Tuna, spicy pickles, and the boys that plague us...

Please forgive me. I have been ridiculously busy this week and therefore I have fallen down on my sisterly gossip duties.

I am actually jealous you got to go on a family-heirloom-vacation-weekend. Probably a few years ago I would have balked at the idea of a Saturday of old people, but it sounds just fabulous. I really do miss the South sometimes! And of course you all.

Some things of note:
1) Yesterday, as I was in Union Square park eating a lunch of the usual tuna sandwich followed by not one, but TWO smelly pickles, who should walk by... but the latest "former lover" (if you can call drunk partial nudity and one afternoon in central park anything with l-o-v-e in it). It had been a full week since we last spoke, which I suppose is good because had it been more like a full month, it would have been even more awkward for me to yell his name in public. We made the usual small chatter except that I was all weirded out by actually seeing him (bruised ego and all, since he never called me back) and my heart kept pounding. Inside my head I was thinking "why is this happening? what is wrong with me? I don't even like him that much! he's not even that cute! I mean really, he looks even less cute than the last time I saw him sober!" My brain was spending so much time trying to figure out what the hell it was or wasn't feeling that when he asked what I did last weekend I drew a complete blank. And I mean BLANK- like, suddenly my thoughts turned from "oh my god why am I feeling all weird and icky inside" to "oh my god I have dementia! I am losing all memory! I'm dying!" All was solved, of course, when I plucked my precious planner from my bag and flipped to last weekend with an "ohhh I went to some dumb party and the concert!" which was amazing of course.

Of all three times I have ever spoken to this guy after our initial meeting, all of them have included the exact same dialogue about Jay Clifford and Jump and how they-are-so-amazing-and-my-most-favorite-band-in-the-entire-world, interspersed with more oh-my-god's of course. So, basically all he knows about me thus far is that I wear hot pink bras (come on, it was visible under the strappy tank!) and I'm obsessed with Jump Little Children. Oh, and possibly that my breath smells really bad, not unlike spicy pickles. Since of all days to forget your Trident, it would be the one where you run into the former lover. At least my outfit was pretty great- hot pink bra and all. At any rate, we sat and made crap conversation while I tried to figure out why I was having the same feeling I do when I have a big crush. This was a huge problem because, not only is it obviously over (what can be more obvious than an emergency hang-up devoid of a call back), but this guy is SO not crush-worthy. I see literally hundred of guys far cuter and more interesting walk by my very same lunch-bench every week.

Finally, I had it with feeling strange and twisty inside and had to return to the office anyways, so I got up and said goodbye. We did that UGH New York cheek-kiss thing (even though half the people I love do it every time I see them, I still think it's completely pretentious- unless you are French. these people are not French!) and he said, and I quote "I'll talk to you later." YEAH RIGHT! like I don't hear that one every day! Sick and tired of being verbally duped, I replied, "will you?" I think he was still trying to figure out the correct answer to that when I said "cause don't say you will if you won't!" and flounced off (in my hot pink bra. and suit jacket.).

Immediately after parting, I was feeling even more icky at what I said! I called Michael- of course, must have the gay voice of reason- which made me feel a little better, as he always laughs and tells me I did the right thing. Later in the evening, I realized that I genuinely meant exactly what I said, and being outspoken is just how I try to make it very clear that I don't want yo bullshit, man. Seriously. No more apologies for sounding like a bitter hag. Just don't say ya will, if ya won't. Ever.

2) Current office crush & I have had some good, albeit truncated, chats this week. A couple involving my random illness (the sneezes that literally shook the walls and had everyone on my floor hollering "Bless you!" over the cubicles) and another about, I don't know music or something. Computers. Pac-man! He is soo divine. When will he stop calling me sneezy and start calling me- well, calling me! Office phone is cool. I'm have high hopes for the holiday party. Last year was a snooze (though the food was wicked good) so I have no idea what to expect- but I'm hoping for something along the lines of Love Actually, low lights leading to late night flirtations, with some Brit-pop in the background of course.

This is unbelievably long, but I had to make up for the fact that I actually had to WORK this week and haven't gotten around to telling you anything halfway interesting. And halfway it is. Hopefully will have something three-quarters interesting at least to tell you this weekend about my upcoming date with Zvi.

xoxoxoxoxoBon


ps- That design essay is genius- and probably more true than I even know at this point in my life.
pps- On a totally unrelated note, I am getting plastered with Krista, Jenny, Erika, and the lone group-boy Mikey tonight. Thursdays ladies drink FREE at Tre on B'way and we are sooo going when you and Amanda are here!

On design...

http://www.miltonglaser.com/pages/milton/essays/es3.html

Of bags, and books, and family homes...

Your weekend sounds fantastic, and every bit as fun as mine. We went to Hiddenite on Saturday (picked up cud'n Libby on the way) for the little arts fair they have there. Lisa and I perused cheap jewelry and knockoff purses, ate delicious John Deere-made ice cream, met lots of unknown cousins and admired people's fashion choices (and by admired I mean completely and totally mocked). I bought a rather cool boiled wool purse (you would love it, it's very wintery) and some fabulous jewelry. We saw where Nanny was born, and we drove to Vashti to see Neenaw's family's home. We ate both styles of barbecue at Prissy Polly's, where Lisa and I were tickled to death by the bluegrass band playing "Salty Dog". Dad didn't yell the whole day until we got to the crowded (but cheap) gas station.

Last night, as we were waiting for the French movie with Russian subtitles to start on the computer which was hooked to the TV, Melissa and I discovered in the lounge a cache of smutty French novels, complete with scandalous illustrations and illuminating titles. For your perusal, we have

Only one in a series, all taking place in West Coast cities and all with the Executeur in various stages of undress posing naughtily on the cover...












Going Oriental!




















This little lady supports Che with all her nude heart...Er...yeah.




















And my personal favorite, translating to The Gorilla of the Blood in the Caviar: Unedited. Oh yeah. It doesn't get any better than this.





There ya go. My life, in pictures. Tee hee hee.

xxxAnnie

Astoria Love

My life is small and stupid, but every once in a while I desperately love it.

The Jay Clifford show was amazing- he played all my favorites, ALL of them (except the one's sung by Matthew of course) plus Diving Bell- where can I get a recording of that?? Also, would love to hear your thoughts on what it's about. Would also love to hear the story about Cathedrals, since to my dismay, he didn't tell it at the NYC show.

