October 2003 Archives

YOU ARE A PINK ROSE!

You are a happy, generous person. You love to give
to others just for the sheer pleasure of making
them happy. You are a gentle, sweet soul who is
loved by many and admired by all. Your happy
and joyful nautre is infectious, and you always
have a circle of friends around you ready to
support you in all you do. You are outgoing and
friendly to all, often very extroverted.
However, you don't take things to extremes -
you always find the right balance in all you
do. Joyful and exhuberant, you are the the one
that everyone wants to be friends with. You are
a genuinely happy person - congratulations!

What color Rose are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I was doing okay last night for the most part, but it all fell apart on the way home. At least I still know my own body very very well. If I say, "yeah, that's it for me. One more drink and I'm gonna vomit," I'm not kidding and for the record, that includes a sip. Ugh.

I went to my joint and I was too lazy to get dressed up twice in two days, so I put on my Adidas track pants and sneaks, my Miss Rheingold tank, a bandanna, and cocked the Kangol more to the side and was an instant b-girl. Looking the exact same way I always do except with track pants. lol. The party kept going past when I left around 5. It was the owner's b-day, so he didn't mind. It was a pretty small crowd, but pretty fun. I was a chattering chatterbox, but I blame the drinks my boy the bartender kept sliding my way for that. I remember a Long Island Iced Tea (geez...how do people drink those things? They're strong enogh to rip the paint off a wall), Red Stripe (I am not a beer drinker! Despite these three recent slips... I managed to finish this one in less than 2 hours because I'd hate plenty to drink and the taste was whatever by then), an Amaretto Sour (which I bought when I got there. Yes, I do buy drinks. Usually one because I'm poor), the sip of Stoli Vanil and tonic that pushed me over the edge, and various experiments I was a guinea pig for.

Will I get my cool card taken away if I admit that I haven't heard the new Outkast album? And by that, I mean at all. I don't listen to the radio, don't watch much TV, and my connection is too slow to download and the peeps on the street with the ghetto blasters seem to be staying in nowadays. I had to go onto a Launchesque site at work just to see the two videos. And by saying all this, I'm trying to get at that I'm in love with "Hey Ya" and the DJ played that shit three times (not in a row) and the crowd went crazy! I was dancing for a change. It's been a while. I've definitely gotten to used to hanging back observing. Then again, before I went out, B encouraged me to shake a tailfeather for him too, so I felt compelled to dance. Besides b-girl=dancer, so I would've been silly not to.

Now the problem is: after that hectic last night, is there a way to top that tonight without ending up in the hospital? Oy.

Halloween is in two days. I'm pretty excited. I've gotta say it's one of my fave holidays up there with the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Since I've been old enough to go solo trick or treating, it's always been a good time. Plus it's my first Halloween in the city in 4 years. *sniff* I've missed it, though we definitely did our thing up there at Wes. Did you know that this is the last Halloween on the weekend until 2008 (next year doesn't count because it's a Sunday)? Ant didn't know that until I told him, in a fit of nerdiness to get him to come out and party (he still declined, but I still wuv him!).

Anyhoo, at the Kitty Power camp, the festivities begin a day early because I don't have to work on Friday. As a public service since I'm always out and about and at least partially pride myself on being a scenestress in training, here's my roundup of cool things around town this weekend compiled from sources like flavorpill, word of mouth, and the good old net:

Thursday. I'm torn between the weekly party at my second home thrown by my dear Friendsters and experiencing my first Cake party. Knowing me, I'll do both and might even swing by here for the one of the dopest, chillest house/old school parties in town.

Boo Day. You can just listen to what Tricia Romano says. Or you can check out Innuendo. Or do this up. Or check my joint's Halloween thingy. I will be partying further uptown courtesy of a blog connection and flavorpill. Maybe downtown a little. I'll be pretty much be playing it by ear. Natch, all of this is after the parade. That is a must.

Saturday. Pick myself up from wherever I am and go home and get some rest. Haha. Kidding...kinda. Perhaps this when my head stops pounding. I need to go to the damned Panty Party at Opaline already. I'm wasting a connection but never making it. There's also a party at Lunatarium which I've also been meaning to check out for a while.

Sunday. Probably just for a minute, I'll check the Sunday night party at 419 (unless I'm still tired from Thursday). My last time there, I saw a few bold faced names and I got my picture taken (but alas, not published) for Paper in my ubiquitous Blacula shirt. There was also a retrospectively funny episode with a guy who was all "Do I know you? I recognize you from somewhere." At the time, I chalked it up to some weak game, though I was amused, then a few days later, I saw him on Friendster. Oops and eek. Damn, of all the things to recognize me from. I'm hella better looking in person (if I must say so myself). I'm just not especially photogenic. Even Farmer, who is an alright photog, couldn't get a good one of me. Then again, my middle name ought to be Hypercritical because I'm nitpicky as hell.

More to come...or perhaps not...as I get more info.

So, I'm experimenting with pics and such. I dunno how I feel about it. (In an aside: How much does the MT Search feature rock?! If I had to go through posts line by line fixing/looking for stuff, my brain would've exploded. I'm a fucking wordy ass. Blocks and blocks of texts. How can people read this shit? Hurts my own eyes!) I'm in the mood for a redesign truthfully, but lazy this week despite having not much better else to do. I just don't have any ideas in my head besides where I might be able to find pipe cleaners for my Halloween costume and how I might survive while waiting for my big check to come through the mail. If I don't get that check, I might have to postpone my big trip. Oy. Especially since I've got a bunch of interviews next week and I might just fall on the sword and take one of those jobs even though it's not exactly what I finally decided I wanted. Oy. The window of opportunity is closing...closing...closing. That neat little patch of luck I've been on lately is about to run out.

Last night, I went to a movie premiere, courtesy of a girl I met via Saturday night's randomness. I can say that this guy held the door for me as I fumbled coming in out of the rain to pick up my ticket. So nice of him and he's freakishly tall. Strange for the entertainment types. They tend to be my height or shorter...which we already established isn't that tall, but taller than Jay and apparently Bazima (yeah, those were totally pings for the hell of it). The movie is too funny and my favorite quote had to be "I've got luggage tags on that 11-inch cock!" Tee hee. You gotta see it to understand, man.

