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Thursday, April 29, 2010

WHERE THE EFF IS MY HAT?




True confessions: in college, I used to dyke it up all the time. What did I wear to the bar? A Ralph Lauren Polo, jeans, Adidas shower shoes sandals, and my beloved PUMA baseball hat (if I was feeling extra fancy, I'd wear sneakers rather than the shower shoes). That hat and I have gone through a lot. Three years of college and two years of living in NYC. And while I moved here and started leaving the hat at home more often, it was still my favorite.

Now, I legit can't find it and it's like I've lost an arm. My apartment is only so big, where could it be? I can't even remember the last time I wore it, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would NOT have left a bar, no matter how wasted, without that hat.

This shit is SERIOUS. I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't find it soon.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

It's officially summer!



It wouldn't officially be summer until some idiot says, "Hey, what's that on your arm?"

I have psoriasis. I’ve had it since I was little, and when I was an insecure middle schooler, I tried, literally, everything to get rid of it. The problem? You can’t get rid of it. You can control it, but it’ll never actually go away. What triggers it? STRESS. Obviously, since I’m someone who is stressed out 95% of the time, I am the perfect person for this disorder.

So what do I do to control it? I moisturize a lot, occasionally sit in a bathtub full of salt water, and go tanning because UV rays are supposed to help. But for the most part, my attitude towards it is basically indifference, because at some point, you accept that you are going to be plagued with this forever and you just deal with it. What am I going to do? Wear a burka? Only wear long sleeves even though spending the summer in New York is like hanging out on the surface of the motherfucking sun?

In terms of diseases and disorders, I’m kind of okay if I get through life with only this one. At its worst, it’s just awkward. If you Google it, you’ll see extreme examples of it, which I don’t really have. It’s on my arms and legs, and most of the time, I don’t think it’s really noticeable. That is, until some douchebag brings it up.

It is always, always, ALWAYS the same question:

“What happened to your arm? Is it a rash?”

Okay, first of all, if I had a rash, even a temporary one, would I want to tell you about it? Who the fuck is like, “Yeah, man, let me tell you about this crazy rash I have!”

News flash: a rash is awkward. A chronic skin disorder is worse, and now you’re forcing me to tell you about it.

It’s fine that you noticed it. You have eyes—congrats! But honestly, why do you have to blow up my spot? It’s rude, plain and simple.

Am I all like, “Yo, what’s that crazy huge thing on your face?” and force you to say, “Oh, it’s my giant, unattractive nose.” Do I say, “Hey, what’s that crazy chair with wheels you’re sitting in?” and force you to say, “Uh, I’m in a wheelchair because I’m paralyzed from the waist down.” Do I come at you with, “What’s that ugly drapey fabric you’ve got all over your body?” and force you to say, “This a dress I just bought.”

It’s the same motherfucking thing. There’s a girl in my office who has a bum leg and she hobbles around all day. Do I say anything to her about it, even when she breaks off to take the freight elevator up to the mezzanine level of our office? No, I shut the fuck up because she’s obviously handicapped and probably doesn’t want another asshole asking her what’s up with her leg. Trust me, there’s no hilarious story that goes along with this.

And of course, after they ask and I say, “Uh, its psoriasis,” they have to continue with the awkward line of questioning. Do I put lotion on it? How long have I had it? Does it itch?

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

Just walk the fuck away and fucking Google that shit if you want to know so bad.

Seriously, I think I’m just going to stab the next person who asks me about it. And when I’m on trial for murder, this blog entry will be used as evidence as to my mental state of mind and then I’ll be cleared because I’m obviously insane and it will be a victory for every person who has some sort of physical affliction that idiots love to point out to everyone.

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Thursday, April 15, 2010

Retweet This





When I was 19, I got an internship at Righteous Babe Records. This was back in 2005, way before Twitter and FourSquare, and just when MySpace and Facebook were becoming recognized as viable ways to market things—music, in particular.

Because I was young, they decided I was hip to technology, and thus put me in charge of setting up and maintaining the record label's official MySpace page, then Ani DiFranco's official MySpace page. As the years went on, I started Facebook accounts for each as well. Every Sunday for the better part of three years, I would send Excel spreadsheets to my bosses, detailing friend requests, messages received, etc.


