I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but I go through periods where I get unnaturally obsessed with one particular thing to a point where I get tired of it and usually abandon it. It ranges from foods to music to people to activities. It's like I can never have enough of it to fill my want/need, but then it dissipates as fast as it came. I become bored. It becomes ordinary. One good thing that comes out of this is that I could never really be "addicted" to any one particular thing for an extended period of time, because that period of time usually doesn't last very long. What isn't good about this is that my people connects tend to waiver over time....once I get bored them, I supposed.
Anyway, here is a list of things I'm currently obsessed with. It may change soon.
1. Sandwiches- I love sandwiches. You can't have a bad sandwich especially when it is made with everything you like. However sloppy to eat, however unappetizing it is to others. I can eat a sandwich for every meal every day and be satisfied. I used to work for Subway. I was an amazing sandwich maker. I wish they paid more because I would definitely go back and make sandwiches for a living.
2. Jalapenos- I don't know where this came from. It's a new obsession. Guess where I put them? Yup, my sandwich.
3. Pizza- I once had pizza 5 times in 6 days. Twice on one of those days. That's not ok. Except, if you order the right things, it's actually one of the healthier meals you can have. And cheaper. I like my chicken, tomato and onion pizza or a nice barbecue chicken pizza. THE pizza place to be at is Pizza Park on 66th street and 1st Ave. I will travel from the Bronx to eat there. I believe they are also opened 24 hours. That's a win-win for everyone.
4. My Blackberry- No surprise. I got it on January 26th and have not put it down since. They don't call it a crackberry for nothing. I definitely should attend a meeting about this obsession. I'm not sure if it's the instant Pandora application that is so appealing or the fact that I can be on Facebook with just a push of a button. Or that I can take pictures and videos at any time or....you get the idea. I'm in love.
5. Blogging- I write my thoughts down all the time. I always did. Except, now I type them out and post them for the few of you who care about what I think (or are just entertained by me). This is where obsession 4 comes in handy. I can write things down any time a good idea strikes me. That’s usually several times a day. I can write down 3 different blog ideas in one day and faster than I can complete a 3 page paper for class. That reminds me, I should probably finish the two incomplete papers that are in my bag….
6. Garbage- No. Not trash. The band. Their album was one of the first I ever got. I’ve been listening to their older stuff nonstop. I like pretending I’m 12 years old, in my room and listening to Shirley Manson’s voice come out of my purple radio. It’s one of the best albums in my opinion. ‘Supervixen’ is an amazing opening song for the album. This makes me happy….and it’s not even raining ;-)
7. photographs- I used to take pictures all the time. I like it. It’s easier than painting or scrap booking. Who the hell has time to clean up the mess that is left after those activities? I’ve been walking around NYC taking pictures and getting back in touch with my city. We’re always so busy and tend to forget how amazing our city is when we’re barreling down the street, looking at our crackberry, listening to our ipod and carrying 4 bags. Chill out. Take a picture. You can sometimes see things better afterwards.
That’s it for now. These are some things I just got over:
1. Salads
2. Queens of the Stoneage
3. Flyleaf
4. Lady Gaga
5. Paul Newman’s pineapple salsa
6. Jamba Juice
7. staying out WAY past my bedtime on weeknights
8, The Office
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I Don't Sleep To Dream
Are dreams merely a random series of scenes triggered by images we see and interactions during the day OR are they prophetic and could serve as a warning if we really took the time to analyze them? Too many times I’ve been left with images imbedded in my mind. I can still recall dreams I had 10 years ago. I can feel now what I felt while I was in the dream. I used to write them down and analyze them. If you believe Freud, they come from the unconscious. They are manifestations of our hopes, fears and wishes. The unconscious warps and distorts the meaning of its information and prompts us to uncover an unresolved internal conflict. The problem is, that we don’t know what the hell it is.
Ever wake up upset at a person because you just had an unpleasant interaction with them in a dream? Either you’re angry, disappointed, upset, scared, sad (we rarely remember the really happy feelings). The feelings transfer to real life. Especially when the feeling is so intense. I recently had one of those. I still can feel what I felt. I’m unsure if the dream feeling transferred to real life or if I had the feeling all along in real life and it was only felt in my subconscious…
Most of the time we shake it off and say “it was just a dream”. Instead, we should be looking at it subjectively and asking ourselves, “Why is our unconscious warning us about this and what is it trying to tell us?” We should probably listen to ourselves more.
I had a dream a few weeks ago about a polar bear. It grabbed my leg with its mouth and began to drag me underwater. I remember thinking and panicking before my head hit water, “I don’t know how long I can hold my breath for! What if I don’t make it?” Then, I’m underwater. Drowning. Now, I blame the polar bear on my German professor (and I told her so). Our lesson was about the Zoo that day. But the drowning? Maybe I was feeling overwhelmed and felt like I was metaphorically ‘drowning’ in life. I couldn’t get a grasp on things. Maybe I felt panicked because I had no control over things that couldn’t be controlled—like a giant polar bear. I don’t know. This dream was right after the first one I mentioned, about the person that disappointed me. I’m not sure if they have anything to do with each other. Looking back now, it was probably a foreshadowing of the future….
