m all for it.

Since everyone who “blogs” is contractually obligated to mention the World Series and The Departed, here’s my review of the movie: it’s not Goodfellas, but it’s not bad. On the plus side: Matt Damon is hot. Leo DiCaprio is hot. I think I’m a little bit in love with Marky Mark.* I give the Boston porn an A+ (even though the movie was mostly shot in New York - which I take as a shout-out to me), and according to IMDB.com, they use the word “fuck” 237 times in the whole movie, only slightly less than I do in an average conversation.

On the minus side, not EVERYONE in Boston has a Boston accent, so I find it annoying that EVERY character in EVERY movie set in Boston sounds like Cliff Clavin. Did every character in Goodfellas have an obviously fake New York accent? No. Does everyone in The Sopranos really sound like they’re from Jersey? No. So knock it off.

Secondly, there is no way the woman in the movie is hot to enough to sleep with Matt Damon AND Leonardo DiCaprio, fake accent or no. She is just too skinny and annoying. Also, I am so over Jack Nicholson, although he wasn’t as irritating as usual. But he needs to retire.

And I guess that's it. Two thumbs up. Go Tigers (or whoever)!!

*Speaking of Marky Mark, I recently re-watched Boogie Nights, and all I can say is, all this time I thought Dirk Diggler was a real porn star. I know he is based on one, but I thought he was a real guy. I also thought Go Ask Alice was a real book and I guess it did its job as anti-drug propaganda because I was always too scared to try LSD for fear I would accidentally put the neighbor’s baby in the oven to kill all the bugs crawling on it.

Headache

2006-09-29T15:19:00.000-04:00

They can clone sheep so why can’t they make a goddamn pair of headphones that don’t suck? And if a person is having a temper tantrum over said headphones and rips them off and throws them into the street, she should be allowed to do so without some dickwad pointedly telling her she dropped something. In a city where no one notices dead bodies chained to fences, someone suddenly gives a shit about littering? Whatever.

Brutal

2006-08-21T03:16:00.000-04:00

MLB Extra Innings package: $159
Broken remote: $20
Alcohol and therapy: $879,034

Being a Red Sox fan: Priceless

Leftovers

2006-08-11T12:39:00.000-04:00

Just some random shit that was floating around my hard drive.

Step one to reinventing one’s career: don’t leave notes from career reinvention seminar in cab.

Step two: When envisioning mythical perfect career, consider things you love. Wrack brain to think of job that combines lying on beach, drinking wine and watching Flavor of Love.

Step three: Seek advice from those already established in field you’re considering. Email Oprah and ask her to bankroll me on new career drinking wine on the beach.

Step four: Get tired of trying to think of fake career reinvention advice and go out for ice cream.

Lessons I’ve Learned from Urban Cowboy:

Cowboy boots are appropriate wedding attire
If your wife wants to ride the mechanical bull, you’re better off just letting her
Don’t climb to the top of the oil refinery during a lightning storm
If you enter a bar contest with John Travolta, he is going to win
Don’t mess with Texas

Pet Peeves of Rosemary’s Babysitter:

Satan’s check always bounces
Kid keeps leaving his pitchfork on the bus
Cloven hooves track mud on playroom carpet
None of the other nannies will talk to her at Starbucks
Constantly have to wash crayon pentagrams off the wall
The brat keeps trying to buy other kids’ souls with Monopoly money
Impossible to get goat smell out of clothes at the end of the day
Play-dates usually end in human sacrifice
The nursery is hot as hell

Ultimate Bore

2006-07-28T13:14:00.000-04:00

Oh god, I am such a nerd. At first I was happy about the trifecta of disaster shows on NGC last night (Ultimate Earthquake, Ultimate Tsunami and Ultimate Tornado), but then I realized I’d already seen most of the footage. The only new info I learned is that the ultimate tsunami will be caused by a landslide resulting from the eruption of Hawaii’s Mauna Loa volcano rather than the entire island of La Palma falling into the sea which has been the party line until now. This is good news because at least New York won’t be affected.

Lately the foam is off the cappuccino for me regarding these disaster shows. I can’t even get excited about tornados anymore. Earthquake? Boring. Tsunami? So 2004. Come on, National Geographic, give us something new. Locust plagues or nuclear war or dinosaurs or something.

I’m trying to decide if my job more resembles the myth of Sisyphus or the myth of Prometheus. I’m either trying to push a 200-lb boulder up a hill every day only to have it roll back down at the end, or I’m chained to a mountain and while an eagle eats my liver. Either way it sucks.

I’ve made peace with the mirror in my apartment. It’s not great, but we have a working relationship. However, the bathroom mirror at work is horrible. You know the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the Nazis open the Ark and everyone’s face melts? Well that’s what I look like in that mirror.

On a completely unrelated note, my crush on Tony Blair is completely out of control and he better resign soon or I can't be responsible for my actions.

Twelve Steps

2006-07-20T20:57:00.000-04:00

Kate has agreed to be in a documentary about addiction. She doesn’t know she will soon face an intervention.

Kate: My name is Kate. K-A-T-E. I’m addicted to downloading crappy music from iTunes. I don’t how I got started. It just sort of snuck up on me. Of course I’d heard about iTunes before, but I wasn’t that familiar with it. I didn’t even know how to download music. Yeah, I had friends who did it, but I was always like “I could never do that.” Then one day I happened to click on the web site and I found a list of ‘80s One-hit wonders. That was all it took.

Kate was on iTunes for seven hours Saturday night.

Kate: The first song I ever downloaded was “I Don’t Like Mondays” by the Boomtown Rats. I’ve loved that song since high school. I put it on every mixed tape I made from 1988 to 1990. I lost it when all my tapes mysteriously disappeared last year. So to just find the song there, waiting for me… and for only 99 cents… I mean, what would you do?

Soon Kate was downloading Dolly Parton and Barry Manilow.

Snoop (House Cat): Kate’s always had terrible taste in music. She owns a Carpenters CD. Sometimes she makes me dance with her to “What’s New Pussycat.” It’s scary when she does that. I'm afraid this easy access to ‘70s power ballads and one-click buying will push her over the edge. If she doesn’t get this intervention… I don’t know what will happen.

Yesterday, Snoop walked in on Kate browsing Jennifer Lopez songs.

Jeff (Interventionist): Hi, I’m Jeff. We’re here to talk about Kate’s intervention tomorrow. What I need from you is to say what you will do if she refuses this offer of help. Snoop, since you’re the only one here, why don’t you start.

Snoop: If you don’t accept this help today, I probably won’t do anything different because I’m a cat.

Jeff: Great. Thanks. Now all we can do is cross our fingers.

* * *

Kate: I’m so glad work is over. I can’t wait to go home and download Britney Spears. (Enters apartment) Who the hell are you? What are you doing to my computer?

Jeff: I’m Jeff. Kate, your cat, and I’m sure your friends, if you have any, really care about you and want to get you help.

Kate: Fuck you. I don’t need help. I need the Divinyls.

Snoop: I can’t take it anymore! Little River Band, Al Stewart, a-ha… it’s got to stop. You’re spending a dollar a song! A dollar a song! Don’t you see how you’re hurting yourself?!!

Kate: I don’t care. It’s not that bad. I won’t stop! HOW CAN YOU ASK ME TO STOP THE ONLY THING I’VE EVER LOVED???!!!!

Jeff: Look, there are people who can help you. Won’t you let them?

Kate: I can’t, I can’t. Don’t you see, I can’t? I have nothing else. I can’t live in a world without the Spice Girls, I can’t.

Jeff: We’re gonna get you help for that. There’s a place for people just like you. Will you accept this help today?

Snoop: Say yes! And feed me.

Jeff: Will you accept this help today?

Kate: I don’t have a choice do I?

Jeff: No. You’re out of options. Will you go to treatment?

Kate: Can I drink there?

Jeff: Sure.

Kate: Okay.

Snoop: Thank god! Now feed me.

Kate spent 90 days living in a fourth-floor Williamsburg walk-up with a bunch of squatters in a rock band. She returned home and was Neil Diamond-free for three weeks. On the twenty-second day she bought Harry Nilsson’s Greatest Hits.

Reunited

2006-07-11T01:40:00.000-04:00

Step back off the ledge…I’m back.

It’s been wayyy too long since I’ve had the opportunity to polish off a bottle of wine on my couch, listen to my 70s music cable channel and expound on why Gristede’s sucks. Now I know how Lindsay Lohan feels. I’m sure all she wants is to kick back and chill at home but she’s under constant pressure to party, party, party. Kind of like me lately. Forced to go to Utah, then Worcester, then the Cape. I mean, for the love of god, I’m not a machine.

Despite the many opportunities I’ve had to be annoyed in the past month, I can’t think of anything new that I haven’t already gone into at length, so I will spare you. In case you’re wondering, I still hate: my job, Bank of America, Boston College, Jorge Posada and people who snap their gum on the subway. In my bid to be more positive and tolerant (which hurts me more than it hurts you) I’ve enjoyed the following: seeing actual, live buffaloes in Utah, hanging out with my Boston peeps, watching Brigid try not to puke during Jeremy’s wedding ceremony, the Red Sox kicking the NL’s ass, a mudslide at the Beachcomber and driving through Connecticut. Okay the last one was just to see if you were paying attention. Connecticut: an Indian word that means “driving 50 mph in the passing lane.” Thank you, I’ll be here all week. (Everything’s funny after a bottle of Prosecco!)

Diary of a Hangover

2006-06-06T02:38:00.000-04:00

Saturday, June 3, 2006

5:45 am
Alarm. Wake up fully clothed on top of covers. Curse 7 am shift. Wonder if possible to kill self with ibuprofen since have no other pills on hand. Go back to sleep.

6:15 am
Open eyes, check time. Go back to sleep.

6:40 am
Consider calling in sick, but can’t since called in sick last week.

6:42 am
Haul self out of bed. Change clothes, brush teeth, forego contacts.

6:47 am
Lie down for five more minutes.

7:02 am
Leave house.

7:03 am
Find crumpled dollar bills in bag, pray there is enough money to take cab.

7:04 am
Enter subway.

7:05 am
Contemplate throwing self on tracks.

7:27 am
Arrive at work. Dig through bag to find ID. Empty entire contents of bag onto floor. Call overnight guy to sign me in since ID seems to have disappeared.

