April 2004 Archives

I currently lack time and the attention span to make a real post out of this. So, in a nutshell:

I didn't kill that irritating fellow volunteer from Tuesday, but boy, did he make it hard! I think I may have met the most annoying man alive. I actually called people in the middle of the day to complain about him instead of decking him. I also think I'm the only person not a "maverick who is doing it to get into the film industry MY WAY!"/"film student with a kickass internship all about gathering contacts for my eventual mastery of the industry game." Shit, doesn't anyone volunteer just for fun and the swag potential? Apparently, I'm just a crazy person.

I went to the Man Man show and it was awesome. I got a free, pre-altered t-shirt just for being the super dedicated fan not related to the record company or a friend. And I was also trampled by a huge man in a yeti suit. (Yes, you read that right) and treated to some pseudo-Flashdance pathetic cry for attention. Kitty Power loves Kate Ace Fu! And I wanted to see her spin at the downtown afterparty, but my yeti encounter left me with a sore knee and limp combo that led me to cut my night short. But, Man Man rocks!

More to come as I flesh this out probably tomorrow.

I remembered today why I tend not to ever volunteer for anything: working for free is like putting your head in the guillotine and offering to release the blade yourself. I arrived at the fest at 9am, moderately bright-eyed and barely bushy-tailed to meet with my coordinator and fellow volunteers for the day.

Unfortunately, my partner was this kid my age that reminded me of a cousin of mine in a bad way. I've got this cousin I grew up with who I was mostly inseperable with because we lived so close together. And until I learned the art of sarcasm and my attention span and patience shrunk as my wit became sharper. He's got the annoying habit of always asking questions and just going off on monologues about bullshit that makes me want to kill myself -- or rather him -- after no time. My fellow volunteer was like my cousin's doppleganger and I really had to restrain myself from screaming "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" as I did to Hani on New Year's when I lost my patience. But in this case, I wouldn't have felt bad in the least.

In addition to the joy of spending time with him, there was the fact that we just kinda hung out watching cars go by until 11ish. A not-boss suggested we get to go home or watch a movie, but instead we were sent on a wild goose chase across Manhattan. We got to stroll from Tribeca to Battery Park City to Chinatown to the LES looking for something that doesn't exist. Did I mention it was fucking hot? And a bird somewhere somehow shit on my sweater? And all I could afford to eat for lunch (since they didn't provide that or anything despite us working a full day) was a 99 cent burger from a Crown that was smothered in mayonnaise? I fucking hate mayo. And instead of getting to leave at 6, we got to hung around until around 8 after the volunteer orientation meeting.

The best part is that I get to do it all again tomorrow! Fuck me. Who would've thought I'd be looking forward to sitting on my ass in a cubicle all day? It's gotta be better than that.

Apparently for spring, I've decided to jump into group activities -- if only because I'm excited that people are finally willing to leave their house again. Hanging out also has this addition urgency of probably being the last time I can keep my crazy late schedule before entering the grind. The next couple of weeks are going to be the pits because in addition to starting the job on Monday, I'm also going to be a volunteer. Then again, don't cry too much for me. Free movie screenings, ho!

PrincessNella has been using her new gym membership to also spur me into being a gym bunny. That's a type of thing unlikely to happen because though I don't actually mind exercise and I'm not that out of shape really, getting there is truly the hardest part for me. Besides, I'm still bitter about my relationship with the devil, so gyms are kinda on my shit list. Last Wednesday though, we went to this fun little reggae workout class where I amused myself learning the video dances and having deja vu to West African Dance class without the teacher yelling at me.

From there, across town to Chelsea Piers where J. Monkey was throwing a shindig for work. God, we love free drinks! Especially when it comes with a show and a good cause behind it. We added Lina to the group and trekked through Chelsea in search of food before settling on burgers at a deli on 8th Avenue and some quiet chill time at 419.

Friday, Lina and I were off to some sort of art collective party that friends from work invited her too. The party consisted of people that were just about sick of seeing each other, so we were popular. Though more interested in staking out the food table. Good dumplings! We took our leave after a while though everyone stood in the same places they had been when we had arrived with no sign of leaving. They made us promise to check the next "party." Umm...we'll consider it. Then, we were off downtown to meet with school kids her year. I wondered if I can be considered classist because I straight up rolled my eyes when this kid who had been talking forever about how downtrodden he was all of a sudden started invited people to the opening of his summer home. Wes kid, through and through. I invited Grandmastah H and B down to where we were so I wouldn't stab myself with my keys. The boys were entertaining as always and I've forgiven GH for his birthday party mistake. In form, he scoped out my friends and encouraged me to be proactive in securing a cute one for him.

"I'm not a pimp, you know," I said. To which he replied, "I'm not really asking you to pimp. Just be helpful." And I explained to him that beyond introducing and giving space if they hit it off, I take a hands-off approach. No point in getting someone pissed off if they're not interested, you know?

Saturday found PrincessNella and I at a party at a place I've been meaning to get to for a minute. On our way there through the darkness, I've remembered why Williamsburg never really caught on with me. 1) They're not big on street lights considering you're traipsing through gloomy, abandoned-looking industrial areas, which is connected to 2) the place isn't very "I'm just gonna trek alone" activities which is the base for most of my intrepid activities. And 3) the whole neighborhood seems to travel in packs which reminds me of college, that therefore annoys me, and makes me stand out more when I'm flying solo. But, we found ourselves amused by the place since it reminded us of our HS gym, complete with mattresses covered to resemble mats and bleachers. It was like the 9th grade dance with more people, better music, and alcohol drinks you didn't have to hide from teachers (not that I did that sort of thing. I was a saint back in the day, let me tell you.).