For now, I’ll just keep holding my breath and see how long I can make it before I drown.
Ever wake up upset at a person because you just had an unpleasant interaction with them in a dream? Either you’re angry, disappointed, upset, scared, sad (we rarely remember the really happy feelings). The feelings transfer to real life. Especially when the feeling is so intense. I recently had one of those. I still can feel what I felt. I’m unsure if the dream feeling transferred to real life or if I had the feeling all along in real life and it was only felt in my subconscious…
Most of the time we shake it off and say “it was just a dream”. Instead, we should be looking at it subjectively and asking ourselves, “Why is our unconscious warning us about this and what is it trying to tell us?” We should probably listen to ourselves more.
I had a dream a few weeks ago about a polar bear. It grabbed my leg with its mouth and began to drag me underwater. I remember thinking and panicking before my head hit water, “I don’t know how long I can hold my breath for! What if I don’t make it?” Then, I’m underwater. Drowning. Now, I blame the polar bear on my German professor (and I told her so). Our lesson was about the Zoo that day. But the drowning? Maybe I was feeling overwhelmed and felt like I was metaphorically ‘drowning’ in life. I couldn’t get a grasp on things. Maybe I felt panicked because I had no control over things that couldn’t be controlled—like a giant polar bear. I don’t know. This dream was right after the first one I mentioned, about the person that disappointed me. I’m not sure if they have anything to do with each other. Looking back now, it was probably a foreshadowing of the future….
For now, I’ll just keep holding my breath and see how long I can make it before I drown.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
I should be sleeping but...
So, I'm checking out people's blogs. Just going through to see what's out there. Here are some of the topics I've come across:
1. Jesus- a lot about Jesus. Don't these people have to go pray or ask for money for their church or something. Jesus doesn't blog. He turns water into wine. Or something like that. I'm gonna leave Jesus for another day though...
2. New families- another big topic. Recently married couples who just had their first child and feel the need to document every moment of their new perfect life. We get it, you're a cute family. And obviously the wife is staying home with the kid and has lots of free time to blog about poop.
3. 'In Memory of' pages- families/friends who think it is necessary to immortalize their deceased loved ones in a blog. That's creepy. And I'm not really sure that person is looking down (or up) from wherever it is that they are and saying "Fuck yeah! I got a blog bitches! And 54 followers."
The most recent 'this is uncomfortable to even read I'm sorry I ever clicked the next blog button' goes to a woman who thinks it is necessary to document her struggle with her inability to carry a child. The caption underneath the title mentions abortion, miscarriage, in-vitro and other things that one should not be bringing up as a topic for chit-chat at a cocktail party.
But, who the hell am I to say what one should blog about.
1. Jesus- a lot about Jesus. Don't these people have to go pray or ask for money for their church or something. Jesus doesn't blog. He turns water into wine. Or something like that. I'm gonna leave Jesus for another day though...
2. New families- another big topic. Recently married couples who just had their first child and feel the need to document every moment of their new perfect life. We get it, you're a cute family. And obviously the wife is staying home with the kid and has lots of free time to blog about poop.
3. 'In Memory of' pages- families/friends who think it is necessary to immortalize their deceased loved ones in a blog. That's creepy. And I'm not really sure that person is looking down (or up) from wherever it is that they are and saying "Fuck yeah! I got a blog bitches! And 54 followers."
The most recent 'this is uncomfortable to even read I'm sorry I ever clicked the next blog button' goes to a woman who thinks it is necessary to document her struggle with her inability to carry a child. The caption underneath the title mentions abortion, miscarriage, in-vitro and other things that one should not be bringing up as a topic for chit-chat at a cocktail party.
But, who the hell am I to say what one should blog about.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
We're just branches on a tree
A couple of weeks ago I took a late night walk with a friend down the lower part of Manhattan (in the wrong direction, of course). We ended up talking about people and how we all affect each other. Most of the time without even knowing it. I must have seen a tree during the walk because I ended up making a tree analogy. I believe the actual quote was: We're just branches on a tree that keep running into each other. We're constantly just fucking each other (this was said while I repeatedly crashed my hands into one another).
We don't realize how much our actions and words affect others. We don't realize how affected we are by other people. We also don't see how similar we are to each other. The problem you have now, is probably the same one I just had or am having at the exact same moment. If only we talked to each other more then maybe we could help each other. Maybe we could understand each other.
When I finally got on the train (in the right direction), I began writing. And this is what I got....
We are branches on a single tree
Sometimes we meet,
Sometimes we barely touch.
We intertwine with some
And bypass others.
Sometimes we're broken,
Sometimes we're strong.
Some reach far up
And some hardly leave ground.