8:03 am – 9:17 am
Copy stories from archive in lieu of writing new ones. Rest head on desk. Drink water.

9:21 am
Realize can probably leave when co-worker comes in at 10:00.

9:58 am
Sit very, very still to avoid vomiting.

10:12 am
Tell self it’s okay to leave six hours early because worked two extra hours last night. Also, is possible have virus, wouldn’t want anyone else to catch it.

10:17 am
Get cab money out of ATM near office. Walk upstairs because escalator is broken as usual.

10:18 am
Decide to walk to Eighth Ave. to get cab going uptown. Accept fact throwing up is inevitable.

10:19 am
Puke behind parked car on 48th Street.

10:19 am
Twice.

10:19 am
Wipe nose with ATM receipt.

10:24 am
Get into taxi while chunks of vomit nest in nose, mingling with smells of air freshener and cab driver B.O.

10:33 am
Run in to Dad in lobby of apartment building who rolls eyes and shakes head.

10:34 am
Crawl into bed.

2:02 pm
Slowly regain consciousness. Decide crackers might settle stomach, but they are all the way in kitchen. Beg cat to get crackers. Tell cat if she doesn’t get crackers, she is cut off from Fancy Feast.

2:08 pm
Tell cat she is going to pound as soon as I feel better.

2:37 pm
Settle onto couch with crackers. Try to check email but words keep jumping around screen.

2:39 pm
Go back to bed.

4:26 pm
Wake up from nap. Muster strength to retrieve crackers from coffee table. Take crackers to bed with towel to catch crumbs. Reminisce about similar situation freshman year of college, involving bed, chicken wings and towel. Realize have serious problem.

5:23 pm
Extremely thirsty. Think about how good ginger ale would be. Don’t even bother asking cat to go to store because she is a lazy little bitch.

5:35 pm
Think it’s possible could make it to store now. Soup would be good too.

5:47 pm
Get dressed, leave house.

5:48 pm
Walk around corner to store.

5:50 pm
Buy ginger ale, iced coffee and two kinds of soup.

5:55 pm
Arrive home. Deposit groceries in kitchen. Lie down.

6:17 pm
Feel well enough from soup and ginger ale therapy to turn on TV.

7:48 pm
Watch Red Sox, eat greasy Thai food.

7:49 pm
Think about what I’ve learned from experience and consider becoming Mormon so won’t be tempted by demon tequila again.

7:50 pm
Realize probably wouldn’t be very good Mormon, so might as well have a beer.

Higher Standards of Sucking

2006-05-25T01:54:00.000-04:00

Ken Lewis, the Chief Executive Cocksucker of Bank of America, should be charged with war crimes. He and his Janjaweed henchmen deserve to die brutally, face down in a river of blood - the blood of the customers they have so systematically fucked over since the beginning of time. How much longer must the atrocities continue? Oh, the humanity.

Later, Gators

2006-05-15T13:30:00.000-04:00

I think breast cancer was just an excuse for A-Rod and Jeter to play with their pink bats yesterday. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. And what does breast cancer have to do with baseball anyway? Is nothing safe from the breast cancer lobby? And why can’t I watch a game anymore without having to see the smoking cancer guy or the annoying emphysema-mom kid? What ever happened to beer commercials?

I’m glad the president is speaking tonight. I only hope he addresses the most important issue facing us as a nation today, and that is the alarming number of killer alligators in Florida. We don’t need the National Guard patrolling our border. We need the National Guard patrolling the Sunshine State. How many innocent joggers have to die before the madness ends? We must stop the alligators now while the body count is still manageable. Who knows what will happen if these monsters are allowed to continue their bloodbath unchecked. A jogger here, a golfer there, the next thing you know, the alligators are strapping themselves with explosives and getting onto the A train. There is only one solution. We must nuke Florida. Not only would it solve the alligator problem, but it would also get rid of those mouse-loving freaks at Disney. We really don't have a choice. Contact your Congressman now and tell him it's time to NUKE FLORIDA.

I Want My MTV

2006-05-06T15:02:00.000-04:00

Dear Everyone on My Super Sweet Sixteen:

No one is jealous of you, you’re not attractive and the only thing you “deserve” is a backhand across the face and herpes. The fact your parents made a lot of money selling Amway and have less common sense than my cat does not make you a princess. Maybe you should trade in your $60,000 BMW for a clue. Now shut the fuck up and get off my TV you ungrateful little twats.

Sincerely,
Kate (and the world)

That being said, I love this show. Not as much as the True Life: I Have A Summer Share because nothing beats fat guys from Jersey trying to hook up with skanks from the Shore, but it’s pretty damn good. Also, 8th & Ocean, although the vacant stares and painful attempts to articulate a thought are admittedly excruciating. Clearly, I need professional help.

Check, Please

2006-04-21T15:05:00.000-04:00

I think I am finally at the point in my professional life where the actual experience on my resume outweighs the bullshit, and it might – might – be time to remove the restaurant stuff. On the other hand, it is quite a testament to my creative writing skills, so I may leave it in:

“Used communication skills to relate positively with customers and co-workers. Used knowledge of menu and bar products to suggestively sell and increase sales. Assumed leadership role in training new employees. Used problem-solving abilities to deal with the occasional difficult customer and to maintain a smooth-running shift.”

Let’s break this down, shall we?

Used communication skills to relate positively with customers

“I’m sorry you are so allergic, ma’am, but I’m afraid we can’t make the lobster pie without shellfish, dairy, gluten, cracker crumbs or lemon. Perhaps you’d like to try something else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact that large steak knife I just handed you IS O.J.’s knife. That's so funny and original. Are you, by chance, a comedian?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so impressed by your expert ability to use a cell phone. You must be very important and powerful. However, I can’t read your mind and if you’d like to eat lunch today it would be helpful if you would HANG THE FUCK UP and tell me what you want.”

and co-workers

“IF I DON’T GET MY FUCKING RIB-EYE IN THE NEXT THIRTY SECONDS I WILL STAB YOU IN THE EYE WITH THIS FUCKING LEMON ZESTER. WHERE THE HELL IS JOSE?? GODDAMMIT, WE’RE OUT OF FUCKING COFFEE AGAIN. WHOSE FUCKING SIDEWORK IS THAT? THAT FUCKING BITCH BETTER NOT BE OUTSIDE SMOKING AGAIN… Hello, how are you tonight? Would you like to start with an appetizer?”

“I’m sorry I gave my friends a free brownie bowl. It will never happen again. Please don’t fire me.”

“We only get one shift drink? I’ll have a triple Cuervo stinger with extra vermouth and a side of methamphetamine.”

Used knowledge of menu and bar products to suggestively sell and increase sales

“Umm, yeah, I'd stay away from the 'pork' special if I were you.”

Assumed leadership role in training new employees

“Okay, here’s the deal. Go to table five, get them drinks, take their order, bring them their food, bus the table, and, when you're done, bring me the tip. If you need me, I’ll be in back watching the Red Sox. Also, if anyone asks, the cappuccino machine is broken.”

Used problem-solving abilities to deal with the occasional difficult customer and to maintain a smooth-running shift

problem-solving abilities = large quantities of alcohol
occasional = constant stream
difficult = evil in a way that would make Satan cry
customer = asshole
smooth-running = minimal bloodshed, crying or sex with co-workers

Lion's Den

2006-04-14T19:52:00.000-04:00

I’m suffering from post-Meatster/Opening Day melancholia and have been feeling hella depressed all week (I can sell the slang, right?). I was just about to buy some cigarettes and turn on Lifetime, but then I found a show on NGC about lions eating people and I’m starting to feel better. Nothing like a little carnage to kick off the holiday weekend. Wow, this is one bad-ass lion. It’s already killed 49 people and we’re only 41 minutes into the show. I need to get me one of those.

“Something else must be driving this lion to target people as prey…” Oh, let me guess, it’s the humans’ fault, right? Those African villagers and their CO2 emissions are heating the earth, melting the ice caps and pissing off the lions? What a surprise. Oh wait, it turns out the lion had a toothache. Apparently, to lions, people are the equivalent of mashed potatoes and they can eat them through a straw. That’s good to know. I will take The Snoop to the vet to get her teeth cleaned ASAP.

On an unrelated note, I’d like to thank Amtrak for turning my innocuous four-hour jaunt from Boston to New York into a nine-hour ordeal that even the Donner party would bitch about. Thanks, Amtrak.

Born Again

2006-04-02T22:39:00.000-04:00

I really need to stop watching cable because now I’m worried about an impending "perfect" solar storm that will knock out power across the globe for months, resulting in a situation where I’ll have to kill and roast my cat over a candle flame just to have something eat. Thanks, Discovery Channel. As if I didn’t already have enough to worry about with all the rampaging elephants and mega-tsunamis.

You know baseball is long overdue when the afternoon lineup on the sports channels includes curling, soccer, arena football, ultimate fighting, NASCAR and triathlon. The YES Network, however, thoughtfully whet (whetted?) our baseball appetites this afternoon with Alex Rodriguez: 3 Home Runs, 10 RBI's. I happen to know that the original title of the show before A-Rod’s lawyers got involved was Alex Rodriguez: 3 Home Runs, 10 RBI’s, 2 Purple Lips and A Whole Lotta Slappin’! Ahh, Opening Day! A shiny blank slate with 162 games’ worth of A-Rod jokes to look forward to.

Here are some predictions for the 2006 season:

*Johnny Damon and his wife will run up a $250,000 bill at Scores and be asked to leave when they try to have a threesome in the Champagne Room with Anna Benson
*The woman who had Randy Johnson’s “love child” will miraculously regain her eyesight, see a picture of Johnson and immediately kill herself
*Ronan Tynan will stretch "God Bless America" into an unprecedented 87 minutes
*Ronan Tynan will be beaten to death while waiting for the D train
*Mike Piazza, emboldened by the laid-back culture of Southern California, will dye his hair blonde, take up surfing and move in with his pool boy
*A Yankee fan somewhere will say “youse”
*A-Rod and Jeter will finally set a date

Happy Opening Day!

California Freezin'

2006-03-29T14:57:00.000-05:00

Well, the state of California owes me a refund for the crappy weather this weekend. If I wanted freezing winds and cloudy skies I would have gone to Boston. I think the guarantee of warm temps and sun are implicit in the presence of palm trees and therefore I am calling Judge Judy to rule on this egregious breach of contract on the part of the Golden State. Golden, my ass.