We even went to the super swanky after party where a girl in our group on the Atkins encouraged me to have some dessert for the both of us. Since I was doing it for "us," I had some cheesecake and carrot cake that were both so wonderfully delicious that I couldn't even feel guilty. My pants couldn't even hate on them because it was that good. I was later amused by Grandmastah H, the anointed Player President, turned timid by the sight of the movie's star. She's a cool actress, but she was wearing the most unfortunate dress this side of Paris Hilton. I wanted to shake her and say, "Sweetie, even with practically no boobs...if you've gonna wear something slit down to your navel, you better sticky tape those babies to perky at least." Sagging just isn't cute under any circumstances. In conclusion of this episode: Candicissima loves free movies, parties and drinks and the occasional star sighting. I've got eyes like a hawk and never forget a face, so I recognized him, him, and her without much trouble. And could say what they were from to my wholly uninterested group members. Ah well. Someone can appreciate that. I hear Gawker needs a flunky intern. I could do that. Gladly actually. Hmm...that's an idea...

Anyhoo, tonight was Aida with PrincessNella. We sat so high that I almost experienced vertigo, but it was a good time. Minus some of the downright painful score. Soft rock with a musical? Umm...no. I could smell Elton John all over it...and I even like some his old stuff. But, the middlebrow elevator music with a bit of a guitar kickin some parts...eek. Regardless, Ms. Star sang her ass off as did the rest of the cast and the staging and sets were cool even if I did never forget it was a strictly Disney affair. I'm dying to see Avenue Q. Everything I've heard makes it sound too funny.

I'm most definitely gearing up for Friday. It's gonna be nuts...that's for sure. Did you know that the next time Halloween's gonna be on a weekend (besides next year which'll be Sunday) is 2008? Yeah...Ant wasn't so impressed either. Ah well. There will definitely be a major dispatch about that night after it all goes down. Should be a good one.

I spoke to Farmer last night for the first time in a while. It's funny when you're momentarily preoccupied with whatever and people/things that were so prominent fade away with barely a passing thought. That's the way I can be sometimes, believing both "out of sight, out of mind" and "absence makes the heart grow fonder" with different degrees depending on the people. It was a nice hint of the way we used to chat.

It brought to mind two things that have been starting to bug me. I miss having boy friends like Alex, Tino, and P.Diddy because so much of my school time was spent rolling and keeping each other out of trouble. I've been hanging a bit with Hani and Ant and Grandmaster H and Farmer since being back, but the impatience is making me forget that it took years to get things right with the boys. And I hate to say it, but a steady would be nice. It's getting too cold to be going out all the time and I'd like to have someone to bring the option of staying in and chilling out to the table, you know? Having spent the better of a year nurturing that wild oats crop, a kid's ready to settle down. That doesn't always have to be boring…or so I hear. But even boring might be nice about now. Boring still keeps you toasty.

via Camilo:

Your Name: Candicissima
Your Your Question or Information: What does the winter hold for me?

Past Lagaz - Intuition, imagination, success in studies, creativity, vitality and passion (especially for women).

Present Raido - Safe travel, movement, obtaining justice in an issue, used to keep a situation from stagnating.

Future Othel - Material possessions and protection of those possessions, inheritance (can be genetic traits inherited from elders).

Cast the runes here:
Rune Caster

Saturday was kinda hectic. The End.

Nah, just kidding.

So. I was supposed to be a posting fool. Oops. I got preoccupied. I'm quite flighty and occasionally scatterbrained, I've got to say. Sometimes life keeps moving when you would rather remain static.

I'm currently amused at how people try to jump back into your life just when you've written them off. My time is a precious commodity. I don't waste it so easily anymore. As my song of the week says: "If there ain't nuthin' that we can do it's cool/I'd rather be alone and onto something new"

And still despite all that, my mood is peachy. And I really promise to be an updating machine ass tomorrow. If only because I have nothing else better to do.

Hellos going out to B and er, Bee and Angelique. Reciprocal linkage makes the world go around.

Despite the gray skies and general dreariness, today's a good day as far as I'm concerned. I had a totally invigorating night's sleep and I woke up this morning looking pretty damned good if I must say so myself. (Vanity is a virtue in the KP corner.) No one bugged me on the train. I got a seat and rush hour moved smoothly. I even got to catch up on reading my NY Press. I'm coming off a really nice weekend and I've got about three posts on deck. I can promise music, drugs, randomness, and interesting quotes getting ample time in the dispatches. Give me a little time though. Don't worry, I got you.

The last reference I plan to make to Ghettopoly unless that fool comes out with part 2 or something as well as getting to what really pissed me off about the whole thing -- the racist/classist bias inherent in the creation of something like that:

It is the privilege of thinking that poverty is a game, precisely because you and yours have rarely if ever had to play it from the inside, have never been the chess pieces moved around by someone else’s hand. It is the ability to say “lighten up, it’s just a joke,” precisely because the joke is not on you or anyone you know.

Anyhoo, a happy belated b-day to Mr. Effinchamp! Man, you're old!

Aww...Amy Sohn got married. It's Carrie from Sex In The City walking down the aisle. I used to read her Female Trouble column in HS and I'm all about Naked City. [via Gothamist]

Really good read about visits with Timbaland over on S/FJ. And since I was being all link nosy, I even found a new site to keep my eye on. Score.

Even though the output is kinda sporadic lately, these two articles on Nerve show that the old boy still has some bite.

Yeah, I really spent my Friday night napping and fixing archives links (or at least trying to since Blogger was being a useless bitch alll night) and hanging out around the house in a tank and fuzzy pants. I'm so cool I can't stand it. Geez.

Yet, I don't feel so bad because Saturday will be off the chain. I'm off to help with the pre-setting up for this potentially awesome Halloween Extravaganza in LIC, spearheaded by Mr. Scenester and the folks with Complacent. Their last event I went to and it was pretty hot, so I can encourage everyone to check it out. I've also got my Flavorpill spoils concert and CMJ events to do up here. Oh, I actually did try to go to that show during lunch Thursday, but you know, not having a pesky pass stopped me. Wackness, especially since I was all up in the hotel and about a room away from them. I heard them though and they were excellent. I considered getting bent out of shape and then I realized that a) I was only trying in case I got smiled on and did get to see them b) I wasn't really that involved -- they're not my fave band or anything even if they're cool -- so it was no sweat c) I didn't actually have a pass because I'm too poor for that shit, so it wasn't in my best interest to make a scene. So, I went back to work and it was all good. (Speaking of that, shit! Why aren't they doing free crap sales when I'm in the bleeping building?! Damn.) Anyhoo, P. Diddy is coming to town and Grandmastah H is having a gathering. And there might be something else I forgot. Damn, I'm popular! So, I guess I am cool though I'm being lame tonight. I'm resting up for tomorrow...yeah, that's it...