You bloom
While I die
But we belong to the same stem
Our lives rooted together.
Underneath the rubble
Of broken dreams.
We don't realize how much our actions and words affect others. We don't realize how affected we are by other people. We also don't see how similar we are to each other. The problem you have now, is probably the same one I just had or am having at the exact same moment. If only we talked to each other more then maybe we could help each other. Maybe we could understand each other.
When I finally got on the train (in the right direction), I began writing. And this is what I got....
We are branches on a single tree
Sometimes we meet,
Sometimes we barely touch.
We intertwine with some
And bypass others.
Sometimes we're broken,
Sometimes we're strong.
Some reach far up
And some hardly leave ground.
You bloom
While I die
But we belong to the same stem
Our lives rooted together.
Underneath the rubble
Of broken dreams.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
What's in a name?
Brand names. Band names. People names. Some don’t make any sense. Some should be illegal.
Sunkist. I get it. The sun metaphorically kisses the grapes to make raisins.
Dunkin Donuts. What one should be doing to their delicious morning pastry.
Pathmark. Negative. What’s the mark? Now, pathMART, I get. A path that leads to the mart. I looked up the history of it. It means nothing. No reason. Why name it at all? Why not just ‘Path’?
The Toadies. Unappealing. I have a vision of war covered band members and bogs. And also a disinterest in listening to their music however good it may be. Name change!
There’s a band from California called ‘Fartbarf’. No thank you.
Shithead. Pronounced shee-theed. Negative. It’s ‘shit head’ put together and pronounced differently. You are both grammatically and verbally challenged, my friend. Don’t name your child that.
Femalé. You can’t put an accent on the end and make people pronounce it differently. It’s female. As in: the gender. Let’s all be honest—you were too lazy to name your child properly because you were probably drunk. Which is exactly what got you in trouble in the first place. Which leads me into…people who name their kids after alcoholic beverages, foods, animals, inanimate objects, concepts, or professions. Alizé. Apple. Sparrow. Blanket. Audio Science. Pilot Inspektor.
Huh? Negative. Name change. Now. You’re an idiot. And probably a drunk. Plus, you just guaranteed yourself that your child will grow up to hate you and need decades of therapy. Congrats.
Sunkist. I get it. The sun metaphorically kisses the grapes to make raisins.
Dunkin Donuts. What one should be doing to their delicious morning pastry.
Pathmark. Negative. What’s the mark? Now, pathMART, I get. A path that leads to the mart. I looked up the history of it. It means nothing. No reason. Why name it at all? Why not just ‘Path’?
The Toadies. Unappealing. I have a vision of war covered band members and bogs. And also a disinterest in listening to their music however good it may be. Name change!
There’s a band from California called ‘Fartbarf’. No thank you.
Shithead. Pronounced shee-theed. Negative. It’s ‘shit head’ put together and pronounced differently. You are both grammatically and verbally challenged, my friend. Don’t name your child that.
Femalé. You can’t put an accent on the end and make people pronounce it differently. It’s female. As in: the gender. Let’s all be honest—you were too lazy to name your child properly because you were probably drunk. Which is exactly what got you in trouble in the first place. Which leads me into…people who name their kids after alcoholic beverages, foods, animals, inanimate objects, concepts, or professions. Alizé. Apple. Sparrow. Blanket. Audio Science. Pilot Inspektor.
Huh? Negative. Name change. Now. You’re an idiot. And probably a drunk. Plus, you just guaranteed yourself that your child will grow up to hate you and need decades of therapy. Congrats.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Who's Alyssa Milandris you ask??
I have an alter ego. Her name is Alyssa Milandris. I didn’t create her, she was given to me. Now she’s a part of me. It’s one of my favorite stories of all time:
A bunch of us were hanging out at the local bar after work. 4 hours and a handful of cocktails later, one of my coworkers(we’ll call her Ms. Wrong ;-) ) was talking to some guy and I walked over.
She turned to introduce us and said (slurred) to him: Have you met Alyyyyssa Millllllandris??
My response: I don’t believe I have. I DO know a ‘Natasha Alexandris’ but no Alyssas.
We all thought this was the funniest thing and we talked about this mysterious lady all night long. I told the story to a friend of mine (let’s call him Jolly Green Giant) and he agreed that was the best name ever and decided to put it in his phone along with a made up phone number.
Cut to Monday. JGG comes up to me and my friend (we’ll call him Mr. Fabulous) and asks us if we know who the hell Alyssa Milandris is because he found her name in his phone. Me and Fabulous look at each other. I ask JGG if he really doesn’t remember. He states he has no idea. So, Fabulous and I get the same idea: make JGG believe he met the girl of his dreams and make him feel like an idiot for not remembering. Operation AM begins.
I start: How can you not remember her?! She was amazing! You guys were talking and dancing. She was hot! She gave you her number. C’mon, this is what happens when you drink too much. That sucks for you.