I am not embarrassed to admit that I am Jet Blue’s bitch. I will do anything for that airline, even if it involves swallowing heroin-filled condoms or pimping out my future children. For me to take two six-hour flights and have nothing to complain about is like a Yankee fan not mentioning 26 rings.

The Lenny’s on 48th Street sucks. The people who work there are stupid, it’s more chaotic than free Marlboro night at the bingo hall and, most importantly, the chicken salad is comprised of gigantic pieces of uncut chicken including beaks and bones. The whole point of chicken salad is that it’s finely-chopped salad, NOT an entire oven stuffer roaster on a roll. I almost choked to death on a piece of chicken that was as big as my fist.

Does anyone have a harder life than me?

Noises Off

2006-03-15T20:19:00.000-05:00

I’d like people to think that the reason I haven't posted so much lately is because I’m going to benefits and art openings and all that shit, but the reality is I’d rather watch 62 straight hours of Inside Polygamy on A&E than write (again) about how the stupid ugly bridge troll upstairs is stupid and ugly and a bridge troll. (Which she is.) I just generally don't have much to say. (Except when I have a few glasses of wine, and then I have many fascinating theories, but no motor skills. O Cruel Irony.)

Anyway, I went to the movies last night and there was (of course) a lady sitting behind me rustling her endless cache of grocery bags the entire time, which led me to the epiphany that the root cause of my misanthropy is noise. If people would just shut the hell up, I wouldn't hate them. It's that simple. To make matters worse, I have superhuman hearing. I can hear that one person on the opposite subway platform snapping her gum like a hooker over the sound of my iPod and the approaching train. I can hear a person in New Jersey chewing on an ice cube right now. It's a curse. I wouldn’t go so far as to wish I were deaf per se, but if I were, I’d probably be a lot less cranky.

On a completely unrelated note, there is one person I can guarantee won’t be winning Nick at Nite’s Funniest Mom in America contest: Andrea Yates.

Just saying.

Big Ball of Suck

2006-03-03T13:58:00.000-05:00

As some of you may know, March is my month to go from a general state of irritation to a continuous homicidal rage because I’m sick of the cold and the naked trees and of getting a 9,000-volt electrical shock every time I walk in the vicinity of anything metal. This is the time of year when I am most likely to beat my coworker to death with my desk lamp because she is eating an apple, and as you know, nothing makes me angrier than loud chewing. Actually, to be fair, her chewing is not even that loud, I am just extra sensitive because I’m not sipping margaritas in Cabo. (Make sure you eat the core there, Chewy. Make it last.) Yes, it’s fair to say I am crabby today. I’m one late subway train away from buying a sheet of LSD and taking off for the New Mexican desert.

I’m also so bored that I’m praying for a terrorist attack, maybe in a small superfluous country like Liechtenstein. (Is that even still a country? It could be called the Liecht Republic now for all I know.) All I want is a small terrorist event, maybe a dozen American casualties (orphans, ideally) - enough to carry me through to 4:00. On the other hand, the closer it gets to 4:00, the less likely I’m going to want to do any work, so the terrorists should be aware they have a very small window.

Oh fine, I don’t really want there to be a terror attack. Please don’t leave me a nasty comment quoting scripture and telling me I’m evil (which I already know). I would settle for an email from one of my (cough, cough) friends who are apparently too busy these days to keep in touch with their bored, surly pal in NYC.

Anyone?

Cry For Help

2006-02-27T02:42:00.000-05:00

Signs you have an unhealthy obsession with The Sopranos due to not having anything else meaningful in your life:

*You have a crush on Vincent Curatola
*You start to think New Jersey might not be a bad place to live
*You currently have seven unwatched episodes stored on your DVR and are rationing them so they will last until the new season begins
*You've renamed your cat Silvio
*You googled Drea De Matteo at work tonight (and you’re not a lesbian)
*You wish you could send Furio upstairs to beat the crap out of your neighbor
*Your hatred for Meadow burns hotter than a thousand suns
*You are fanatically following the John “Jr.” Gotti trial in the Post
*You were thinking about the Lufthansa heist when you went to JFK last week (Sopranos, Goodfellas... whatever)
*You've considered taking your mom’s Italian maiden name
*You try to remember all the swear words you learned from your grandma, whose Italian vocabulary was mainly comprised of ways to call your uncle’s girlfriend a whore
*You know exactly how many minutes there are until March 12 at 9 pm

Billy Goat

2006-02-23T21:20:00.000-05:00

Two days in a row…rock me, Amadeus.

Ways I can annoy my upstairs neighbor who was a snotty bitch when I asked her nicely to turn down her TV this morning:

*Play “She Bangs” by Ricky Martin really loud over and over
*Ring her buzzer when I leave for work Saturday morning at 6:57
*Dump the Snoop’s litter box in front of her door
*Wait until I hear her shower go on, then turn on the cold water and repeatedly flush the toilet
*Sign her up for gay porn magazines
*Bask in the fact that she is a 3-foot tall, 150-lb bridge troll and I am a cute, delicate flower

Lost Weekend

2006-02-23T01:02:00.000-05:00

Just got back from Port St. Lucie and a rendezvous with David Wright (take that Johnny Damon) and I would be very depressed to be back in New York if I weren’t completely lying. Actually, I was in Boston where there are no palm trees but plenty of Dunkin’ Donuts. One area in which New York falls woefully short is its dearth of Dunkin’ Donuts. I don’t like their coffee very much and I haven’t eaten a donut in three years, but the double Ds make me feel so safe and secure. It’s like I have a happy pink and orange friend on every street corner.

I spent all day Sunday puking up shiraz and watching NASCAR. I am now a huge NASCAR fan. I have to tune in next week to see if there is any more fallout from the alleged Jimmy Johnson alleged cheating scandal and to chart the progression of cat-fighting among the drivers. I have no idea what their issues were and I can’t keep them straight because they all look alike, but they talk more smack about each other than a bunch of Ground Round waitresses and it rocks. NASCAR is the new baseball.

There are probably four people in the civilized world who don’t have cable and three of them are my friends. I don’t understand how they make it through the day without HGTV, but who am I to judge. I guess they read books and shit. Suckers. Anyway, the lack of premium programming enabled me on Monday to watch 986 hours of car commercials interrupted by the stray Olympic event and I’ve decided that if I want to find a husband I have to become an ice dancer. Apparently, all of the ice-dancing teams are husband and wife and apparently they all met randomly through ads on Craigslist. I am well on my way to becoming an ice dancer: I’ve been working on my application of dramatic, Sopranos-style eye shadow and I’ve been practicing my twizzles. Vancouver 2010 (and Vera Wang) here I come.

***
News Item:

LA PAZ, Bolivia (Reuters) - A Bolivian senator, a close ally of President Evo Morales known for her raucous chanting of "Long live coca, Death to the Yankees!" said Wednesday the United States had canceled her entry visa.

See, even Bolivians hate the Yankees.

Special Victims

2006-02-08T00:24:00.000-05:00

Dear Upstairs Neighbors:

Hi! I like Law & Order SVU too! The thing is, I prefer to watch it in my own apartment at a reasonable volume. If you could be so kind as to please turn down your TV, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you so much!

***
Dear Upstairs Neighbors:

Hi there, it’s me again. I really hate to keep harping on this, but your TV is still quite loud and I’m trying to do some work down here. That dun-dun sound effect really breaks my concentration.

But hey, how about that Chris Meloni! He goes to my gym! We both like to use the chest press, and sometimes I use treadmill 17 right after he does. I’m not supposed to talk to him anymore (stupid judge!), but maybe if you turned down your TV I could introduce you. Think about it! Thanks.

***
Dear Upstairs Neighbors:

I know, I know, my ears are probably just sensitive, but your TV is still a tad loud. I wouldn’t keep bothering you, but Mariska Hargitay’s voice really upsets me. If you could just turn it down a smidge, thanks.

***
Dear Upstairs Neighbors:

Look, I’ve asked you nicely three times. I would hate for anything to happen to you guys or that cat you think no one knows you have. I don’t want to resort to anything so silly as “legal action” or having to call the landlord, but if you don’t turn it down I can’t be responsible for what happens.

***
Dear Upstairs Neighbors:

Seriously, turn it down.

***
DEAR UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR ASSHOLES:

TURN DOWN YOUR FUCKING TV OR I WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!

I DON’T CARE IF I GO TO JAIL BECAUSE THE CLOVEN-HOOFED RICHARD BELZER IS THE SUCCUBUS and ICE-T is the SNAKE who lives in the LOINS of the DARK MASTER!!!!!!!!!

DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!

Stray Cat Strut

2006-02-07T16:24:00.000-05:00

Substitution of my cat’s name for things it rhymes with:

Snooper Bowl
French Onion Snoop
Snoop DeVille
Fruit Snoops
Hula Snoop

PS: Two words regarding the Britney Spears-driving-with-her-baby photos: natural selection.

Taking Stock

2006-02-01T11:32:00.000-05:00

Here’s my State of the Kate address:

I’m freezing, I’m starving, I’m itchy, no one has emailed me in five days and I can’t keep my eyes open. I have the most boring job in the history of civilization and there was no hot water this morning (hence the itchiness). I’m going to lunch now. Hopefully a Bagelfeller salad will assuage my desire to physically assault everyone within 10 yards of me. Thank you for listening.

Other things America is addicted to:

Internet poker
Crack
Lost
Plastic surgery
Love

Off Broadway

2006-01-27T10:25:00.000-05:00

Rejected play first drafts:

Cat in a Pot of Boiling Water
by Tennessee Williams

A Streetcar Named M-11
by Tennessee Williams

Twelve Mildly Disgruntled State Workers
by Reginald Rose

Romeo and Mercutio
by William Shakespeare

Long Day’s Journey Into Teaneck
by Eugene O’Neill

Master Harold…and the Boys from the Ice Show
by Athol Fugard

Our Town Sucks
by Thornton Wilder

Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern Are My Two Dads
by Tom Stoppard

Oedipus Bangs His Mom
by Sophocles

Home Sweet Home

2006-01-24T13:58:00.000-05:00

How to annoy me at home:

*Live upstairs and clomp around on your uncarpeted hardwood floor in platform shoes or, alternatively, when in bare feet, take really big steps, using as much force as possible
*Live upstairs and watch Law & Order with the volume turned up to one billion so I can't hear The Sopranos
*Call me before noon
*Play with your furry mice at 4 am^
*Play with a real mouse at 4 am^
*Climb the mini-blinds and hang from them^
*Act like you haven’t eaten in three years every time I walk by the kitchen even if you actually ate 10 minutes ago AND you have a full bowl of dry food^
*And when I do feed you, gobble it down as fast as possible so you can throw it up two minutes later^
*Try to wedge your UPS truck past the moving van parked in the middle of the street so when the inevitable cab gets stuck behind you the driver will lean on his horn for 40 minutes
*Be Oprah

^Cats only

Coming Soon: How to annoy me on the subway

Cent'Anni!