Taking a phone call ended up being a momentous event. I had Dodgeballed my location to jog the memory of the MIA P. Friendster who I was supposed to hang with and he gave a ring like I knew he would. I escaped from the noisy gym floor to chat where it was quieter near the entrance. A kid passing by did a double take and stood near my left as if he had something to say. I looked at him quizzically to see if I could place him, but no dice. Then coming up on my right was someone I did recognize. It was the villian from a movie I'm ashamed to have seen in the theater (well, not really. It was free!) -- and current Paper most beautiful person listee among other movies I know him for. So, I'm struck with the urge to say the line (they're all comedic really, but this one was beyond the pale in that moment) that had Ant and I dying in the theater. In case you haven't seen it (you poor thing), he's playing a Dave Meyers-type video director who pushes up on Honey a little too much before he gets the 5 across the face. His reply to that is: "Bitch, how you gonna play me like that?" but in this funny pseudothug voice. I almost laughed until I cried. So, I'm talking to P all "oh shit, he's standing right next to me and he's short like all actors are in real life, but yo, I'm dying to say that line or at least say I like his stuff" and P's all "do it! do it!" Strangely, at that moment, who walks by but Abe. We chat for a min and he says he's on a recon mission for the still open bar and I ask him to pick up a vodka cranberry for me if he finds it (but I never see him again. He drank my drink!).

Eventually, I get off the phone and don't say anything to David, though I run into him about 4 more times all over the place. PrincessNella and I get stopped by the guy from my left at the door who did think he knew me, but I definitely didn't. He and I chat in highly excitable tones and I make a new friend. Always fun. We switched numbers and have plans to find each other on Friendster and eventually see New York Minute (hopefully altered) in the theater. Plus he complimented my Blacula shirt. How could we not be friends?! PN and I amused ourselves as the party continued by dancing until we would realize that somehow we'd become the center of a circle that would form around us and have to move three times over. They were trying to steal our moves. People are messed up.

Eventually, the party became less interesting and we made our way out of Brooklyn with an incredibly short visit to 419 before heading home. Me in the house before 3am on a Saturday night? Imagine that shit?! But, it was a long night and I didn't care. One more week of late nights complete with a Man Man show on Wednesday. It's gonna have to be something to top last week.

You Are A Woman!

Two new blogs that I stumbled across while reading entertainment news. Is he actually a semi-famous actor? Perhaps. Do I give a shit? Not really. It's got a nice beat and I can dance to it...erm, it's entertaining reading. This one is the musings of a PR person in the world of porn, also hella interesting -- plus with some nakedness for you porno buffs.

I was reading Sugar Magazine earlier when I was struck at the style of this young lady. Her words are so vibrant, they just pop off the page! She's a master chronicler of the social world, she's..oh wait, that's me. Nevermind. Let me stop patting myself on the back before I hurt something.

Kanye West joins with Jacob the Jeweler to make a line of crimes against vision religious themed jewerly such as this seen here. Nothing says being humble and giving to praise to Jesus like extreme tacky ostentatiousness. What's that noise I hear? I think it might be the tide turning. But, what do I know? I'm just a hater. [via All Hip Hop]

The other day, I entered contests on Flavorpill as I do every week. Mostly because their contests are the only thing I can (occasionally) win. I was pleasantly surprised to win again -- this time an autographed poster from Tortoise -- but found that there was a catch: I actually had to go to the show to retrieve it and I was without a ticket. I weighed the good show + new poster - $18 vs. more money for train fare and galivanting, and the wanderings won out. So, I lost my prize. Wackness.

Then yesterday, I was googling people for some reason or another (don't ask, I don't really know myself) when I decided to google myself. And I found that I had won a contest at Prefix a few months back. That was some news to me. I emailed them to say: "Hi there. I won? Did I win a prize too? Because I never got it." The response was: "yeah, we sent it to you forever ago. Is this your address?" And it was. I'm thinking due to lack of a current response, their stance is: "Sounds like a person problem to us."

Sheesh. A kid could start to take this shit personally.

Goddess on the mountain top
Burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love
What's her name again?

Over here in KPville, on repeat is Erlend Oye's DJ Kicks. The way I look at it: anything with Phoenix on it has gotten about a million base points plus I enjoy greatly Oye's singing style and his collaborations with Prefuse 73 and Royksopp. And his solo work and that as part of Kings of Convenience
is butters. So, in biting from Jenny, my artist of the month is Erlend Oye.

But, currently driving me nuts is that I know I saw a DJ party featuring him upcoming in NYC somewhere on the net earlier. But, I can't think for the life of me where it was. Someone help out a poor senile soul, please!Nevermind, found it. APT on May 4th.

And strangely for the third year running, this time of the year has reignited my interest in gospel house. I have no idea what that's about.

I'm sending off my faxed signed acceptance letter and other forms emailed to me. I'm all official with the company. But, I'm about to start crying some bitter, bitter tears. Why is that when everything is all settled in your mind do things come out of the woodwork that you would've loved to do just a measly two weeks earlier? I would've killed to work here or here then, but it's now that they're calling and wanting to interview me. What's next: the publishing company that's been giving the runarond for months will have a shiny position they're dying to bring me in for? That would totally figure.

On Saturday, I stumbled on the real reason I need to leave my part of Queens: it's significantly colder here than any other part of town. After P. Friendster and I motivated ourselves to be proactive and get cultured at the same time by going to the big Brooklyn Museum event, I was standing at the bus stop actually contemplating putting on my parka because of the wind. I was downright freezing standing there and was about to make my way back across the street and into the house before the bus pulled up. But, as the J wound its way across Queens into Brooklyn, I was happy I didn't. It was beautiful out there, breezeless and best of all, fucking warm. Spring had really arrived.

Getting to the museum from my house was a chore and a half that took surprisingly less time than I initially imagined. Taking the J to the C to the S to the 2 was only an hour trip. I can't get to some points in Manhattan as soon as that. Plus the ride was nice, minus the neverending staircase at Franklin Avenue. The last time I took that shuttle, you had to go upstairs to the C booth and get a little ticket to drop in a box once you went outside to make your way up to the S platform. That has to be over seven years easy. We're talking pre-Metrocards. I started off with a brisk jog thinking I wasn't going far, but the steps would not stop. I reached the top of the landing, a little beat. I saw the S in the station and heard the bell, but I knew damn well I didn't have enough wind or energy to run for shit. I half-heartedly strolled towards it before it left and I turn towards the bench to collapse. Strange considering that you'd think since I'm exercising now I'd be in better shape than when I was just sitting on my ass in the house. No such luck.