JGG: I don’t want to call her if I can’t remember who she is. I have no recollection of this. Are you sure? She could be the girl of my dreams.
Me: Absolutely. She was really cool. I think you should text her. But do whatever you want...
Weeks went by. Every so often JGG would ask, “I still can’t believe I don’t remember her. What if she’s the girl of my dreams?” I kept up the charade. It was the funniest thing ever because the poor guy was so tortured. So, finally we were sitting down and he stops me again and says, “who was Alyssa Milandris?! It’s driving me crazy”. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just started laughing and shaking my head and said: You’re such an idiot! I’M Alyssa Milandris!!!
Now, everyone agreed that it was a magnificent name and that Alyssa sounded like a really cool chick. So, whenever we went out and I got a little too crazy, people would say: Oh, here’s Alyssa!!
She was great. I’m more confident as Alyssa. She’s loud, fun, silly and doesn’t care what other people think. Whenever I need that boost of confidence I think: WWAD?? (What Would Alyssa Do)
We all have our own alter ego. Our own little Sasha Fierce. Our own Alyssa. Find yours, introduce yourself, and let them take over for a night…sometimes we just gotta relinquish control. And I have a feeling Alyssa's coming out full force tonight....
A bunch of us were hanging out at the local bar after work. 4 hours and a handful of cocktails later, one of my coworkers(we’ll call her Ms. Wrong ;-) ) was talking to some guy and I walked over.
She turned to introduce us and said (slurred) to him: Have you met Alyyyyssa Millllllandris??
My response: I don’t believe I have. I DO know a ‘Natasha Alexandris’ but no Alyssas.
We all thought this was the funniest thing and we talked about this mysterious lady all night long. I told the story to a friend of mine (let’s call him Jolly Green Giant) and he agreed that was the best name ever and decided to put it in his phone along with a made up phone number.
Cut to Monday. JGG comes up to me and my friend (we’ll call him Mr. Fabulous) and asks us if we know who the hell Alyssa Milandris is because he found her name in his phone. Me and Fabulous look at each other. I ask JGG if he really doesn’t remember. He states he has no idea. So, Fabulous and I get the same idea: make JGG believe he met the girl of his dreams and make him feel like an idiot for not remembering. Operation AM begins.
I start: How can you not remember her?! She was amazing! You guys were talking and dancing. She was hot! She gave you her number. C’mon, this is what happens when you drink too much. That sucks for you.
JGG: I don’t want to call her if I can’t remember who she is. I have no recollection of this. Are you sure? She could be the girl of my dreams.
Me: Absolutely. She was really cool. I think you should text her. But do whatever you want...
Weeks went by. Every so often JGG would ask, “I still can’t believe I don’t remember her. What if she’s the girl of my dreams?” I kept up the charade. It was the funniest thing ever because the poor guy was so tortured. So, finally we were sitting down and he stops me again and says, “who was Alyssa Milandris?! It’s driving me crazy”. I couldn’t take it anymore. I just started laughing and shaking my head and said: You’re such an idiot! I’M Alyssa Milandris!!!
Now, everyone agreed that it was a magnificent name and that Alyssa sounded like a really cool chick. So, whenever we went out and I got a little too crazy, people would say: Oh, here’s Alyssa!!
She was great. I’m more confident as Alyssa. She’s loud, fun, silly and doesn’t care what other people think. Whenever I need that boost of confidence I think: WWAD?? (What Would Alyssa Do)
We all have our own alter ego. Our own little Sasha Fierce. Our own Alyssa. Find yours, introduce yourself, and let them take over for a night…sometimes we just gotta relinquish control. And I have a feeling Alyssa's coming out full force tonight....
Thursday, April 15, 2010
We're all just smaller children
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is one of my favorite books of all time. It’s the first book that made me cry. I was 18 years old. I sobbed as I read it until I couldn’t even make out the words. I wasn’t sure what had just occurred. What was it about the little Prince that made me have such a strong emotional reaction?
It’s presented as a children’s book. It’s sold in the children’s section of Barnes & Noble. The illustrations are childlike. But it’s not just for children. It’s so much deeper and every time I read it I learn something new.
It teaches me about love and personal growth and reminds me that we were all once children. Children who have now lost their innocent curiosity and naiveté; those who forget to learn and to ask questions. I was never a child. Just like the little Prince I was always an old soul trapped in a little body. He’s so small yet so brave, and naïve yet so much more thoughtful than the grown ups.
One day, the little Prince feels compelled to leave his planet and explore the other planets. In doing so, he leaves behind everything he knows and loves—most importantly his flower. It just appeared one day—bloomed and blossomed—and the little Prince loved her. Until…one day he didn’t. He began to find her vanity and indifference towards him annoying and he resented having to tend to her. (This of course, was not her fault since she was only a flower and didn’t know any better. She was too proud to tell him how much she loved and appreciated him. When he leaves, she pretends not to care but turns so he doesn’t see her cry.)