2006-01-23T00:39:00.000-05:00

The pink was starting to get on my nerves so I did a little revamping, like Extreme Makeover: Home Edition but without Shania Twain. (The only time I ever watched that show Shania was on. On the other hand it could have been Leann Rimes. I can't tell the difference.) Anyway, I thought a little update was in order.

I didn't realize it before, but my previous post was number 100, so I feel like I should celebrate. However, for some incomprehensible reason I don't have any alcohol in the house. Therefore I will take two Advil cold pills for my bird flu instead of one. Here's to another hundred posts in which I hopefully insult as many people who drive into rivers with their kids strapped in the back as possible.

Going Postal

2006-01-22T22:46:00.001-05:00

How to annoy me at work:

*Keep talking to me
*Keep asking me stupid questions like “would you ever work for Al-Jazeera?”
*Continually make random comments like “wow, 20,000 refugees fled to Uganda in the last 4 days”
*When you actually write the story about Uganda, make sure you say “4 years” instead of “4 days” because you can’t even get the smallest facts correct
*Wander around the newsroom and talk to everyone, including people you don’t know
*Especially during breaking news
*Ask if you should write stories that say “HOLD FOR RELEASE UNTIL 12:01 AM MONDAY” in bold letters
*Question every edit I make
*Join people’s conversations even if you have no idea what they’re talking about
*When I shake my head in disgust over something unrelated to work, ask me what’s wrong
*Make sure every story you write misses the point entirely or contains at least one mistake
*Listen to my phone conversations and comment on them
*Type maniacally
*Keep looking over at me for no apparent reason
*Comment on the fact that I’m still eating bread leftover from dinner
*Talk to me during Intervention

Lame

2006-01-15T23:02:00.000-05:00

I think that HBO should refund part of my monthly fee every time Meadow sings on The Sopranos. They are showing season two, and she sings every freaking episode. I should have completely free cable by now. Shut up Meadow.

I know I am five, but I still think it’s really funny when dog show announcers say “bitch,” as in “I’ve been living with that bitch for seven years.” Also I'm sure I was the only person in the U.S. flipping back and forth between the Eukanuba dog show and the Pats game Saturday night (and Dirty Dancing on Oxygen, of course). I am such a waste of a MetroCard.

Do, Re, Mi

2006-01-02T23:01:00.000-05:00

The reason I always make fun of white trash is because I’m only a Poconos time-share away from being white trash myself. Case in point, I plan to leave my Christmas lights up all year, I love Hershey Bars and I won $1,000 on a scratch ticket last week. That doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but I want my peeps to know I’m keeping it real.

The Nazis in the Sound of Music have to be the dumbest Nazis ever. Do you mean to tell me they posted guards all over the auditorium during the festival but no one was watching the door? And didn’t Max get punished for so obviously helping the von Trapps escape? And why weren’t the nuns immediately taken to a concentration camp after they dismantled the Nazis’ cars? The only Nazi who showed any initiative was Rolf, and it was probably just because Liesl refused to, shall we say, “deliver his telegram” in the gazebo that night.

Lessons I’ve learned from the Sound of Music
-The Nazis in Salzburg in September 1939 just didn’t care
-When you’re sixteen going on seventeen, it’s best not to get involved with Nazi youth because they will turn you in at the end of the movie unless you put out
-Governesses are man-stealing bitches (just ask the Baroness)
-While a stiff drink and a lap dance may be among the captain’s favorite things, they are not part of the song
-No one, and I mean no one, knows how to solve a problem like Maria
-The hills may be alive with the sound of music, but it could also be those mushrooms you ate

Auld Lang Syne

2005-12-31T13:31:00.000-05:00

In 2006, I resolve to:

-Stop feeling superior to people just because they are wearing white sneakers and a fanny pack and carrying a bag from the American Girl store

-Be nicer to the creepy annoying guy at work so when he snaps he will shoot somebody else first

-Stop going to the Filene’s Basement on 79th St. because it only pisses me off

-Think twice before bringing potential stalkers to friends’ apartments at 2 am

-Stop making fun of A-Rod and Jeter and their deep, true love

-Only throw unbreakable things at the TV

-Leave the house for my 7 am Saturday morning shift before 7 am

-Develop a taste for scotch

-Be more tolerant, sensitive and empathetic

-Call Tom Cruise about becoming a Scientologist

Judas

2005-12-21T13:38:00.000-05:00

Et tu, Johnny?

Sweet Summer Sweat

2005-12-20T02:19:00.000-05:00

Dear Manager:

I am very unsatisfied with your hotel. First of all, there is a weird smell in the air every night, I think it’s dope. Secondly, mirrors on the ceiling might be fine for you hippies out here in the desert, but where I come from the only one I want watching over me at night is the Lord. As for the complimentary pink champagne and mini-bar, Satan himself would be ashamed of such decadence. Why don’t you ask him when you join him in Hell?

I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running here, but I know the woman next us has boys in and out of her room all night. A lot of boys. She tells us they are friends, but I know they are fornicating. I see them dancing in the courtyard and I know.

On top of it, the food is terrible. We ordered a well-done steak from room service, and when we got it, it was so rare I had to stab it with my knife a few times to make sure it was dead. My wife has an irritable bowel, and you can bet you’ll be hearing from our lawyers if she so much as burps funny in the next few days.

Finally, we have tried to get away from this viper pit several times now, but the man at the desk (I think he is a Jew, by the way) keeps telling us that although we can check out any time we want, we can never leave. This is unacceptable. I insist you rectify this situation immediately or I will call corporate headquarters and have you fired.

We are very disappointed. All the folks back home said the Hotel California was such a lovely place. Well, rest assured we will NOT be back.

Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Edward T. Slocum
Peppertown, Indiana

Listful Thinking

2005-12-09T12:08:00.000-05:00

I’m so down with the lists lately.

HOLIDAY SONG:

On the 12th Day of Christmas, Johnny Damon* gave to me:

12 leopard handbags
11 piles of cat puke
10 people chewing
9 Mets third basemen
8 tardy C trains
7 hours of TV
6 baffling bank fees
5 Amstel lights
4 subs from Lenny’s
3 dead mice
2 white trash babies…
and a disaster on NGC

*Unless he signs with the Yankees, in which case he will cease to be my true love.

***
Tonight on ABC at 8pm: I Want A Dog For Christmas, Charlie Brown

OTHER CHARLIE BROWN TV SPECIALS:

I’m Allergic to Shellfish, Charlie Brown
I Wish Mommy Would Stop Drinking, Charlie Brown
I Need a Kidney Transplant, Charlie Brown
Daddy Lost All Our Money at the Track, Charlie Brown
You Will Waste Away in Hell Unless You Accept Jesus Christ as Your Personal Savior, Charlie Brown
Don’t Call Me Shirley, Charlie Brown
I Think Tony Soprano is Kind of Hot, Charlie Brown
I’m Mitt Romney And I Approve Of This Message, Charlie Brown

***
PLACES THE DEVIL WENT AFTER GEORGIA:

Macy’s One-Day Sale
Waffle House
His brother-in-law Bob’s
Disneyland
Jersey

Fan Mail

2005-12-01T02:45:00.000-05:00

Letters To Artists on my 70s Music Cable Channel

Dear Tony Orlando (and Dawn):
While I appreciate your suggestion I knock three times on the ceiling, I prefer guys who have the balls to ring my doorbell.

Sincerely,
The Girl Downstairs

***
Dear Heart:
He is not a magic man. I guarantee he’ll knock you up, beat the shit out of you and pimp your ass for crack. But hey, it’s your life, I’ll TRY to understand. I only spent 72 hours in labor. What do I know?

Sincerely,
Your Mother

***
Dear Bread:
Baby I’m-a want you? WTF does that mean? Freak.

And Don’t Call Me Baby

***
Dear Dan Hill:
Yes, I agree. Sometimes when we touch, the honesty IS too much. Especially with those big oozing zits all over your back. You think YOU want to close your eyes and hide? As for holding me till we both break down and cry, believe me, buddy, that ship has sailed.

Sincerely,
Your (Ex) Girlfriend

***
Dear Rod Stewart:
Yeah, like I want your body. And the 32 STDs that come with it. Gross!
And like, hello! 78-year-old men should NOT wear spandex.

Sincerely,
The 14-Year-Old You’re Hitting On

Fear Factor

2005-11-24T01:41:00.000-05:00

How the National Geographic Channel Has Ruined My Life:

-Can’t plan trip to Australia because of tiny Irukandji jellyfish that, if even a millimeter of skin touches one, you will suffer excruciating pain throughout your entire body and die.

-Can’t go to Bronx Zoo without worrying about a) catching Ebola virus from monkeys or b) being stomped to death by angry, rampaging elephant.

-Afraid to stay in NYC because it’s only a matter of time before Island of La Palma slides into Atlantic Ocean, spawning 100-foot mega-tsunami that will devastate entire eastern seaboard.

-Can’t flee to midwest because of possible F-7 mega-tornadoes caused by global warming. Would move to west coast except for inevitable magnitude-10 earthquake and Pacific Ocean tsunamis. Might have to move to Canada.

-Can’t move to Canada because of recent SARS outbreak.

-Afraid to leave apartment during head cold for fear of being “Patient Zero” in worldwide flu pandemic.

-Afraid to go to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade because Nazis may have sabotaged the Garfield balloon, causing it to immolate in 34 seconds like the Hindenburg.