Cracking me up: "The New York dog is streetwise, spunky and intelligent. The kind that would say: 'Arghruff! Make my day.'" So, now I'm going to imagine every dog I see talking like either DeNiro or Rosie Perez. Excellent.

What I don't understand is why men thinks it's cool/sexy/attractive when they creepily stare at you in the pursuit of getting your attention and I suppose ultimately getting with you. This morning on the train, this guy standing across from me was staring and would not stop. I could practically feel his eyes making a hole on the side of my head. Geez. Step off. I will call you out and embarass you.

Talk about the wrong weekend to be broke. I've got concerts, parties, massive things to go to. Doesn't it just figure when you're really anticipating a check in the mail, that inanimate SOB refuses to come? Grr. It better be there when I get home. I have tickets to buy. I'm heading off overseas for a week or so in a few weeks because I'm not doing anything else substantially really and as I've said before, I'm dying for a break...from my nothing which really has been something. People really try to play me when I say that I want/need/am taking a vacation. I mean, hey, you should've seen me when I was working on that book. Talk about a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Geez. Another thing I haven't written about: I got the book. I haven't had the focus to really sit down go through it, if only because I'm still sick of the process 3 months later. But, everyone seems to be getting a kick out of it which is nice.

In other news, responsible with the capacity to be "bad" is how I really like them.

Found on the net:

Top 10 reasons why trick or treating is better than sex:

10. You're guaranteed to get at least a little something in the sack
9. If you get tired, you can wait 10 minutes and do it again
8. The uglier you look, the easier it is to get some
7. You don't have to compliment the person who gives you some
6. It's O.K. when the person you're with fantasizes you're someone else, because you are
5. Twenty years from now you'll still enjoy candy
4. If you don't like what you get, you can always go next door
3. It doesn't matter if the kids hear you moaning and groaning
2. Less guilt the morning after

And the number one reason why trick or treating is better than sex--
1. YOU CAN DO THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD!

Tee hee.

Last night, I rolled with Grandmastah H through the Village to a pre-CMJ party at a place I'll be spending a lot of time at this week. Actually, I'm there a lot in general. Cheap ass drinks, man, all the time. Plus I get a kick out being in a totally hipster zone occasionally as long as the attitude doesn't come with the territory. Actually, scratch that. It's not that hipster, it's a strange place. A weird mix of people and styles and such, but I do like it for the people watching possibilities. Anyhoo, GH is the man and he and I chatted and drank and chilled solidly. Good times.

As a treat as I try and make time to focus on the two big posts I've got languishing in draft, here's some choice episodes from lately:

PrincessNella and Moi somehow on the topic of my guy criteria on the way home on the train. I give her a running list of things that are totally essentials.

PrincessNella: For a girl that was just dating a cokehead, that's sure a lot of things that X someone out.
Moi: Oh please, of all things I wasn't dating him. Besides, I've got standards.

Walking down E 14th Street on the way to meet H. I'm about to pass a man, eating a slice. He looks at me and I look back blankly.

Man: Wow! You look fun!
Moi: *dumbfounded* What?
Man: Sorry, I shouldn't talk with my mouth full. You look fun. You're really pretty.
Moi: I look fun? What kind of weird thing is that to say?
Man: Girl, let me holla...
Moi: Umm...no. I'm running late.

Grandmastah H and I walking up the stairs in the joint, him in front. We get to the landing.

Grandmastah H: Were you checking out my ass?
Moi: Huh?
GH: I thought you were checking out my ass. I could feel your eyes boring a hole into it.
Moi: Haha. No, I wasn't. I did glance at it because it was at sight level, but I wasn't really paying attention to it.
GH: Oh okay.

Two songs that were making my head nod through the cold ass weekend and still into the chilly week:

This for the thinkers
This for the erchants allergic to they own stingers
This for the absurd verdict linkers
This for that cat at my shows that's always got prophetic opinions
but cant remember where his drink is
I'm wallowing, shrugging I'm plugging your corporation
Cause we alley cats addicted to the sickly warped sensation
Answer this: when all that's said and done
are you a memorable troop or just a lab rat on the run
Choose one

Once I, took off the hoodie, revealed the face
Cop patrol couldn't control the place
I got groupies backstage, lined up at the gate
The signs up, yellin', "We love your tape!"
I'm sorry I took so long, didn't mean to make ya'll wait
But good things take time to create
You can find me, in your studio
Half baked, eatin' ganja cake
Tryin' to make my next release date
With Ghost, Street, GZA, great minds relate
You know a brother bond is hard to break
When we perform we cause the Earth to shake
Ain't nuthin' change, it's still those same niggas you love to hate

To Man On The Bus Sitting Behind Me: There's gotta be a better time and place for your "where are we in our relationship" conversation than on a crowded bus before 8am with your bootleg loud ass handset and lack of an indoor voice. I'll let you off with a warning this time.

To The Man Outside The Deli: Sweetie, it doesn't matter that what you said was nice. When you deliver a compliment while looking at me like a spare rib on the plate, you're gonna get the nasty look. What? Uh huh, and your mom. You have been dismissed.

To Myself Re:Wardrobe Decisions: We need to face the facts. Light colored pants make us look like we should have "Wide Load" pinned to the back of my shirt. Remember this and try to do better performance wise in the future. We will be monitoring the progress.

To Myself Re:Lunch Choices: Do try to be clear and collected when we get up to the counter. Or else we shall end up with totally non-tasty selections like sesame chicken and sour sauce on white rice. Yuck. We are on review for this point forward.

Hallelujah! I'm finally off the NYCB frontpage. Not to be ungrateful for the traffic, but a little anonymity is a good thing. My world is small enough that I've been self-censoring and if I wanted mad people from NYC to be reading my little corner, I would've put my blog in my Friendster profile or something. But whatevs.

Shades of Colin Ferguson anyone? Plus a posting that seems tangetially related in my mind that I have no commentary for...as of yet.