He claims several times throughout the story “I was too young to know how to love her”, which is a rather advanced self-reflection for a little Prince with limited interactions with other people. Anyway, towards the end of his travels, he comes across a rose garden full of thousands of identical flowers that looked just like his. He eventually realizes (with the help of the fox) that his flower is nothing like them. Physically she is, but she’s much more special than they are because HE loves her. He learns from the fox that, “it’s the time you spend on your rose that makes your rose so important”. He learns, but he learns a bit too late. He’s already millions of miles away from her and he spends the last part of the story trying to figure out how to go home. How to get to his flower.
Think about your favorite toy as a child. Chances are your friends had the exact same thing. But that didn’t make you love yours any less. Because it was different. Because you saw it differently. And that made you love it even more. That’s what we forget. We forget to see the things that are right in front of us. There’s no particular formula for figuring out why we love the things we do. We just do. Because WE think they’re special.
Maybe I’m not so much the little prince as I am the flower who aspires to be like him.
My goal is to read The Little Prince in as many languages as I possibly can. 3 down. I have 2 more in the works. What’s so awesome about this book is that the lessons and feelings are transferred through the translations. That's pretty amazing. I have at least 2 more times of late night crying to do….
It’s presented as a children’s book. It’s sold in the children’s section of Barnes & Noble. The illustrations are childlike. But it’s not just for children. It’s so much deeper and every time I read it I learn something new.
It teaches me about love and personal growth and reminds me that we were all once children. Children who have now lost their innocent curiosity and naiveté; those who forget to learn and to ask questions. I was never a child. Just like the little Prince I was always an old soul trapped in a little body. He’s so small yet so brave, and naïve yet so much more thoughtful than the grown ups.
One day, the little Prince feels compelled to leave his planet and explore the other planets. In doing so, he leaves behind everything he knows and loves—most importantly his flower. It just appeared one day—bloomed and blossomed—and the little Prince loved her. Until…one day he didn’t. He began to find her vanity and indifference towards him annoying and he resented having to tend to her. (This of course, was not her fault since she was only a flower and didn’t know any better. She was too proud to tell him how much she loved and appreciated him. When he leaves, she pretends not to care but turns so he doesn’t see her cry.)
He claims several times throughout the story “I was too young to know how to love her”, which is a rather advanced self-reflection for a little Prince with limited interactions with other people. Anyway, towards the end of his travels, he comes across a rose garden full of thousands of identical flowers that looked just like his. He eventually realizes (with the help of the fox) that his flower is nothing like them. Physically she is, but she’s much more special than they are because HE loves her. He learns from the fox that, “it’s the time you spend on your rose that makes your rose so important”. He learns, but he learns a bit too late. He’s already millions of miles away from her and he spends the last part of the story trying to figure out how to go home. How to get to his flower.
Think about your favorite toy as a child. Chances are your friends had the exact same thing. But that didn’t make you love yours any less. Because it was different. Because you saw it differently. And that made you love it even more. That’s what we forget. We forget to see the things that are right in front of us. There’s no particular formula for figuring out why we love the things we do. We just do. Because WE think they’re special.
Maybe I’m not so much the little prince as I am the flower who aspires to be like him.
My goal is to read The Little Prince in as many languages as I possibly can. 3 down. I have 2 more in the works. What’s so awesome about this book is that the lessons and feelings are transferred through the translations. That's pretty amazing. I have at least 2 more times of late night crying to do….
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
I'm a ridiculous person and I know it
So, it happened. my parody of "Bad Romance" is up on youtube.
And I will be the first to admit that it is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done. I can't help but turn red in the face every time I watch it. I neither like to hear my own voice or see myself on film but I have to say that it is something I am very proud of. I have pretty much never ever followed through with anything I ever said I was going to. All these ideas swimming in my head, taking up space, going nowhere.
As ridiculous as I am at times, I am proud of this video. So, enjoy. I know I did.
And no, alcohol did not play a MAJOR role in the making of this craziness ;-)
I think my song goes hand in hand (haha!) with Pink's u + ur hand. Watch them back to back, then spend some quality time with your Stan:
And I will be the first to admit that it is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done. I can't help but turn red in the face every time I watch it. I neither like to hear my own voice or see myself on film but I have to say that it is something I am very proud of. I have pretty much never ever followed through with anything I ever said I was going to. All these ideas swimming in my head, taking up space, going nowhere.
As ridiculous as I am at times, I am proud of this video. So, enjoy. I know I did.
And no, alcohol did not play a MAJOR role in the making of this craziness ;-)
I think my song goes hand in hand (haha!) with Pink's u + ur hand. Watch them back to back, then spend some quality time with your Stan:
Monday, April 12, 2010
Sometimes life throws us curve balls...
Sometimes things happen to us in our lives that don't make any sense. They come out of nowhere and leave us standing there scratching our heads. Sometimes we're left wondering "what if...". Left thinking about how our lives would be different if we took another route. Maybe even one we never thought we'd be on.