Gotta Cut Loose

2005-11-15T01:56:00.000-05:00

Signs you live in a town that doesn’t allow dancing:

-People make fun of you for wearing a skinny leather tie to your first day at the new high school
-Hilarity ensues when you explain to your new friends the musical group Men at Work aren’t actually men working
-You are bullied into having a chicken fight with tractors
-You wear slutty red cowboy boots that symbolize how much you want to leave this crappy town
-Your daddy is John Lithgow
-You tell your daddy, John Lithgow, that you’re not even a virgin while yelling at him in church
-Your career tanked after the Fame TV show
-You convince John Lithgow to let you hold your senior dance just over the county line
-You finally realize that heaven helps the man who fights his fear and love's the only thing that keeps you here

'Tis The Season!

2005-11-09T23:45:00.000-05:00

I got my first holiday party Evite of the season, which would be awesome except for the fact that it’s a) in Boston and b) on a freaking weekend and c) I WORK GODDAMN WEEKENDS. However, I’m not at all bitter or angry. Why would I want to drink eggnog among friends when I could be keeping the world informed about the latest suicide bombing - LIKE THEY DON’T HAVE THOSE EVERY GODDAMN DAY - in some stupid country I would never visit? I VOLUNTEER to sacrifice any chance of fellowship or fun or holiday cheer that I might enjoy just so my fellow Americans can sate their lust for info about cheerleaders who drink roofies and disappear on Caribbean islands. It’s a thankless job, but I embrace it. And if, during those holiday season weekends, some bovine Christmas tourist from Oklahoma should find himself the victim of sniper fire, well, I CERTAINLY wouldn't know anything about it.

Happy Holidays!

Running On Empty

2005-11-05T14:39:00.000-05:00

As if I didn’t hate runners enough, there were 9 billion of them swarming up Sixth Ave this morning in some kind of pre-marathon orgy and I couldn’t cross the street to get coffee. Why would anyone get up at 7 am on a Saturday to go running when one could be home sleeping off a hangover like a normal person? The only reason *I* was up at 7 am on a Saturday is because I haven’t figured out how to fake my own death and had to come into work. Now all the runners are out front walking around in their shiny satin shorts drinking Gatorade and acting all “Dude, I’m so PUMPED.” Grrr. Go eat pasta with the rest of your freak friends.

Have I mentioned I hate marathons?

***
Q. When is speakerphone use okay, assuming you’re not the President or Donald Trump?

A. The correct answer is: never!

Cold Turkey

2005-11-02T23:10:00.000-05:00

Well, I just got my one-week-without-baseball chip. So far the cravings haven’t been too bad, but it’s still early. I have my 2004 World Series DVD to get through the rough patches and hopefully I won’t feel the need to cruise the YES Network looking for Yankee Classics at least until February. (The shame, the shame.)

On a related note, I think I’m going to pretend the Theo Epstein thing didn’t happen, or for that matter, the entire 2005 season. In fact, it’s still 2004 and while I’m at it, David Wright is my boyfriend.

Be glad I don’t have access to explosives, because if I did, I swear to god, I would blow Bank of America to into a billion pieces because, as I may have mentioned previously, THEY SUCK. And I know I am going wake up one day to find all the money mysteriously missing from my account because I keep sending emails to customer service telling them how much THEY SUCK. And I’m probably on a terrorist watch list right now for threatening them, but I don’t care, because THEY SUCK.

I really can’t tell one Apprentice: Martha candidate apart from the next. They are all one person, with their matchy suits, blindingly white teeth and crazy talk about “stepping up.” I am going to start my own reality show called Apprentice: Kate and the tasks will entail fetching my chicken salad sandwiches from Lenny’s, opening my wine and helping me write angry letters to evil banking conglomerates.

Russian Roulette

2005-10-28T14:55:00.000-04:00

Things that make me want to blow my brains out:

Oil-for-food
Ditech.com commercials
The hour between 2:00 pm – 3:00 pm
The smell of cream of broccoli soup
The fact that in 2005 there is even discussion about whether evolution is real

By the way, as soon as I figure out who blew my cover as a CIA agent I will kick their ass.

Alien Baseball

2005-10-27T01:53:00.000-04:00

Somehow tonight I lost $20 in the time it takes to pull the money out of the ATM, walk 15 feet into Duane Reade, take a box of tea off the shelf and bring it to the cash register. I have no idea what happened to it. It’s possible I was mugged by invisible aliens who altered my memory, but I have no mysterious scars or bruises, no unexplained gaps in time, and I did not wake up in a Nebraska cornfield with a headache. I guess I'm just an idiot.

I’ve been casually watching the World Series and it’s really annoying how Buck and McCarver say POD-sednik. And do we really need 9 billion shots of sweaty people in Astros caps sitting there all scrunchy and worried, hands clasped to their lips? Because there’s no way in hell there are that many Astros fans in the world.

With all the talk about Cashman and Torre coming back to the Yankees next year, there’s been no word on whether Ronan Tynan will return to aurally strafe the New York-baseball-going public with his 63-minute-long version of "God Bless America" during every seventh inning stretch. I really hope not, because my ears are still bleeding from the one game I went to last year. I wonder if he is also under contract to sing at A-Rod and Jeter’s wedding?

Congratulations White Sox. Too bad your World Series victory means it’s now officially winter and time for me to launch my three-state killing spree.

Ennui

2005-10-21T14:25:00.000-04:00

Okay, I’m completely cured of wanting to wear fall clothes. Bring back the heat and humidity. I look like Donald Frump today with my floor length Amish-style skirt and oversize black sweater with holes in it. I would go on the Tyra Banks show for a makeover, but I don’t have any desire to look like an Appalachian hooker. She seriously does the worst makeovers. The people looked somewhat normal in the “before” pix, but when she’s done with them they look like they should be in an HBO documentary about incest.

I am bored to the brink of unconsciousness. I’m just waiting for my dead grandma to show up and tell me to walk toward the light. AS USUAL nobody is emailing me and I’ve already read every web site on the entire Internet. The only thing left to do is actual work, and I’m not feeling that so much today. Perhaps I should write another letter to Red Lobster.

Dirty Laundry

2005-10-17T23:51:00.000-04:00

I go through phases where I have all my shit in order and my apartment is clean and neat, with everything sparkling and put away. Unfortunately, for the rest of the time, it’s a total disaster. There are clothes everywhere, half-eaten bagels on the coffee table, dirty dishes rotting in the sink, and I'm not sure, but I think there's a dead mouse under my bed. Substitute wood paneling for the exposed brick, give me some bi-racial illegitimate children from three different fathers, and I’ll be all set to rock my debut on The People’s Court.

I didn’t think it was possible for me to be any lazier, but now that I have DVR, I don’t even have to get off the couch to put in a movie. If I could just figure out how to make my cat go to the store for me, everything would be perfect.

It’s so nice to watch baseball and be detached. If the Red Sox gave up a three-run homer with two down in the ninth I would have to be talked down from the GW Bridge, but since it’s Houston, and I really don't care about Houston, I can be like, “hmm, that’s an interesting turn of events. I wonder what’s on HGTV.”

Anyway, that’s the update from the UWS.

Hip, Hip Jorge!

2005-10-11T01:10:00.000-04:00

Hee hee hee, I believe the word is Schadenfreude. Don’t worry, Yankee fans, A-Rod and Jeter may not have the division but they still have each other.

Well, here we are. No baseball, no sun. It’s winter. There’s nothing on the horizon but chilblains and hockey scores. Thank God I am getting HBO in a couple days so I will not have to leave the house until April. When does The Sopranos start, anyway?

Ghostbusters is still a really funny movie. If that makes me a dork, I don’t want to be cool. Speaking of being cool, the best part of every episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen is when the heinous little bitches hand out invitations to the cool kids in front of all the loser kids and the loser kids are all, “I’m still gonna go anyway.” Like dude, be glad you’re not invited. If you go the date rape and ecstasy overdose route now you’ll have nothing to look forward to in college.

Post Season

2005-10-07T22:07:00.000-04:00

Well, that was depressing.

Not kick-you-in-the-gut-October-2003 depressing, but definitely Monday-morning-after-vacation depressing. When I woke up Thursday morning I had a bad feeling and I knew it meant the Red Sox were not just done, but on the table, sliced, and covered with gravy. In spite of that, I still watched every pitch of the game tonight (except for the bottom of the third when ESPN inexplicably disappeared) and I watched it like I watched every other game this season: in my apartment, with my cat, drinking wine. You come into the world alone and you go out of it alone.

At least I won’t have to check myself into Four Winds after the ALCS this year. Or stay up late for west coast games, or listen to Tim McCarver. That’s something. (Right?)

Oh well. Go Angels.

We're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat

2005-10-02T23:22:00.000-04:00

Besides working (somewhat), I spent my day sending inflammatory anti-Yankee emails to my dad and defacing the picture of A-Rod on the front page of the Post . Then I took the train to Albany, and now I think I have scabies.

Meanwhile, there was some ferry disaster in Lake George, and the local news, where the biggest story is usually about traffic on the Northway, is freaking HILARIOUS. Actual quote from "News Channel 13" (in scary news announcer's voice):

"Life jackets were seen floating in the water. Unfortunately, there were no people in them."

We Shall Overcome

2005-09-30T13:29:00.000-04:00

Ways in which The Man is keeping me down:

Skank of America canceled my automatic online payments because I didn’t agree by a certain date to some obscure “terms and conditions” set forth in a .25-point-type Byzantine letter I allegedly received four months ago

The inventor of pointy-toed shoes (regardless of whether they are leopard) in conjunction with the weather, which is too hot for boots but too cold for flip-flops, are part of a patriarchal conspiracy to keep from being comfortable

The air-conditioning system at work will not stop until it achieves its goal of immobilizing every molecule in the building

Jack-booted fascists at AAA insist I buy my train ticket three days ahead of time in order to get a discount

The Boston Red Sox are trying to kill me

Skank of America

2005-09-27T21:59:00.000-04:00

This is my last NESN game of the season, which is very sad. On the other hand, it could be a good thing because I have the song for Lincoln Mercury of Raynham in my head and no amount of Pinot Noir will make it stop.

Bank of America is the worst bank in the entire history of banking, and if I were a little more powerful I would dedicate my life to bringing them down. As it is, I refuse to switch from paper to online statements. I'm gonna make those motherfuckers PAY for postage.

(By the way, if anyone knows how to get in touch with the Unabomber, could you drop me a line, please.)