We made all new Astoria friends at a serendipitously random party on Friday, and Jenny is my new Southern-Sorority-Girl partner in crime. Yesterday I danced down the side of the river, since I went so far to the top of Astoria that no one was around to watch me jog-dance my way around the paths that line the banks. I did not find a 4-leaf clover. I did turn off the mp3 player and watch the boats. The sky clouded over but did not rain, and the usual lounging couples in the park were replaced by elementary age soccer games. Megan is using our Sunday dinners for her documentary photo class. I will undoubtedly be documented forever in history as an overeater who laughs too much. I'm not sure what all this means, except that something about it all makes me feel content with how I spent my weekend, even if I have nothing tangible to show for it.

xoxoxoxoBon

ps- I've been listening to Cold Feet on repeat all weekend. SO GOOD. So good, in fact, I only mind a little that we are questioning the possible foot-fetish intent.

Cold Feet

So you know of my great and undying love for Spencer Acuff. As a band, they rate right up there with the Damnwells and just slightly behind Jump, Little Children (David Bowie factors nowhere into this, as he is both an individual artist and a god).

There is this one song (I'm sure you have it) called Cold Feet, which I have pretty much loved from the start. It's just gorgeous, the two guitars, the two voices -- very simple but powerful. David Spencer does have an evocative voice (and of course Will Acuff just makes me swoon). The material is familiar: unrequited love and its sorrowful consequences.

My issue is this: cold feet? What? He loves to play with cold feet.

a) I'm not gonna lie, that's a bit of a fetish right there. And fetishes are kinda creepy. Actually, really creepy. They belong to the Steve Buscemis of this world, and not the adorable rock stars.

b) What do cold feet have to do with unrequited love? I don't see the connection.


A random post for a random day, I guess. My only other news is that Los Potrillos is basically the best Mexican restaurant of all time, and you can order margaritas sans ID there too. :D

xxxAnnie

In Addition

I have begun to think my life is just a series of gaining and losing men in extremely short periods of time. I'll finally meet someone of the opposite sex that I can put up with for more than 2 drinks and can actually stand touching. Then, while I'm still trying to decide if I truly like him or if I'm just lonely for male companionship, he floats away never to be heard from again. Therefore, instead of trying to decide if he's truly worth liking, I'm left feeling forgotten and sad because he's already decided I'm not. I probably didn't like him that much anyways! In about a week I would have had it! When will it be my turn to run first???

Cycle: meet. test the waters. decide it's worth trying for a bit. he conveniently "forgets" to call (except he never has to claim he "forgot," as we conveniently never speak again). I bemoan my fate and park myself in front of Grey's Anatomy with a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

oy vey.

xoxoxoxoBon

It's Not a Clay Nation

I'm going to hope you're not still groovin' on some Clay Aiken, but in case you are, this one's for you: baby's got a brand new style

FYI, I saw him today on Good Morning America and he just wants his sexuality to be left alone. He is a very private person, this Clay, but let's be realistic: nosing into other people's business is an American tradition, just as much as the 4th of July and Sunday football.

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- thanks for the N&O story, I've got a few things to tell them about true love.
pps- where did Amanda get this Waffle of All Waffles?? she must go back there, with me in tow, because now I'm intrigued and must search also. Is best friend coming to WP next weekend? please say yes!

The unattainable, the ephemeral

The Dream sounds a lot like The Waffle. This is a story which Amanda likes to tell. Once, she had a waffle. It was the best waffle in the world, and she was happiest as she ate it. Now, she can no longer eat waffles. Nothing can compare or even come close to this Waffle of Waffles. She is destined to never again enjoy breakfast because it will never again contain The Waffle. Nevertheless, she does not give up hope: she searches the nation, far and wide, at every all-night diner and skanky pancake chain, desperately hoping, desperately craving The Waffle. Someday, I tell her, it will come back. And the wait will have been worth it.


On a different note, this article made me laugh. I'm sure CIO doesn't assiduously check back with its sources' sources, but still. You could tell them a thing or two about the state of the date in the Big Apple, I'm sure.

This is ridiculously, sadly short, but I have an exam in three hours and I haven't read all the fabliaux which I'm supposed to have done, so I gotta get on that aysap. Tonight is the Sufjan concert! I promise a full report soon.

xxxAnnie

The Stupidity That is Wednesday

As She Sees It

Today was a stupid day. It was so stupid, in fact, that I just want to go to bed and dream something non-stupid. How does one do this? I remember one time I had this really good dream- not that I've only had a good dream once ever, but this dream was particularly wonderful in that it literally was everything I secretly wanted and was one of those dreams where you still think you have it for the first few minutes upon waking. I have, since then, been trying unsuccessfully to have the same dream, especially on bad days. I've gotten close a couple times, but those dreams ended up being nothing but poor imitations of The Dream. Maybe one day The Dream will come true. Then we can all sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow and talk about how absolutly terrific life is.

At any rate, the stupidity of today included: finally locating my lost-in-the-mail mp3 player, breaking down and calling someone I probably should have left alone and not even gaining a resolution to my ongoing emotional query, an impromptu last-minute speed dating event, leaving my keys at home (for the umpteenth stupid time) and having to go downtown to get Lauren's, the guy locking up the subway entrance right in front of me, two R trains and a Q before the N, & trying to get the damn mp3 player to work but my computer keeps spitting the software CD out.

Sometimes days are stupid. But, as Michael said earlier tonight, tomorrow's a new day. I have dance class. And Grey's Anatomy premiers. And if I can't have The Dream, at least I'll have McDreamy.

xoxoxoxoBon

Let's go, Tar Heels!

Right now the fans at the soccer game are chanting behind Carmichael dorm. They are also playing a bad soundtrack of Chamillionaire and other hi-klass modern Top 40 artists. It's keeping me from concentrating on my history paper, but that's just one of the many amenities of living here!

The others include

- built-in greenhouses! Just live on the front side of the building, and even with your air on full blast and your fans going, walk in and be pushed back by a wave of stifling heat! The wall-length windows and the nice afternoon sun will ensure that your Coke is always warm, your ceiling tiles grow mold and your room smells really bad!