Today is one of those days for me.
Sometimes we just gotta go with the flow.
And sometimes, we gotta suit up, grease our hands, and knock that fuckin' curve ball out of the park.
Today is one of those days for me.
Sometimes we just gotta go with the flow.
And sometimes, we gotta suit up, grease our hands, and knock that fuckin' curve ball out of the park.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Public Indecency
Making out in public. Gross. Not just kissing. I mean really sucking face. It’s cool to be so into each other that you’re unable to control your innate carnal urges but, you know what’s not ok—watching two really, really drunk people grope each other, hump each other and lick each others faces while you’re trying to have a drink and a conversation with your friend. It was 9pm on a Wednesday. We sat two seats away from this couple (both unattractive. PDA is really not cool when you have to watch two fuglies. Sorry, but it’s true) who were all over each other. So in the middle of the tongue wrestling, he slurs “you’re the best kisser I’ve ever had”. The person I was with suggested he may have lightly groaned at the end of his statement. Cue throw up in mouth.
Slurring. That’s a way to a girl’s heart. Actually, I guess it goes for both sexes though. Really not attractive. If you ever get to the point that you’re slurring your words, you should probably remove yourself from all present human contact and turn off your cell phone. No one wants to hear a slurrer—on the phone, in person, or otherwise. Anyway, for a man in this state of inebriation it additionally (and usually) is joined by the inability to get the Little Man up once you lovebirds reach the casa. Fail.
In short, unless your goal is to turn me on and have me join you, please refrain from sucking each others tongues while I’m within hearing/seeing range. Thanks.
Slurring. That’s a way to a girl’s heart. Actually, I guess it goes for both sexes though. Really not attractive. If you ever get to the point that you’re slurring your words, you should probably remove yourself from all present human contact and turn off your cell phone. No one wants to hear a slurrer—on the phone, in person, or otherwise. Anyway, for a man in this state of inebriation it additionally (and usually) is joined by the inability to get the Little Man up once you lovebirds reach the casa. Fail.
In short, unless your goal is to turn me on and have me join you, please refrain from sucking each others tongues while I’m within hearing/seeing range. Thanks.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Just some thoughts today....
Current thoughts:
Ever leave the house and realize 10 minutes later that you really should have added a belt to your pants? Now, it's too late to turn back. So, you spend the rest of the day tugging up your pants. On some days, you even refrain from being obligated to carry anything in your arms for fear that you will unintentionally expose your drawers (or bare ass) to a couple dozen people on the street.
Why do people feel the need to impatiently wait for the doors of the train to open and immediately bumrush those of us trying to get off? Is that just a New York thing? I understand you've had a long day and would like to get a seat, but you can't get one if you don't let me off. So, move bitch. Get out the way. Then maybe you can plop your fat ass on the dirty subway seat and be proud that you fought (and made it) through those obnoxious people who tried to get OFF your train car in order to make room for YOU.
While we're on a subway rant, this problem was brought up by my sister. Why do we(you know you do it!) descend the steps into the subway station, get to the platform and proceed to the edge of it in order to look down the tunnel to see if it's approaching the station? You can usually hear(and feel) the large, fast train coming. So, chillax people. It's not gonna get here any faster by you telepathically willing it to.
Escalators. Has anyone else noticed that when escalators are broken we complain about having to walk up the now stairs, but when they actually work we voluntarily walk/sprint up them like we suddenly have somewhere really important to be?
We are a people who are never satisfied.
Good night and good day, my little chickens
Ever leave the house and realize 10 minutes later that you really should have added a belt to your pants? Now, it's too late to turn back. So, you spend the rest of the day tugging up your pants. On some days, you even refrain from being obligated to carry anything in your arms for fear that you will unintentionally expose your drawers (or bare ass) to a couple dozen people on the street.
Why do people feel the need to impatiently wait for the doors of the train to open and immediately bumrush those of us trying to get off? Is that just a New York thing? I understand you've had a long day and would like to get a seat, but you can't get one if you don't let me off. So, move bitch. Get out the way. Then maybe you can plop your fat ass on the dirty subway seat and be proud that you fought (and made it) through those obnoxious people who tried to get OFF your train car in order to make room for YOU.
While we're on a subway rant, this problem was brought up by my sister. Why do we(you know you do it!) descend the steps into the subway station, get to the platform and proceed to the edge of it in order to look down the tunnel to see if it's approaching the station? You can usually hear(and feel) the large, fast train coming. So, chillax people. It's not gonna get here any faster by you telepathically willing it to.
Escalators. Has anyone else noticed that when escalators are broken we complain about having to walk up the now stairs, but when they actually work we voluntarily walk/sprint up them like we suddenly have somewhere really important to be?
We are a people who are never satisfied.
Good night and good day, my little chickens
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Should I be flattered??
