August 2005 Archives

Yo, get this: blogs don't update themselves! Crazy, right?!

The internet world has been humming along without me. Dirty drunken mattress sex (with special stoop fucking anecdote bonus). And the revealing of the dude most likely to be getting his ass kicked this Wednesday night at Savalas (*hint, hint*).

At work, I'm swamped up to my eyeballs, barely having enough time to take up residency on the DH forum, but I make time to talk about the best liquor stores in the area and planning neighbor meetups. Oh yes I do. Last week was just a long painful blur. Friday night, I was in bed around midnight and woke up bright and early Saturday to do laundry and mostly lounge about. We're setting the world on fire!

Saturday was meeting up with friend C at PS 1 and heading to her place in Bushwick. I don't really "get" loft living. Isn't it just cheaper in the long run to get the place with walls? I'm a media bitch, not a carpenter. I'll be where the professionals already did that job. Plus it cuts down on such lovely interludes as when her roommate and his girlfriend decided to just start having sex. They closed the door, but surprise, the window area is just a hole, so we got every groan, moan, and creak. Lovely. C had to bring it to my attention (I'm good at only hearing what I want to hear) and then had a freakout which made me feel awkward because I'd hate for someone to be fucking up my shit when I'm in my zone...erm, or whatever. I'm just glad Ant and I don't have that problem. We've got some solid walls.

Anyways, we went to the d'n'b weekly. Jungle and d'n'b upstairs, speed garage in the basement. We surveyed the crowd warily for a long time. "Ugh, this crowd," she said. "It's just white bread idiots playing adventurer."

"Well, what do you expect?" I replied. "Who else lives around here now that apartments are $2600?"

"None of these people are junglists. First, there's no spliffs. Second, no colored people (besides us). Third, no camouflage. And most importantly, no screw faces!"

I'm not really a junglist myself, but I can screw face with the best of them and just throw myself in there. Word of advice to people at dancing parties who don't dance: get over yourself, find the beat, and ride it. You look 100x stupider being a statue than you would doing the Elaine dance or whatever. This has been a Kitty Power public service announcement. Thank you and good night.

See you next week!

Hello, internet world. I know damned well y'all don't know about this. Think of this as a tide over gift while I'm off scurrying about instead of posting. More to come later.

Chateau Flight, "Down At The Rotisserie (Tchok Remix)"

Later is now...

Yeah. I've been slacking again. It happens.

I'm totally exhausted! Someone remind me again that I shouldn't go out and drink after midnight on a weekday! But besides that, falling into a nice relaxed little groove. I'm amusing myself with my knack for finding all the dudes seperated at birth from each other. Apparently this summer if you're wiry, tattooed, and prone to manic bursts of conversation, yes. I'm experimenting with being laid-back near to the point of comatose (unless I'm playing air hockey or trivia), so the contrast is funny to me.

The most exciting part of my week so far was buying a $20 Dust Buster at National Wholesale Liquidators and getting the Slurpee I've been longing for at 7-11. Hani fed me bad info and said they only had two flavors, but there were so many to choose from! 7-11 is a novelty thing for me because I can think offhand of only two in the entire 5 boros when I was growing up, so not having to go to LI to get a Slurpee is pretty sweet. (Though I discovered last week that Target has an imitation Icee machine thingy, so even closer to home!) I was a grinning fool on the train ride home today and everyone else looked very jealous.

Special birthday shout going out to Abe. I'm involved in a collaborative blog thing (one of two, but the other is still in progress) here. The theme is Around The World In 80 Mins and I hope I don't get somewhere in the South Pacific, an area I don't have a quarter of a clue about. Should be an interesting mix in the end though.

We here at KP are in need of aid. We supremely love Six Feet Under and haven't been watching this season all because in our lovely walkup, we have no HBO (for the record, it's all Ant's fault). But for the last episode ever, TWOP recaps isn't going to cut it. So...who wants to have a little bright-eyed funny girl like us over their place Sunday night at 9pm? We are the perfect house guest, cracking jokes (not during the show natch...unless you like that) and lighting up a room with our magnetic personality. I'd be your best friend and I'd even (maybe) bring your preference of cake or liquor. Please please please? Give a shout to your girl! Thank you.