Things I've thrown at the TV during tonight's Red Sox game (so far):

Mars white plastic eraser
Checkbook
Coaster
2 couch pillows

Circle of Life

2005-09-23T15:08:00.000-04:00

Went to see the Lion King last night (which would have been better with real lions) and it made me all excited to come home and see my cat, until I got there and found she had pooped all over the floor. Then the little bastard jumped on my bed at 3 am with a LIVE GODDAMN MOUSE in her mouth.

There’s been increased chatter at work among the annoying Yankee fans, but I don’t even care anymore because I’m so disgusted with the Red Sox I’ve become a soccer fan. Go Manchester United!

My new leopard shoes, while super-cute, are also giving me Derek Lowe blisters. I will give them another chance, though, because love means never having to say you’re sorry.

Mask Of The Red Death

2005-09-20T21:31:00.000-04:00

I’m sure you’ve heard about those mice with bubonic plague who escaped from a lab in NJ… well, I came down with a mysterious illness yesterday that I think is the plague. Either the NJ mice are visiting their NYC cousins who live in my building, or I could have gotten it from the subway where I’m sure more than one person is suffering from the black death. In any case, I will never know for sure because stupid Web MD doesn’t give you the symptoms for bubonic plague and instead of quarantining myself, I’ll be spreading it all over the city, killing millions in my wake. (Hmmm...maybe I’ll go to a Yankee game this week.)

I’ve been off for the last few days, and not only am I turning into a three-toed sloth, I’m actually losing IQ points because I’ve been watching nothing but Dr. Phil and Judge Judy. Pretty soon I’ll be saying things like “she had axed me to do it,” and “you can’t fix what you don’t acknowledge” and I’ll suddenly be the mother of a 14-yr-old whom I beat and swear at. (For the record, I probably will beat and swear at any children I do have, but at least I won’t be in high school when I have them.)

I Swear

2005-09-15T22:51:00.000-04:00

I was in the midst of calling my green beans “motherfuckers” tonight when it occurred to me that I might swear too much. But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing because profanity is a gift that anyone can enjoy. Rich or poor, black or white, smart or dumb—profanity is truly the fabric that holds us together. Victims of Hurricane Katrina don’t need our money or food or clothes, they need us to start peppering our sentences with “fuck.” (In fact, I will do so right now, because the goddamn As just scored again.)

Also, I hate everyone on the Upper West Side and their little bastard children.

I know it sounds like I’m in a bad mood tonight, but I’m not. (Despite having to go to four stores in search of the crushed tomatoes I like and not being able to find them.) I’m actually in quite a good mood because I HAVE THE WEEKEND OFF!! So watch out, NYC.

Show Me The Way To Go Home

2005-09-14T22:40:00.000-04:00

Things That Don’t Annoy Me:

*My $3 CVS flip flops
*Martha Stewart Everyday housewares at K-Mart (yes, I shop at K-Mart and I’m not ashamed)
*Radio station 102.7 – It’s "classic dance," meaning that although you have to occasionally endure Mariah Carey giving birth they play mostly disco (again, not ashamed)
*My high-fat wine and cheese French diet
*My cat playing fetch with her furry mice
*That the YES announcers feel the need to mention it whenever Robinson Cano DOESN’T fuck something up
*Jaws is on

I watched the movie Double Indemnity the other night with Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck, and it was film noir, which means they drank highballs and said things like “Shut up, baby” and it was always raining. I totally need a man who says “Shut up, baby” who I can trick into killing people for me.

From now on, whenever I write an especially good crawl entry I’m going to point to the sky like David Ortiz when he hits a home run.

Wow, what a surprise: a guy named Cody on a show about methamphetamine.

For those of you who haven’t yet bought my birthday present, I’m registered at 86th Street Wine and Liquors.

Upstate

2005-09-09T19:11:00.000-04:00

I just returned from Syracuse, NY, which is too sad a place to even make fun of, BUT I did go to Waterloo Outlets in… somewhere 45 minutes west of Syracuse. I’m pretty sure they are running a meth lab out of the food court, but the J. Crew was awesome. Is it me, or does everyone in central New York look like they should be on Intervention?

The other thing is, if things don’t work out with David Wright, I want to marry Jet Blue Airlines. They have little TVs on the back of every seat. And the seats have tons of room, and they give you a choice of snacks. (And they have TVs!)

Crap. I just realized I have to watch the Red Sox games on the Yes Network this weekend. At least it’s not Fox.

UGH! I just checked, and tomorrow’s game IS on Fox. Crap.

Elephant Rage

2005-09-07T01:01:00.000-04:00

I recently watched the awesome “Elephant Rage” on NGC, which was about how more and more elephants are going into villages and kicking the crap out of people because they are PISSED humans are taking over the land and cutting down trees and all that Greenpeace shit.

Well I have one word for you elephants. Why don’t you evolve some more, and then maybe you could be in charge. Sure, you’re big and strong, but can you mix a martini? Can you send an email? I don’t think so.

Shut up, elephants.

Here are my favorite quotes from the show:

“Something terrible is driving them to rampage.”
“I debated getting out of elephants altogether.”
“Are they finally reaching the breaking point?”
“What will we do? Will we give elephants more land... more dignity... more hope?”

*Shut up, elephants, except Babar. You know he can mix a martini.

Pussies

2005-09-04T21:33:00.000-04:00

When did Nicholas Cage become such a pussy? He was awesome in Valley Girl. He should've quit while he was ahead.

Other actors who used to not suck too bad but are now pussies:

Robin Williams – Maybe it’s not so much that he used to be funny as I used to be 8.
Tom Hanks – Splash and Bosom Buddies were great. Big was the harbinger of Pussiness to Come and things only went downhill with Punchline, Sleepless in Seattle, and that three-hour slice of hell, Forrest Gump.
John Travolta – This just breaks my heart. The man was Vinnie Barbarino, Danny Zuko, Tony Manero, and the guy from Pulp Fiction…. Then he turns around and makes Phenomenon, which even if it weren’t the worst movie ever he would be a pussy for appearing in a movie with Kyra Sedgewick. It’s tragic.
Tom Cruise – The more I think about it, he was always a pussy.

Happy Birthday, Christine.

Category 5

2005-08-31T02:28:00.000-04:00

This hurricane is pissing me off. Granted, I didn't lose my cat or family or all my belongings, but A) I was supposed to go to New Orleans for my birthday in a few weeks and now I will probably have to spend it at the Chuck E. Cheese in Albany instead and B) Cute Work Boy, with whom I had an ACTUAL conversation the other night is too busy at work to pay ANY attention to me and now the momentum is gone.

Also, I've noticed an alarming trend of people using commas along with other punctuation,... like this, and it annoys the crap out of me. Commas or ellipses, people, but not both.

Nutmeg State

2005-08-27T16:05:00.000-04:00

I think that along with pregnant people, old people and handicapped people, hungover people should get priority seating on the subway.

Words I hate typing:

Constitution
Palestinian
Condoleezza
Hurricane

Reasons I hate Connecticut:

They don’t sell beer after 8 pm or on Fourth of July
No one in the entire state knows how to drive
No more Crate and Barrel outlet at Clinton Crossing
Alarming number of Yankee fans
Too many letters in “Connecticut”
I always catch myself calling it “Connect-a-cut”
No more “Meet me at Foxwoods!” commercials
I-95

As long as we’re on the subject, I hate Vermont, too. It’s overrated and the trees are ugly.

I’ve spent my day listening to 962 news conferences about evacuating for Hurricane Katrina that go on for 62 years, when really, all they need to say is, “Get the fuck out.” Doesn’t take a genius. On the other hand we ARE talking about the south, so you never know. (Just kidding, I love the south. Especially people from Georgia.)

Sick and Tired

2005-08-26T15:14:00.000-04:00

Things I hate, part 98,983

Revolving doors
Anyone on a bike in NYC
Hurricane coverage
Aruba
The second-to-last hour of work
Bank of America
Not being able to find my black sweater this morning
Starbucks
Cat puke

Things I don’t hate

Dogs

Nasty

2005-08-19T12:48:00.000-04:00

If evil were a candy bar, it would be a Chunky. Why on earth would you pollute perfectly good chocolate with peanuts and raisins? Peanuts I could condone under the right circumstances, but raisins are nothing but chewy little pellets of hate. Who is the perpetrator of this abomination, and why hasn’t he been punished?

Big Crapple

2005-08-15T00:28:00.000-04:00

For all you aspiring New Yorkers out there, I'd like to impart two lessons I learned tonight:

Lesson 1: Always double-check to make sure the train you're getting on is the train you want to be getting on, in case, for example, the F train is inexplicably on the D train track and you don't realize it for two stops because in the YEAR you've been taking the D train you've never SEEN an F train on the D train track and it would never OCCUR to you that an F train would randomly, without warning, BE on the D train track.

Lesson 2: When you are yelling at a cab driver for going downtown instead of uptown, make sure you are, in fact, going downtown. And don't be snotty when he asks if you've been drinking. (I wasn't, by the way.)

Damn you, Mercury retrograde!

Who's The Boss

2005-08-14T01:26:00.000-04:00

Dear PBS,

Hi, either be free or charge money like HBO, but stop freaking whining about it. When you interrupt Bruce Springsteen at Madison Square Garden to beg for donations it only pisses me off, ensuring I will never send you money.

And Bruce? Love your music, but don’t need to hear your opinions on religion or world affairs. While you’re at it, tell Bono to shut up, too.

Sincerely,
Kate

Death in the Afternoon

2005-08-11T13:52:00.000-04:00

Getting old sucks. I used to be able to go out until 4:00 am, get an hour or two of sleep and still make it to the Bagel Baron for my 7:00 am shift, which would be spent cheerfully scooping out the insides of bagels for delightful and appreciative SUNY Albany students.

But now if I have more than two (or twenty) beers I have to spend the entire next day lying in bed, which is how I find myself right now, flat on my back, computer on my stomach, two-liter bottle of water by my side, praying for death.

The only thing that will save me is a chicken salad sandwich from Lenny's, but Lenny's might as well be in Westchester right now. They deliver, but I don't know where the phone is, or the menu, and it's really hot in here... and ugh.

No more sangria for me.

***
My horoscope in the Post says I will be cranky tonight. Who says there's nothing to astrology!

Kate, Snoop and the Jack of Hearts

2005-08-09T23:14:00.000-04:00

Christ, doesn’t anyone in New York shower?