Ladies, we’ve all been in this situation (some of you men too. I know how sassy chicks can be)
You’re walking down the street/waiting for the train or bus/sitting in Starbucks (location doesn’t matter. Choose your setting). A man comes up to you/passes you by/sits afar gawking (again, choose your poison). As you’re minding your own business the “ppsst”, “hey sweetie”, “hey gorgeous” begins. You ignore. They continue (usually it doesn’t matter if you acknowledge them or not). “Damn, your fine”, “why aren’t you talking to me?”, “where are you going?”
Now, it’s flattering to be acknowledged for your physical appearance. I can tell you from experience that being ignored is a confidence killer but…why can’t a person walk up to another person civilly and say to them: How are you? I was just admiring your physical beauty and was wondering if maybe we could grab some coffee sometime. BAM!!
Oh, right. That’s way too hard. It requires more effort than just obnoxiously uttering to a girl “hey sexy” and then walking away (or having them walk away because you’re such a dickwad).
It is also not okay to touch, grab, rub up against, slap an ass, or pin another person against a wall. Especially if you don’t know their name (for those of you who do know my name, feel free to do any of the above mentioned. I enjoy them all). I’ve been in all those situations and I can tell you that it makes me not want to deal with men at all. Of course, it’s not the nice guys who do any of those things (some of us wish they would) but it’s the ones who don’t stand a chance.
This is not a man bashing post. I do have faith in the few good ones I’ve met. But those cockasauruses are giving you dudes a bad rep and something needs to be done about that.
Here’s an example of a very nice encounter I had with a middle aged man a few months ago:
I was sitting on the train going home reading a book and listening to music (so, unlike me, I know ;-)) Anyway, this man comes up to me and says: Excuse me, but you’re really beautiful. I’m not hitting on you. I just noticed you and wanted to tell you that.
I smiled, said ‘thank you’ and continued reading. He got off at the next stop, said ‘have a nice day’ and that was it.
I walked home with a smile on my face that day. Being acknowledged felt good. Especially since I was hung over and felt like crap. Those encounters make you want to walk down the street or wait on the train platform or sit at Starbucks more often.
You’re walking down the street/waiting for the train or bus/sitting in Starbucks (location doesn’t matter. Choose your setting). A man comes up to you/passes you by/sits afar gawking (again, choose your poison). As you’re minding your own business the “ppsst”, “hey sweetie”, “hey gorgeous” begins. You ignore. They continue (usually it doesn’t matter if you acknowledge them or not). “Damn, your fine”, “why aren’t you talking to me?”, “where are you going?”
Now, it’s flattering to be acknowledged for your physical appearance. I can tell you from experience that being ignored is a confidence killer but…why can’t a person walk up to another person civilly and say to them: How are you? I was just admiring your physical beauty and was wondering if maybe we could grab some coffee sometime. BAM!!
Oh, right. That’s way too hard. It requires more effort than just obnoxiously uttering to a girl “hey sexy” and then walking away (or having them walk away because you’re such a dickwad).
It is also not okay to touch, grab, rub up against, slap an ass, or pin another person against a wall. Especially if you don’t know their name (for those of you who do know my name, feel free to do any of the above mentioned. I enjoy them all). I’ve been in all those situations and I can tell you that it makes me not want to deal with men at all. Of course, it’s not the nice guys who do any of those things (some of us wish they would) but it’s the ones who don’t stand a chance.
This is not a man bashing post. I do have faith in the few good ones I’ve met. But those cockasauruses are giving you dudes a bad rep and something needs to be done about that.
Here’s an example of a very nice encounter I had with a middle aged man a few months ago:
I was sitting on the train going home reading a book and listening to music (so, unlike me, I know ;-)) Anyway, this man comes up to me and says: Excuse me, but you’re really beautiful. I’m not hitting on you. I just noticed you and wanted to tell you that.
I smiled, said ‘thank you’ and continued reading. He got off at the next stop, said ‘have a nice day’ and that was it.
I walked home with a smile on my face that day. Being acknowledged felt good. Especially since I was hung over and felt like crap. Those encounters make you want to walk down the street or wait on the train platform or sit at Starbucks more often.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Let me clear something up...
So, some of you might have seen (and should have seen) the making of One Person Romance. The actual music video is probably going to be released this week. Now, to the casual observer, it may seem like a John Mayer hate video. This was NOT my intention. The song began while on the 6 train about a month ago. I starting making up crazy lyrics to Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance. It began with “don’t want your lovin’ cuz I got my own hand…” The rest is history. It developed more than I ever thought it would. People heard me working on it. I threatened to sing it. People were onboard.
I enlisted the help of the ever so talented Eleni Vorvolakos to make this a reality. I figured we would sing it and the video would be mostly of the two of us sitting there and giggling. Nope. Once the creative juices started flowing we had an idea. During our break between recording and filming we ran into Jackson Church….