The new museum entrance is really beautiful. The fountain does a little show and cherry blossom trees are all around the stone benches. I got a little nostalgic for DC, remembering the nice stroll from the AU satellite campus to the main one, passing the grove of cherry blossom trees at the Japanese Embassy. The best about being around there was that I was perfectly comfortable wearing only my blazer as a jacket, even though the day was winding down. I'd forgotten how wonderful a season besides winter could be. The place was packed and it warmed my heart to see everyone coming out. That soon faded when I wondered how everyone got those cute little totes and where I could get one. I met up with P. and we strolled around all the exhibits. The Patrick Kelly one was a trip and he remarked that many of the designs were like a scam on those who should know fashion. I remember my first day as a temp helping to set this up. Some of the shoes were the ugliest, most impractical things I've ever seen. One that looked like it belonged on a genie not a person and this four-heeled monstrosity. All you have to do is look at the obsession people had with Uggs and those rubber Wellingtons to know that people with money to spend will buy just about any ugly thing.

After the museum, we strolled down Flatbush and parted at Atlantic before I ended up walking to Jay Street because I miscalculated the Hoyt stop like a jackass. I hopped on the F to Sapph, something I haven't done on a weekend in months. I soon remembered why. The place was so packed that sweat was practically dripping off the walls, but more importantly, it was wack. The place apparently turned into some strange hipster den that night because of a birthday party and I randomly ran into a friendster of mine that I had brought there a long time ago (on a Thursday). We caught up and he said that he had told his friends as they got there that he had been there before on "a date." I raised an eyebrow at that because I didn't know that's what that had been back in the day. Funny. See, I'm totally inept at reading meeting signals -- or judging what I give out. I assume every outing with a guy is a friend thing, even if I'm attracted to him or it's been expressly noted that it's not just platonic. Live and learn, I suppose.

I jumped ship over to the far west side and strolled about the cobblestones before ducking into 419. The crowd was okay if my interest level has dropped. I miss my bartender friend! For the second time in two nights, I left there and strolled around the corner to a place that's been growing on me. I think there's something about the thrill of knowing that I can get in (not that I've ever had a problem anywhere really) that makes a place interesting (if I like it, that is). Despite generally liking to be casual and chill, I like going to places that are "cool" and actually cool in my jeans and sneaks, Kangol, and hair peeking out unconventionally. Nightlife on my own terms, further illustrating that this article is as full of shit as I thought on first read. But really, I just want something new. Another bar with $5-7 drinks and good music that I can make into a home base. I'm glad that spring is finally here because I was getting restless.

A site that I'll be spending a little much time surfing today. What would make it better if someone had some old segments from Video Music Box laying around. Whatever happened to Ralph McDaniels? I loved him as much as a prepubescent could...in a strictly non-sexual way, natch. Is it just me or did anyone else have the music to "That's Gangsta" playing through their head while reading all of this:

He told the guests that he’d called Condoleezza Rice, the national-security adviser, a mass murderer to her face; what had they ever done? (The Rice exchange occurred in 2002, at the N.A.A.C.P. Image Awards, where McGruder was given the Chairman’s Award; Rice requested that he write her into his strip.) He recounted a lunch meeting with Fidel Castro. (He had been invited to Cuba by the California congresswoman Barbara Lee, who is one of the few politicians McGruder has praised in “The Boondocks.”) He said that noble failure was not acceptable. But the last straw came when he “dropped the N-word,” as one amused observer recalled. He said—bragged, even—that he’d voted for Nader in 2000. At that point, according to Hamilton Fish, the host of the party, “it got interactive.”

Eric Alterman, a columnist for The Nation, was sitting in the back of the room, next to Joe Wilson, the Ambassador. He shouted out, “Thanks for Bush!” Exactly what happened next is unclear. Alterman recalls that McGruder responded by grabbing his crotch and saying, “Try these nuts.” Jack Newfield, the longtime Village Voice writer, says that McGruder simply dared Alterman to remove him from the podium. When asked about this incident later, McGruder said, “I ain’t no punk. I ain’t gonna let someone shout and not go back at him.”

The nerd in me is all about MT Blacklist. Fucking spam gets REJECTED every time. I get almost gleeful reading the activity log. And it's easy enough to install that I didn't have to break a sweat. Easier than 2.661, that's for sure. Get on that, people!

In the "that's strange yet a good idea" category, we have Air Stockings:

Because few things are worse than sporting hose in the summer. Now, thanks to Air Stockings, the impressive Japanese spray-on hose, there’s an alternative that works. Air Stockings is formulated with hydrolyzed silk, amino acids and moisturizers. Spray it on your legs, wait five minutes, and voila! You’ll look like you’ve conformed to corporate dress code with Control-Top-perfect legs. Air Stockings comes in three colors, natural, terra cotta, and bronze, and once dry, the color will not rub off on clothes.

A post I can really identify with:

So, now I’m here. Truth be told, I’ve been here before. Usually in more-often-than-not thwarted attempts to bury my sorrows over a rough dating experience (or, god help me, the news of “Angel’s” cancellation… so sad…) in some random guy’s crotch. But now… well, now I’ve settled into my yearly spat of Bea Arthur-ish disappointment (with a side of bitterness) – which informs me (very against my male nature): Every cock is basically the same… except for the ones with little bumps, crabs and otherwise undesirable/overactive critters with which you’ll soon come into contact if you keep fucking around like a Eurotrash tourist in heat at the office, looking for rough trade to hook-up with on Craigslist when you should be writing up paperwork, for god’s sake…

All that said, I’m just a cute guy looking for another cute guy who might want to hang out, have a few drinks, get to know each other, talk about shit, dance, break beer bottles, enjoy some balls-to-the-fuckin-wall rock-n-roll, eat pizza, see film revivals because you actually ‘like’ the films (and not because you might need something to talk about with the next hipster you run into on the L-train), bond over an embarrassing partiality to Don Henley’s solo work, send stupid emails just because they’re kinda funny… all that cute shit. Of course, you should be hung like Jim Morrisson. Kidding. But it’d be nice if you were relatively masculine, genuinely nice, cute and… well, if you’re not someone I hooked up with in a drunken rampage along the Lower East Side.