So I get it.


I get that these forums are important to utilize correctly in order to promote your product. And I get that they're important to have if you're insufferable and find it necessary for everyone to know where you are and what you're doing every second of every day (AKA: "Build a brand for yourself"—here's a tip, you can also build a brand for yourself the old-fashioned way, by like, uh, GETTING A JOB).


But for fuck's sake, if I hear one more douchebag talk about how they're "into social media," I'm going to scream. For the most part, it's just a new buzzword that makes unemployed idiots feel like they're a part of something. Saying you're into social media would be like me saying I'm really into print products with saddle-stitching. Who. gives. a. fuck?

Just because it's online doesn't mean it's "cool." These people act like it's 1982 and we've never used technology before.

Just because you check into Foursquare doesn't mean you're on the cutting edge of technology, and most of the time, when people say they're a "blogger," it's their way of telling you that they're "unemployed" (there are legitimate exceptions to this of course, some people make good salaries writing for blogs—those staffed at Gawker or The Huffington Post are examples).

All of this being said, it's hard to draw the line in the sand where the social media douchebaggery begins. Afterall, I have a Facebook, a Yelp, and a blog. Everyone has something.
Some people I know have a Facebook, a Yelp, a Twitter, a Foursquare and a Tumblr. That might seem excessive, but people who choose to add more depth to their internet footprint with 700 accounts don't bother me as much as people who will not stop talking about it.

"I'm the Mayor of our office!"

No you're not. We ALL have to come here every goddamned day, you're the only one who feels the need to check in on Foursquare like you're an ex-convict on parole.

But, the upside to these oversharing outlets is that you have unprecedented access to people you hate. Twitter gives you up-to-the-minute ammunition, after all.

For example, co-worker of mine is starting a new job, and we've already thoroughly researched her new co-worker, laughing at ridiculous Twitpics that she posted of herself, dumb quotes, and more. We've already decided this girl is lame, and we've never even met her. So much for mystique.

More than that, I know way more about several of my enemies' lives because they choose to expose themselves online in such a way that would make them incredibly easy to track down if I ever wanted to get revenge. NOT THAT I WOULD EVER ACT ON IT, but you get my point.

Mainly, it's just fun to be able to laugh at how stupid people are for exposing every thought, weakness, and imperfection (or as Abi likes to call it, "Just catching up with Retard News 2010").
As far as I'm concerned, all of these things are better left bottled up until they come bursting out one morning and you find yourself on top of a strip mall with a shotgun.

If I'm feeling particularly upset, I'm not going to post some drawn-out, Livejournal-esque post that details my feelings so people who hate me can laugh at me like I laugh at them. No way. I'm in control of my internet life, and while it might not always be totally forthcoming, it sure looks rosy.

I'm the Mayor of my life.

Retweet that.

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Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Impromtu Concerts for the Homeless: A Glee Recap



If we were a smarter generation, our Facebook statuses would be blowing up whenever President Obama gave a State of the Union Address. Instead, everyone is "WATCHING GLEE TONIGHT LOL!"

But I can't make fun, because this show has stolen my heart, hijacked my iTunes, and even served as my Halloween costume (where I made Sue Sylvester proud by scamming bottle service from a club, forcing my way into a Halloween parade, and ending the night by knocking over numerous police barricades while my friend desperately tried to hail a cab to get us home).

So, tonight, it's back, and here are my thoughts:

1. Sue Sylvester, jokes about Mr. Schuster's hair cut will NEVER get old.

2. Sue Sylvester in bed with the principal. SCARY!

3. Finn's rendition of "Hello, I Love You" was weak at best, and the High School Musical-esque basketball montage was ridiculous. I can't decide if the guy is skinny and attractive, or squinty-eyed and sort of fat. Look at him again the next time he's wearing a sleeveless jersey. I know I probably weigh more than the guy, but I would do some bicep curls if I were on national TV. Just saying.

4. The singing and dancing that accompanied Lea Michele's "Give You Hell" rendition a tad precious, but it was an unexpected addition to the "Hello" song theme.