How susceptible am I to an article that this actually sounds cool enough to look into? But, the saddest/funniest part about the whole thing that my inspiration would be more having been watching first season Angel on syndication yesterday, rather than swayed by Charlie's Angels or that type of tripe.

I *heart* Gawker and Friendster today. Gawker took me back and all I had to do was a write a silly, tongue firmly in check message and I even threw in a name-dropper story for kicks. Plus I've 1,003,679 connections from my 43 friends. Woo hoo!

I officially hate Mondays. My brain is running about quarter speed and my throat is doing that scratchy, painful thing before closing down and the sickness comes. I'm beginning to think I'm in the coldest office in Manhattan. I'm buried into my thick turtleneck with the neck pulled up to my ears and I've been drinking tea all morning. What's especially annoying is that it won't be half as cold when I go outside -- but then again, it's the Financial District and it's gotta be 10 degrees colder down here than anywhere else on the island, so it just might.

In spite of all that, it's not a bad day. Time is flying by. Gotta love that. I've got another couple of posts on deck because I'm a bad temp and I'd rather do something interesting than my current task. Besides, I'm gonna be here all week and the work's not going anywhere. Yes, I do suck. Ah well. I'm not losing sleep over it. I got here on time, I'm not all grumbly, and all the stuff will get done. I'm not so bad really.

Coming soon: my Brooklyn explorations, roundup of the news and other web things, as well as a snappy post on things seen, heard, and said. A kid's gotta pass the time.

So there I was, cruising towards my goal of a 1,000,000 Friendster connections so I could find a new site to waste my time with, when Hani IMed me lamenting that Gawker refused to accept him as a friend. My response was "who cares? it's only Friendster!" but as a newbie, he couldn't leave that one be. So, I suggested him as a match as he suggested NY for me. Color me surprised the next day when I found myself missing about 20,000 connections. I was assuming that another fakester had bitten the dust (Last week, they took House Music. *sniff*), but no, I was the one who got bumped. Gawker dumped me as a friend! Is that some shit or what? Especially since I was linked up on there as knowing what was up with the hub thing back in July.

But, basically I'm "oh well" on the whole thing. (Hani's got a bit more to say about it.) I mean, it is Friendster. Granted, I've got a lot of posts on it, but I don't really give a shit about that site at the end of the day. So what he/she/it dumped me? I've gained back almost all I had lost and I realized that most of my network is all incestuously interconnected regardless. Why is it that I'm connected to most of the people in my gallery by about 6 ways? Geez. I mean, I know NYC is small, but I get it proved to me all the time. Then again, an artsy magnet HS followed by an artsy little liberal arts college plus being a social ass means your world can feel like it's closing in on you when you least expect it.

But, the small world can have a few amusing moments. A sort of an addendum to Grant's analysis over on World New York: The insularity of these little web worlds build arrogance where there should be none. I've been running into a lot of these people in real life. Down in the Financial District at lunch break, I saw a guy who I recognized from there and Nerve. Am I going to hell because I thought "yeah whatver to you, Mr. I'm-Too-Good-To-Reply-To-Your-Message because in the light of day, I'm better looking than you'll ever be and you need to stop checking me out because you don't have a snowball in hell's chance?" People are playing themselves left and right on there. I know I'm the shit. I don't need 150 friends and 89 testimonials to make you think so too.

Umm, yeah...this one is a doozy.

There's two posts trying to find their way to being published, but I'm still formulating what to say without spilling my current sense of ennui into it. I feel I've definitely got that most unfortunately named problem, SAD. Or perhaps it's just fallout from the rough ass year and change behind me. Or the general "I need a real job quick before my world collapses around me!" stress. Or disappointment that not only did all my devoted energy return nothing back, but also the fact that I'm even surprised by that. Or feeling bummed that some things despite how far I've put it behind me can still hurt just like yesterday. Or feeling worn down by this pesky cold. Or all of the above and more I don't feel like talking about.

But, I'm trying on a lot of fronts. I just have to resist the urge to go bury myself under a lot of blankets and not move.

My sinuses hate me today. It's cold and raining. I'm popping that Sudafed like candy. But, is any of this going to keep me in tonight? Nah.

I'm kinda interested in doing this up Sunday. I was really swayed by this plea on my Friendster bulletin board (986K and counting, btw): "supersecret free gifts!! giveaways at show!! and you LOVE gifts!!" That is indeed true. I don't remember the last time I saw a really cool video...or any video for that matter. I remember when MTV2 first launched and they'd show all the cool stuff. Does it still do that? Or does it only play videos at 4am like MTV now?

Actually, this week coming up is pretty amazing as far as festival stuff goes. There's the Transatlantic Express Festival which started yesterday plus CMJ. Earlier today, I was trying to decide if it was wrong to run and see Elbow play on my lunch break on Thursday. How exactly would I explain that one off? I'd do the same with Turin Brakes on Wednesday, but between travelling back and forth from Bowling Green, I wouldn't get enough time to see the band before turning right back. Besides, I'm sure I'd have to be crafty to get in anyways since I don't have a pass and all. Thursday at least, I'm already in that area, so I'd have more time to get creative.

But right now, I'm trying to get better. *sniff*

I made a new Friendster, Ryan, the self-proclaimed Friendster Whore. I should be hitting 1,000,000 any minute now. Nice.

Guess who just got her project job extended for another week and a half and got an interview for a cool non-profit thingy on Tuesday? This girl right here. I'm having a cool streak of luck...that I naturally just jinxed by noting it. Ah well. Talk about coming along at the right time. As I was saying the other day, the repayment thing is definitely giving me nightmares. Especially since I had some sort of delusion of paying most of it back before I went off to school again...though who knows when that'll be. Actually, I've surprised myself by somewhat missing it...learning rather than the actual school structure. Perhaps I'll take a something in the winter time. Natch, the schemer in me is all "hmm...if I go half-time, they'll stop breathing down my neck," but I'm not ready for that. Maybe something artsy or a language. Maybe something I just never got the chance to take at Wes. Like I said, I need a hobby.

Holy flying pigs! I actually won something! Color me dumbfounded. So, next Saturday night, I'll be checking this out. Yay! I really like Lit...if only for their cheap ass drinks. I'll be watching the kids mosh or whatever, drinking my 7&7 (I've decided to get over the Sours phase) and enjoying my goodies. How ya like me now, Ms. Liminal Liberal?! Nah, I kid. If it wasn't for her always winning everything, I'd never have been inspired to dash off something quick and win. Plus she's so nice and encouraging. Anyhoo, yay for me!