My favorite CL post seen over the weekend though had to be this rant to employers everywhere:

10. And, finally, do you realize how fucked up it is to ask someone who has been unemployed for longer than six months "Why are you looking for work?" It would be wonderful to say that my lottery winnings ran out or that I tried being a cat burglar but couldn't get past the Slomin shield. Have you been living under a rock for the past three years?

Somehow yesterday I found myself browsing All Music Guide, as I'm prone to do after watching VH1 Classics. And what usually happens after that is a downloading jag. (How much did I suffer between last July and December/January when we got the cable? Considerably. Downloading on dialup is like water torture.) The theme ended up being if I was listening to Sunday Classics for a change. I got the super slow jams (Will Downing, "I Try") and family reunion/wedding/large scale older black people gatherings staples (Keni Burke, "Risin' To The Top"). It's amazing how I can be nostaglic for the seventies when I wasn't even alive then. Then again, I went to a Steely Dan concert at 15 -- and I had to drag my father who would've rather listened to rap until I got him into it. I've always been contrary. So though I've got the sense of humor of a 12-year old, I've got musical tastes like I'm 40. Anyways, the point is: new songs on the music page.

You know what rocked? Kill Bill Vol 2. Bill's very dead at the end and I spoiled her name before they actually said it in the movie. Bad spoiler reading Candice. Bad.

If you could see my grin! It's all about the ear to ear nowadays. I feel like a happy new person and I'm really enjoying my last two weeks of jack before the job starts. I got my official "we want you!" letter and I'm even making more than I thought. Yay! Meanwhile, I'm back to dancing, lounging, partying and being social like a mofo and might even be taking a trip out of town. For a switch, it's good to be me.

Now if I could just break that pesky habit of looking at job listings all the time.

The laughing hysterically at 3am edition.

Oh man, this post is mostly dirty. Make sure the boss isn't looking over your shoulder!

A "party" wrapup is forthcoming, but I have to drop in with some breaking news while I write it upDown a bit, but this is still a popping fresh bulletin:

Guess what unemployed miserable loser won't be so unemployed (but possibly still miserable -- it's not called play) come May 3rd? Me, goddamit. Woo hoo! *skips around the house doing the cabbage patch*

Also, is it wrong that the two things that please me most about the whole job thing is that: now I can say something concrete instead of being smart alecky and evasive when someone asks me what I'm up to now and that I can get new glasses soon?

On Tuesday afternoon, I was looking worriedly out the window. The sky was downright black, the day overcast, and it just didn't look good out there. I began to wonder if I could just go back to bed and forget about the whole party thing. That wasn't really a good sign.

Still, I soldiered on and pressed my white blazer, looking good but nearly ruined in the wash Sunday. (A personal note for future reference: something that has dye on it isn't a good candidate to be thrown in with your whites. Luckily for me, I skimped on the bleach.) As I was walking out the door, the phone rang. I stood at the door listening to the message. It was my HR contact from the place I'd done a second interview at on Monday. She said something about wanting to "check in" with me and I wondered what the hell that meant. My J train ride was trying to figure out if that meant: 1) "Just calling to tell you that you suck. Thanks for playing. You are the weakest link, goodbye!" 2) "I just wanted to schedule interview #3 with you. If we still like you, you've only got 3 rounds to go!" 3) "I want to offer you the job, but I'm not going to say that on your answering machine." Jay-V and I discussed it on the cells as I made my always running behind ass to the place.

I walked in to see ladders strewn about and workmen working on the ceiling and I almost shit a brick. The co-owner was all, "hey there. Just putting in some fans. We should be done soon. What time are you getting started again?" I replied, "uhh...7." (It was 6:50.) "Hmm," he said. "Well, we'll clean this right up." I nodded a bit worried and strolled off with Jay. We conferred amongst ourselves with "WTF"s as we strolled over to Le Chapeau for some dinner. I sat in the high chair at our table and felt like a giant. I said to her, "hello, little girl, how was your day?" and she later laughed hysterically until tears came out of her eyes when I tucked my napkin in my collar to make a bib. My jacket, dammit! I'm really clumsy. Did I ever mention we're 12 on the inside?

I take a break from dinner to head back over and see the newly arrived PrincessNella, Helen, and S. Friendster. I chat with them before going to the bar and ordering up a Stoli Raspberry and tonic from the ultrahipster bartender. (Mmm...brand name alcohol. I don't even like vodka tonics normally, but that was slamming. And the best part: it was free!) I excused myself to go get my food and Jay and we returned to the same three people sitting there. Around this time, I thought I might should start worrying, but we all just kicked it circle style, as a friend of S. and Helen plus Trendvickster were added later on. Then I decided to start calling folks, most of whom were stuck at work or at home hibernating because of the rain. Promoting is not easy, especially when the weather is the pits, and officially the party was a bust, but I don't feel like it was a total failure -- except business-wise. A group of yuppie randoms wandered in and I sent subliminal messages across the room to persuade them to keep drinking. Lina dropped in and offered the advice to call back the job lady the next morning and be aggressive. Later on came P. Friendster and Kali, who stuck it out with me until I bounced a little after one, trooper style. Everyone was dope, hanging out, talking, laughing, and having a good but definitely low-key considering what we expected. Major thanks going out all that ran through and we were all, "Buck up and keep smiling, sad little clown!" Though I feared the owner would take a pound of flesh out of me because I didn't meet the guarantee, he cut me major slack because of the shitty ass weather and offered to give me another chance in May. That means y'all that skipped, better have your butts up in there, aight?