- built-in freezers! If you happen to live on the back side of the building, you don't get a whole lot of sun. Instead, your A/C kicks in and makes your socks ice over. Opening the windows results in rain blowing in, which gives you a nice, smooth skating surface between the beds.

- muscular boys! That's right; a large portion of Carmichael residents are athletes! They are big, buff and spectacularly dumb! Just ask the 500+ residents who were evacuated at 2 a.m. when the drunken baseball players let a hot dog burn on the stove. On the stove. No pan. Fire alarm. Two fuckin a.m.

- modern elevators! Half the time, one or the other is broken; the other half the time, you get stuck riding up to every floor (yes, that includes the second and third floors) with those athletes we just mentioned, freshly sweaty and odorous from practice. If you're lucky, you're in the elevator whose "door open" and "door close" buttons work, so that you can make as swift an escape as possible.

- alarm clocks! Be it football, soccer or drinking season, you can always count on having someone around to wake you up at 3 a.m., 12 noon or 5 in the evening! Rowdy fights on the sidewalk, break dancers in the ballroom, tailgaters on Stadium Drive and relays in the pool are all effective ways of awakening to a happy and healthy morning. And don't forget that 5 a.m. leaf blower -- sure to get everyone going!

- allergies! Remember that mold on the ceiling tiles? Well it's also in the bathrooms, the air conditioning vents and the baseboards! Yes, it is within the very wells that house you! And there's nothing you can do about it. Take your Allegra, kiddies, or move out, because Mama Mold is here to stay! So what if you lose two or three suitemates a semester? Don't I make a much more exciting friend anyways?


So that was just my housing rant. Pay no mind to it; I think I'm getting crankier about all the problems because all my residents are cranky about them...And when they complain to me, and I have to deal with it...sigh. I like C-Mike, I do. But knowing more about the way the building is run and serviced and maintenanced makes me a bit more jaded.

Anyways, despite the footie commotion, I do have a paper to write before I go play "Je n'ai jamais..." (Never Have I Ever) with the rest of the frogs. Maybe I'll have something terrifyingly gross to say about our ever-favorite MS. Ewww.

xxxAnnie

Naked Food, Keanu, and more nudity

Go here: http://www.capohedz.com/typebrighter/2005/10/really-bad-tattoos.html

the first part is worth looking at, but what you really want is Part 2, where you get to see a version of Keanu's power animal. Just be prepared for a nasty surprise at the end. Don't say I didn't warn you. At least you're not accidentally looking at it in your office like I did.

xoxoxoBon

Don't Tell Anyone!

I have to admit that recently (like maybe a month ago) I got drunk and broke one of my huge rules. I can't believe I did it. I totally regret it. I will never get over it, or forget it.

I ate cheese on purpose.

Yes, I had a few screwdrivers and a couple disgusting shots of vodka with Delia & her visiting crew, and when we were ordering a late dinner at B Bar, the portobello burger sounded SO good that I didn't even ask for it without the mozzarella. When it came I almost tossed those fluffy looking white disks at Lee, but I tried it instead, and - wham! It was good. Since then I have sneakily eaten the free panini samples at the deli and actually enjoyed it. And then the day came when I ordered something with mozzarella, and I was sober. The world is a-changin, girl.

So, let's keep this one a secret from the 'rents. I think I bragged that about it already, but I won't spill your secret. Actually, I ate some eggplant rollatini with Dad, but it can't go further than this. I still hate everything about Feta, though Krista's Haloumi smelled slightly tasty the other night. Ricotta? Don't even go there. Though that lasagna sounded absolutely divine. Can Kirk come visit with you too?

Love the open windows, the current Indian summer, and the fact that we both have amazing shows to look forward to this week- you & Sufjan, me & Jay. Ahhhh....

xoxoxoxoBon

Just FYI

I would just like to say that I just spent five minutes straight laughing at your "I Breathe Oxygen and Also I Poop" group on Facebook, and now my roommate thinks I'm a completely immature moron.

She's probably right, but I think that's beside the point.

Holy crap (literally!), why did I find that so funny?

Because the A/C in Carmichael is broken...

...I woke up this morning to one of my favorite sensory experiences: the smell and cool air and breezy comfort of fall. I know it doesn't start for a couple more days, but after the long, sapping humidity of August and the unseasonably-cold rainy crap of last week, I'm going to pretend it's my favorite season already.

Never mind the construction outside my window, or the people who smoke on the emergency-exit stairs (whose smell bothers me but whose conversation can be pretty entertaining -- "Man, he's just like such an alcoholic!" woke me up at 3 a.m. the other night). Being able to wake up with my windows open is the one thing I miss about being at home in the fall, and until they get around to fixing the A/C (which likely won't happen till the end of this week, I'm told), I get to enjoy it. It makes waking up early worth it.

In other news, I have something to tell you which will make you proud and perhaps fearful. I ate cheese. I know, I know, don't worry: I didn't do it because I thought it would be delicious (although, and don't tell a soul, it kind of was). I was at my friend's dinner party and everything he fixed was cheesy (right down the the kahlua cheesecake, which was fantastic!) and of course I couldn't be rude. So I ate some bruschetta with mozarella (mootzarella, a la dad) chunks, and they didn't really taste like anything; and I ate some lasagna (I know, of all the cheesy things to eat) with chicken and artichokes and I have to say -- it was good. The cheese was more of an alfredo-esque sauce than that gross ricotta business, and it really was good. But that's just because Kirk is an amazing cook.

But I can't tell Mom and Dad or they'll make me eat cheese at home now! My last bastion of non-cheesiness will turn against me and I'll be doomed to eat sticky masses of casserole for everrrrrrr! This is why I need to go to France -- if I eat other people's cheese, it won't be so bad. But Skiver cheese will just make me resentful. I think perhaps you understand what I mean, non?

Here's to hoping that this week will be relatively cheese-free, fun and full of good things, for both of us. (There's the Sufjan concert on Thursday, so I'm pumped about that!)

xxxAnnie

What it's All About

Yeah, apparently waking up before noon is occassionally worth it, or at least it was yesterday. I probably should have spent the entire weekend in bed sucking down chicken soup, but instead I spent it gallavanting all over the tri-state area in the rain and the sunshine and sucking down vanilla rum-and-cokes, and being a crazy twenty something until 4 in the morning. It was absolutely glorious.