/end public service announcement

Fizzie: yesterday i hit on a 40 year old lady
Fizzie: she was fine, tho
Jamirakid: unless she was like halle berry/vivica fox, doubt it!
Jamirakid: ;)
Fizzie: um
Fizzie: think more like lynne whitfield
Jamirakid: she's older than 40, pushing 50 :)
Fizzie: oh, whatever
Fizzie: hahaha
Jamirakid: i actually did think of her first
Jamirakid: but then i was like "wait..too old"
Fizzie: so then, just knock a couple years off her, and that's where we're at
Fizzie: all i know is that old lady had BODY
Fizzie: i was like, daaaaaaaaaang
Jamirakid: LOL
Jamirakid: heh. you might end up blogged today!
Fizzie:: hahaha
Fizzie: that's some funny shit
Fizzie: ay
Fizzie: .................
Fizzie: i'd stick it to lynne whitfield too
Jamirakid: haha

We take this time to interrupt the angst fest to note that it's been a heat index well over 100 in NYC all weekend. *whimper* We didn't even pretend like we were considering leaving the house today and instead laid around naked trying not to breathe too much and/or melt. Also feeling bad for the poor cat who just laid on the floor miserably. And yes, the A/C was on full blast. It's just a fucking sauna in this place. Viva rain! Let's hope it stays cooler just for a little bit.

But, I did find the time to update the music page. I left off the most obvious song and instead put it here: Third World, 96 Degrees In The Shade.

Also, some event pics came down the pipeline. This is why I hate pictures. I always look like someone's crosseyed drunken grandma. And it's official, I've lost the battle of the bulge, so back to Crunch I go. Let's not even mention that the weather always has me dripping with sweat. I'm so gross this summer.

Oh, hi. Angst alert!

Instead of throwing myself back into the oven-like KF for Kano, I met Trendvickster way uptown for a going away party for some of her classmates. She had me expecting a rager, but it was definitely on the adult dinner party tip with homemade food all over. The hosts were a couple that met in the program and are now moving together to make a new life out of state. I'd met the guy before briefly and he seemed like the typical good-looking wild boy sort -- a dime a dozen here in town, so it was surprising to see the buttoned-up, respectable transformation. I almost didn't recognize him. The pair was like an old married couple yet are around my age. Things like that are frightening, fascinating, and melancholy inducing for me. Once upon a time, that was me and it feels like a lifetime ago.

This summer has me always thinking of my utter fuckups. 2005 has been like 50 car pile up on the highway. I need my pheromone receptors totally recalibrated because it's starting to seem like if there's some element of bad news involved, I'm led straight to it. In my world, there's apparently no one who isn't an asshole and/or cheater. Not even mentioning under 30 and a non-druggie. I might very well be an asshole, but I'm none of those other things, so do I need to go knit or something in order to apparently avoid every toxic person/place/thing I know?

I think the sorta sick thing is that every friend I have who like me isn't some globe-trotting, living their life by the seat of their pants, laissez-faire sort (I'm leaving out a pretty obvious descriptor, but they know what I mean) is in exactly the same boat as me. We've been running our little rat race and are all respectable and shit. Where's our goddamned cheese? I'm totally jealous of those who seems to just meet cool new prospects without any sort of hassle. How the fuck do they do it? I fucking hate the Farmers and Linas and Tinos and Alexs who can't go a second without someone new (just like the one before) waiting to snap them up every second. Apparently, it's too much for me to ask to have the liberty of meeting someone who is from where I'm from and likes the things I like and would like me. It's a catch-22 to know that you're not going to meet anyone waiting at home for them to knock on your door, but getting kicked around so much out there that you just want to hide out for a bit. I've had to be sorta irreverent my methodology to simply not shrivel up and die, so I have the distinction among those I know of getting most of the rewards and the penalties. You're really damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

I'm expecting a gift to fall from the sky any day now. I deserve it.

My summer is officially my own again. We return to our regularly scheduled program of...hmm, I dunno what. Shows, bitching and moaning, occasional jewels thrown here and there. I'm actually smiling, but I'm totally still curmugeonly as ever. This August weather is killing me and I'm not looking forward to the brain roasting I'm going to get out and about at PS 1 today.

I've been preoccupied and broke so my concert going has been the bare minimum. Stuff I saw but never got around to mentioning: DJ Spooky/Sun Ra/MC5 @ Summerstage. I was only half paying attention since I was flyering but it was pretty interesting. The first chance I got to see what any of them sounded like, besides Spooky who I'd seen before on the Snocore '97(or '98) mega bill of Spooky/Black Eyed Peas (with original singer chick)/Everclear. Ah youth!; The Juan Maclean @ Tribeca Grand. My hatred of hotel bars still stand. If I'm paying around $9 for a fucking drink, it'd better be a big cup and/or some personalized shit from Milk & Honey. They were meh. I was transfixed by the theremin (I think that's what it's called) and liked the party because it was all that glitchy shit I listen to at home; Femm Nameless @ one of the Rubulaud parties. I've seen them playing Wes years ago and they're still awesome. There might be something else, but I can't even remember what I ate for dinner last night, so no hope for recalling a show I saw last month.