Strange was the hipster bartender who had left early on yet came back later with friends in tow. He asked me how the party was and I made the hand movements of a pulling a trigger to my head. He sat down with us and tried to reassure me before saying "But, you look great though!" and kissing my hand. Erf? I'm such a bad reader of flirting and such unless they're really blatant, yet even with this one, I'm still skeptical. You should wish you were there though. Ever seen a person who can't actually blush blush? It's quite a sight.

Night overall: A+
Party: C-
Money made: Definitely in the -$ range
Savath + Savalas tickets bought: Nil. If someone can rig that Flavorpill contest so I can win, I might be your best friend. And I'm only partially kidding.

It's been a minute since I've done one of these. I held off in case of writer's block for my test column. I ended up writing about the present lull period before (hopefully) the social life goes back to popping as it gets warmer.

I've noted for a while that my energy is zapped. The job thing has been bothering the shit out of me, to the point where I couldn't even allow myself to have fun because I've been thinking about it so much. I've been spending a lot of time at home watching TV -- as if you couldn't tell from all the VH1 Classics related posts. Mostly because it doesn't cost money to stay. I turned into a pill before my very eyes and others agreed -- but then again, what do I care what those sniffers think? Just kidding. Some of my nicest friends are addicts.

In trying to lift myself out of the blahs, I've reverted to some August era behaviors. I've gotten too comfortable in some surroundings and subsequently bored, so I'm back to walking and looking for something new (to me). I've found myself wrapping up nights in the lower LES/Chinatown, ending up miles from where I started. I forgot how I loved learning new streets and filling in the mental map. I've lifted the megaclub ban and went to Checkered with TrendVickster a few Fridays ago. I danced! and I liked it! It was a nice return to form. I did draw the line however at doing the Girls Gone Wild! repressed schtick at some wack ass haunt in the Village. There was a bachelorette party whooping it up on the poles. There's something about poles in a bar that makes every Suzanne think that she's Bambi The Stripper. I can't go for that, no can do. I'm one of those people that if I want to go crazy, I don't need the "I'm so drunk!" excuse. Boredom alone works for me.

Last Saturday, I made a visit to 419 in a minute. My friend the upstairs bartender had informed me the week before that it was his last night. I came out to support and say goodbye. He's hanging up his uhhh, shaker on moving onto civilian world, but said knowing me and my hauntings of the place we'd probably meet again. For old times' sake, I ordered port and he was cool enough to give it to me no charge. And after months of joking and chatting, we finally introduced ourselves. It feels like the end of an era. Then again, despite all my posturing, I am the sentimental type.

Would you folks be dears and come to my party? What party you ask? This one, natch:

Knock On Wood
Tuesday April 13th
7pm - 2am
No Cover

Music: hip-hop, R&B, reggae, classics

After work specials from 7-9pm: 2 for 1 drinks and ladies get the first one comped

The rain makes me melancholy. Not that it's a state I'm ever truly far away from.

What seems like forever ago, Farmer and I had this surprisingly frank yet chill conversation about what we wanted our dream person to be like -- the unsaid being "what I'll move on to when I'm finally done wasting time with you." I said that I wanted most of all a spark, someone to make me excited and intrigue me instead of just drifting towards them because the option was there. His response was so much simpler: "someone who just fits me." It says a lot about the differences between us. I've got control freak tendencies under a type B personality surface. I like to make lists, weigh options, plan. Where he just does what he wants on his own terms. He wanted to drop out and move to Florida and he did. Occasionally, I say that I want to do something similar, but I know I never will. I can't consciously live life in freefall mode. I have to be working towards something -- figuratively at least.

I've found myself starting to wonder if Farmer really has the right approach, especially since that's what always ends up happening to me anyways. To just go with what fits at the time instead of wanting every piece of the criteria to be met. To take the science out of it all and simply drift until I find something that just feels okay.

I'm too impatient to ever really commit myself doing that though. I want my fit on my terms because there's a voice in me that says when I left it all up to chance before, disaster struck. The Continental came along when I was so preoccupied with my article (and its relative thesis failure) that I was a bit more open than I should've been. Mr. Sailor when I tried to unsuccessfully transfer the fun of a NYC summer to the woods of CT. Farmer literally got the jump on me when I forgot that sometimes you have to be on the lookout for other people's motives. And what came of those? Shit, shit, and more shit. I think bitterness is creeping into my heart because I feel like so many shit people (one with the alias of S.C. comes to mind near the top that list) have their fit, so where is mine?

I'm too young to be so cynical. I blame the rain.

What's up with the mega rain forecast? Especially since folks are so tempermental about being out and about in the rain and such. If I didn't know better, I'd think cosmic forces are conspiring to make my party a bust. And that would suck. Candice = highly disgruntled. Moreso than usual.

The flip side to watching a lot of VH1 Classics is getting songs that might be somewhat embarassing stuck in your head, so that you're compelled to download them and sing along at the top of your lungs. Not that I know anything about that.

But if I did, I might be blasting "I Want To Know What Love Is" on repeat.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...except there is. At least I didn't download "That's What Friends Are For." Even if I did sing along to the video. There is nothing wrong however with blasting Led Zeppelin, "Ten Years Gone." Rock! Watching that video really reminded me that I always thought that Axl Rose and Slash were totally the Page/Plant of the 80s & 90s. I thought later watching a Red Hot Chili Peppers special on one of those Showtimes that Anthony Kiedis and Iggy Pop look eerily similar.

Strangely, it dawned on me yesterday that considering I'm throwing Party #1 Tuesday, I haven't said much about it besides a few allusions. "If you build it, they will come" or something or another, so here's the vitals:

Knock On Wood

Tuesday April 13th
7pm - 2am
No Cover

Music: hip-hop, R&B, reggae, classics

After work specials from 7-9pm: 2 for 1 drinks and ladies get the first one comped

So, everyone should go and bring their friends, neighbors, and randoms off the street. Plus it'll be an especially good time because I'm there, natch. It's for a good cause, guys. A portion of the proceeds supports the CAP Fund.