When it feels like summer again & I can wear tank tops without sweaters & I can lay around in Central Park doing absolutely nothing for four hours and know that's exactly what I should be doing with my entire afternoon, these are reasons I live here and love living here and why my outrageous rent is the smallest price to pay for all of this.

Yesterday afternoon with J was lovely and hilarious and I'm trying not to think about how much I liked being one of those "icky couples" who lay around on blankets contentedly with each other. Later I got completely silly with Erika off vanilla rum and rode the subway in our sunglasses at night and met up with Lee & crew for the Electric Six show. And it was freaking amazing- that show rocked harder than anything, it felt like letting go of everything except the moment where I was throwing my head back and swinging my hair around and screaming lyrics and not caring what I looked like or who was there with me. After the show, walking all the way down on Houston to a random roof party, coming home at 3 in the morning, eating pita with Krista in the kitchen while Ben passed out on the couch, Lee's bemoaning his broken flip flop....

Today was also quite lovely, Socrates Sculpture Park on the river had a little festival with music and Mark di Suvero and Miss Saturn's hula hoop extravaganza. Miss Saturn named all 6 of her hula hoops and you could tell she actually believed they had real names because she mistakenly introduced the blue one as Cindy Lou and, with a stricken look on her face, said "oh no that's not Cindy Lou, that's actually Nola! Cindy Lou is right here!" while raising the green one into the sky. Dinner was a la Erika and Mikey D- the food was delish- but the best part ever was that the little Mexican girl in the building next door only knows how to say Hi and excitedly yells it anytime she can see someone in the window. She stands there on the other side of the alley, on the 3rd floor also, and jumps up and down and "hi hi hi hi hi HI!" And shows us her toys and Mikey makes faces and laughs heartily for her and she giggles and giggles and hi hi hi.

New York City. Ain't life grand.

xoxoxoxoxoBon

Blahhhhhhhhh

I hope your early rising was worth it...I woke up at 12:36 yesterday and that was too early! I suppose this is the college life. (I did have to set my clock to wake me up at 10:30 this morning, since I have so much work to do...But that was moot since the people yelling outside my window at 9:30 were a much more effective and obnoxious alarm.)

I've had a pretty boring weekend, which I think is a positive thing. Lots of homework, which I should be doing right now...I think I'm going to a dinner party later, if I can find a bus to take me! Anyways, we won the football game at least. If we hadn't, I'd probably cry. We were playing Furman. And we barely won. That was upsetting. Now I'm just holding out for basketball season.

Anyways, I wish I had more interesting things to tell you, but I don't. I wish I were sleeping, or eating, or doing anything but procrastinating...Ugh. I guess it's time to start the history paper, and then the French paper, and then the religion paper. This is why I probably won't go to grad school.

Peace, yo.

xxxAnnie

Why Why Why

I am so sick and I can assure you I would still be sleeping for about the next 3 hours if the bleating of my cell phone hadn't woken me from my Sudafed-induced slumber. I cannot believe I am dragging myself out of bed to go meet J-the non-apostle.... whom I may or may not even like. Since the last time I saw him I was shaking off a vicious hangover, I can't be in the least bit sure of my emotions.

Why why why am I doing this? I would SO rather be eating cous cous and playing with Pods and seeing the family... which sounded lovely, though not really a viable option for me since a few hundred miles currently separates us....

don't even get me started about last night. Rockin show, but the comedy of errors that ensued in trying to get home was less than thrilling. Let's just say it involved a bus leaving us in Teaneck aka wherethefuck NJ, spending an hour in a deserted Dunkin Donuts, and waiting on the sidewalk for a mystery minivan cab.

I love you dearly but I must run into the shower and try to make my nose look less red. Again, I ask myself- ah but you know what I'm about to say, I won't repeat it. Perhaps I will hate him and can come home shortly. I'll keep you posted.

xoxoxoxoxoBon

Lamb chops for dinner make the whole night worth it

Gah, it seems like everyone is sick lately! I'm sorry to hear that you're feeling poorly; however, maybe this Neck of the Tea will get your spirits up, if nothing else. I mean, Ryan Montbleau, right? Good music. You are having fun even now, I'm sure of it.

Go on the opium website to find a Jay friend -- I'm sure there are NYC fans who would be happy to hang out with you! We are all one big JLC family, after all.

Your story about the Daily Show (flippin sweet, by the way, in the Napolean voice) reminded me that Mom told me today how she was really starting to like Oprah and how someone witnessed on it about, like, the hand of God. I just about died laughing -- first Magnum P.I., then the Simpsons, and now Oprah! Into what televised den of iniquity (or masculinity, or smarminess) will we lure Mom next?

It was nice to see her though (even though she yelled at me for messing up the cous cous. Which I did not actually do. She just ended up making extra, which I brought back here with me. All for the best), and the fam in general. I miss being at home sometimes. Most of the time, I'm so glad to be away -- but you know how it is, when coming home just feels so warm and comfortable. I can let the stress and the philosophy readings and the lost football games and the cold rain and the colder A/C just filter away...And I can throw for Pods and eat leftovers and lie on my bed doing the crossword puzzle, if only for an afternoon. I wish I had more time to do that kind of thing.

Anyways, so now it is one a.m. and I had to leave the softness of home to plunge back into the cold, hard world of Carmichael dorm. Work was mostly uneventful, although we did have an incident with one of the "Community Directors" (who was basically a waddling, round beach ball of a Barbie -- absolute dumbass) and I am rather loathe to find out the consequences. Sigh. I have six hours of work tomorrow during the football game, and that sucks. Although I will get my homework done. But I will miss 2/3 of the game. Baahhh.

Stay chill. I'm sleepy. I hope you're tucked safely into bed with some Nyquil and Vick's (rub it on your feet, just like Mom said!). Miiiiiiiiisssssssssss yoooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu!

xxxAnnie

Speaking of Cubicles

If I were talking to you right now instead of typing, all you would hear is *sniff sniffle snot snot ahCHOOOOO* because I am sick as a dog. A small dog, perhaps, but sick nonetheless. hate it. I won't be going home til way after midnight too because I made plans a long time ago to go to the Assembly of Dust & Ryan Montbleau show in Teaneck, NJ (what? where? who knows) with Krista & the gang and it involves multiple forms of transportation. Love the bands, but they're having a hard time getting me through this day.