I ended up txting back and forth with The Brit Thursday night when I was afterpartying myself into Friday's hangover. I really haven't thought about the boy in months, but when I stumbled on the listing for the Roll Deep/Kano weekend special, I had to check in to see if he was coming down. I think it'd nice to catch up and all that. I'm not sure if I still feel the butterflies or whatever and I think the moment has passed really, but the connection of being our age in the same field and being the more "straight-laced" of our common circle is still there. I've actually kinda missed him.

Trendvickster and I did up Roll Deep last night in tandem. I'd like to take the time to send a big fuck you to the like 7-foot tall asshole who propped himself front row center as if (as if!) he'd have trouble seeing anywhere else he'd want to stand. Also to the fucks who didn't understand that if I am standing on the upstairs platform to get a better angle, being short and all, standing in front of me when you are taller isn't the way to go unless you love dirty looks and curses. None of you fuckwits are made of glass and I could give a shit about your collection of concert pics for your wack-ass blog/flickr page. Keep that in mind on your next concert excursion.

The first DJ sucked, but we knew that which is why we avoid his parties like the plague. Fizzie's brother is coming in to play at that dude's party and I hear that he's an awesome DJ, but seriously, I just can't bring myself to go because of the other dude and his all encompassing wackness. Next DJ up was decent, doing his turntabalist thing. I observed the strange phenomenon of loud cheers whenever some line containing that "n"-word in its permutations was isolated and pumped out. "Woo...it's that word we can't say even though there's only like 6 black people in the building, including the performers!" Interesting. And then the crew came on and did their thing. Seemed like there was a tiny bit of drama for a sec as dude who looked like was a raver that got thrown up on stage on the way to a party got called out for being a bit of a mic diva. Not as high-energy/gloss as the Dizzee show, but I'm just happy to see a grime event with people in it about now. I'd rather they not be statues, but that's what happens when the non-skills-having hipster/internerd massive shows up somewhere.

We ran into The Brit's brother and his girl, but not the boy. I was a little disappointed, but there's always tonight if I can get over another case of DJ hatred to go. He gave me a wink with a bit of a "oh hey, I know why you're here!" but I see them all the time at shows, so he wasn't really that surprised to see me in the house. We bitched about the statues in the house and agreed that it was pretty much par for the course.

It's interesting to hang back and watch him just network since he knows everyone and was chatting with Wiley and shit. I'm totally inept with things like that. Basically, the reason why I'll never be a real event planner type. I can strike up a random convo in a controlled environment, but the spontaneous thing just isn't me. It's not that I'm not social, just inexplicably shy. Yeah I dunno. One of those things. An end of the year resolution maybe?

You should know the drill by now. Flyer is staying up top until August 11th. Piping hot new stuff underneath.

It's one of those not so secret blog things -- you know, openly alluded to but not explicitly stated to pretty much cover my ass, e.g. my last name -- that I've been on the fence about my job for a minute now. The typical complaints: over-/underworked and definitely underpaid.

The summer's been tense on that front with a lot of switchups company wide and I got a raise, which was nice but didn't help much. My super great boss resigned the other week which was really surprising, but she's off to go live out her dream or whatever, so that's cool and I was sorta jealous at first. I was being semi-pushed for her job, but was on the fence and I opted out of that. A girl on the team stepped up (I actually pushed her towards it) and I wavered for a minute if I was going to take her old job, since I already basically do it half the time anyways (a part of the overworked bit). Yesterday was the "interview" with HR where I put on my enthuasiastic face and worried that I was sounding like a total ass, but found out the paper work was basically drawn up for me to sign and they were just waiting for me to show some initiative.

So, I got a promotion! Go me! I'll also have a lot more money coming my way and a semi-schmancy title (though no one knows/understands what I do anyways, so whatever). In some ways, more responsibility and in others, 75% less aggravation. The shallow happiness comes from now being on par with what I know people my age in similar industries (whom I've been resenting heavily like forever) are making. I might actually have something to save now! Imagine that.