Yesterday, my week was torpedoed even further with a newsflash from Shady. He got a cushy ass job in one of my targeted industries (which he admittedly could not give two shits about) at a higher salary than I've resigned myself to expect. The friendship? Is over. Back to hatred as usual. Bitterness has been radiating off me like waves ever since. Fucker. And for the record, I told him that I hated him, but he didn't believe me. Apparently my sarcastic voice is easily mistaken for my serious one. That's not my fault though.

In trying to redirect those feelings, I found myself on an exercise kick. Instead of punching the wall and screaming, I did some pushups and lunges. PrincessNella dragged me out the house for complaining and a walk around the park and the greater Jamaica area. My fat ass thanked me for the movement. She and I are brainstorming the summer move, but thinking of new ways to get my ass employed beforehand.

The best part of yesterday was the TV. A little South Park, some Chappelle's Show and Sopranos encore before being drawn in my awesomeness that is VH1 Classics and InDemand. I watched Old School and laughed my ass off. A thousand apologies to Russ for ever doubting that I wouldn't like it. Even if Will Ferrell is in it. I forgot that guy did Road Trip. That was my shit a few years back. On VH1 Classics, "Eyes Without A Face" by Billy Idol. It's impossible for me to watch any video of his without thinking back to that SNL sketch from the 80s that noted he "sing[s] like Bing, but looks like Sting" to the tune of that song.

I found myself waking up on my own circa 8:40 and feeling super dazed. It's been a good while since I've seen that side of noon. Imagine my surprise when the phone rang and I got sent on a temp adventure. Today as a receptionist, I've discovered that I'm the stupidest person alive because I can't transfer calls and open doors without internal spazzing. Lovely. At least it's nice outside so far.

I've got a test column due Monday -- me and a nightlife column is that a match made in heaven or what? Better would be me as a gossip columnist but certain people didn't respond to my "hire me!" packages. I blame Gawker for shouting out the opening to the world when I probably still had a fighting chance, or something. Anyways, leading up to writing 750+ words, I seem to have developed a bit of going out fright. All day I was semi-desperately looking around for someone to check this film fest launch party (though I can think of at least 5 people I didn't ask -- the panic is the most important part), but I went off to it alone and tottered around the place like a scared wallflower. Even after the free booze. You would think that it's a little too late in the game for me to be losing my nerve. Ah well. I'll hopefully snap out of it because this weekend's gotta be good.

In other news, I've been crystallizing the plans for the Tuesday party. So far it's an one-off, but it's a matter of seeing how well I do. Truthfully, the amount needed to make me happy is low because all I want is enough revenue to get me to this next Friday -- and maybe a Metrocard. I've named the party "Knock On Wood" because I think I'm due for an influx of good luck. Earlier, I was telling Jay-V and Ant that I was starting to feel discouraged because of the work related silence so far this week. This week's mood is definitely subdued. Then, I went into thinking to myself that I should be so down because hey, at least I've got my health, prompting me to quickly add "let me go knock on some wood because that's the last thing I need." So, voila, Knock On Wood party. Details and invites are forthcoming. I'll even throw it up here on the blog because hey, lurkers, I'll take your money too. It's not just for friends.

And I mean that in the nicest way possible, natch.

This week, I'm taking a bit of a break from the crazy looking for a job grind. I've been wound up super tight in the past few weeks. In about 14 days, I've been on 9 interviews and I think I'm seriously sick of talking about myself and why I think I'd be a great candidate bullshit bullshit. This job search has been worse than I'm sure any job could possibly be. I'm worn out for real on a lot of levels and I had to get the Sallie Mae monkey off my back by putting in for a deferment. Too bad I didn't think of that one sooner. Despite the tone, I'm still pretty hopeful and crossing my fingers and all that. I'd just like a decent night's sleep without nightmares about bankruptcy.

So, now I'm chilling until Friday when I have an interview and again on Monday that I'm hoping I won't need to go through with. Meanwhile, I plan to clean my room, do laundry, write my test article, and maybe roll around on the floor with the cats for kicks. Oh, and blog, natch. In other words, be an utterly boring homebody. Sounds like heaven to me personally.

VH1 Classics rocks! I think I might have to say that at least once a week. Even thoigh I still don't really watch much TV, I'm always up for watching this stuff. I think the worst part about '80s videos has to be the dancing. (To say the clothes would be too obvious. People with too much money like to look like clowns. Some things never change.)

Favorite videos seen lately: Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam featuring Full Force, "All Cried Out" and Styx, "Mr. Roboto." As well as taped Steely Dan and The Doors performances. I'm gonna marry channel 136.

And continuing my good TV weekend, I caught both BASEketball and Guys And Dolls. Excellent!

A welcome back and hope you're fully better soon! to Jenny. Belated happy birthday! to Angelique. Jay Smooth, soon to come to Gothamist Interview as soon as I can make up 3 questions!

To start, last week when someone asked me if I went by Candy, I actually restrained from my typical answer: "only if you have a death wish." But, man, second to that has be getting my name spelled wrong. Nick, Nick, Nick...CandIce, kid.

Abe proves that it wasn't just me feeling like club DJs are getting more and more formulaic. I remembered this weekend the missing piece to his riff was the rock phase, usually "Seven Nation Army" before seguing into Nirvana/Smashing Pumpkins/something loud and grungy circa '94 before throwing in the Guns & Roses. Save us from the DJ hacks!

Go check out A Day In The Life if you haven't already. It's utterly fascinating.