Is it just me (and P6 and Ms. Lauren) or is this story just strange?

And as everyone seems to be blogging about, considering that "Under God" wasn't even there until 1954, what the hell is the big deal? It flows just as well without it. Plus hello, seperation of church and state, goddamit! It was option in my elementary school. About 2nd grade, you had to stand up, but putting your hand on your heart was up to you. By sixth grade, you didn't even have to stand. Natch, the precedent set by removing the under God would probably have major effects: no more "In God We Trust" and the like, but hey, I don't think I'll be especially broken up about.

One of the most annoying ads currently have to be from them. "You thought if there was no more smoking at the job, you'd stop going. But, you're still working, eh?!" Whatever it says. I don't feel like quoting them directly since it all boils down to "we told you so! Suck up some smoke-free air!" I'm not even a real smoker, but they can go fuck themselves. Makes me want to buy those $5 Newports at the train station out of spite. Woo hoo! Smoke-Free NY and a lot bars with suffering business! When the nightlife industry is crippled, we can be smoke-free with nowhere to go. Isn't there a rise in quality of life offenses because of the smokers all outside causing a ruckus? I was talking with someone the other week who I agreed with that said if the city is financially suffering so much, they ought to let people just about do whatever to make some money. City-sponsored cigarette machines in city licensed to smoke bars. Hell, even if they levied a tax on club owners for that, people would be back in droves again, so they'd be making more money. Interesting thought.

An interesting dispatch I found in my email box:

The Emerging Democratic Majority is ours--but we have the power to blow it by convincing future generations of Blacks, Latinos, Asians, and others that their growing numbers are not of interest to us and they have nothing to gain by participating. The right is quite justifiably following a smart strategy which is the only way they can win. They have even succeeded in getting most Democrats to follow a strategy which is the only way they can lose.

The last insurgent populist campaign the Democrats dispensed with was Jesse Jackson's, and his math is still sound. Consider this equation from his 1984 convention speech (still a great read-isn't it amazing what you can find online?):

If Blacks vote in great numbers, progressive Whites win. It's the only way progressive Whites win. If Blacks vote in great numbers, Hispanics win. When Blacks, Hispanics, and progressive Whites vote, women win. When women win, children win. When women and children win, workers win. We must all come up together. We must come up together.

Those who think that campaign never set off alarm bells in the halls of power need only remember the Newsweek cover four years later, when Jackson managed to break 50% in the Michigan primary by mobilizing tens of thousands of African American youths to vote in their first electoral experience. Somebody found a fairly scary close-up of Jackson in the throes of an intense speech, face contorted and sweaty in a way reminiscent of Hitler or Sun Yung Moon. The one-word caption, in large-type yellow letters, served as headline, heads-up, and horrified call-to-arms: Jesse?! It was apparently the moment when the establishment, although still dismissive, actually considered that he might win, and began to contemplate what it might mean.

The math, stripped of its eloquence, looks something like this: If minority constituencies could be inspired to vote in proportionate numbers and in line with their historical preferences, a populist candidate would need less than 40% of the white vote to constitute a majority. In other words, in a 100 million vote election, 12% Black at 90%, 12 Latino at 65%, Asian at 60%, White Women at 53%...leads to only 25% of white men needed…. Before you get out your calculators, remember this is only a rough sketch. The theory is that by truly energizing the progressive base, we can further effect this shift to the left.

But, back to less political things, this site is pretty cool. [via Gawker]

If there's ever been anyone made for the night shift -- or at least afternoon -- that would have to be me. No, actually that's not true. All I need is to be to work by 10. That makes all the difference. If only because then I could take a nap on the train in peace without being squashed or having to stand up. I've been amused by my high school days redux of sleeping while standing. I've still got it!

I just realized something about Kill Bill. With the exception of Bill himself, I'd say the most interesting of the villians are dead. California Mountain Snake might be a challenge, but I dunno if it'd be as interesting as O-Ren Ishii. Wouldn't it have been hot if O-Ren had been saved for the last big challenge before the big boss sort of deal? I just doubt that Budd and Elle Driver will be half as interesting visually. Then again, I've heard rumblings that the second volume is supposed to be more talky and "character driven" than this one. I can't visualize that it'll be half as fun though.

There's a lot of short people in NYC. I'm about average height (5'5" for the record) but I tower over people on the train. It's kinda funny, if only because when I was a kid I was obsessed with my height. I made a bet with my mother that I'd be her height (5'6") by the time I was 18 and lost. I had figured before then that height was determined approximately by averaging the height of your parents. My only childhood "girly" dream was being the next Naomi Campbell, so I figured that 5'9" was a pretty good height to be. But, I'm not and I got over it. I got those recessive genes of brains and being short. But on the train in my flats while slouching, I'm still a head and a half taller than most. Good times.

When I'm feeling lazy, it's probably because, I'm saving all my energy to pick up when you move into my airspace You move into my airspace

And something's coming over me, I see you in the doorway
I can't control the part of me that swells up when you move into my airspace
You move into my airspace

But each night, I bury my love around you...
You're linked to my innocence

This is a concept
This is a bracelet
This isn't no intervention

The song of the week is Interpol, "Say Hello To The Angels" in honor of the concert tonight. Though I was supposed to be buying tix, I changed my mind as I'm prone to do and I didn't. Possibly I can get some for next week at the Hammerstein, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm having a fair amount of fun bouncing around the house listening to it at top volume and singing along like a teeny bopper.

I've been singing a lot lately. Trendvickster's mom said my speaking voice sounds like I'd have a nice singing one. I thought that was really nice of her. I've got the strange urge to write a song. I dunno what that's about. That's something I haven't done in what feels like a bazillion years when I was under 10 and made up something after seeing "The Serpent And The Rainbow" listed in the TV Guide. Lately, I've been amusing myself, The Mommy, and the cats by reinterpreting popular songs with meows and such. Umm, yeah. I didn't just mention that. Forget it happened.