I’m sad to see that I didn’t make into New York Magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful New Yorkers issue. I assume I didn’t, anyway. I figure someone would have told me by now if I were in it.

The reason I didn’t make the cut is because the wrong people decide who is beautiful. If the judges were two-foot-tall men from indeterminate countries I’d be a shoo-in. For some reason cab drivers, kitchen help and the guys selling bootleg DVDs on the street find me extremely attractive. I don’t understand why it can’t be 22-year-old third-basemen, or even men who speak English as their first language, but I guess you have to play to your strengths. If you need me I’ll be down at the Fulton Fish Market looking for a husband.

Awesome line from a Bob Dylan song:

Rosemary started drinking hard and seeing her reflection in the knives

I can totally relate.

***
Breaking News: Christopher Reeve’s parents put his puppy to sleep when he was six.

Things I hate: working weekends, sushi, the Yankees, soccer, news, the fact no one ever emails me anymore, Snoop’s litter box, people, air conditioning, summer is almost over, Wes from the Real World, that there’s nowhere nearby to buy wine at midnight, people whose cell phones play 20-minute-long songs, Red Sox defense (or lack thereof), celebrities, weather, typing, white chocolate, Tylenol.

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

2005-08-05T21:17:00.000-04:00

It’s 98 degrees in Central Park right now. I like the heat and all, but this is starting to piss me off. The only thing missing from my apartment last night was Christopher Walken and 30 Viet Cong forcing me to play to Russian Roulette.

It’s bad enough that I am accosted by homeless people begging for money everywhere I go, but today there was a guy panhandling on Sixth Ave. with a dog and a kitten. I would almost give them money (I like animals) if I could be sure they were going to use it for food, but you know they are just going to spend it on chew toys and catnip.

Come on, sing it with me, you know you want to: we all live in a Russian submarine, a Russian submarine, a Russian submarine. Now you too can have that song rolling around in your head until all you want is to slam your head into a car door to make it stop.

***
For the record, the Twins announcers aren't too bad.

Say A Little Prayer For Me

2005-08-03T23:49:00.000-04:00

For a couple of minutes, I thought we were having a brown out because the lights were flickering, but then I realized my light bulb was not screwed in right, which could also be the title of my autobiography. (Ha! Ha! That sauvignon blanc, how it does run on.)

Anyway, I had THE most fabulous night tonight. I have a new shelf in my bathroom, which I installed with minimal carnage, although I drilled a few extraneous holes in the wall before getting it right. But it really balances the bathroom, which I think, from a feng shui perspective, can only be a good thing.

Also, the RS won, the Janks lost, and I INSIST the Red Sox sign pitcher Jimmy Gobble immediately because I’ve been so depressed since Pokey Reese left. Jimmy Gobble is the best name I’ve heard in my entire life. In fact, I’m officially changing my name to Katie Gobble and I will not answer to anything else.

My apartment is clean, I’m listening to crappy 70s music, and I could not be happier.

The Church of Baseball

2005-08-01T03:31:00.000-04:00

Okay. This sucks. It's 3 am and I am wide awake because a) I ate a pack of Twizzlers at work tonight and b) I made the mistake of reading an article about the World Series before bed that got me all riled up.

Today was a good baseball day. I was listening to the Sox at work, and I had the Mets on TV, and everyone else was watching the Yankees and it was all very exciting because at one point all three games were tied. Almost everyone was rooting for the Yankees, except for me, another (annoying) Red Sox fan and a few random Mets fans. I knew the Spanks were going to win as soon as Dropsui hit the triple, so it made the end of the Red Sox game playoffesque. They were leading by one run, and I didn't know if Schilling would get it done, and I knew if he lost and the Yankees won, not only would the Sox lose a game in the standings but I would also have to field comments from the Yankee fans about how they were 30 games out in May and are now going to win the WS, etc., etc., 26 rings, etc.

On top of it, one annoying Yankee fan kept going on and ON about how Manny is a punk and didn't want to play and is getting traded (it was after 4:00, by the way), until I just wanted to shout, "Hey Asshat, Manny hit the game-winning RBI, so shut up." Fortunately the annoying Red Sox fan beat me to it.

See, I am an equal opportunity hater, baseball allegiance notwithstanding. This Red Sox fan is the type who baits all the Yankee fans in the newsroom with his one argument, which is that the Yankees' payroll is over $200 million. That's the equivalent of the Jeter-has-four-rings argument that dumb Yankee fans use. It says nothing and it means nothing, other than he is an idiot. He didn't even shell out the $15 to listen to RS games over the Internet while at work, so what kind of fan is he, really?

And I will admit, reluctantly, that not all the Yankee fans at work are annoying. Just the ignorant ones, who are unfortunately also the most vocal. The real fans have been quiet, pleasant, and dare I say - even a little bit nervous - this year. Or maybe I'm making that up because it's wishful thinking and it's the middle of the night and I need to go to bed.

In conclusion, the Sox won, the Mets won - all in all it was a good day for baseball. Days like today make me feel sorry for people who don't like sports or are soccer fans.

Hate

2005-07-30T17:14:00.000-04:00

Things one should be doing on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in July:

Lying on the beach, listening to a baseball game on the radio
Drinking mudslides at the Beachcomber
Antiquing
Washing the car
Rollerblading on the Esplanade
Whale watching!
Marinating a steak to cook on the grill later
Mowing the lawn
Eating a hot dog at Fenway
Floating in the pool
Reading a book in the park
Going to a strip club in New Orleans (Just kidding. Save that for October)
Sitting in traffic on Route 3
Eating ice cream
Making fun of white trash at the Altamont Fair (as long as their car doesn’t go into a lake, of course)

Things one should NOT be doing on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in July:

Freezing one’s ass off in a dark basement, writing some stupid shit about Egypt and Al Qaeda for nine freaking hours

Brig Over Troubled Water

2005-07-28T00:19:00.000-04:00

SOMEONE was complaining I didn't specifically mention her in my Cape entry, so here is an entire list of BRIGID-related Cape (and other) "fond" memories:

-Playing Trivial Pursuit with Brig's parents, from which I am still scarred. (Frankfort, my ass)
-"Silence of the Ouijas"
-Sitting in traffic on Route 3 the day JFK Jr's plane was missing
-Peeing in the woods off Route 3, even though there was (probably) a rest stop nearby. (More than once)
-Playing drinking games at the Levitan house, during which we had to name all the freaks who came into Applebee's
--"Sperm-covered cockroaches"
-Trying to open the Corona's with sand
-Making fun of Julie the Jeter-lover
-Monika ordering tea in P-Town (not to be confused with tea bags on the Mass Pike)
-The year Brigid left early.... ha!ha! JUST KIDDING!

...I guess really don't have many specific Brigid-Cape memories. But I do have 5 gazillion fond (ahem) non-Cape memories.

-Wednesdays at the Last Drop
-My birthday, the year Brig tried to kill me
-How it always took us 72 hours to drive to NY from Boston
-Opening Day with the Cahills
-Tammy telling us to be quiet
-The North End parking lot, and the guy who yelled at us at 5 am
-THE Honda
-"White Power!"
-"Well, I'll do it if Kerri does."
-"'Amsterdam' must mean 'short pants'"
-"If you stop crying, your stepfather will buy you a pony."
-Getting locked IN the house
-Cowboy hats in N.O.
-The time we were visiting Allison and thought we could take the subway into town ourselves (which, I think, was also the time Brig LOST HER WALLET at Ikea!!!)
-Jared puking at the Cheesecake Factory
-Crazy Nancy
-Dinner Club
-Those days when we would get manicures in the afternoon and end up at the Last Drop at closing
-The Irish Village
-Donald Regan's grandson
-Photo Hunt!!!
-Mo Vaughn's grand slam on Opening Day the year they weren't serving beer at Fenway because it was Good Friday
-Brigid to Jason the Bartender - "I don't know HOW I'm getting home..."
-Little OJ: "I don't know how to loooove him..."

Etc., etc.

Okay?

Abandon All Hope, Y'all

2005-07-26T01:17:00.001-04:00

I’m still reading (and by "reading" I mean "carrying around in my bag") The Inferno and I can’t help but notice how similar Hell is the subway. In fact, I made a chart:

Hell vs. NYC Subways

Hell	NY Subway
Multi-level	Multi-level
“Steaming from that pit, a vapor rose/over the banks, crusting them with a slime/ that sickened my eyes and hammered at my nose”	River of radioactive sludge on tracks at 59th St.
“And here the stink/ thrown up by the abyss so overpowered us/ that we drew back, cowering behind the wall”	Unrelenting stench of urine, abscessed flesh, rotting tumor and human feces
“The wood leaped with black bitches, swift as greyhounds escaping from their leash”	Rats as big as greyhounds
“Behold the beast that makes the whole world stink”	The guy who's been riding the A train for three days
Sinners there for eternity	People waiting for a C train on a Saturday morning there for eternity
Hot	Really hot
Free	$2.00

Speaking of subways, one thing I've learned after (almost) a year in NYC: If all the subway cars are full, and one is empty, it’s empty for a reason. Like a dead body or no A/C. I think last night they were blowing poison gas into the car as well because although the heat didn’t bother me, by the time I got to 86th St. I was drowsy and hallucinating.

***
Things annoying me tonight:

Having to see an Amstel Light commercial while I’m at work and can’t have one.
The Red Sox lost to the freaking Devil Rays AGAIN.
Everyone on The Restaurant, from Rocco the toolbox to his scumbag bridge and tunnel customers. (I do love the catty staff, though.)
My supreme dorkiness.

***
Notice my restraint in not making any Boy Scout marshmallow-toasting jokes.

If Fishes Were Horses

2005-07-22T19:41:00.000-04:00

I know I always complain about baseball announcers, but the Chicago White Sox announcers are the WORST. They sound like they are on Quaaludes and they have absolutely nothing insightful to say WHATsoever. At least, unlike the Texas announcers, they weren't being all stalky about Johnny Damon last night.

What is this new thing where jeans cost hundreds of dollars? That’s the biggest scam since the $1-per-item pick-your-own-toppings salads that have taken over New York. I just saw an ad for $92 Wranglers. Wranglers! Don’t they sell those on QVC?

(Actually I’d have to ask my mom to answer that one, she is the queen of QVC.)