The Jay show sounded AMAZING- I so hope the one here is as good, and that I can find someone to go with me so I'm not stuck trying to befriend people who don't want any more friends like last time.

Things of note here:
Yesterday I went to a taping of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, with Boot. It was awesome to see Jon & the production, esp. as I had until then never been to any kind of show, taping, live, or otherwise. What was not awesome was that we had to wait for almost two hours between the time they told us to be there and the time it actually started. S'ok though, it was worth it- even though I highly doubt you'll see me on TV. Watch tonight at 8 anyways, it was hilarious.

Also yesterday, current office crush hollered out his cubicle when he heard me talking to someone in the hallway, which was funny and nice. No other interesting tidbits on the love front though.

Speaking of cubicles, I just realized this morning how utterly bizarre and disconcerting it is to be walking through your office and hearing all these different voices coming from seemingly nowhere, as all you see are beige fabric covered walls. It's like the cubes are talking to you or just talking in general since usually there are about 5 different conversations happening at once. Even sitting at my desk I always hear this Indian woman talking like 10 decibals above everyone else, and the weird part about it is I know all these people's voices, yet I have never met them. Why? Because they are all hiding in their cubicles! Or they don't exist! Either one.

I don't want to go to lunch, I want to go to sleep. Unfortunately, the best option I can think of is going to the Barnes & Noble and curling up in a chair, if I can find one. Even this involves going back out in the rain. Bah humbug I want to be a hermit but I have to pretend to be cool and have a life and go out on a Friday night.... even if it is only to Teaneck.

xoxoxoxoBon

To take one more breath from the diving bell

The Jay show was AMAZING! Despite the rain, and the cold, and the shady J bus ride down to Carrboro, it was one of the best nights of music I've ever experienced.

Nick and I got there in the middle of the opener, Meghan Coffee. I'd group her with the Martha Wainwright category of "Bloody Mother Fuckin' Asshole" singers, except with much less profanity. She had this one fantastic song about New York subways and not finding love in the city and I thought about you. Perhaps she will play it at next week's show. And also the song "Rockefeller." I bought her albums; I shall lend.

Jay was adorable, as usual. He had two guitars and a turntable and he took requests! Of course, everyone wanted to hear Mexico and Say Goodnight (and even My Guitar -- how the hell was he going to do that?) and he played all that and more. He played an original song called either Invisible Sun or Invinceable Sun, which was fantastic. He told the story of Cathedrals (which I had never heard before, and which was UHHHMAZING; maybe he'll tell it at the New York show. It involves wacky drugs, a bag of fruit and urination), and then played it. I yelled at the top of my voice for him to play The Diving Bell -- and he did. I may have been the only one in that club who had ever heard the song before. It's the most beautiful I've ever heard him sing (and that includes Forget My Loss). If he takes any requests when you're there, get him to do that one. It will blow you away.

It was definitely worth the thirty-minute wait for the J bus back, and the fifteen-minute wait for the P2P, and all the cold wetness. We made friends with two girls who live in Nick's building and commiserated about the sadness of the band breaking up and didn't really care that we had to get up for 8 a.m.s and work in the morning.

I hope next week's show is just as magical for you! This picture here is everyone raising their hands for requests. Although you can't see it very well, every time the applause started to fade, the hands shot up. He was picking raised hands rather than shouted stuff, which is why it was amazing that he even heard me yell.

Your gay porn story made me laugh out loud! I'm sorry that it traumatized you, but seriously -- only in New York! Hee hee. And it pleases me that you enjoyed you some OTH. I can't wait till season four starts in two weeks! Mean Dan is truly a douchebag -- you should have thrown your drink in his face! He was even the villain in a Lifetime movie! You know that is bad!

I'm running off to film class now, but here's one more adorable picture to make your day.

So cute! I love Jay!

xxxAnnie

ps let's make banana nut pancakes again when I come up in October, kay?

Dirty in the Mornin

Two things of note happened today:
1) On my way to work today, I saw a little Indian storeowner sweeping up a big pile of papers in the gutter, which is nothing out of the ordinary... it looked like someone had either dropped or thrown a big pile of printer paper in the street, all white 8.5 x 11 black and white sheets, nothing flashy, until- I glance down at said papers and realize they are big printed pictures of gay porn. All men in blindfolds and engorged body parts and who knows what else- I wasn't about to stop and stare. I couldn't tell if they were all of the same guy, or if they were homemade or even, hell, someone I knew from the neighborhood. Quite frankly, I don't want to know- I just sadly wonder why this happened at all. DId someone drop them and run away? Did someone maliciously throw them there as vicious revenge on a former lover? Or maliciously throw them there to hurt the conservative Indian business owners that make my neighborhood a place I love? I don't know- let's just say I don't so much want to see a peepshow like that first thing in the morning.

2) One of the other designers picked apart the client service invitation I designed because two of the text boxes were literally- seriously- two pixels off. To be fair, Illustrator CS deemed them centered, as something about the font and some of the letter being in caps vs. not made the two phrases a sliver off. I couldn't believe we were getting so nit-picky: after all, this is something the naked eye could hardly detect (unless, apparently, you have a Design Degree and are used to squinting at pixels day in and day out). In the end, it mattered not- and truthfully, neither does this story. What matters is what happened a couple hours later, when the aforementioned coworker sent me a quick email with a humorous quote about designers picking at each other's work constantly, like doting parents. It sounds ridiculously insignificant and yes cheeeeesssse but I, well, really felt like I was something- like I was finally recognized for what I wanted and worked to be- an designer, an artist, someone with a real career... in a really silly way I felt like I was part of "the club," like I was finally recognized by my coworkers as someone with real talent and real ideas. A far cry from my last job, where I had talent in churning out assignments and invoices and contracts and office supply orders and pots of coffee- but I always felt like no one actually thought that my skills were made of something finer.

that's about it, I also went running and got my nails done and made friends with an exceedingly gay man named Dustin who also gets his nails done on Wednesday, and now I am watching One Tree Hill and it is suuuuch a guilty pleasure. god I can't even believe I am admitting I watch it (on the rare Wednesday's I'm home)- but I really hate that bad dad- I met him once in a bar in Wilmington and couldn't help but think he must be a douche even then.