In taking a break from the "too little sleep, getting up and out early sucks my invisible nuts!" train of thought, I need a hobby. I think I'm going to do the NaNoWriMo thing. You know, like everyone else. I've been kicking around getting back into Writer Mode for a while now, if only because there are so many upstart publications looking for someone to churn out something. I love to write, occasionally I'm good at it, so I need to get back in the habit.

My current complaint besides "damn, I'm fat" (and PrincessNella agreeing after she saw the pictures of me in May in the yearbook that yes, I am rounder than I was then) is "damn, I'm broke." Well, I'm not really, but I think the time has come to stop being so damned lackadaisical and find that ambition I like to hide away. I've had a good run hardly working, but truthfully the fall blahs have caught up with me and goofing off has lost its charm. That thought was aided along by getting my loan repayment book in the mail. December 9th is the day everything goes downhill as far as I'm concerned. I've got to say I'm a little disturbed that my monthly payment is about how much I've made in the past month. It's a little past due to fully throw myself into the working world, suck it up and deal like everyone else has. Just about all my friends in conflicted unemployment have left the raft and I can't afford to be all blase about it anymore. Especially since I'm not having any fun anyways. If I still was going out and living it up as I was for most of the summer, it'd be okay. But if a crazy night is going to be me sitting in front of the computer and eating all the ziti in the fridge, then I could be making money to upgrade to cable or better yet sit in my own living room and watch TV and surf the net like I did at Wes without the parental nagging.

So, I'm back to applying for jobs like mad. We'll see how it turns out this time. Mama needs a new pair of boots...and a coat...and some pants...and a pair of sneaks...and a scarf...and some CDs....and driving lessons...and a vacation.

1:30am: Finally break myself away from the computer and doing my hair. Start ironing my clothes for work tomorrow beforehand so I can get some more sleep.

6:40am: Wake up and for reasons, inexplicable to me, decide that I'll reset my alarm for an extra 7 (yes, exactly 7) minutes of sleep and get back in bed.

7:20am: The Mommy sticks her head in my room and conversationally asks me if I know that it's 7:20. I give her the zombie wordless blink and mentally curse when my brain processes what that means.

7:30am: Finally stumble out of bed.

7:35am: Finish one of the quickest showers in my history.

7:50am: Walk out the door, pissed off that I'm leaving even later than I usually do running on CPT when I had set everything up to be leaving earlier, and just catch the bus heading down the street. Sit in an aisle seat next to a beefy old man that would've been better off not trying to cram himself into a two-seat row.

7:55-8:20am: Get battered by bags, fat asses and the people connected to them as I have to endure the inane conversations of the junior high kids standing on top of me. Yeah, fuck you, little girl of 13 with a voice like a drunk 40 year old. You're not interesting. Oooh...you got a boyfriend who is so much older...all of 14. Shut up and go step in front of a bus.

8:15am: Just miss an E train and wait 10 minutes for another one. While walking down the platform, realize that not only am I wrinkled, but that I look like a fat cow in khakis and a red sweater. And my hair sucks. And my shoes suck. And I'm tired of men gawking at me. And I hate the world.

8:25-9:30am: The type of shitty train ride that only happens when you're running late. Getting stuck behind a stalled train. Check. Having to wait forever for the train you need to transfer to because you just missed one. Check. An SOB with a death wish looking like he's mistaking a crowded train car for some sort of singles' mixer. Check. No book to read and feeling like brain eating zombie with no brains to eat. Check.

9:35am: Finally get to the office so ridiculously late and can't even eat the coffee roll I bought to absorb the harsh effects of the two cups of coffee I'll be inhaling soon after arrival.

10:00am: While looking in the bathroom mirror, note that if I thought my view down was bad, looking at the back via the reflection is worse. Get thee to the gym, ye lazy bum!

11am: Feel the inevitable headache coming on because I downed two cups of coffee soon after arrival. Curse my life and wish I would've stayed in bed.

12:30pm: Curse the people I have to call because they seem to be suffering through the day after the long weekend blahs to. Screw y'all, there's only room for one on this misery boat. Then again, I sound like an idiot today. I wouldn't want to talk to me either.

I'm currently on a quest to be connected to a million people on Friendster before I quit. I'm at about 930K and that came in less than 5 months, so I figure I'll be quitting in another month or so.

I spent some of my long weekend browsing time searching out new folks to befriend -- possibly more -- and following links of friends. I've been having strange "blast from the past" episodes lately, probably due to hanging out with PrincessNella and Trendvickster who I've know since I was a wiry, androgynous, basketball and music obsessed thirteen. I've been running into and talking about all these high school people. My memories have become dimmer and more smile-inducing than they were in the past. High school was just funny. I went to a strange vaguely liberal artsy magnet school -- or lab experiment, depending on our moods. The Brick Prison, as we liked to call it. I know I was on the quirky side as a young sixth grader, but my high school experience was so bizarre that it's still the root of a lot of problems as well as the beginnings of a lot of the good.

Anyhoo, I stumbled onto a hub for my old school and then various folks I haven't even thought about in ages. It was kinda scary. The really scary part is I'm going to add it as a friend. Anything to reach a goal.

I gotta admit I wondered this too watching Kill Bill. It definitely does not pay to be a henchman.

And continuing with my debriefing, how much did the women rock in that movie? I've always liked Uma and Lucy Liu's been up there on my badass list for a while now. I even saw Ecks vs. Sever in the movie theater, man! (Shut up, it was a great action flick -- though the ending pissed me off!) The only punk woman was the Sofie character, but that was her role: plot furtherer. I gotta say I got a major kick out of Gogo. What a fucking lunatic! She was awesome! I can not believe she was born in '84. I feel so old.

A bunch of things clued me into that this article was totally bullshit: 1) It's the Post 2) Nowhere they suggest sounds remotely interesting. 3)They hated on the Olive Garden in the first line. Fuck him, the Olive Garden on 6th rocks! PrincessNella and I made the trip two weeks ago and we had a blast. Wine and other drinks, great food. (Both thumbs up on the Italian Margarita!) Gothamist agrees with me on that one. I've got to admit I get a bit of a kick out of watching Manhattan turn into a suburban strip mall. Red Lobster, Applebees, soon to come Home Depot and DSW Shoe Warehouse. When I was a kid, we had to go to Long Island, Queens or the mall for all this crap and now it's in Midtown. Hilarious!