The latest commercial that annoys me is the Coors Light one in which the people are playing volleyball on the beach and are all hot and sweaty, and then a train comes along carrying Coors Light and makes everything snowy and cold. If I were on the beach, enjoying the sun and a nice hot day, and a train came along and ruined it, I would take someone out with my beach chair. Especially if the train were carrying Coors Light. First the train gives me hypothermia, then it brings me cases of carbonated horse urine. Not cool.

I actually had the opportunity to go out tonight but I am opting to stay in and watch the History channel because I am a winner. I am, however, watching a fascinating episode of Modern Marvels about the history of commercial fishing which begs the question, if dolphins and whales are mammals, why do they try to pass themselves off as fish? What are they trying to prove? If you're a mammal you should be furry and live on land. Not scaly and living in water. Either be a mammal or be a fish. You can't have it both ways.

Dunes of the Cape

2005-07-21T16:19:00.000-04:00

Beach Cam, or Put The Knife In My Heart
And Twist It Cam

My new thing is white wine. It’s light and refreshing and perfect for a summer night at home watching Swingers for the 4,596th time. The only problem is, it’s SO light and refreshing that I drank seven-eighths of the bottle without feeling it at all and woke up this morning with a blinding headache. Now all I want to do today is eat Cheez-its and watch Dr. Phil. (Assuming, of course, I could FIND Cheez-its anywhere in the NYC metro area, because apparently Cheez-its are some kind of delicacy you can only find, in say, Albany.)

I’m very sad because this weekend normally is the weekend my friends and I would be leaving for a week at the Cape, but we are taking a hiatus this year. I would like to say that the pier at Riverside Park is as good as the Beachcomber beach, and that at least there is no 600-ft summit to climb at the end of the day, but I would be lying. At least at the Beachcomber there are mudslides at the end of the journey.

Let me take this opportunity to honor the Cape by recalling some fond moments over the years:

-Being falsely accused of burning holes in the furniture and ruining the grill tools by that dirty c--- Andrea Reed.
-“Green for home runs!”
-Kayla’s dad walking up the road carrying his infant and a 30-pack, presumably on his way home to call the police on us.
-“Offis-sher… Red? or Black?…”
-Danny sexually harassing Allison’s fetus
-“Nomar!” “Jeter!”
-That disgusting smelly room at the Jonathan Edwards motel in Dennis and the sink with no pipe.
-The year it rained for six days (NOT)
-Going to see Danny Popper (or whatever his name is) at the Improper
-Mike dancing (every year)
-David Ortiz’ walk-off two-run single against the Jankees in ‘03, and last year’s A-Rod brawl.
-John Denver: “I crashed in the ocean, I was drunk as a sailor…”
-“Andy?” “No, Danny” “Randy?” “NO, DAN-ny” “Sammy?”

Anyway, here’s to next year.

Even The Nights Are Better

2005-07-19T22:23:00.000-04:00

Thanks to some commercial or TV show I saw recently, I have that Air Supply “All Out Of Love” song in my head. When I looked up the lyrics to find out the rest of the chorus (because I kept singing the “I’m all out of love, I’m so lost withOUT you…” part without knowing the rest, and it was driving me crazy), I inadvertently found the lyrics to “Making Love Out Of Nothing At All,” which means I now have TWO Air Supply songs playing over and over in my head and I want to kill myself. One Air Supply song is okay, two Air Supply songs is a human rights violation.

Shoe Bomber

2005-07-18T21:23:00.000-04:00

If you took “less than 20 seconds” as the over-under on how long I’d wear my shoes today, you’d be a winner. I didn’t even make it to the end of my street before I had to break out the flip-flops. It’s annoying because the turquoise sling-backs are so CUTE, but I’ve only worn them maybe twice because they were clearly NOT made for walking. And since I’m not yet dating David Wright I can’t afford to take limousines everywhere. Therefore, my new policy is to carry the shoes while wearing the flip-flops. That way I can appreciate the cuteness, but still be comfortable.

(Isn’t that fascinating? I can’t imagine why no one has offered me money to write a weekly column about my footwear choices.)

For those of you off during the middle of the day, it’s Bling, Bling Week on Divorce Court. I don’t know what that means because I was watching it at the gym without sound and I didn’t care enough to read the closed-captioning, but it sounds like a good time.

I am so happy. CNBC is showing reruns of The Restaurant, which shows Rocco Dispirito in all his asshat glory. He is every condescending, smarmy, creepy restaurant manager I’ve ever had rolled up into one.

Damn, I'm glad I don’t have to prostitute myself for tips anymore.

Boring

2005-07-17T22:35:00.000-04:00

A message for all you boys out there… if a girl doesn’t return your phone calls after THREE MONTHS, it’s time to let it go. And do NOT call her at 7:30 on a Sunday morning because that’s only gonna piss her off. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people?

Here’s part of an AP story about a car accident in Alabama. The entire family has white trash names:

Golfers at a nearby course were able to rescue Brandee Skinner, the mother. But they couldn't find five-year-old Ashlyn Skinner and her 18-month-old brother, Bryson.

Intervention Quote of the Week:

“When I gamble and win, I feel like the prettiest girl in the bingo hall”

All-Star Break

2005-07-14T20:21:00.000-04:00

I know I’ve been slacking lately. I had to go to Albany last weekend and since then I’ve been a little distracted. The good news is the rat carcass on the tracks at Rock Center is now nothing but a flattened rotting skeleton. It’s been quite a privilege to watch it decompose over the past few weeks.

Yesterday, I went to Gristede’s twice (even though I hate it), and both times I heard the song “Both Sides Now,” and what’s weird is it was two different versions. One was the Joni Mitchell version and the other sounded like Judy Collins. I wonder if that means something. Because when you get down to it, I really DON’T know clouds at all.

Salt Mine

2005-07-08T11:36:00.000-04:00

If there’s anything worse than coming back to work after vacation, I don’t know what it is. Especially when you are chided for not “checking in” during “breaking news” on your day off. Seriously if it was that important, they could have called me. Last I heard, New York City was wired for phone service. Geesh.

(Don’t you love my work ethic? But it’s not like my job is remotely important. When the comet hits us they won’t even let me into the compound.)

I developed a crush on Tony Blair after Sept 11, but it’s waned in the past few months. However, after watching him on a news conference today I think it’s back. He's so sexy when he's threatening terrorists.

Did anyone else watching Wednesday night’s Red Sox – Rangers game on MLB EI notice how the Texas announcer kept obsessively mentioning Johnny Damon? It was disturbing. And I’m not saying that because I’m jealous or anything.

I thought I was handling the transition from margaritas on the beach to the ninth circle of hell fairly well until I saw the word “Uzbekistan.” Seriously, just kill me now.

All The Leaves Are Brown

2005-07-06T18:30:00.000-04:00

Dog Beach

My plane lands amid lightning. I have to wait 35 minutes to pick up my bags at La Guardia, then shove people out of the way to get a cab. The air over the Triboro is so thick it’s actually visible and smells like rotting bodies marinated in carrion. At 2:30 am a gigantic garbage truck in front of my building decides it’s a good time to grind up the recyclables, and at 4:57 am Snoop takes her revenge on me for leaving for five days by scratching the mirror for five hours.

I’m so happy to be home.

In California, it’s sunny every day. There’s no humidity. There are palm trees. There’s a beach JUST FOR DOGS.

On the other hand, in Long Beach everything closes at 11, you have to drive, and strangers talk to you on the street. I was totally freaked out when some man wished me a happy July 4th weekend. Also, everyone looks homeless. At least in NYC they actually are homeless.

I don’t know. I love the city, but it’s good to get away, even if the only Subway they have in SoCal is a sandwich shop (which only has yellow mustard – puke). I also like the three-hour time difference because I feel like I’m getting away with something. From now on, when I sleep till 12:30 pm it's because I’m on west coast time and not because I’m lazy.

It’s pretty cool to think that in only seven hours (or 13, depending on if the Dallas Airport is closed for half the day), you can be on the opposite side of the country. I don’t know how the pioneers did it, traveling for months in those covered wagons, because I get pissed off flying coach.

Notes from flight 744:

Why I hate flying

-The seats suck.
-The sub-zero, 40 mph wind gust blowing on me.
-The plane could plummet out of the sky at any moment.
-There is a man behind me who has been fidgeting and rustling his plastic grocery/carry-on bag THE ENTIRE FLIGHT.
-People who hold up aisle traffic because they have to fit everything they own, including furniture and pets, into the overhead bin.
-The man sitting across from me who apparently has the Ebola virus.
-Flight attendant-speak. Why do they always have to add extra words? It drives me crazy. “We do ask that you wear your seat belt” “We do thank you for flying with us.” Why can’t they just say “Wear your seat belt.” Or “Thank you for flying with us.” Is that so hard?
-The morons next to me trying to do the Mensa exam in the back of the American Way magazine.
-The flight attendant who did not offer me a snack. Just because I don’t want a drink, doesn’t mean I don’t want a snack.
-Why can’t people just sit quietly in their seats? Sit down, be quiet. Don’t touch my seat back and we’ll get along fine.
-People who have call someone the millisecond the plane touches down. Are you the President? No? Then you’re not that important.
-Etc., etc. I get weary just thinking about it.

I’m watching Dogs with Jobs on NGC, and Nipper the RCA dog gets to fly in First Class. What am I doing wrong?

***

Is there anyone in NY who wanted the Olympics? Thank God we dodged that bullet. I hate the Olympics.

End of Days

2005-06-29T00:12:00.000-04:00

I watched this awesome show last night on National Geographic Channel called “End Day” which dramatizes three doomsday scenarios, including a 500-meter wave hitting New York. If a 500-meter wave were on its way to NY, my first question, of course, would be “what's with the metrics?” If a huge wave is coming, they’d better let us know its dimensions in American and not try to obfuscate with any of that crazy metric voodoo.

The most important thing I learned though, and if you watch the National Disaster Channel as much as I do, you know this too... it's not IF the mega-tsunami/meteorite/flu pandemic will hit, it's WHEN.

I just wish we KNEW WHEN because then I would take up smoking.

***

Some funny, but non-shark-related news stories:

Would you like fries with your poodle burger?

Is Al Qaeda after Roy?

That’s why it’s called Scrapplebee's.

WARNING: Do not patronize the Au Bon Pain at 1211 6th Ave, because they will cheat you out of your half-price cookie.