I guess that was more than two things. the rest of them were not of much note though, to be sure.
xoxoxoxoxoBon
ps- the NC/student discount does not apply to alcohol :(
pps- I am so jealous of your banana nut muffin. you know they are my favorite food ever.

Raindrops keep falling on my head...as drivers who are supposed to Yield to Peds whiz by and splash me

I can't believe there has ever been, in the history of mankind, a Club Quizno's. Let me assure you that it is not the most happening of places, so you're probably better off never experiencing it in the first place. I'd have been much more satisfied if it had turned into a HomeMark and I could have bought tacky mugs and pictures of old men peeing instead.

When you go to the NY Cosmic, just show them your NC ID! Or does it not work for drinks...? I don't know if we can even get that tasty sangria down here...I shall have to try this weekend.

Why, yes, I am a religious studies major. And French. No, I don't know what I'm going to do with either one of them. Leave it to the kid who put up copies of the 95 theses on the doors of the Catholic high school to decide to study religion...It's definitely a lot different than theology class, though. No more nice Mr. Childs. These professors are rabid! (Not that Childs wasn't rabid, but at least he let us watch Angels with Dirty Faces. That's classy).

Do not do not do not feel like a fatass. I went into the pitiful campus market intent on buying something healthy for lunch; I emerged with a can of Pringles, a bag of Gardetto's and another bag of those tasty little brown things which are found in Gardetto's (finally, finally they've started selling those all on their own! And how delicious they are!). I ate off all that for lunch, plus some (very healthy, so I don't feel too terrible) spicy Indian soup from Mama Sunjay and I just had an apple (four for 92 cents in the reject bin at Harris Teeter -- but in my fridge, they've crisped up and are basically the most delicious apples of my life). I felt so guilty about my lunch binge that I went to work out...And I felt so intimidated by the buff chicks next to me that I worked extra hard! Plus, I have to walk at least to Franklin St. tonight (possibly to the Cat's Cradle), and it's raining, and I feel like I deserve it. Kind of.

I probably don't deserve the banana nut muffin I'm about to eat, but that's not stopping me from eating it.

You do follow the Rules -- you outlined them the other day! However, it is nice to think that they are not the retarded rules of ugly old women who don't get laid (and wear control top panty hose underneath long, denim skirts) and more like the rules of a young, hip urbanite who has more fun than nine dogs, or something like that. J the non-Apostle sounds like he has the makings of decency -- I mean, knowing how to pick up a phone is a good start, right? Let me know how that one goes.

I will post a fantastic picture tomorrow of the Jay show! I'm putting my camera in my bag right now!!

xxxAnnie

ps I am so very jealous that SR came to NYC and not here! We have supported Michael Flynn so many times in the past!

At First, When I See You Cry, It Makes Me Smile

currently absolutely LOVING Lily Allen. you so want to go there. download smile 1. go. you know you want to. like the icing, so bad and yet SO GOOD.

I adore you for carrying copies of your schedule in your small purses. I haven't gone that far yet, but then again all my bags are quite large, which is neccessary when you spend all your days wandering around the city with half your possessions in tow. I will admit to carrying the planner to the bar, but I find it exceedingly handy since I write everything from directions to numbers to websites to addresses, etc in it and I can find anyplace I've ever been just by looking in that week. this is most useful when a bad date took me to a good place and I want to find it with someone I actually like. if I get nothing else from the gusy I go out with, at least I am sometimes introduced to interesting hole-in-the-wall japanese bars and Italian restaurants with the best truffle pasta ever.

I can't believe there was no Club Quizno's when I lived in NC. I feel slighted. even more, I can't believe there is no Club Quizno's in all of New York City. perhaps there is, and I just don't know about it. I must make a note in the planner to seek this out. and one big fat HELL YES to Cosmic. it just couldn't get better if it tried, could it? well, I can mention one thing that would make it better- import the NC price to the NY location. two pitchers for $20?? unbelievable. ah the price we pay to live here is sooo much more than just exhorbitant rent... still worth it? yep. just gotta reality check every once in a while.

since when are you a religion major? romance languages...? QUOI? (insert French Little John here) quooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiii???????

as far as my day, I had lunch with [and the rest has been edited for content, as in I don't want to be a bad friend and say anything too snarky, except that I ALWAYS feel like a fat ass cause she eats, like, nothing] I then returned to the office and had an hour long fight with DHL and USPS BOTH. how lucky a girl am I. I should just stop buying things online, right? easier said than done. also, J the non-apostle actually did call (which I did not really expect, but then again this is how it all started with The Galleria too... wait maybe this is not a good sign after all). we discussed the TV show Weeds, swimming at the Y, and my sleep disorder. according to The Rules these are not appropriate conversation topics, but then again neither was last Saturday. also, since when have I ever followed The Rules? I have so little self control I can't even follow one.

I can't help but wonder: since I haven't met the elusive "right guy," and it's become increasingly obvious that this is a much more daunting task than anyone originally anticipated- while I wait, should I just be having fun with all the wrong ones?

xoxoxoxoBon
ps-the slowrunner show ROCKED- thanks for always being my new music connection

Speak of the devil...

If we're talking routines, let's all laugh at Susannah for not only accidentally turning off her power strip yesterday, thus necessitating the re-setting of her clock; but let's also laugh at her for setting her alarm as p.m. rather than a.m. Point and laugh, people. Point and laugh.

As a result of this unfortunate blonde moment, I woke up at exactly nine o'clock this morning -- aka the time I am supposed to be at the front desk, opening up. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying not to wake up Melissa while pulling on clothes, splashing water on my face and jamming my eyeballs with my fingers (the contacts didn't do much to cushion, I'm afraid). I made it downstairs before 9:10. Victory! Unfortunately, the lack of shower/coffee/morning routine entirely fucked with my head, and I had to make a quick trip back upstairs within the hour in order to retrieve some much-needed java.