A random drop in to Welcome To The Dollhouse revealed that she was yet another ex-HCHSer. Her post about the college process reminded me of the bitterness I felt 5 years ago towards this prick of a college counselor I had. In our meetings, he told me I shouldn't bother applying to places like Wes and Hampshire and all the other little liberal arts colleges I had my heart set on because they were way past "reach" schools. Despite the fact I had a 3.3 GPA, had a newspaper column, sang in the three different choruses through my years at school, had been on the basketball team, and had pretty decent SAT scores, he thought I should stay along the level of Penn State and maybe CUNY/SUNY schools because a lot of other (black) kids there had fared okay with those. Poor little college process wound up me went home in tears and my stepmother ripped him a new asshole. I applied where I wanted to go and got in as I knew deep down I would. And I even resisted the urge to egg that fucker's car. Five years later, he can still kiss my ass.

Speaking of Wes, is there any doubt that a rock band of Americans singing made up French songs with fake French accents have Wes roots? Read the diary of their mini-tour on Slate [via S/FJ]

If you don't read Negrophile, what are you waiting for? Tremendously good shit over there, i.e this article speaking to something I and my school friends know way too much about unfortunately, or this one with selected stories from a book I really want to read; or a Post opinion from the other week that I missed.

And since I'm obsessed with all thing Prefuse and the many other aliases of Sir Herren, the official site is dope as it should be. Anybody up for the Bowery Ballroom show on the 16th?

[via Jay-V and her memes page]

1. Your name spelled backwards. Amissicidnac, but really Ecidnac
2. Where were your parents born? Both in Brooklyn
3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? Nu Shooz, "I Can't Wait" because I was stunned I didn't have it already.
4. What's your favorite restaurant? Green Field
5. Last time you swam in a pool? Sheesh. Forever ago. I don't do bathing suits mostly. It's got to have been Miami '02.
6. Have you ever been in a school play? Yeppers. I've been in a whole bunch. *bitterness* Just not in HS because the theater cult wouldn't let me in their shows. *bitterness*
7. How many kids do you want? Between 1-3. Depends on my pain threshold after the first one. 3 is personally my dividing line between having children and a litter.
8. Type of music you dislike most? Anything too derivative
9. Are you registered to vote? Definitely
10. Do you have cable? Oh yes. Digital cable all the way
11. Have you ever ridden on a moped? Yeppers in my youth
12. Ever prank call anybody? Nope. Requires more effort than I usually like making.
13. Ever get a parking ticket? You'd probably have to drive to get one of those.
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? Nope. Afraid of heights and not really a thrill seeker in that sense.
15. Furthest place you ever traveled? Senegal
16. Do you have a garden? Umm...no. I think I lack a green thumb and besides, that's just not my kind of interest.
17. What's your favorite comic strip? I've got a soft spot for Garfield and The Lockhorns, but I don't really read comics.
18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? Yep because I had to learn it to sing it.
19. Bath or Shower, morning or night? Shower, generally morning. But a good long bath can be heaven if it's been a rough week.
20. Best movie you've seen in the past month? The Last Dragon!
21. Favorite pizza topping? Meat Lover's or Supreme
22. Chips or popcorn? Either. I'm not picky about junk food generally.
23. What color lipstick do you usually wear? I'm more of a gloss girl. Lancome Red Sparkle or Cerise
24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells? I'm gonna go with a no for this one.
25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Nah
26. Orange Juice or apple? Apple Juice
27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine? Sammy's Noodle House with PrincessNella
28. Favorite type chocolate bar? I hate them all because they're killer food, but when I could eat it, I was partial to Hershey's Milk Chocolate and Kit Kat bars
29. When was the last time you voted at the polls? Democratic primaries
30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? Had to be years ago down south
31. Have you ever won a trophy? Sure. Unfortunately, it's been years.
32. Are you a good cook? Yeah. I just pretend not to know how to cook so I don't have to do it.
33. Do you know how to pump your own gas? Of course, even though I don't drive. Quite silly actually.
34. Ever order an article from an infomercial? Nope, but I have picked up things in stores that I saw on TV.
35. Sprite or 7-up? I like both equally, but I love 7-Up's lemon flavor.
36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? Does the t-shirt at the campus center count?
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? Cat food, candy and chapstick
38. Ever throw up in public? Yeah unfortunately, but thankfully there wasn't too much public to witness it.
39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? To find a true love...who is a millionaire.
40. Do you believe in love at first sight? Yeah
41. Ever call a 1-900 number? Nope
42. Can exes be friends? Only if you broke up on good terms.
43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? I don't even remember
44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? A fair amount according to pictures
45. What message is on your answering machine? Some robotic voice asking you to leave a message
46. What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? Maybe Mr. Robinson or Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood? It's been a long time since I've been into SNL.
47. What was the name of your first pet? I want to say Whiskers, but I'm not sure. I was literally a baby.
48. What is in your purse? Pens, Women Who Rock notebook, keys, wallet, Juicy Tube, chapstick, candy, and occasionally the cell.
49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime? Pet the cats
50. What is one thing you are grateful for today? A good night's sleep

As a young singleton with a healthy libido and the honor of being a closet romantic, to say that I spend a fair amount of time thinking about relationships -- or lack thereof -- isn't especially surprising. In the eight months I've been back in town full-time, it's been all about trial and error. If a cute guy that you've had a nice rapport with gives you his number, don't be a dolt and call him. Or if you haven't gotten his number, what are you waiting for? Ask or give him yours. Time's a-wasting! Asking questions is usually a good idea. If you like them, tell them so! If they can't deal, it's their loss. Three things I really wouldn't be able to advise on are: how (umm, theoretically) a person who might consider themself a size queen can find that piece of info out before things escalate; how not to be blindsided by someone pole vaulting out of the friend zone; and the delicate situation of gauging someone's interest level before you potentially make an ass of yourself and get the "I think you're really cool but I just don't like you that way/have a girl-/boyfriend."

In honor of the new age, I'm avoiding many people, places and things that made the exploits of 22 so irritating after a while. Cooling down the hot pants, if you will. Fine tuning the radar, being firm but not too firm on the criteria. Of course, I got some shit on- and offline for putting the age thing first on "sick of" list. That is something that's important to me because I feel like it's an issue from keeping things from getting off the ground. For better or worse, when Farmer dominated the scene from August until December, it was something I could not get over because the life experiences he had packed into the 4 years between us had me constantly feeling like a kid. Of course, it was probably a problem invented in my head, but since most relationships are mental if I say it's a problem, it will be.