Amusing me: Nerve's Weekend In Review:

Any woman who has spent twenty minutes crawling across a sticky bar floor looking for a dropped birth-control pill will rejoice with me upon hearing this week's news: a new male hormonal contraceptive has been developed, and reportedly it's 100% effective. The contraceptive is a combination of shots and implants which use testosterone and progestins to turn off sperm production. TWR recently mentioned this to a male friend; he got all weird and started talking about “his boys” like the sperm were very short people.

Here are my two favorite things about this:

1) Greater equality in responsibility and options for contraception.

2) Fewer girls saying, “Oh, remind me to take my pill” every five minutes because they want you to know they are having sex. We'll be able to respond, "Bitch, if you can’t remember, put your boyfriend on it."

But, I'm disturbed by the mental picture of a woman taking a pill at a bar. WTF? That's pretty random. I happen to be all for the Male Pill though. If only because I can't swallow pills myself (which makes any ailment a real barrel of laughs).

Funny thread on that article about bloggers making the rounds at Plastic:

The overwhelming majority, however, are crap. Actually, they're worse than just bad diaries in a public place or public access TV soft-core porn fundraisers. The overwhelming majority fall into a few very familiar categories:

Woe is me! The darkness, the loneliness. Sure, they think this is a valid means of communication, but really it's just self obsession and fashionable depression or suburban nihilist angst. Soon enough, the blogger will find someone willing to knock boots with them and they will become...

My sweetie is the sweetest sweetie and everything is roses and sunny-bears. Page after page of rambling about how wonderful their significant other is. Until they get dumped. This begins the cycle...

I have no center, just extremes. Each blog entry is either a depressing and depressed bit of self-contemplation which would be somehow better if the person were serious about putting themselves under a train or swallowing the whole bottle of pills or Life is wonderful and great and everything is amazing and I have found the secret to happiness. Which of course, leads to the next group...

I, who have been so low for so long, declare my self HEALED. The Hallelujah is optional. The blogger either finds Jesus or some truth to life and in a strange bit of self-denial and distancing one's self from themselves, suddenly decides they are healed. No, not just getting better or just moving forward. Healed. As in completely well. Suddenly they feel that they are not responsible for all their past transgressions, since those were wiped clear with the healing, of course. Now they can finally go on with their lives, but not before slipping back into the dark world they have left every once in a while when something really, really, really terrible happens, like if there's no juice in the fridge or something.

Hehe. I'll admit I am prone to extremes, but I'm trying to keep it out of the thick of things using the oh so helpful category and extended entry features. Have I mentioned lately that I love Movable Type? And actually, even in my pre-blogging web site days (I'd link it, but it's really embarassing in retrospect. Plus if you go on the old blog, you can find it easy enough), I wasn't really that gushy about Mr. Sailor or anyone else for that matter. I don't really do gushy...that much.

"If any of you want to lose your head like this fucker here, let me know!"
"That's what you get for fucking around with yakuza! Go home to your mother!"
-- Approximate quotes from a movie Ant and I dropped into last night. A little thing called "Kill Bill Vol. 1." Sure to be the #1 movie based on the fact alone that most of the shows were sold out and we caught the last 2 seats together in our theater. Ant proposed the plan Thursday as we discussed how the commercials had gotten into our brains. Truth be told, I'm not even that crazy about Tarantino -- I hated Pulp Fiction when I saw that in the movies, but the last viewing was amusing -- yet I've also realized I've seen all his stuff including Four Rooms. I'm a quirky kid, so I tend to like quirky movies I guess. Anyhoo, Kill Bill could've been one movie. It went way too quickly and the TV moviesque cliffhanger was type annoying. All the violence (though violence in a Tarantino movie? Who would've thunk?!) was off-putting, bouncing between cartoonish (spurting veins) and disturbing (the thing with the little girl and whatever she did to the would-be rapist). I'd see it again though.

This afternoon, I braved Kazaa on my 56K. I thought I was gonna rip my hair out because it took so freaking long. But, guess who's replaying "Milkshake;" Apollonia Six, "Sex Shooter;" Nancy Sinatra, "Bang Bang;" Tosca, "Fuck Dub (Fila Brazilia Mix) and the "Sweet Georgia Brown" remix of "Thoia Thiong?" This kid right here. So worth it.

9. The movies: Mystic Pizza, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Dirty Dancing, Grease and The Cutting Edge. Seriously, that last one is like the female Slap Shot. "Toepick!" may just be the best pick-up line ever.

After a decade or two of dating boys, we ladies get to a point where we’re sick and tired of coddling emotional basketcases who are always certain there’s someone "better" lurking around the corner, and behave accordingly. We get tired of the inevitable post-coital freakout/apres-blowjob disclaimer speech:

Him: "I hope this isn’t a problem for you, but I’m really too deep and tortured to have a girlfriend right now."

Her: "I totally understand. Thanks for sharing that with me after I’ve swallowed your semen. I’m now going to rip your scrotum off with my teeth–I hope that’s not a problem for you."

I think this would be almost funny if they weren't selling it at freaking Urban Outfitters. Just like Abercrombie with that chinese laundry shirt, it's real easy for those marketing to the white bread of the white breads to be all "we're bringing everyone closer together through humor." Where the hell is the vanilla suburbia game complete with clueless apathy, flavorlessness, wiggerism, and idle drug use? Or the WASP game where you get platinum cards and a Mom named Muffy? That's something I'd buy. ETA: Hot off the Gothamist press: "Due to customer concerns, Urban Outifitters no longer sells the board game 'Ghettopoly.'" Wow...a boycott that works. How you like them apples?!

lala-lalala, warm it up, lala-lalala, the boys are waiting, lala-lalala, warm it up, lala-lalala, the boys are waiting,

my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
and they're like,
it's better than yours,
damn right it's better than yours,
i can teach you,
but i have to charge!

Definitely the song for a long weekend.

*yawn* I had less than 2 1/2 hours of sleep last night. And I'm planning in being in bed before 1010:30pm tonight. Welcome to my weekdays! They sure are wack. The 9-5 kills me. I've always been a bit of a night owl -- my mother loves telling the story of how I would open my eyes at dusk and make her talk to and entertain me until the sun would rise when I was baby. My natural body clock isn't made to be getting up at 6:45am and thereabouts like I have to do this week and the next. Not that I'm really complaining besides the time thing. A paycheck is a paycheck and this one will have me sitting pretty for a while.