The rest of my day has followed suit: I've said retarded things in class ("Quelles sont les qualites de Mickey Mouse?" ..."Euh...il aime son chien?"), eaten shit at lunch (poor quality, un-Circus-worthy burger with surprisingly decent fries) and failed to do any work whatsoever (including the reading for my Lit class). Although I'm amazed at my ability to take a shower in under five minutes (between the end of my shift at noon and my class at 12:30), I won't be repeating today's little joys any time soon. Oy.

I too am wedded to my Week-by-Week. Every time there is even a possibility of something happening, in the planner it goes. Without that thing, I would probably still remember when my film papers are due, but I guarantee they wouldn't be as good (because without proper prior planning, I wait to do shit till the last minute -- NOT a good idea). I also have multiple copies of my schedules -- if for some reason my planner can't come with me (my Vera purses are too small for it), my wallet still has a neatly-folded, highlighted outline of my next three weeks. Comforting.

Your weekend sounds much more exciting than mine, although I did have a startlingly wonderful revelation sometime after midnight on Saturday: Cosmic doesn't card. Not in New York, and not here. We got two pitchers of margaritas for twenty bucks, and I must say they were good. Definitely a step up from Club Quizno's, which didn't serve alcohol at all.

What is Club Quizno's, I hear you asking. Well, my dear, when good little subs go to bed and their footlong parents have tucked themselves in, their home becomes one giant tolling toaster of iniquity. The DJ pulls out his laptop and "spins" some mad Young Joc, the bouncer makes guys pay three dollars at the door and the spinning light ball goes round and round and round, trying desperately to make the entire situation seem a bit less laughable. Really, we only went in to see what it was all about. Tables cleared out, absolutely no bar and only two other "patrons" in the place. We DIED.

One of the other girls was nice enough to take this picture of us. I think the drink machines behind me are really classy. I mean, where else are we going to get this kind of a happening time?

I can't believe some dudes actually paid.


That was the highlight of my weekend (don't even get me started about the football game...Bloody John Bunting and bloody Joe Dailey). And probably my week, although the Jay show tomorrow night will give it a run for its money. I have to find a bus that will at least take us down there, even if we have to walk back in the dead of night (I'll have Nick with me, although how much protection he will afford me, I'm just not even sure).

Back to religion. Why am I majoring in this again? The lecture last week about messianism in the Graeco-Roman world just LOST me. I think I'm too dumb for this.

xxxAnnie

ps - Yes and it was amazing. I really have the urge now to buy a tube of icing just to eat it. SO GOOD. AND YET SO BAD.

Let's Blame it on Mom & Dad, As I Usually Do

girl, it's in the genes. it must be. there is no other reason for us, both young and interesting creatures, to be habitual old ladies at the ripe old ages of 19 and 23. I can completely empathize with everything you wrote of, since you are speaking to the Queen Creature-of-Habit. I use it as an excuse for just about everything, from eating tuna salad EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY to being unavailable on Saturday mornings (weekly movie & muffin) to constantly re-adjusting picture frames that Krista moves to make me mad. I don't know how it got to be this way, I only know that besides having to eat the exact same breakfast and lunch on the exact same days, there are many other ways in which I prove my anal retentiveness, each and every day.

Rule #1 (and this is a big one): if it's not in the planner, I don't do it. This is not to say that if I have a gap between activities or something minor changes I can't just hang loose, but basically no one else realizes that they cannot just ask me to go somewhere or do something at the last minute. If I have realized one thing by reading countless online dating profiles, it's that the words "spontaneous" and "adventurous" and "young" are wrongly thought to be synonymous. Everyone wants to be young and spontaneous. I want to be young and adventurous. I can be adventurous without being spontaneous. No one else gets this. As my close friends (and sometimes strangers) have come to find out, I will literally try ANYTHING and go anywhere- but it must be either pre-planned or fit neatly into the weekly diary.

Rule #2: you cannot change me. You cannot change this aspect of me. If your name is not in my planner on a certain day, or someone does not cancel on me, or it is not the rare Friday in which I have nothing to do, you will just have to wait. I constantly wonder how I got to be such an old woman about this, how I must seem so rigid when I pass up shopping at Bloomie's for my daily workout, and why I get so irritated when people "forget" about things they have to do and it affects me. I think a lot of it must have to do with Dad and his 7 P's : Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Yes, that being drilled into our little brains must be a large reason why such petite and sweet young girls act so militaristic when it comes to our daily schedules. The other thing that must have contributed is the simple fact that I have rescheduled or missed too many nail appointments for boys that, in the end were not worth it. Nail appointments, "me time" that is so desperately needed after a long day, my "date" with Sun-Wah Chinese takeout that I looked forward to since the crappy salad I had at lunch- these are things that seem a little sad and unimportant, but are endlessly more fulfilling on a regular basis than a person who is unfulfilling on a non-regular basis. And I don't mean this only about the boys who have let me down in the past, but female friends who are SO spontaneous that they forget important details too (like when and where to be somewhere). Most of my friends are amazing people to hang out with, but the few that can't handle actually following our plans have left me waiting at a club or eating dinner alone in Chinatown one too many times.

My daily rituals, my obsessive planning, my writing every detail in the little book so I won't forget it, my carrying the little book everywhere so I'm never lost- this will never end. I have come to terms with the fact that this is who I am, and while I will never turn down an invitation to live music, a new restaurant, or a dance-off, I will want to know EXACTLY where and when I am going. And if you can't tell me, I refuse to wait on any more street corners while you get your act together.

having said all that, truthfully, I must tell you that last weekend was one of the rare occasions where I did not exactly follow my rules. it started off being a little play-it-by-ear because on Friday I originally had plans with one of the apostles, M (take a stab at it dear) but something came up at work and he couldn't make it to dinner. which ultimately turned out to be fine with me because I had simultaneously been invited to happy hour by another apostle, P, and I was pretty sure his cute coworker, one of the Lance Armstrong twins, would be there- so I was definitely in. so it even began unplanned and I just had to go along with it. I did get some good flirt time in with Lance Armstrong, before I found out that we had a 10-year age gap and he was "really diggin" this girl named Cindy. but anyways. fast forward to Saturday night and a new cast of characters. I went with Carolina to Shawn's party in Williamsburg, where I was determined to meet a cute guy "in real life," which rarely happens. And I did. And I visited his mad cool loft apartment with other random people I had just met. And we stayed up all night, and I found out the sun rises around 7 these days. And I was a little bit naughty. And his name begins with J and is not an apostle name. And this was sooo not me. What was me, I guess, was that I totally won the dance-off (if it hadn't spun out of control after Carolina and I brought it DOWN), and that I really miss college and staying up all night, and not having to go to work (this being a Sat-Sun event I really didn't). Perhaps my subconcious (or my drunk conscious) was trying to chip away at the responsible side that usually rules (or ruins) my life. Whatever it was, it was damn fun- and even though I didn't get home til after 10 am, I don't feel all that bad about it. In all fairness, by the time I trekked around B'burg to the second party, I hadn't a clue where I was and therefore could not possibly try to get home anyways. I probably would have ended up in the East River or eaten alive by subway rats while I waited for the L, if I even made it back to the station.

