MLB Extra Innings package: $159
Broken remote: $20
Alcohol and therapy: $879,034
Being a Red Sox fan: Priceless
Monday, August 21, 2006
Brutal
MLB Extra Innings package: $159
Broken remote: $20
Alcohol and therapy: $879,034
Being a Red Sox fan: Priceless
Friday, August 11, 2006
Leftovers
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
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
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Twelve Steps
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.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Reunited
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!)
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!)
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Diary of a Hangover
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.
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.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Lion's Den
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.
“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.
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