5. Speaking of unexpected, Rachel is doing the opposite by singing "Hello" by Lionel Richie with some douchebag who is obviously gayer than a black light/body paint party but has enough swagger to fool a few dumb girls until Sophomore year of college. Yawn. What's next? "Hello, Dolly!" Is that a song or a musical? Who cares.

6. This was before the song, but "I like to give impromtu concerts for homeless people" was fantastic.

7. Did anyone see that FOX5 News teaser that revealed Lea Michele's high school yearbook photo? You know, the photo that LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE SHE DOES NOW. She's fucking 23 for God's sake.

8. Those two dumb Cheerios on Rachel: "She looked like Pippi Longstocking, but Israeli."

9. IDINA MENZEL! "Take five, everybody drink a Red Bull!" Really, though, she looks like so much like Lea Michele that it's ridiculous to m that they didn't bring her on as Rachel's biological mother.

10. McKinley High Old Maids Club: "Take a seat, boy hips!" YESSSSSSSSSSS.

11. OHHHHHHH Terry does mean so well. My all-time favorite line from Nip/Tuck was when Christian says to Gina, "YOU LUBRICATE ACID."

12. "I CARRY A RAPE WHISTLE." Just like my parents made me carry at my very safe college for all of Freshman year, which sparked the rumor that I was a lifeguard.

13. Dear Rachel, when your new boyfriend giggles and says, "You're more of a drama queen than me!," he is NOT, I repeat, NOT straight.

14. "I even circled some dates on your crazy calendar"—Oh, Finn.

15. Is it me, or did the rendition of "Hello Goodbye" seem like a less lively version of that Target commercial?

16. SUE SYLVESTER'S "VOGUE:" I don't know what the fuck this is supposed to be, but I'm glad that they allowed Jane Lynch to sex it up a little bit. She looks great for her age, but I wish they would have used a softer lens on the close-up shots, though. Am I right? Why does every other asshole get airbrushing and not Janey?

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Monday, April 12, 2010

Suck it, bitchez: My Neighborhood Rulez




New York Magazine named Park Slope (my little corner of Brooklyn) the best neighborhood to live in in New York City.

Sure, it could be the lush park land, the scores of bars and restaurants, the safety, or the general beauty of the neighborhood on whole—or it could be that yours truly has taken up residence there for nearly 2 years.


Draw your own conclusions.

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Sunday, April 11, 2010

YOU DO NOT CROSS A SUGARBAKER WOMAN





Okay, honestly. Dixie Carter is dead at 70, and even though saying this will yet again give myself away as a weirdo, I AM UPSET.

Yes, from the age of 9 years old I was the child who would have rather watched old reruns of Designing Women, Murphy Brown, and The Golden Girls on Lifetime than a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g on MTV.

I liked the liberal use of the word "slut" on The Golden Girls, but what I liked about Designing Women and Murphy Brown was that they both showed smart, clever women having careers, personal lives, families, and still managing to be hi-larious while doing it.

At one point, these shows were aired in such heavy rotation that I'm pretty sure if you put on any episode of Designing Women or The Golden Girls at any point in time, I would be able to say each line, verbatim, from memory. It's a skill. Or a sickness.

You decide.

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Thursday, April 08, 2010

Beers > Baseball




My job has spoiled me, not with my salary, of course, but with free tickets to just about anything and everything I want to see or go to in Greater New York City.
Last night, I went to my first-ever Mets game in the new CitiField.

Our seats? Row One. I'm sure it's safe to say that I didn't pay attention to anything during the game, but it was nice to see the stadium, drink some beers, and be outside.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Bucket List




I started to write a bucket list, but it turned out to be more of a hit list than anything else.

Friday, April 02, 2010

I did my best acting work as a toddler



I am officially obsessed with Very Mary-Kate.

Very Mary-Kate, Episode 8 from Mary-Kate Olsen on Vimeo.

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Thursday, April 01, 2010

Arbeit Macht Frei, bitchezzzzzz




Last night, our team name at Trivia Night was "
Work Will Set You Free, Jesse James."

Too soon?

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Waving Flag



Each week, we have a band come and perform in our lobby, and we shoot it as a webisode for our website. Usually, I'm not really into them (like the people that came and banged drumsticks on our staircase for 5 minutes—thanks for the headache, everyone!), but I was into this one:

K'naan—"Waving Flag":