sorry for the length of this (as usual) but I started it 3 hours ago and have added bits between meetings and eating yogurt (which yes, I must do every morning at 11)

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- COOKIE CAKE! JEALOUSY! and diabolical red lips? supreme.

So what else is new?

I wish I could say I had any sort of similar revelation to yours in Union Square today, but I cannot. Such is the life of the college student, perpetually self-absorbed, constantly caught up in the egocentric world of paper deadlines, fat-burning workouts and cookie cakes.

That was indeed the high point of my day: the cookie cake. It's suitemate Jenny's birthday today, and Melissa and I decided to make her a cake. Regular cakes are too much work (and require the purchase of eggs, oil and other foodstuffs which no one in a dorm actually has) and cookie cakes mean we can eat the stray bits of dough which don't make it into the pan. Mmm mmm good. After some difficult icing (who needs directions to operate a tube of icing? What?) decorations, we sang a silly happy birthday, popped open the white zin (she did turn 21, after all) and celebrated. It was gratifying to see her so happy. If only everyone were so easily pleased...

Anyways, the rest of my day was dull as dishwater. Nothing new. I feel like I fall into a rut at school, but I like it so much that I don't notice it! I mean, I get sick of the work and the endless stream of responsibility, but I wouldn't trade the freedom and the fun (however infrequent it may be in the middle of the week). I am a creature of habit, but I hate it. Why can't I be one of those people who embraces change and spontaneity and all that exciting shit that makes for good reading? It almost makes me question my desire to live abroad and do the Peace Corps...Almost.

It's too late to think too deeply. I need some of that leftover icing to help me finish this film paper. It turns my lips red, and I feel diabolical.

Love and stuff,
xxx Annie

FDNY Looked a Little Different Today

hello dear, sorry I couldn't chat much earlier, but this is one of the major problems associated with having a real job... no more long luxurious lunchbreaks. but, then again, when did I ever get long luxurious lunchbreaks? from what I remember they usually involved running for a pre-made packet of mediocre sushi on campus or sitting in the golfcart snarfing down a grilled chicken sandwich between beer runs at Bryan Park. anyways.

after we hung up, I almost had a moment in the middle of Union Square, which is not the best place to have a moment, good, bad or otherwise. but something about living in New York City during the anniversary of 9/11, and hearing the band play "All You Need Is Love," and knowing (or at least believing) that it's true, and that even after all that- a lot of other people believe it too- is just really something. and I can't really cry, because I'm not directly affected by it, and I don't really have a reason to, but just thinking about what it all means, still today, is this bizzarre and unsettling feeling, though not exactly in a bad way. more like a sad but proud way.

but it aso makes me feel a little like how I do when I walk around the city on a bright, clear day and look up at the buildings and down at the sidewalk and across at the millions of people I see every single day and think, God- I am so lucky to live here, and also God- I love my life. and I just know moments like these, they really make it worth living, and I hope everyone has them. today I felt like I love this city and these people I've never met and September and even my small little life, and I thought about how lucky I am to be able to feel this fine on this day.

that's about it, I feel that I should just update you on the craziness that was this weekend tomorrow- you can wait anxiously with anticipation :) in the meantime, do tell me more about M.S. in your dorm (yeah you know) without getting too graphic, and your new haircut (be as graphic as you'd like) and also anything else worth noting in the land of the babyblue-and-white....

xoxoxoxoBon

How It All Began

dearest Annie: I am a crap sister for forgetting to write you back- I must have bipolar email habits as I sometimes sit and stare into the empty inbox for hours waiting for something delicious, and other days am just too busy to be bothered. anyways. I have fabricated the most superb idea that is beneficial on so many related levels. I often think of our meandering emails as a very good measure of how our lives are going, as if we put them into a book I would be able to read between the lines and glean not only a sense of who I am, but of other important things that I may not have realized before. and as an added bonus, a compilation would provide me with not only a timeline but a comedic interlude for many years of job-slacking to come. combine the flowery language we so adore with the internet culture we equally adore, and we've got quite a blog on our hands. I claimed I'd never give in to the narcisstic impulse to bare my soul (or sell my soul) to any and all who happen to stumble on my url, but I do believe this will be a better (and prettier) format for our ramblings and grumblings and will make quite a souvenir by the time we're old ladies (you with your aging Indian hubby, I with my cats). I have never deleted an email from you, but let's face it- the "Sanny" folder is taking up some space in all 3 of my email accounts.

so, what do you say? shall we write?

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- we must have an utterly fabulous title- any ideas?
pps- I promise my next diatribe will include all the juicy (and not so juicy) details about the latest office crush, the guy with the drug dealer, and dating the 12 apostles.

My dearest sister,

Could you ever have come up with a cooler plan?  I took a long break from all forms of writing this summer 
(including my anemic livejournal) but this seems like the perfect way to get back into it.  I'm tickled pink.  
A sisters blog!  I think this may be a first in the history of the intarwebs.

I shall try my very hardest to come up with a clever title.  Let me pore over my song lyrics and quote books 
and other fabulous mementos and I will let you know if I have any ideas.  And you do the same please!

I'm off to read Left Behind (for religious studies, not my own interest; the one time I tried to read it on my 
own it kind of bored me) and fall asleep early...It's been a long week.  Thank goodness tomorrow is 
Friday -- that means one class and a haircut at Aveda!  Oooh la la!

I await news of the drug dealer and the 12 apostles with all eagerness and excitement!  Stay cool like Mr. 
Frostee, yo.

xxxAnnie