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I cannot stand John Mayer. I’m not sure what it is about him but he makes me shutter. It may be the ridiculous faces he makes while playing guitar. Or the repetitiveness of his lyrics. Or the douchy things he says in interviews and while on stage. Your choice. I am completely aware that if the time ever came when Mayer hit on me in a bar, I would probably end up sleeping with him. The thought of catching an STD does loom over my conscience but I’m ok with admitting that I would. I’m also okay with admitting that he is a very good guitarist. That, I will give him. But someone needs to muzzle that boy.
Anyway…so, back to Jackson. Oddly resembled Mayer. I told him so. Then I got an idea. What if Mayer made a cameo in the video as a creepy man with a guitar…which led into him being my co-star. As the night progressed the ideas became larger and crazier than I could ever imagine. Eleni took the video in all sorts of directions and proved to be not only a great singer/songwriter but also a great director and video editor as well.
So, enjoy the teaser. The video’s gonna blow your mind. And if you know John Mayer, send him my love…and my number.
I enlisted the help of the ever so talented Eleni Vorvolakos to make this a reality. I figured we would sing it and the video would be mostly of the two of us sitting there and giggling. Nope. Once the creative juices started flowing we had an idea. During our break between recording and filming we ran into Jackson Church….
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I cannot stand John Mayer. I’m not sure what it is about him but he makes me shutter. It may be the ridiculous faces he makes while playing guitar. Or the repetitiveness of his lyrics. Or the douchy things he says in interviews and while on stage. Your choice. I am completely aware that if the time ever came when Mayer hit on me in a bar, I would probably end up sleeping with him. The thought of catching an STD does loom over my conscience but I’m ok with admitting that I would. I’m also okay with admitting that he is a very good guitarist. That, I will give him. But someone needs to muzzle that boy.
Anyway…so, back to Jackson. Oddly resembled Mayer. I told him so. Then I got an idea. What if Mayer made a cameo in the video as a creepy man with a guitar…which led into him being my co-star. As the night progressed the ideas became larger and crazier than I could ever imagine. Eleni took the video in all sorts of directions and proved to be not only a great singer/songwriter but also a great director and video editor as well.
So, enjoy the teaser. The video’s gonna blow your mind. And if you know John Mayer, send him my love…and my number.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Mis-Communication
I’m better at communicating through writing than I am through speaking. I like organizing my thoughts to make sure they’re understood properly. Sometimes I want to say so much that the things I shouldn’t be saying leave my mouth while the things I should be saying still float in my head. It’s a problem I’ve been wrestling with since I began speaking.
Authors, songwriters, playwrights, poets…they all have that in common. It’s easier for them to express themselves through written word. Ever hear a song and wonder who the singer was talking about? Because the meaning of the words was so clear and precise and obviously meant to be heard by a specific person. It’s like a private letter that’s only meant for one person but it was found on a park bench and now we’re all reading it and passing it around. We figure that if we don’t say names or specific places or events then people wont know who or what we’re talking about.
So, next time you want to know what I think, how I feel or what I believe in, have me write it down. I promise you that it’s going to be way more honest and to the point than anything that will come out of my mouth...
Authors, songwriters, playwrights, poets…they all have that in common. It’s easier for them to express themselves through written word. Ever hear a song and wonder who the singer was talking about? Because the meaning of the words was so clear and precise and obviously meant to be heard by a specific person. It’s like a private letter that’s only meant for one person but it was found on a park bench and now we’re all reading it and passing it around. We figure that if we don’t say names or specific places or events then people wont know who or what we’re talking about.
So, next time you want to know what I think, how I feel or what I believe in, have me write it down. I promise you that it’s going to be way more honest and to the point than anything that will come out of my mouth...
yup. This is happening.
Hey kids,
I figure since people find me so entertaining in person then I could take a moment out of my busy schedule and occupy some space in cyberspace. The ONLY space we care to occupy at this point in our existence. We’re so detached from reality. From person to person interactions. Facebook. Myspace. Twitter. Blogs. And anything else that fits into that category. Our attempt to be someone. To make a mark. To exist. To be a celebrity. To make people care about us. About what we think, what we do. In reality, no one cares. There are too many ‘celebrities’ to keep track of. To care about. Too many who appear and disappear just as quick as the thought they just posted.
I’m usually not one to follow the masses but I’m climbing aboard….for now.
I figure since people find me so entertaining in person then I could take a moment out of my busy schedule and occupy some space in cyberspace. The ONLY space we care to occupy at this point in our existence. We’re so detached from reality. From person to person interactions. Facebook. Myspace. Twitter. Blogs. And anything else that fits into that category. Our attempt to be someone. To make a mark. To exist. To be a celebrity. To make people care about us. About what we think, what we do. In reality, no one cares. There are too many ‘celebrities’ to keep track of. To care about. Too many who appear and disappear just as quick as the thought they just posted.
I’m usually not one to follow the masses but I’m climbing aboard….for now.
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