Still, this kinda throws a monkey wrench into some plans I've been drawing up. I'm locked in through the fall now, but I think my free time and general happiness/stress level should only improve. After that, we'll see what happens. If I wasn't so preoccupied with Thursday's happenings and probably wanting nothing more than to sleep/chill after that, I'd suggest a party or something.

The "I really wasn't joking when I said I'd be cutting down on the blogging until my event was done. Go read them instead." edition.

Chicago declares August 10th "House Unity Day." [via David]

Abe, a rare Hunterite I wouldn't ignore if I saw in the street (unlike most), has reentered the blogging game with a vengenance. Go learn something about technology and like stuff. The linkflow is overstuffed with jewels.

Josh was the previous occupier of my apartment. He and his wife still get more mail than Ant and I. He's got a blog about ex-pat life in Japan and it looks like he's up to some wacky stuff.

There's a definite percentage of people I know with some curmugeonly ass blog personas (See also: McFizzie, Petur and hell, I guess me too) yet aren't mean ogres type in real life like you'd expect. Add to that Dave, former neighbor who bought me pints at the happy hour and was decidedly not as crazy and mumbling as I probably expected. (Awkwardly phrased compliment believe it or not!)

Keeping us laughing at work has been the Defamer reader-coined "Butterscotch Stallion" phrase taking over the news media. We actually hate Owen Wilson and his penis nose, so it makes it even more amusing for us. Vince Vaughn on the other hand...we like the tall, smart-ass, a little sleazy with questionable morals type (since we are all of those things but tall), so we'd starfuck him in a hot second. He seems like he'd [insert something rather inappropriate for a family site. Take a wild guess or IM me for it] which would be awesome.

In the midst of running around like a chicken with her head cut off (both at home and work), I've been having a strange creative upswing lately.

Just as I was considering how to make $10 stretch for a week and a half and trying not to revert to begging the 'rents mode, a writing job literally fell from the sky. (Oh look at me, I networked!) It should be a nice brain muscle stretch (with money!), so I'm pretty excited yet nervous. I haven't written much of anything in too long. New leaf perhaps? The timing is funny because I was chatting on IM yesterday and damned near went into catatonic shock hearing about a payment. I'm all up for making rent in one shot. This job is peanuts, but it's a good starting point. I realized not too long ago that I've got about zero confidence and hustle on that front, which is of course bad. Gotta sharpen that pencil and shit.

I was also fleshing out some outline ideas for the damned story always on backburner progress. And my ILX Canuckistani friend and I are working on something fun. Will it be hot? Oh, indeed. And I also had a new t-shirt idea on the train: Starfucker For Hire. Too much is definitely jamming the brain right now. Next stop: writer's block!

It hit me yesterday that I'm not a spring chicken anymore. I'm not coming up on social security natch, but damn, I'm in my mid-20s! Talk about something sneaking up on you when you're not paying attention! Age is nothing but a number blah blah, but "whatever I'm young" was my general go-to phrase when I realize I can be a bit of a fuck-up. "Damn, I never have any money. Savings? What's that?" "Ah, whatever, I'm young. If you can't be poor now, when?" "Shit, everyone's all coupled down and getting engaged and shit. I'm such a loser." "Whatever, I'm young. I've got plenty of years to worry about that."

Yeah, I'm not so young really. Not that I'm going to go run and save and get a boyfriend post-haste or whatever. I think I've mostly begun looking forward to being a 30-something single cat lady with a crappy studio down the road. Hopefully making more money, but probably still having nothing to show for it. I think I'm just getting all angsty because of the job search. I'm fighting my urges to underplay, underplay, underplay and get some damned confidence and hustle to pursue what I really want. Whatever that is. Quarter-life crisis alert!

Meanwhile, most of last week was the extended birthday celebrations of PrincessNella. I drank too much and stayed out way too late three nights in a row. Sunday afternoon, I woke up fully dressed with pennies stuck to me (yeah...I dunno). It was mostly tame for me though. No extracurricular activities or anything but good clean friend type excitement. Minorly hilarious is the continuing streak of blast from the past encounters popping up all over the place. It was sort of like "Candice, this is your love life!" with randoms even as far back as high school popping out of the woodwork. It's kinda like an evil joke, but I, in my infinite conceit, know I'm looking better while they're looking worse pretty much across the board. Or maybe I always had bad taste. I've always been lazy and/or mildly retarded in that respect. Standards and morals have always been duking it out. Before I was almost angelic in my morality while picking arbitrarily and now all's fair in lust and war while I think the quality is improving. I might be fooling myself though. Regardless, it's all good. I think of it as story fodder.