The present sleep deprivation thing is because Farmer and I left Queens to wander about around midnight and though I was home by 4, that was after a Bacardi O and assorted Amaretto Sours. Despite the nap I had before I left home, I couldn't even unwind enough to go to sleep until almost 4:30. So, I've been dragging all day rightfully. Add onto that I've had a hard time making the transition from a blowout of a weekend to the early rising thing. After tonight, I should be okay enough to...fuck it up all again tomorrow night, coast through Friday and recover (or not) over the long weekend. Yay for a holiday!

The work hotness: the Hiptronica station on Accuradio.

New sites I'm browsing today (with the referrer chain for your disinterest):

Catchdubs --> Prefix and Extra Medium

Extra Medium --> Colored Gurl and Loosie

An aside: what's all this jawn business? Where was I that I never heard that before watching it being sprinkled about the net? Oh, yeah, that's right. Middletown. Not a hotbed of slang, that one. The "cuddlejawn" term is cute. Too bad I'm not looking (despite what I said last week) or I'd send my resume over. LOL.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." -- someone who is way smarter than me presently. *sigh*

I was getting tea in the pantry of the place I'll be puttering around in working for the next 2 weeks. Crossfire was blaring on the televisions overhead. I glanced a little as I poured hot water into my cup.

I'd heard of the show but never really watched it before. They were doing this strange dual interview segment with one man talking to Willie Brown and another talking with Mary Bono. The hot topic was naturally the recall elections. Brown spoke out against the recall in general and defended his party's decision to not place showboat candidates into the race as the Republicans had. Bono smiled and looked generally blank as she answered all her questions. I was too busy shaking my head and stifling a hysterical laugh of contempt to focus on more than her dumbass expressions and monosyllabic replies with a beauty queen smile. If she'd been asked "so really Mary, admit it: you don't have a fucking clue what you're doing here and are just glad to be on TV," she'd still do that little half smile and say "that's right, I might as well be a sock puppet because I have no clue what's going on!"

*sigh* It might never rain in Southern California, but the whole state's going to hell in a handbasket. And to think, I wanted to live there at one point. I hate to say it but I'd rather have a health freak workaholic not letting me sniff some smoke in a bar as a mayor and a cheapskate that threw his father in a destitute old folks home for governor than be having to go through the sideshow they've got going on the other coast. What a circus! I don't know whether to implore a CA reader to just vote "no" on the recall or pack up your shit and move. The whole thing is just terrible.

In looking at my tracker, I'm noticing that a lot of people are coming here from kittypower.com. What's up with that? Because it's weird that people would end up there where there is purposefully nothing. Will someone -- anyone -- enlighten me?Well, call me Nancy Drew because I figured it out. Oh please, Mr. Catchdubs, fix your link! And I'm seeing why you had that bandwidth overload because people are coming over here every 5 minutes practically. LOL.

A sign that the new site/layout was driving me totally insane: For the past two nights, I've been dreaming about HTML code. Sheesh.

Song of the week:

Don't make it a big deal, don't be so sensitive
We're not playing a game anymore; you don't have to be so defensive

Don't you plead me your case, don't bother to explain
Don't even show me your face, 'cuz it's a crying shame
Just go back to the rock from under which you came
Take the sorrow you gave and all the stakes you claim
And don't forget the blame

I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds and you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you, don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

What a strange weekend it's been! I've spent most of the days working on code to whip this place into shape and the nights out and about with friends yet here it is Sunday and I'm just blah.

This just in...the sky is up. I'd almost be interested in following the rebuttals to the obvious, but my head would probably explode.

Camilo talks about proxemics and links to Kottke's thoughts about the same type of stuff. This ending of this encounter:

Then a woman, dressed to the nines and obviously a lifelong New York resident, annoyed that these silly girls are between her and whatever purchases she wants to make, pushes by them while loudly announcing to the rest of the store, "my God, I don't understand what the big deal is, seeing some guy and then crying like a baby, yelling, and blocking the aisle. I hate this fucking store."

P6 talking on divide and conquer strategies used often for social policy measures and politics. In a class I took last spring, we spent a lot of time talking about this. The prof was one of my favorites teachers ever because he had so much knowledge and energy with a good heaping of popular culture nerdiness. In many respects, we shared a brain. Both of the classes I had with him were excellent. And he knows his shit and has got the books to prove it. But, this bit I like just for the post title alone. I guess it's "Trot Out A Minority That's Beating The Odds" time of the year again, eh? Not to knock the girl or her accomplishments, but there are plenty of kids out there doing well that never get any recognition.

I've been kicking around going to this, but I'm presently meh. Anyone else is welcome to check it out and make a report...or at least gawk at the nice threads just for me.

Here I am in my new home. A million thanks going out to Dean for giving me the last push to make this move and the technical support to make it happen. I've got so much work to do in moving my archives over and trying to make all of this a lot more spiffy. But, it's a start. Welcome to a new era.

Today I've been experiencing a renaissance of sorts. I went to the laundry and washed clothes. I thought to myself: "Man, I'm hippy hippy hippo, I can't take looking like this...I need to get off that "see food, eat it" mode. And I'm too broke to buy everything I could possibly need if I keep getting larger than my bleeping clothes." (With that said, this coat is way pretty. A little busy, but being that I've been complaining my personal style is kinda blah and plain, this would definitely brighten it all up.)

Anyhoo, I've been a television fiend today. I watched ATWT. It's the only soap I've managed to stick with all these years. It's some good stuff right now. Then again, anything's better than AMC of the raped lesbians and putting people on meathooks in cold storage. Bump that mess. I also watched the stuff a girl's sci-fi, eye candy dreams are made of on the WB. Smallville and Angel. My husbands are so pretty. I might even tune into Tarzan on Sunday to see the pretty man slink around in a loincloth. Lovely, just lovely.

I don't remember the last time I've just sat around and watched TV. It's been excellent. Sometime last spring, I just fell out of TV watching and believe me, for a person like me that's tragic. I still have the syndication schedules of the local channels burned in my brain because when I was a kid, watching the boob tube was practically a lifestyle. TV is fabulous for simply letting yourself get washed over by stories, fantasy, and prettiness. And also for honing your critical gaze and snark to play with the kids at TWoP. I'm loving it while it lasts.

Hmm...pretty definitely appears to be the word of the day. Ah well.