I'm beginning to think though that I'm constricted by rules and preferences. Friends are off-limits, even moreso because of Farmer aftermath. Most people I went to school with are persona non grata because honestly I'm sick of looking at them and/or would rather avoid that element. Guys at Sapph and 419 are off-limits because I know through experience who the types that run through there are. I'm over pale, skinny hipsters. No interest in the hyperthugs. No, no, no to whitebreads, status-obsessed, and crunchy hippies. Thumbs down to the humorless. So, what's left? In my mind, plenty. In actuality, apparently not much.

The preferences function as sort of a pop-up blocker. The other week, I met a cool guy who I nice vibe going with. We seemed to like the same things, occasionally hang out at the same places, have similar out and about styles, and have a bit of a weakness for the sauce. What functioned as the smackdown was that we might be working together on a project. PrincessNella in her devil on the shoulder role was all "who cares? Go for it!" and I considered it but had to ixnay that. So, the friend zone welcomes a new member. I mean, it's all trial and error, natch, but principles are there for a reason. If you don't have those, who do you have really?

As a baby of the '80s, I've got a lot of love for some silly and shitty movies that came out during that time. If Killer Klowns From Outer Space, Krush Groove, The Golden Child, Howard The Duck (saw that in the movies, believe it or not), or the like are on, don't even bother talking to me 'cause I'm not listening. The master of them all would have to be The Last Dragon.

I love that movie so much that flipping through the channels when I got home before dragging my tired ass to bed, I had to stop and watch it all...for like the millionth time. Yeah, it's cheesy. The "acting" is terrible. But, I'll be damned if I don't have those songs stuck in my head all over again and I'll probably be saying "Sho Nuff!" for the rest of the weekend.

Nick commented that my entries are coming across as way on the cryptic side. Yeah, I can see that. Hmm, what's up in plain words? I've gotten a writing job since I realized a while ago that for a person who calls herself a writer, I don't seem to write much of anything (except for this). I've got a monthly column on a webzine and I'll link it up when it goes live, natch. I'm also wading into the promoting pool with this little thing I'm throwing in 2 weeks. More details to come once I get my shit together. On the job front, the prospects are looking good...damned good. I've met so many people and pitched myself so much in these past two weeks that I'm stuck in "sell, sell! spin, spin!" mode the second someone asks me about myself. My energy is zapped. It's going to be a low-key weekend for sure...unless I someone throws something persuasive out there which is pretty likely.

April Fools' Day was amusing. It was funny all the silly things people would come out and say to "fool" you. The best part was when Lina was convinced I was fooling her and vice versa when she got mixed up with days and had to back out of going to our alumni reception. Ack...yes, I went to an alumni reception. And I really wonder why they send me letters asking for money? I do give them the impression that I've got school spirit or something.

Jay-V and I had a mini-reunion as we hung around some of our ex-classmates. I was under the impression that I hadn't seen her in ages yet it's only been a little over a month. Any gathering of school people is semi-interesting because there's always a random I had forgotten I really liked until I see them again. This time it was this kid M, a sharp kid whose manner of speaking is totally standup style. Between him and Jay's infectious laugh, I would start smiling/laughing until I realized that though I couldn't even make out words, I couldn't help myself. The funny part was seeing everyone all spiff. Not that all of us were bums up at Wes, but sweats and the like are just about the universal uniform. Therefore, it was funny to see people in suits and ties, little black dresses with stockings and pumps, and all sorts of adult wear. I dressed like an adult, but I had to top it off with the Kangol. I couldn't help myself. The way I see it, I'm straddling that line between school-aged slacker and genuine adult right now, so I'm riding it for all it is worth.

Later, I ventured out to the dark corners of DUMBO where I took in the Different Kitchen party. I shot the shit with Nick, some of his friends and the bartender who actually knows someone from Wes my year. Sheesh. Too many school connections in one night. I'm surprised I didn't run into someone randomly too. I introduced myself to Ian but I was too lazy to add "of Kitty Power" to my name, so he was like "umm hi, Random Friend of Nick's Who Just Shook My Hand, enjoy the party!" I had to disappear for a while to answer a call from Tino, checking in from New Mexico. I had been sitting on the J earlier in the evening, bored as shit, and I left a message for him. We'd played phone tag for a while before we connected. I miss that kid. I'm trying to guilt trip him to making a coast visit.

From DUMBO to Sapph, where I spent a grand total of 20 minutes before heading home. Have you noticed what I didn't mention? That would be dropping into 419. I'm leaving that place alone for a little while. I can't afford the drinks right now plus the kids I see there all the time are probably beginning to think that I was the one forever in the house when they get there. And I'm currently bored with it. Seeking freshness for real. (And I've got more to say about that in general, but that's for another post.) As I waited for the bus, I chatted with my friend at the bakery of how I'm a fat old-feeling cow and I blame him because he gives me food to eat late at night. He pshawed that and gave me some cheese danishes and a giant cookie and I killed a danish on the bus ride. I'd say "I'll walk it off later" or whatever people who do exercise say they'll do, but it won't happen really, hence why I'm fat. But, I'm not really. I just like complaining about that. Besides, as long as I'm on the curvaveous side rather than the chunky one, it's all good in my book. Pretty soon I'll be able to walk my plump behind to my heart's content, rollerblade, bike, all that type of active shit. Oooh...spring weather. I can't wait!

Be very very quiet.

I've got my formidable foe, Salaried Employment, in my sights. We're planning to spring an attack on it anyday now. I've been attacking it from many directions and it won't know what hit it in a few days. I've been planning the offensive from my end, working slow and steady, testing and retesting tools. And finally, I've got the strategic plan to take it down once and for all.

Meanwhile, await the next broadcast. Success is inevitable.